Destiny's Daughter

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  "They’re fools." Chase rammed a fist against the trunk of the tree and winced in pain.

  "Fools maybe. But influential fools."

  "She’s the only one with the courage to speak up. And they’re going to dismiss her like some common criminal."

  The gavel sounded again. "If there are no further comments, I will adjourn this meeting."

  A breathy, hesitant voice called out. "Sir, I wish to speak."

  Everyone turned in surprise at the figure of a young woman, dressed in a shabby dark dress, with four little boys clinging to her skirts.

  The men at the table watched her intently.

  "Are you a responsible citizen of this city?"

  "My name is Suzanne Robichaud, the current owner of Belle Riviere. It has been in my husband’s family for four generations."

  At her halting speech, the men at the table straightened with interest.

  "Go on, Madame Robichaud," Mallard said.

  Touching a hand to her youngest son’s hair, she said softly, "The freed slaves who were working for me were driven away by hooded gunmen. Banker Willis, along with Edmond Lafourcade and Charles Montagnet, came to my plantation, Belle Riviere, to say that I had twenty-four hours to pay the taxes that had been due since the war. When I told them I had no money, they said they had a buyer for my land. I didn’t want to sell, but they gave me no choice. I had no money, and no one left to help me work my fields." Her voice grew stronger. "This kind young woman, Miss Montgomery, was the only person in the city to offer me help. She brought me all of her savings."

  A ripple of excitement went through the crowd.

  "I refused her offer," Suzanne Robichaud said, "but I will never forget her kindness."

  Many in the crowd craned to get a better look at the young woman who would offer such kindness. Hattie Lee and the others stared at Annalisa, who was gazing at Suzanne Robichaud with a half-smile touching her lips.

  "I wish to speak as well." The widow Beaumont said firmly. "My name is Cecilia Beaumont, and I have been working with the Sisters of Charity to feed and house the many orphans here in New Orleans." As she spoke, the children who had accompanied her bobbed about the crowded lawn. "Miss Montgomery has been giving me all her savings to aid in my work. Without her assistance, I would have been forced to beg."

  "Did you know how she earned her money?" Reverend McFarland asked loudly.

  The woman’s voice was filled with scorn. "Sir, my orphans cared only that a woman of love and compassion gave them enough to survive for another day. I cared not where the money came from. I, too, was told that my plantation would have to be sold for taxes. Without the Archangel of Mercy, I would be out on the streets." The widow’s voice rang out. "If you really care to hear the truth, you must be willing to listen to all of us. And that includes Annalisa Montgomery and the women who live with her."

  Although several people caught their breath in shocked silence, others began to applaud. The applause grew, until Mallard was again forced to bring down his gavel.

  "We will allow no more outbreaks. If you wish to speak, you will have to stand and be acknowledged." After another whispered conference, Mallard added, "The testimony of Miss Montgomery will be duly noted. Now, who else would like to testify?"

  The courage of these women was contagious. One after another of the citizens stood and added to the story of terror and corruption. Within a matter of hours, the commission had enough witnesses to prove that there had been a conspiracy between the banker, the mayor-elect, and Montagnet.

  When the meeting was finally adjourned, Annalisa hurried to the carriage, stopping along the way to accept the thanks from many in the crowd.

  "Annalisa." Chase caught her arm and held her when she tried to pull away. "You were magnificent."

  "The people did it. Suzanne Robichaud and Madame Beaumont. Without their testimony, there would have been no report."

  His features were grim. "You turned the tide of this meeting. If it weren’t for you, the others would never have found the courage to speak." What amazed him even more was that she didn’t even seem aware of her influence.

  "Chase." Her voice trembled. "I know what I am. I know what I will always be to the people of this town." With a look in her eyes he had never seen before, she turned away and climbed into the carriage, where the other women were waiting.

  As Chase held the reins, Luther touched his arm. "Mallard wants a few words with you. He said to be ready to leave in the morning. The president will meet you in the usual place."

  Chase thought of the Crystal Room of the Willaid Hotel in Washington, where President Grant, sipping cognac and smoking a cigar, would be reading the newspaper and waiting for the latest report.

  Glancing down at him, Annalisa’s voice lowered in repressed anger. "Mallard? Do you work with these men as well?"

  "I suppose you could say we all work for the president. Including Luther, who has worked with me for years."

  Hadn’t she suspected as much? "I see. And you will be leaving with them?"

  The look he gave her was cold, emotionless. For so long now he had wanted out of this business. But the president was a hard man to say no to. His appeal to Chase’s patriotism had always won out in the past. "I don’t know yet. I’ll meet with Mallard and hear what the president wants. I’ll know more later." Seeing the pain in her eyes, he gave her a grim smile. "No matter what, we’ll be together tonight. I promise."

  Tonight. As the carriage moved along the crowded roads, the word drummed in her mind. Tonight. It was all they had left. And it would have to last her for a lifetime.

  The lights blazed in every room of Hannah Elliott’s House of Pleasure. Silk and satin gowns swished, perfume filled the air as the women descended the stairs and maids filled glasses with fine wine and brandy.

  Annalisa paused on the stairs and gazed fondly at the people who had become so dear to her.

  In a comer of the room Dr. Lynch and Gabrielle stood close together, carrying on an animated conversation. Her gown of crimson silk matched the bright spots of color on her cheeks as she shook her head and backed away from him. Catching her hand, he pressed forward and spoke more urgently.

  On a settee, Eulalie and Luther sat stiffly, staring at one another. It was the first time Annalisa had ever seen Luther in a suit. He looked uncomfortable as he ran a finger around the inside of his collar. His black hair glistened with droplets from the bath. Beside him, Eulalie’s short-cropped kinky gold hair and amber-colored gown of watered silk made her look like a lovely marigold.

  From the back of the house, Hattie Lee entered wearing a gown of bright, poppy-red satin. In her upswept hair were plumes dyed to match. For a brief moment Annalisa had a flash of remembrance. She was a little girl, clinging to Hattie Lee’s skirts and screeching in terror as black-robed, hooded women hovered around them. She blinked, and the image dissolved. Behind Hattie Lee, Jessie came up and brought his arms around her waist, drawing her firmly against him, burying his lips in her neck. They laughed like two children before drawing apart and walking into the room trying to appear casually indifferent to each other.

  Nate stood by the fireplace, his hand resting atop the mantel. Beside him Francine was saying something that made him smile. Reaching a hand, he brushed a lock of blond hair from her cheek, then kept his hand there, staring deeply into her eyes.

  At a knock, a maid hurried to open the front door. Chase handed her his hat and paused to study the beautiful woman whose hand still rested on the banister. Her gown of pale, luminous ivory mousseline de soie shimmered in the light of the candles. Her dark hair tumbled in soft waves framing the most beautiful face he had ever seen. He was reminded of the first time she had walked down these stairs and into his waiting arms. Nothing had ever equaled the shock he had felt that night.

  The hammering in her chest intensified. "Chase. I’m so glad you could come to our party."

  He accepted her hand and noticed the rubies and diamonds twisted into a figure eight that gleame
d at her throat and earlobes. Seeing the direction of his look, she said softly, "I’m wearing them in honor of my mother. Come, let’s celebrate."

  "What are we celebrating?" He felt as if he carried a ball of lead in his stomach.

  She handed him a glass of whiskey. "The end of Montagnet’s reign of terror."

  "What makes you think it’s all over? What if those who hate find a new leader? What if the hooded terrorists continue their attacks on helpless citizens?"

  Annalisa took a sip of whiskey, then frowned and placed her glass back on the maid’s tray. She would never learn to like the taste of it. "Bring me a sherry," she said, then turned toward Chase. "I think the people of New Orleans have found their courage. And once found, it will not be so quickly lost again."

  The chief of police, hearing Annalisa, walked closer to join in the conversation. Puffing his chest with importance, he said, "I’ve given my word to the commission that all the roads around the city will be carefully patrolled. I’ve also promised to double all protection of citizens against attack by the hooded cowards."

  As he moved away, Annalisa asked quietly, "Do you trust him to keep his word?"

  Chase shrugged. "It will be up to the people to keep him honest. Any time they feel he isn’t doing his job, they can demand to be heard."

  "And who will listen?"

  "Their representatives in Washington. Their elected officials right here in Louisiana. The people themselves."

  A maid returned with a glass of sherry. Sipping the wine, Annalisa said, "You’ve done your job well. You can take pride in your accomplishments, Chase."

  His job. At this moment he hated it. It was the thing that would take him from her. "And so can you."

  "I?"

  Chase watched as she turned to greet a guest. Even now she didn’t seem to comprehend just how much good she had done.

  How was he going to tell her that he had to leave her? Worse, how was he going to face that painful fact himself? The president’s message had been simple. He needed Chase. He expected him to come immediately. Downing the whiskey, Chase waited for the heat to warm the chill that had begun enveloping him like a cold autumn mist. He had decided to go to Washington and resign his position. He would steel himself against the president’s dramatic, forceful appeal to his patriotism. He would resist any attempt to be manipulated further. That was what he promised himself. But even in his mind, it lacked conviction.

  Moving about the room, he joined in conversations without ever knowing what he had said. He moved, he talked, he drank. And he watched Annalisa. While she walked about the room her look barely skimmed him, then darted away. But he knew she was as aware of him as he was of her. He needed to be alone with her. He yearned to hold her. He ached for her touch. When he could stand it no longer, he went to her and took the glass from her hand and led her to the stairs. And when they were alone in her room, he clutched her to him with a fierceness that rocked her. They made love through the long, black night, and lay tangled together, clinging, holding back the dawn, denying the parting that they knew had to come. Neither of them slept. It was as if they both knew that this was their last taste of happiness. When the night ended, when the first pearl ribbons of dawn streaked the sky, their lives would stretch before them, empty and barren. And the memory of their love would be all that was left to warm them on cold winter nights.

  * * *

  Chase dressed slowly, listening to the sounds of life downstairs. Annalisa accepted a tray from a maid and set it on a small, round table. Neither of them touched the food.

  "Thelma made you café au lait and beignets."

  He couldn’t look at them. "I’m not hungry."

  "You’ll need food before you start your journey."

  "I’ll have something later."

  "All right." She left the tray and walked to the window. The sun was already burning off the mists that hung like shrouds about the water. "It looks like a beautiful day for a riverboat trip." She hugged her arms about herself and felt a cold chill.

  "Yes. Perfect. Not a cloud in the sky." In his heart it was already cold and raining. He shrugged into his jacket and buttoned it.

  He glanced around the room. There was nothing left to do, yet he lingered, dreading the good-bye.

  "Shall I walk you downstairs?" She hoped her smile was in place. She couldn’t allow her lips to tremble.

  "No. I’d rather we say a quick good-bye here. I expect Hattie Lee and the others will be down there. So many things to say. So much confusion." His voice sounded rough. He blamed it on the early hour.

  "Well." Her fingers played with the sash of her dusky rose silk dressing gown. "Safe journey, Chase."

  "Thank you. For everything." God. He sounded like a pompous ass.

  Striding to the door, he twisted it open with vicious force, then paused. "Annalisa."

  She stared at him with eyes that looked too big for her face.

  Don’t look at me like that, he thought. Don’t plunge the knife any deeper. The pain is already unbearable. He was grateful that his voice remained steady. "Know that I love you."

  She felt the tears fill her eyes and turned away. He wouldn’t see her cry. Keeping her head high, she swallowed the lump in her throat and said in a tight voice, "Good-bye, Chase. I pray that God holds you in His hand."

  She heard the door close, but she didn’t turn around. For what seemed an eternity, she continued to stare out the window, seeing nothing. Below, she heard the sound of raised voices and laughter. Chase, ever the charming rogue, would be kissing their cheeks and flattering them, and leaving everyone with pleasant memories. Memories.

  Through a blur of tears, she watched his tall figure mount the horse and ride away at a brisk run. Never once did he look back.

  * * *

  Listlessly Annalisa dressed in a simple white blouse and navy drill skirt that skimmed the tops of her shoes. She tried to work on her ledgers, but her mind couldn’t seem to focus on the figures. Snapping the books shut with a sigh of disgust, she walked out of the house and crossed the wide back lawn that sloped toward the woods. Following the familiar trail, she came to the willow and stepped under its low-hanging branches. Sitting with her back to the rough trunk, she felt enveloped in a cool, green cocoon. The solitude of the place wrapped itself around her, and she found herself smiling as she recalled her first encounter here with Chase. What a tease he had been. Had he known from the start that she was here? Of course. He had been the man in that flat-bottomed boat. Chase had grown up on this river. He knew every bayou, every twist and turn. And he had spotted her and then decided to have some fun with her.

  Even now, just thinking about the way he had kissed her foot, she felt herself burning. He needed only to touch her and she was lost. Lost. Lost. The word drummed in her mind. All her life she had felt lost. Alone in the convent. Alone in that big house filled with women. Only with Chase had she ever felt completely at home.

  Standing, she brushed the grass from her skirt and made her way back to the house. "Life goes on," Sister Marie Therese was fond of saying. Only this wasn’t living; this was dying, inch by painful inch. Annalisa turned her back on the willow and its memories. It was time to bathe and dress and be ready for another evening.

  * * *

  Chase stood on the deck of the riverboat and watched as the landscape slowly changed from graceful rolling lawns to houses crowded together, and railroad tracks that scarred the country. Along the shore, a group of boys swung from the branch of a willow and leaped into the muddy Mississippi with shrieks of laughter. Closing his eyes, he saw Annalisa, frolicking in the water beneath her secret willow. A knife tore at his heart. Taking a cigar from his pocket, he bit the end, then held a light to the tip, and found himself seeing Annalisa holding a taper to his cigar, laughing up into his face. A door to the salon opened, and a burst of raucous laughter jarred the silence. A voice behind him reminded him of the poker game he was missing. He’d lost his taste for poker. Staring at the cigar, he tossed it
overboard. He’d lost his taste for everything. Even his taste for life. Seeking the captain, he wrote a quick letter, sealed it, then walked deliberately to the stern of the boat. Tossing aside his jacket, he climbed over the rail. As the riverboat glided gracefully up the river, a lone figure bobbed in the water.

  * * *

  Annalisa finished dressing and stood at the window, watching clouds scudding past the moon. In the distance she saw the sails of a boat and was reminded of the pirate ship. The pain was sharp, swift. She turned away and dabbed perfume at her throat and wrists. Would the pain dim in time? Would her memories of Chase fade? Would she, in time, forget what he looked like? She knew the answer. His image was imprinted forever on her heart.

  "Child, you better get down here. We got company."

  Annalisa sighed. Picking up her fan, she walked down die stairs. Halfway down she stopped. At the bottom of the steps Chase stood waiting, his hand gripping the banister. Behind him, the women clustered like a flock of colorful birds.

  "I thought you’d be halfway to Washington."

  "I was. I changed my mind."

  "About seeing the president?"

  He gave her a lopsided grin that started her heart tumbling. "About doing one more damned noble thing."

  "But your job ..."

  "Will have to be done by someone else. I sent word to the president that I will be out of the country."

  Her throat went dry. "Out of the country?" She was babbling like a parrot.

  "That’s right. I’ve sent Emile Soulet to order my crew to ready the Destiny for a cruise in the Caribbean."

  "How long will you be away?"

  His smile grew as he started up the steps toward her. "At least a year."

  A band tightened around her chest. "A year."

  Seeing the look in her eyes, he reached out a finger to her cheek. A fire began deep inside him. His voice lowered. "Would you grow restless after a year alone with me?"

  "You’re planning to take me with you?"