Dangerous Obsession

by Natasha Peters

  “They’ll only send me home again,” Sean said airily. “Old Palmer at Harvard says I’m a hardened case.”

  “Make an effort to reform,” Steven advised his brother. “Perhaps you can impress the Baroness by being a steady, serious college man.”

  Sean looked at me and blushed slightly. “You wouldn’t care about that, would you, Baroness?”

  I said, “To the contrary, Monsieur Sean, I am most impressed by learning because I have so little myself.”

  “Not so!” protested Steven. “You speak four languages fluently, plus Romany; you know more about music and art than any woman I’ve met, and you can quote the classics. I’d say that Sean had a lot of catching up to do.”

  “And you can play faro like the devil,” Sean said reverently. Clearly that was the accomplishment that he valued most. “I wish college could teach me that.”

  “No more town for you until we move back at Christmas,” Garth told Sean. “You can’t possibly get into trouble in the canebrake and the swamps.”

  Sean cast a furtive look at Gabrielle and said, “That wasn’t my fault.”

  The girl’s cheeks flamed. She stood up stiffly and said in a voice that threatened tears, “Please excuse me. I promised Aunt Colette that I’d finish that embroidery—” She pressed her knuckles to her mouth and ran out of the room.

  “Oh, Sean,” said Elise reproachfully. She turned to me. I’m sorry, my dear. I thought that with three boys I had suffered all that a mother could suffer when it came to raising children. And then I had a daughter.”

  “Three?” I murmured, surprised.

  But before she could explain Sean said, “I don’t know why everybody treats me like a cad; it was all Gaby’s idea from the beginning!”

  “That’s enough, Sean,” said his father wearily. “Where is that devil now, I wonder?”

  I said, “I heard yesterday that he had left the city on a steamboat. After Steven beat him—” David had told me. He was a mine of information sometimes.

  They hadn’t heard about that. A servant came in and took Marie away to clean her up after her ride with her grandfather, and then Steven explained what happened.

  “Damn, Steve!” said Sean admiringly. “I wish I’d done it!”

  “Watch your language, Sean,” said Elise mechanically. “Well, it’s over. Don’t tell her, anyone. She’ll just have to get over him in time. But if he should come back—” She paused and sighed, “She’s so stubborn!”

  Garth McClelland chuckled fondly. “Like her mother.”

  “I feel dreadful about the whole business,” I said unhappily.

  “But it’s not your fault, Rhawnie!” Elise assured me. She pressed my hand fondly. “If she hadn’t met him at your house she would have found some other place to meet him—at the opera or at the house of a friend. You mustn’t blame yourself.”

  “She looks so thin,” Steven said worriedly. “She’s breaking her heart over him!”

  “I know,” his mother said. “I’ve tried to speak to her about him. But you know how it is with mother and daughter. She’s convinced that I’m cold and heartless and that I don’t have any understanding and sympathy.” She turned to me. “Gabrielle is fond of you, Rhawnie. She adores you and wants to be like you. Do you think—”

  “You want me to talk to her?” I said. “I will try, Madame. I have known other men like Boris. They’re not worth the pain— Yes, I will try.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t blame my entire family for falling in love with you. Even my husband! You should have seen the letter he wrote after you sang in Washington!”

  “At least I wasn’t evasive, like Steve,” Garth replied. “Because I had nothing to hide.”

  We all looked at Steven, who grew red. Then Sean started to laugh, and we all joined in. The mood in the drawing room grew light and happy again.

  I found an opportunity to be alone with Gabrielle the very next day. I found her sitting at the piano in the drawing room. She rested her cheek on her left hand while with her hand she picked out the melody of a very sad love song. I put my hand on her shoulder and said softly, “You are sad about your Boris, aren’t you?”

  She stopped playing and put her hands in her lap. “What do you mean? I wasn’t thinking about him at all.”

  “He went away very suddenly, didn’t he? And you have heard nothing from him.”

  She jumped up. “I know he would have written or called here, if he could. It’s not like him to behave like this! I think something must have happened to him.” Then she straightened her back and tossed her black curls. “But why should I care? I’m not in love with him. I know what you’re thinking! And—and you will excuse me for saying this, Baroness, but I really don’t see that it’s any of your affair.”

  “It is my affair because I can see your pain, and I feel deeply for you,” I said gently. I took her hand and led her to a sofa. “Oh, Gabrielle, I know Boris. You mustn’t make yourself unhappy over him—”

  “Everyone is against me!” she cried, pulling her hand away and twisting around to confront me. Her cheeks burned. “Everyone! Mother and Father, and Steven— and you! Only Sean has shown the slightest feeling and understanding for me!”

  “That is because your brother is a fool,” I said crisply. “He thought it was a lark, but he doesn’t think so now. We love you, Gabrielle, and we know—”

  “You don’t know Boris! No one knows as I do. I love him, Rhawnie! Oh, why do I feel this way, she said despairingly. “Why does it have to hurt so much?”

  She covered her face with her hands. I waited until she was calmer.”

  “Listen to me,” I said intently. “I must speak, even though you will be angry with me and probably hate me for it. I have seen a lot of the world. I have known a lot of men. I know people. From my very earliest childhood I have made it my business to observe them and study them and know all about them. And I know Boris. No, we have not been lovers,” I said quickly when I saw the fear and suspicion in her face, “never that. But when I was very young, when I was your age, I gave my heart to a man who was like him in every way. Do you know what happens when you do that, when you give your heart to a man who has no heart? He destroys you. He has never known love and he sneers at it and says it doesn’t exist. I was warned about him, by someone who knew men. And in my heart I knew what he was. But I didn’t listen.

  Boris is a gambler, as my man was. Boris has slept with hundreds of women in his life, as my man did. You don’t believe me? You are shocked? I am sorry to shock you, my dear girl, but facts are facts. How can a man love one woman, who has known so many? What can one woman’s love and sacrifice mean to him? Nothing. Nothing!” She started to rise and I pulled her back. “Oh, Gabrielle, I want to be your friend! I know what you are thinking and feeling: You burn for him, and you tell yourself that if he ever comes back to you, you will follow him anywhere. You tell yourself you don’t care about the cost in terms of pain or shame. Won’t you let me tell you the cost? He won’t marry you. And if he does, he won’t stay with you, I know! He will take away your youth and your beauty. He’ll revel in them, and he’ll leave you. Did you know that this wonderful Boris of yours tried to make love to me?”

  She went white, then red. “I don’t believe you,” she said in a low voice. She stood up and stared down at me coldly. “You’re lying. Everything you’ve said to me has been a lie. Mother put you up to this! And Steve! I suppose you thought that you could worm your way into the family if you did this little favor for them. I know what you’re up to, Baroness. You have your cap set for Steve, only he’s too blind and stupid to see it. He doesn’t know what kind of woman you are. He doesn’t know how you lie—”

  "What do you know about anything, you silly child?” I was on my feet, too, and I was angry. “You’re a child, a baby. What your brother does is his affair, not yours. He’s a good man, the best. I haven’t lied to him about myself and I’m not lying to you now. Why should I? I have nothing to gain by turn
ing you against me. Yes, your mother asked me to speak to you. But if she hadn’t I would have spoken anyway, if only to spare you some of the pain and torment I have known. Think about what I have said, Gabrielle. Boris doesn’t love you, he told me so.”

  No, no, no!” She covered her ears and closed her eyes. “I won’t listen to any more lies from you! I won’t! He loves me, he loves me!”

  She ran clumsily out of the room. I could hear her pounding up the stairs. I knew she would cry and cry until she was weak. And I knew she would never believe a word I had said. I doubted that I would, either, in her place.

  Love is stubborn, and single-minded. I sighed. I had failed with Gabrielle and I had failed with Boris. My luck was not going very well.

  On the day before we planned to return to the city, Steven invited me to go boating with him on the river. The cook packed a picnic for us and we set out. Steven rowed towards an island in the middle of the river and I sat in the bow like a blond Cleopatra, dragging my hand in the water. “It’s a wonderful, beautiful day,” I breathed.

  Our little boat bumped up against the shore of the island. Steven jumped out to secure it and then he helped me onto dry land.

  We found a grassy spot shaded by a tall live oak. Steven spread out a blanket and I bent over the hamper.

  “Shall we have a look inside? Your mother told me there was something very special for us. Ah, champagne! And a cord! Wait, there’s a little note attached. I will try to read it: ‘Tie one end of rope to bottle; fasten other end to tree,’ ” I read with laughable slowness." ‘Im-immerse bottle in water for one hour.’ ” I laughed and carried out the instructions. Steven stretched out on the blanket, his hands locked behind his head. He watched me. “Now,” I said when my task was finished, “what are we supposed to do while the champagne is chilling?”

  “Come and sit with me.” He rolled on his side and patted the blanket. I obeyed him. He leaned on his elbow and looked up at me. After a moment he reached up and removed my hat and tossed it aside. “That’s better. It hid your face in shadow.”

  I felt the color rise to my cheeks. “Isn’t this silly?” I said. “I have stood up in front of thousands of people and sung for them and never felt a qualm. But when you look at me like that, it terrifies me.”

  “Why?” he asked gently.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered.

  He took my hand and planted a soft kiss on the palm. The cuff of my sleeve slid up, exposing my scar, and I tried to jerk my hand back. But he held it tight and kissed the scar, too.

  “I’ve been composing a speech for days,” he said without looking at me. “Especially for this occasion. And I can’t remember a word of it. So I’ll have to improvise.” My heart stopped. I held my breath. He looked into my eyes and said, “I love you, Rhawnie. I want to marry you."

  Tears came to my eyes. When I found my voice I said brokenly, “No, Steven. No. It’s impossible! I’m married already, you know that.”

  “It is possible,” he said evenly. “You’ll get a divorce.” He sat up and spoke confidently. He was back on solid ground now, in the realm of Law rather than Love, and he didn’t have to grope for words. “It won’t be difficult. I have friends abroad, lawyers, in England and in France. We can get to work on it—”

  “But I don’t even know where he is,” I said weakly, or if he’s alive or dead!” My hands were trembling, like my voice, and I kneaded my skirts. “I feel—so strange. Oh, Steven, hold me!”

  I put my arms around his waist and rested my head on his shoulder. He held me tight and I could feel his breath on my hair.

  “It’s not right, Steven,” I said, “you know what I am. You are ambitious. You could go far. But not if you’re married to a woman like me. And if I were divorced—! People in this country have very strong feelings about that.”

  "If we can’t find this man we can work on an annulment. That would negate the marriage completely. It would be as though it never existed. Even a French court wouldn’t hesitate to dissolve a marriage like yours. You were young, he was a notorious rogue, he deserted you and your infant. It can be done, Rhawnie. Honestly. Just leave it to me. Do you think I care what people think, what they say? I know what kind of woman you are, and I love you. Not in spite of these things, but because of them. Because they’re part of you. Scandal is nothing; scandal is—air. Stories, gossip, rumor. It’s cruel and it hurts, but it can be weathered. If you don’t believe me, ask Mother. Scandal might have slowed Father’s career a little, but it didn’t stop him. And it won’t stop me.”

  I shook my head, dazed. “You are a tiger, Steven! You are irresistible!”

  He laughed and kissed me lightly. “I’m glad to hear it. I have an idea about what we can do while we’re waiting for the champagne to cool. I’m sure it’s just what my mother had in mind.”

  “Your mother is a most remarkable lady,” I said.

  He laughed. “She’s a pirate!”

  I blinked at him. “What did you say? A pirate? You’re joking—”

  “No, I’m not,” he said laughing. “The scourge of the Gulf, before the War of 1812. She sailed with Jean Lafitte. You see what I mean about scandal.”

  “Before she married your father. That’s remarkable,” I said lamely.

  I should have pursued the matter right them. I should have said, “You have another brother named Seth.” But I didn’t. I told myself that it was a coincidence, nothing more. I didn’t want to know anything beyond what I knew already: that Steven loved me and wanted to marry me. He was a good man. It seemed at that moment that all I had ever wanted in my life was marriage to a Good Man. And now it was happening. And I didn’t want anything to spoil my chance. I pushed my worries away, Gypsy fashion, and gave myself up to the enjoyment of the moment.

  We fell back on the blanket, laughing together, caressing each other.

  “This is the only time of year when outdoor trysting is possible,” Steven informed me. “Too late for bugs and too early for winter.”

  “You are very devious and clever,” I said. “You brought me out here deliberately to seduce me!”

  “No, the seduction was to take place only if you consented to be my wife. Do you consent? If you refuse I’ll pack you back into the boat and take you home.”

  “No more kissing?” I sighed wistfully.

  “None.”

  “I’m not very honorable,” I said. “I take bribes. Yes, I will marry you.”

  “Then you shall have your reward.”

  “A while later I said,” I have bewitched you. You never would have asked for marriage if I hadn’t wanted you to. You are in my power.”

  “Absolutely, irrevocably, and forever,” Steven agreed. He pulled me down on top of him. A curtain of golden hair blocked out sunlight. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said. "You have bewitched me. Steady, reliable, serious-minded Steven McClelland has fallen in love with a Gypsy singer!”

  We toasted each other with champagne. “I thought you were embarrassed about what happened in France,” I told him. “I thought you didn’t want to remember—I’ve been very foolish, too. But you never referred to that time until today! How polite he is, I said to myself. I was very irritated with you. Will you come and visit me when we get back to the city? Will you spend whole nights in my bed and slip away before dawn so that we can keep our love a secret? Will you stop being so good and be a little wicked?”

  “I’m leaving for Washington the day after tomorrow,” he said regretfully.

  “Lawyers!” I made a face. “Bah! When are you coming back?”

  “For Christmas, of course. What do you think? Shall we tell them now?”

  I shook my head. “No, Steven. Let’s wait. Until Christmas.”

  “Until Christmas.”

  14

  The Prodigal Returns

  ON CHRISTMAS EVE, 1849, the McClelland family assembled in their big house on St. Charles Avenue. Steven and I told them that we wanted to marry. We had no intention of making a public
announcement because we couldn’t marry soon anyway, but we wanted them to know, and to share our happiness.

  Garth and Elise seemed genuinely delighted. Sean pretended to nurse a broken heart. Gabrielle gave me a wan smile and a cool sisterly kiss. She still hadn’t forgiven me, but she seemed a little friendlier and happier than when I had seen her in October. Her mother and I agreed that she was finally learning to forget Boris. We were as blind as Gabrielle was clever.

  Steven had returned from Washington only two days earlier, looking tired and travel-weary . But he had his sons with him, John and Philippe. Both boys resembled him, with their fair hair and blue eyes, but John, the older, was serious and reserved, and Philippe had devils dancing in his eyes. Steven and I had only the briefest time together, but we promised ourselves that after my concert, which was scheduled for December 31, we would go away together, to the country perhaps. I had been very lonely while he was away, and I threw myself into my work so that I wouldn’t miss him too much. Steven confessed to me that he had done the same.

  Elise McClelland despised the custom of leaving the men to their port and cigars after a meal, and after dinner that night we all went into the drawing room together. A butler passed the port, and Steven and his father smoked happily in the company of their ladies.

  “You have such a wonderful family,” I said to Elise McClelland.

  “We’re your family now, my dear,” she said happily, squeezing my hand. “I’m so delighted for Steven. He really needs to marry again.”

  “What about the children?” I asked. “Do you think style="font-weight:bold;text-decoration:underline;" they will mind—having a stepmother?”

  “Oh, no! Marie loves you already, and the boys were very impressed with your coach and six. Those magnificent horses! They were so young when Julie died. They hardly remember her.”

  “She was a good mother to them, wasn’t she?”

  “A wonderful girl. Steven has told you about her?”