“Salut, and safe journey home!”
“Au revoir!”
“A final glass of champagne, my dears?” asked Jacques, as the carriage pulled away.
“Oui!” they both responded.
“To the library, then. We’ll have it all to ourselves.”
The house servants had finished cleaning the dining area, gathered firewood for the following day, and returned to their quarters behind the mansion.
As they entered the small room, Jacques said, “Ah—calm and quiet.”
The three sat in a comfortable silence, each reflecting upon the long weekend, as he poured sparkling, sweet wine into three crystal flutes. Then he held up his glass and toasted them. “It was a splendid party, ladies; you outdid yourselves!”
“Thank you, Jacques. It did go well! I think Mother’s favorite part was the dancing. Am I right?” Marguerite asked.
Sheila answered, “Oh, my, yes! The musicians, especially the fiddlers, kept up such a wonderfully fast tempo! I love the way the Acadians play.”
“How about you, Marguerite?” asked Jacques.
“My favorite was showing off the new sugar mill and making candy from the molasses. I am so proud of you and your modern construction!”
“We owe our success to Etienne de Bore and his vacuum-pan invention. Thanks to this new continuous-boiling process, Louisiana has seen a surge in sugar production. It is as important as Eli Whitney’s new version of the cotton gin!”
“I did want to ask you, darling, about what Henri meant with his comment about more adjustments in the future?” asked Marguerite.
“Well, dear, you know how you have been complaining about not getting any of the latest fashions from London and Paris?”
“Yes, President Jefferson signed that ill-advised Embargo Act in 1807, forbidding imports from France and England. My friends and I have been very irritated about that.”
“Hear, hear!” added Sheila angrily. “Why, if it weren’t for that dear man Mr. Lafitte, I would not even have enough coffee grounds to color my hair!”
“Many people have had to do without, my dears. And then this war started, and now the country has sunk into a severe economic depression. The US treasury is empty. We cannot import goods, nor can we export anything, either. Because the English navy has blockaded our seaports from the Atlantic Ocean to the Gulf of Mexico, our goods and crops are lying in piles and rotting in barns or on the wharves. We have heard that the capital city is in ruins and the war has gone badly for the American forces. And now there are rumors that a huge British fleet is headed in this direction to attack our city.”
“Attack New Orleans?” cried Sheila. “Why, that’s dreadful! I can’t imagine yet another flag waving over my wonderful city. And the British are just such an odious sort.”
“Yes, and their battle cry says it all: ‘beauty and booty.’”
“That’s an odd slogan,” said Sheila. “Whatever does it mean?”
There were a few moments of silence while husband and wife decided how to delicately explain it. Finally, Marguerite said, “Well, Mother, I’ll have to be blunt: ‘beauty and booty’ basically means ‘rape and pillage’!”
“Well, I never!” said Sheila. She thought about Marguerite’s words for a minute, then said, “Excuse me. It was a wonderful party. Good night, now.” She walked outside into the back courtyard and headed toward the kitchen.
“Mother, are you all right? The dishes can wait until tomorrow,” said Marguerite, hurrying after her.
“Why, of course I’m fine, dear,” replied Sheila. “I’m just going to get some very sharp knives; it seems we may need them. This is my way of preparing for the coming ‘adjustments’!”
Tarot: THE SIX OF WANDS
Revelation: Public acclaim; growth in the arts.
September 20, 1814
“Come in, Edward. You look happy today! What’s that you’re waving in your hand?”
“It’s a poem, Mr. President, and you’re going to love this! Remember Mr. Key’s visit a couple of weeks ago?”
“Yes! He went to Baltimore to negotiate Dr. Beane’s release from the British. Do you know if he had to abort his mission because of their attack on Fort McHenry?”
“Mr. Key was able to get the doctor’s release, but the British would not let him leave until after the attack. He watched the entire bombardment from the ship in the harbor.”
“That must have been a miserable time for him, Edward. He was no doubt anxious not only for his friend, but for himself, too.”
“Yes, and it wasn’t until dawn on September fifteenth that Mr. Key finally saw that our flag was still flying over the fort. Which brings me to the poem . . .”
The secretary handed President Madison a paper. “Here’s a copy, sir. It’s called ‘The Defence of Fort M’Henry,’ and Mr. Key published it this morning. Everyone is talking about it!”
James Madison read the poem and then looked up at his secretary. “It’s a very good poem indeed, Edward! I especially like ‘the land of the free and the home of the brave.’”
“Yes, sir. Some folks are even singing it to the English tavern song ‘To Anacreon in Heaven.’”
“Well, I doubt it will become popular, Edward,” answered the President. “That tune is so very difficult to sing!”
“Couldn’t agree more, sir.”
“So! The tally thus far for the British: Washington ruined, but Baltimore almost unscathed.”
The President thought a moment and then continued. “That leaves one more target, way down in the South, Edward.”
“I suspect you’re right, sir. The Redcoats are heading for New Orleans.”
Tarot: THE KNIGHT OF CUPS
Revelation: An enticing proposition; a summons.
September 21, 1814
“Catherine?” she heard Miguel call for her from the front room. He had just returned from the market, where he frequently met with friends for coffee and news.
“Catherine,” he called again, “it’s happening! The British are getting closer, and General Jackson is coming to protect us. And he wants me to help him!”
Catherine came inside from her garden, thinking about her husband’s fondness for exaggerations.
“Oh?” she called back, with amusement. “General Jackson has specifically asked for Miguel Plicque to help him save the country?”
She stopped when she saw her spouse, alarmed by the look on his face. Miguel was exhilarated, and she had to fight the panic starting to develop inside her.
War . . . danger . . . injury . . . suffering . . . her husband . . .
“But, Miguel,” she said, choosing her words with care, “you said just the other day, when the bakery owner Jean Daquin tried to recruit you, that you would not join.”
“I know, chérie. But that was because the free men of color were not given the same rights as the white volunteer soldiers. Remember? Governor Claiborne did not even want to arm Major Daquin’s battalion. He was afraid that they would take aim at the white Louisianans.”
“How ridiculous!” scoffed Catherine. “Claiborne certainly does not know much about the citizens of our city. I do wish Jacques Villeré had won the governor’s election instead. It’s unfortunate that the Creoles split their votes between him and Jean Destrehan.”
“True,” agreed Miguel. “If free men of color were allowed to vote, Villeré would have won. He has a very good reputation for settling disputes.”
“That said, if women could vote, Villeré would have been elected by a landslide!” she countered, laughing.
“Well, if you can foresee women voting, I might run for governor myself!”
“One can only dream, chéri amour. But,” she continued, getting back to the disquieting issue at hand, “what’s different today? What changed your mind about joining the battalion of free men of color?”
“Well, General Jackson is on his way here and probably heard about all the British getting ready to attack New Orleans. So, when he was passing through Mobile, Ala
bama, he issued an emergency proclamation.”
Miguel’s smile widened. “He’s calling free blacks ‘brave fellow citizens’ and promising that if we enroll, we will be paid over one hundred dollars and be awarded 160 acres of land. That’s the same amount that the white soldiers are getting!”
“And do you believe him?”
Miguel took both of her hands gently in his. “Oui. And I must do this. I did not know the situation is so critical. We are all in danger: my city, my country, my family, and, most important, my beloved wife. The English are the enemy; I am a citizen of the state of Louisiana, of the United States of America. I will defend you with honor. And you’ll support my decision?”
Catherine looked up at him. She could see that he was unafraid, perhaps even looking forward to what he saw as a heroic adventure. She, however, although proud of her husband’s patriotism and courage, was also conscious of an unnerving apprehension building in her stomach. And plans for a protective spell were swirling in her head.
He was still gazing at her, hoping for her approval.
She smiled slightly and nodded yes.
Tarot: THE EIGHT OF SWORDS
Revelation: A dilemma;
fear of acting in a confrontation.
Peter was seeing Millie at least once or twice a week now. Although neither mentioned the brief encounter in the French market, there was a different quality to his visits: his touches were caresses; his kisses were tender. He was attentive to her, solicitous of her thoughts and ideas. He cared for her! To say this was irregular was an understatement. Bizarre, even; peculiar, certainly. But nice. This was a puzzling enjoyment that she had never before experienced in her life.
“Millie?” She heard him call out and then ascend the stairs.
“Hey, Millie,” he said at the doorway, holding some parcels, including flowers, a pot of cooked shrimp, and a baguette. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“Pete,” she said happily. “Thank you! I haven’t had an opportunity to go to the market today. I so appreciate this.”
They sat together, quite relaxed, at the small table in her room, shelling the shrimp, sponging up the sauce with the bread, and sipping ginger beer.
“Mmm. This is wonderful. Now, what’s new with my favorite privateer?” she asked.
“Oh!” Peter replied, as he licked his fingers. “Lafitte’s furious with General Jackson. Here, we offered to help defend New Orleans, and Jackson had the audacity to call us ‘hellish banditi’! Then that Commodore Patterson actually attacked us. Us! Our homes and our families in Barataria! After we volunteered to help him!”
“Oh, my,” said Millie, as she helped herself to a slice of honey-flavored cake. “Tell me more.”
“It happened just a few days ago, on the sixteenth, at dawn. We were caught off guard. Lafitte wasn’t there, but he told us to have our cannons ready. We saw the fleet approach. But we were expecting the British. Lafitte was so sure that his offer to help defend the city would be accepted that he never thought the Americans would attack. There were the invaders: a schooner of war, six gunboats, and some barges. We were shocked, but since Jean Lafitte had ordered us to resist any American strikes, it became a free-for-all. Most of us made it out; I jumped into a canoe and headed north, toward the marsh, where they couldn’t come after me.”
“Oh, Pete! I’m so glad you’re safe!” Millie said, and she meant it. “How many didn’t get away?”
“About eighty men were captured, including Dominique Yu, Lafitte’s half brother.”
“What happened to them?”
“They’re imprisoned in the cabildo’s calaboose now.”
“Another Lafitte brother at city hall’s jail? Why, people get executed there! I know Pierre Lafitte was able to escape, but your luck might come to an end, especially for eighty Baratarians!”
“I’m sure that won’t happen to our men; we’ll get them out somehow.” Peter looked grim yet resolute.
“Is there more bad news?” Millie asked hesitantly. She had stopped eating and looked at her privateer with concern.
“It was just such a shock, Millie. We were caught off guard!” Peter pounded the table angrily. “So then the Americans raided our warehouses. Jean Lafitte said that the goods Commodore Patterson and his men stole from us were worth quite a fortune. They took all our schooners and then burned our buildings.” Peter shook his head glumly. “Barataria was destroyed.”
“Oh, Pete, I’m so sorry. Will this be the end of Lafitte’s business ventures?” Millie asked, her eyes growing wide.
“Bloody hell, no! Of course not, Millie!” Peter said, seeming surprised by her question. “It’ll take more than that to stop the Baratarians; you can be sure of that!”
Peter wiped his mouth on his sleeve, held out his hand, and added, with a suggestive smile, “Now, let’s you and me get down to our own business undertaking.”
Tarot: THE QUEEN OF CUPS
Revelation: the beloved woman
who acts on her dreams.
October 1814
It was the middle of autumn, and, although Suzanne was almost six months pregnant, she was hardly showing. The first trimester had been easy—very little nausea. She had lots of energy and was exuberantly gathering baby items—everything from blankets to burping cloths.
René frequently came to the Rue de Rampart cottage he provided for her. She loved cooking for him, and afterward they spent the evenings discussing ideas. She was intoxicated with his viewpoints, making them her own.
“Maman,” she had said the previous week, “René says that slavery should be abolished. He believes that all men are equal! Isn’t that amazing?”
“I suspect the plantation owners don’t agree with him,” responded Catherine.
“Well, he has had a number of arguments with his father. But René says that it’s a moral issue. His reasoning is so noble!”
Two weeks before, Suzanne had told Catherine that René had criticized the Catholic Church. “He said that years ago Père Antoine was sent to establish the Spanish Inquisition here in Louisiana.”
“Hmm, I do remember hearing something about that,” Catherine commented.
“René said that people should be able to practice whatever religion they want. But Père Antoine was sent here to New Orleans to arrest people who had ideas the Catholic Church did not approve of. Then they would be tried as heretics.”
“But Père Antoine did not arrest anyone, Suzanne. In fact, he is well loved by all of his parishioners.”
“Well, anyway, René said that the pope should not have approved the inquisition and that it was wrong to conduct the investigations. He is so intelligent, Maman! Don’t you agree?”
“That René is so intelligent, or that the inquisition was wrong?”
“Well, both, of course! Oh, I just love listening to him—so many ideas, so many thoughts. And he says that he enjoys talking to me as well.”
“Yes,” said Catherine, “I imagine he does find you most agreeable! And what does he say about your baby?”
“He’s thrilled!” Suzanne gently kneaded her abdomen and continued. “He loves to put his hand on my tummy, and he’s felt the baby kick. We don’t have a name chosen yet, but he’s sure it’s a boy. Maman, we’re so happy together!”
This morning, Catherine was recalling these sorts of conversations as she waited for Suzanne’s daily call.
“René said . . .”
“René thinks that . . .”
“René believes . . .”
“He’s so fascinating!”
“He’s always incredibly thought-provoking!”
“He’s just amazing!”
Her daughter’s happiness was most important to Catherine, so, rather than debate René’s views or question his ideas, she just listened to Suzanne prattle on, without concern.
But today was different. Because of a disconcerting dream the night before, Catherine had a sense of foreboding about her daughter’s visit. A premonition. She heard the
knock, and then the door opened.
“Maman!” Suzanne called out to Catherine as she stepped into the house. “I have wonderful news!”
Catherine steeled herself as she walked to the front room to greet her glowing daughter.
Wonderful news, she repeated to herself. Then why am I worried?
Yet she couldn’t shake the adverse feeling.
Catherine greeted her daughter with a kiss. Yes, Suzanne was radiant. And excited. But the mother still was apprehensive that something was not quite right.
“Oh, Maman! I am about to tell you the most marvelous announcement!”
Catherine tried to steer the conversation in any other direction.
“Good morning, my darling! You look wonderful! In fact, you are positively glowing! Is the baby kicking today yet? By the way, I have another baby blanket from our neighbor Jeanette. Would you like to see it? How about some coffee?”
“Maman!” This time, Suzanne sounded annoyed.
“Yes,” sighed Catherine, no longer able to put off the inevitable, “and what is your news?”
Her daughter dramatically curtsied to her mother before replying. “Maman, meet the new Madame Suzanne Bonet. René and I are married!”
Tarot: THE KNIGHT OF WANDS
Revelation: New and questionable proposals,
possible adventurous departure.
“How could they?” Catherine was still reeling from Suzanne’s marriage announcement. “What were they thinking? And Père Antoine—why didn’t he talk them out of it? I know he wants his parishioners to value him, but he is well aware that the Code Noir is still in practice—that brown cannot marry white!”
“Now, Catherine,” soothed Miguel, “they’re young, they’re in love—maybe it will work!”
“Nonsense. She may be over three-quarters white, but here in New Orleans she can’t pass as blanc. I’m certain René’s family has already disowned him! They have broken a precept; it’s an appalling scandal. René will never be forgiven. He will not get any Creole clients, and our people do not need bankers. They will not even be able to afford the little house down the block! And now, with the baby coming—”
The Cards Don't Lie Page 10
