The Pride of the King

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The Pride of the King Page 10

by Amanda Hughes


  "Go home! You are nothing more than an adventuress, and I am a very busy man."

  He sat down at his desk and took up his quill, dismissing her.

  Lauren was mortified. This man had been her final hope. She must try once more. Suddenly without thinking, she grabbed the quill from his hand.

  He looked up, thunderstruck by her audacity.

  "Monsieur, if you do not listen to me I shall be forced to appeal to Father Peron. He will not stand by and let you ignore this crime.”

  The Lieutenant’s eyes narrowed. He did not want that meddlesome priest involved. The Church looked for any excuse to undermine his authority.

  Lauren continued, “I believe if you check the personal accounts of these men and the books at the Kaskaskia Lead Mine, you will find that Monsieur Aberjon and his son are in dire need of money; enough money to require a prosperous marriage. You will find that Jean-Baptist has been keeping company with a very wealthy woman who lives on Rue Saint Germaine.”

  Lieutenant Brobriant wanted nothing more than to throw this brazen wench out on her ear, but he felt compelled to investigate further before she brought in that ambitious priest.

  "Damn you!" he barked. "When did she die?"

  "Last night."

  "Of what nature was her decline and death?”

  “She had severe cramping and the flux. She could keep no food down. It ended in a grotesque, uncontrollable spasm on the bed."

  He rubbed the back of his neck and heaved a sigh. He was overworked and in no mood for schoolgirl fantasies. "I will be down shortly to talk to Monsieur Aberjon and his son. Say nothing of this to anyone."

  Lauren's heart jumped. Someone was listening to her at last!

  * * *

  Jean-Baptist looked up and down the hall before closing the door to the drawing room. He grabbed the brandy decanter from the cabinet and filled his glass to the brim, looking over at his son.

  Claude was leaning on the harpsichord, with his head on his hand, carelessly plucking the keys of the instrument. In keeping with the latest fashion, he had placed a heart shaped patch at the corner of his mouth. His white face makeup was so thick; one could scrape it off with a fingernail.

  "Well, what was so important, Father that you had to see me right away?"

  "Lieutenant Briobriant was here to see me after the funeral yesterday. He wants to look at our books."

  Claude chuckled. "Really Father, I had no idea you were such a worrier. You simply have no stomach for this. I know you loathe me, but you have to admit I was creative in solving our financial problems."

  Jean-Baptist gulped his brandy and stared out the window sullenly. He felt surly today, and he would take great pleasure in pummeling his son's face right now. He hated partnering with him in this unseemly business, but it was inevitable, he was in dire need of money.

  "You were right about one thing, that wench from New Orleans became suspicious. But never mind, I have everything taken care of. Our man arrived this morning," said Claude.

  Jean-Baptist whirled around. "He's here?"

  "Definitely.”

  "And the arsenic?"

  "Where it should be."

  "Good! Then it will be today," said Jean-Baptist feeling his spirits rise.

  "I told you that I'd hold up my end of the bargain," said Claude, rising from his seat. "Now it's your turn. How soon can you wed?"

  "Immediately, I don't give a damn what anybody in this town thinks. They'll have their murderer, that's all they want."

  "Bravo, Father, bravo," cooed Claude. "Everything is going as planned."

  Chapter 17

  Late that afternoon Lauren returned to the Aberjon residence to retrieve the last of her belongings. Eugenie and Marianne were in the kitchen preparing supper when Lauren poked her head in and whispered, "Are they gone?"

  "Yes, they are gone. Come in quickly," Marianne said.

  "I must run up and get my things right away," Lauren whispered looking down the hall. "Have you heard them say anything about my visit to the lieutenant?"

  "Nothing at all," whispered Eugenie, looking out the window. “But they spend a lot of time together in the drawing room with the door closed."

  "Come and see me soon at the Lupone's," Lauren said hugging the women. The relationship between Lauren and Eugenie had improved slowly.

  "You will be a married lady soon," said Eugenie.

  "Not soon enough for me!" said Lauren as she inspected the hall on her way upstairs.

  Once in her room, Lauren cleared out the wardrobe, threw some gowns over her arm and closed the bedroom door. She started down the hall, but when she passed Madame's room she hesitated. Furtively she turned the knob and opened the boudoir. Nothing had changed. The pink drapes still hung in folds onto the floor. The mauve rug was still in place and the rose-colored bed curtains were neatly tied back. Everything was as usual, but the bed was empty. The room was like a loyal dog waiting for its master to return.

  Lauren felt a tightening in her chest. She spied Madame's dainty music box on the nightstand and picked it up turning it over in her hands. It seemed like only yesterday she was dancing right here in this room. She wound the box up and the delicate notes filled the room once more. Lauren could see herself gliding past the bed, sailing around the armchairs and soaring by the divan as Madame clapped her hands in delight.

  Suddenly loud voices interrupted her reverie. Noise was coming from the back of the house. Rushing to the back room, she threw the shutters open and leaned out. Two soldiers emerged from the slave quarters. One of them had Eugenie by the arm.

  Lauren raced down the stairs as they were throwing Eugenie to the floor clamping an iron mask onto her head. Marianne was screaming and sobbing.

  "Be quick about it," one shouted. "She may bite."

  “No!” screamed Lauren lunging at them. One of the soldiers straightened up and elbowed her. She fell into a mirror which crashed onto the floor into a thousand pieces.

  * * *

  Slowly, Lauren pulled herself into a sitting position. She could hear someone crying somewhere but could not focus her eyes. Bruised and confused, Lauren pulled a shard of glass out of her arm. She heard the sobbing again and asked thickly, "Who’s there?"

  "They've taken my darling," sobbed Marianne. She was sitting on the floor in the hall not far from Lauren, rocking back and forth. "They've my taken Eugenie away."

  "Why?" Lauren asked putting her hands to her head.

  "They say Eugenie poisoned the mistress! They found arsenic hidden in a vial in her drawer.”

  Lauren tried to pull herself up onto her feet, but she was too weak and fell back heavily onto the floor. Marianne continued to sob. Even through the fog of injury it was clear to Lauren that the arsenic had been planted. The plan was obvious. The residents of the Illinois Country hated the Chickasaws and they knew they would condemn the Indian girl swiftly and without conscience.

  Lauren dragged herself to her feet and tried to get Marianne to come to the kitchen, but the woman refused. She was beyond consoling and continued to sit on the hall floor, rocking and moaning. Lauren stepped outside and began to retch. Just as she was wiping her mouth a carriage roared up the drive stopping in front of her. The door flew open, and Claude Aberjon leaned forward.

  “What a lovely picture you paint,” he said with a smirk. “Get in.”

  Lauren straightened up and started toward the house.

  "I say, get in!" he said again.

  "Stay away from me!"

  "For once in your life, don't be a damned fool. I have an urgent note from Rene Lupone saying that you should come with me immediately. Here see for yourself," and he thrust it toward her.

  Lauren pushed the hair from her eyes and ripped the note from Claude's hand. It was indeed Rene's writing telling her to meet him immediately at the L'hotel Bourges, that it was of extreme importance and that he would guarantee her safety with Claude Aberjon. She looked suspiciously from the note to Claude and said, "I'm warning you I h
ave my boots on."

  "Noted," he stated rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Get in."

  The carriage lurched as Lauren threw herself onto the seat, and Claude slammed the door. He watched her with a smirk on his face.

  "What is this all about?" she demanded.

  "You'll see."

  "Is Rene in any danger?"

  "No, in fact, you might say that I have removed him from harms way."

  He looked at her soiled gown and disheveled hair and joked, “My, you look alluring this afternoon. Run into some trouble?”

  Lauren looked out the window fighting the urge to retch again. Claude reached into a small ebony box, snorted a pinch of snuff, then thrust his white face forward and asked, "Darling, how is my makeup today?"

  Lauren had had enough of his charade and hissed, "You'll burn in hell for what you have done."

  "Oh, aren't we self righteous? Have you ever thought about your part in all of this, angel? We would never have had to sacrifice your friend if you had just kept your mouth shut." With this last word, Claude allowed his hatred for Lauren to flare. He leaned forward and snarled, "I never forgot that day when you broke my nose, you little whore, and today I shall pay you back."

  With those words the carriage came to a halt, and Claude jumped out. He stood in the door of L'hotel Bourges leaning on his cane as Lauren stepped out of the carriage. It was a small but respectable establishment down near the docks. With an exaggerated flourish he directed her inside and taking her elbow guided her through the boisterous crowd.

  The room was filled with people, mostly men; some were eating, and others taking spirits. A buxom waitress wound her way through the revelers holding a tray over her head. The odor of smoke was thick and overpowering as well as the smell of stale spirits. Loud laughter rang out from different tables and heads turned as Lauren walked by. Rene was sitting by the fire with two men, and when she reached the table the men stood up.

  With a look of triumph, Claude introduced her. "Lauren, you know my father Jean-Baptist. Of course, you know Rene Lupone, and I’m sure you remember Monsieur Adair Heathstone."

  * * *

  There was a jangling of keys and a heavy door scraped open. Eugenie sat up and rubbed her eyes. It was dark, and the guard's torch was bright.

  "Get up! There's someone to see you," he barked, kicking her.

  Lauren fell to her knees and embraced Eugenie. The hideous muzzle was still on her face. The restraint was a piece of iron covering the girl’s mouth with several holes punched in the metal for air. The muzzle was fitted with two sets of straps, one set encircling Eugenie’s neck and the other set running up on either side of her nose to the back of her head.

  "Take this thing off of her right now!" screamed Lauren.

  "Can't,” said the guard flatly. “Lieutenant's orders. It’s for your own good anyway. Them savages bite."

  "Are you mad! She would never bite anyone!"

  He shrugged and slammed the door, bolting it behind him.

  Eugenie pulled herself into a corner and faced the wall. Her clothes were filthy, and she smelled like urine.

  “Have they hurt you? Talk to me! Why won't you look at me?"

  "Go away. I don't want your pity." mumbled Eugenie. Her words were barely audible from the muzzle.

  Lauren sat cross-legged facing Eugenie’s back. “Yes, I am going away. I have come to say good bye.”

  Eugenie turned slowly on the straw and looked at her. Lauren stood up and walked across the cell looking outside through the bars. “I pleaded for your release, but the Aberjons are too powerful.” After a few moments she added, “Claude found my husband, and I am leaving with him tomorrow.”

  A heavy silence fell between the girls. The guard snored outside the door.

  Finally, Eugenie murmured, "What of Rene?"

  "He has washed his hands of me. His mother assures me one day he will forgive me.”

  "We will both be leaving tomorrow,” Eugenie continued. “They are hanging me in the morning.”

  Lauren froze. She did not breathe. She did not move. She only stared into Eugenie’s eyes struggling for words. Eugenie sighed and turned away. “They told me just moments ago.”

  Lauren took a deep breath and turned to the window. She stared at the stars, but she did not see them. Suddenly, a sob escaped her, and she pressed her eyes shut fighting back the tears and the rage.

  After what seemed like a long time Eugenie murmured, “I wonder what it is like to die, Lauren.”

  Lauren continued to stare at the night sky. "I don't know what it's like to die, Eugenie, but I do know that when the sun comes up in the morning, the stars are still in the sky, even if I can't see them." She turned and looked at her friend. "And so it will be, after tomorrow. I know, like the stars in the morning sunshine, you will exist--somewhere--even if I cannot see you.”

  Chapter 18

  The next morning, they informed Lauren that she was leaving Kaskaskia before sunrise with Heathstone. Her husband had been in New Orleans on business. Over cards and cognac, Claude and Adair Heathstone found they had an acquaintance in common and in no time Claude informed Heathstone of his wife's whereabouts. He was delighted to reunite the two.

  Lauren was overcome with grief and rage about Eugenie. She never looked back at Kaskaskia as the convoy pulled away an hour before sunrise. Gabriel had been right; she had never belonged here. Her search for a home must continue, and she must put the Illinois Country behind her. Lauren turned her face into the wind once more and resumed her journey. She knew she was luckier than her friend.

  The small group of boats seemed to fly down the Mississippi toward New Orleans loaded with several men and a great deal of lead; lead that was bound for the English Colonies. Lauren wondered if the French Government was aware that Monsieur Aberjon sold lead to the English, but she would say nothing. She learned that vengeance from Jean-Baptist was swift and unforgiving.

  The current of the Mississippi hurtled them downstream once more toward the city of New Orleans. In only seventeen days the journey was over, in contrast with the upstream journey of several months. Adair Heathstone remained aloof throughout the expedition, just as before. In Kaskaskia, he had taken a separate apartment and on the journey downstream, he had not attempted to converse with her. His French was poor, and the language barrier distanced him from them all.

  Monsieur Mereness, a middle-aged voyageur who learned English to trade goods with the Fox and the Sauk Indians kept Heathstone informed along the way. He told Lauren that Heathstone had paid him handsomely and that if it were not for his money, they would have left him in the wilderness a long time ago. He detested the man and pitied Lauren because she was married to such a boorish oaf. He offered to help her whenever he could.

  When they finally arrived in New Orleans, Mereness asked Heathstone if he would allow the girl to see her sister before their departure to the English Colonies. Heathstone gave his grunt of approval. Mereness smiled at her and instructed the men to put Lauren's traveling bag on the vessel along with the Englishman's trunk. "You had better hurry. Your husband wants to leave this afternoon. It will only take an hour to load then you'll embark."

  Only an hour with Simone, thought Lauren. They had not been together for almost two years. Heathstone ordered a burly seaman to escort her to the convent. It was heaven to be back on the streets of New Orleans even if the troll was guarding her. Everything was as she remembered it. The loud, busy docks were still thrilling; the colorful market fresh and bountiful as before and when she laid eyes on the Ursuline Convent a lump came into her throat. She pulled the rope by the massive wooden door ringing a bell inside. A nun Lauren did not know opened the door and asked her to wait in the entry while she informed Sister Marie-Bernard, Simone’s new name, that her sibling was here.

  The brute Heathstone had appointed stood guard outside the door as Lauren waited anxiously inside. The room was dark and one candle burned on the small table in the corner. Its flame cast long shadows on the
walls. Lauren's heart jumped when the door opened, and her sister stepped into the room.

  “Simone!" Lauren cried and threw her arms around her. Simone stiffened. She was dressed in the austere white habit of the novice Ursuline, but her beauty could not be subdued. The wimple made a perfect frame for her oval face and coral lips. A weak smile flickered around her mouth, and she said flatly, "You've returned."

  "Yes,” Lauren said, grabbing her hands. “I have so much to tell you and ask you. Oh, I am so excited!"

  Simone ran her eyes over her sister.

  "I know,” Lauren admitted. “I must be a sight.”

  "You have certainly changed," said Simone.

  "But look at you!" cried Lauren pointing to the white veil. "Here you are a novice. How soon will you take your final vows?"

  "Soon."

  "Simone, we can't talk here. Let’s go to one of the school rooms."

  Simone remained motionless, her hands folded. "Sister Marie-Bernard is my name now, Lauren."

  Lauren wrinkled her nose and said, "What's wrong with you? You act as stiff as old Mother Magdalena--"

  Simone’s eyes flashed. "You will be respectful when you are within these walls."

  "Who do you think you're talking to? I am not one of your students and I will call you Simone. That name was good enough for the De Beauvilles!"

  Simone turned to leave, saying, “My time here is done.”

  "What has happened to you!” cried Lauren. “The good nuns of the Ursuline Academy were never sanctimonious. You didn't learn that self-righteous attitude here.”

  Not bothering to turn around, Simone stated, "Leave here now please and don’t come back.”

  Sudden pain shot through Lauren. "Simone! What's wrong?"

  "I cannot see you."

  Lauren grabbed her arm. "You cannot leave like this. There is something wrong."

  "Please let me go," Simone demanded, struggling to get free.

  “No, not until you tell me what is wrong,” said Lauren.

  Sudden emotion flooding her face, Simone snapped, “You look so--worldly. You remind me of everything that I am not. You have always had the courage to pursue life. I—I cannot face the world like you. You have never been afraid of anything. I have always been scared. These walls are the only place I have ever felt safe."

 

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