Renée shrugged. “I’m sure many women go through practically the same thing some nights with their drunken husbands, she put in grimly.
Isabel nodded, and her shiver indicated her own aversion to Charles’ attempts at lovemaking while he had been her husband.
“I suppose the governor is starting to muster more men,” Gabrielle commented, changing the subject deliberately.
Renée nodded. “The turnout is dreadfully poor. Bernard de Marigny, as chairman of the legislature’s defense committee, is nearly ready to tear out his hair at the lack of response. He’s had notices printed up, urging citizens to do something to protect their own interests.” She leaned towards Isabel. “The Creoles are notoriously lazy, my dear.”
“It’s a shame, really,” Dolly put in. “After all, many of those men will be hurt the hardest because their businesses have been here for years. The Americans have a good deal less to lose as far as private business is concerned.”
“Ah, but the Americans are fighting for their country, Dolly, not just the business concerns of New Orleans,” Gabrielle put in quietly. Then, more briskly, “Rafe is trying with the governor’s help to set up training camps. The men who have volunteered are, for the most part, green recruits, he tells me, and they don’t know the first thing about warfare. They’ll have to be trained in a matter of weeks, since no one really knows when the British are going to make their move. The question is—will they have enough time to make a smooth-running military machine out of this jumbled melting pot of human beings?”
Then, too, there was still the question of Jean Lafitte and his men to think of—Lafitte was like a thorn in Claiborne’s side. He had still not been captured, and Claiborne’s boasts of the tightening net were a thing of the past. Lafitte still wrote to Claiborne, and Pierre now added his own letters, asking him to make a decision. But what decision was there to make? Surely Lafitte did not still hold the belief that the British would accept him on their side after they had destroyed Barataria! Was there another card that the pirate held up his sleeve, some trick that the governor and his aides did not yet know about? It was a frustrating puzzle for Claiborne, and meanwhile, his men still watched the house on Rampart Street, waiting for a chance to catch the pirate unawares.
Edward Livingston had detached himself publicly from Lafitte after the pirate’s escape from Barataria, and, although Claiborne still suspected he was sympathetic to the privateers, the governor accepted him back again. John Grymes still worked openly for the Lafittes, tossing his hat in the ring with their cause. His letters came weekly to the Cabildo, and he, himself, requested audiences with the governor—they would be shut up for hours. Rafe talked scornfully of these meetings, repeating his own opinion that Lafitte was only trying to buy time until he could figure out a foolproof escape plan.
“More and more men seem to be coming in, according to the latest reports. I swear, don’t those English have anyplace else to go?” Renée asked peevishly.
They all fell silent, each lost in her own private thoughts. Gabrielle couldn’t help the concern she felt for Rafe who seemed to be working hard enough for two men these past few days. She wondered if he tried to forget his cares in the arms of the prostitutes of the city. He had visited her often while she was recovering, but was not allowed in her bed, under the doctor’s orders. And God knew, her husband was a man of lusty appetites. How could she expect him to remain faithful to her now?
When the carriage had turned back and was approaching the white pillars of Fairview once more, Gabrielle leaned forward eagerly to see Rafe’s chestnut stallion being led around to the stables. He was home! The warm feeling that rushed through her told her that her face would be transparent as glass when she greeted him—but it didn’t matter—he knew now that she loved him. There was nothing more to hide. She stepped down eagerly from the carriage, handing Paul to Renée, and went rushing to the library where she knew he would be.
“Rafe!” she swung open the door, her eyes alight with welcome—but the look on his face stopped her midway.
“Two more ships sighted in the Gulf today,” he muttered dejectedly. “It seems as though the British are determined they will get a foothold here and use New Orleans as a base for their naval operations. It’s really brilliant military strategy. I can’t blame them for that.”
“Oh, darling, surely more help will arrive for us before—”
“I’m afraid not,” he cut her short. “Claiborne received word just today that no more troops can be spared from the North. We’ll either have to recruit more from the surrounding areas—or go in with what we have.”
“How—how much longer do you think—?”
“Who knows? We have their ships under constant surveillance, and they don’t seem to be making a move towards land as yet. Still patrolling the waters, the damned bastards, defying us with their standards waving in full sight of land.”
“What do you think they’re waiting for?” she asked. “Perhaps their orders have gotten mixed up.”
He laughed savagely. “No more than our own, kitten. The communication is terrible. We haven’t heard any word in the past month on the condition of Washington City, or even if the president has been captured! It’s a damnable mess!”
Gabrielle looked at the tired disgust in his face and felt the urge to wrap her arms around him and hold him close against her. But she fought it down. “Would you like something to eat?” she asked instead.
He nodded carelessly.
She hurried out of the room and noticed Isabel walking up to her room. Renée and Dolly stood in the hall waiting for her.
“We know you have too many things on your mind, Gabrielle,” Renée began. She noted the impatience on the young woman’s face as she and Dolly stopped her in midflight. Her heart was still with her husband. Renée smiled understanding^. “I just wanted to tell you that we’ll be borrowing your carriage to take us back to the city.”
“Oh, Renée, Dolly! Forgive me! I—”
“It’s all right, dear. As I said before, you have other things to attend to now, and Dolly and I have to get back to see how the business has been running itself while we’ve been gone.” She chuckled.
Gabrielle ran over and kissed them both. “I’ll visit you when I can,” she promised. When she returned to the library, she found Rafe pacing up and down. He turned and smiled in amusement upon seeing her flushed face as she set down a tray. His eyes seemed to bore into hers, and Gabrielle felt her whole body weakening. He stepped over to her swiftly and clasped her hungrily in his arms.
His mouth was warm against hers, and she, returned the kiss with an ardor that astonished him.
“I needed that, kitten,” he said in her hair, and she was content to stand there with his arms around her.
Chapter Forty-one
October passed slowly as each day the citizens of New Orleans waited for the British to move. But the blow never came, and, by mid-November, nerves were stretched to the breaking point. It was with relief that news finally came—General Andrew Jackson was on his way from Mobile. Would he bring more soldiers with him? The people fervently hoped so, for their own force, despite more volunteers, was still pitifully small compared to the British.
Gabrielle’s days had been full of volunteer work. She spent three days a week sewing uniforms for the soldiers. Rafe was gone much of the time, but she made an effort to be home when he returned. They made love passionately, as though each time would be their last, and Gabrielle gave of herself so that Rafe would have no need for other women. Sometimes, as they lay together in the big bed, he would hold her close and kiss her so tenderly that her heart would go out to him, and she would have to turn her face away to hide the tears.
One evening after they had exhausted themselves and lay, not speaking, each deep in his own thoughts, Rafe talked of his worries.
“God, Gabrielle, we’ve not nearly enough arms, and here it is almost the end of November. It’s obvious that the British have planned well, for there
is no way a ship can get through their lines with the needed guns and ammunition. Our overland routes let only a trickle in, because the Indians are thick along the Natchez Trace, and the British still hold some of our northernmost forts.”
“What of General Jackson?” she asked in concern. “Surely he is bringing help with him from Mobile.”
Rafe shook his head. “I’m afraid not. We learned today that the general should be arriving the first or second of December, and he will have only six officers with him and perhaps a wagonload of materials—but that’s all.” He turned towards her and his hand played idly with a gleaming tendril of hair. “Sometimes I don’t know why I ever got involved with all this worry and headache,” he admitted grimly. “I could have been free, not troubling myself with the problems of others and a city like this. I probably would have continued on west after a time, but I let myself get too involved, and now I find I care too much what happens.” He tilted her chin and looked into her eyes. “I’ve an idea that you contributed greatly to this change of character,” he chuckled. “Perhaps it was even because of you that I—” He stopped and kissed her. “I’m starting to sound maudlin.”
“I didn’t think you were sounding maudlin,” she said spiritedly, cuddling closer. “I’m sure I would have liked what you were about to say.”
“I’m sure you would have, kitten. Most women enjoy hearing a man make a fool of himself for their benefit.” Gabrielle touched his shoulder with her lips. “I don’t think it’s foolish to tell a woman you care for her,” she said boldly.
His hands drew her away from him, and he stared at her. Then an inscrutable smile played about his lips. “You’ve trapped me,” he said lazily. “Yes, I do admit it. I care what becomes of you, kitten. It seems that between you and that son of mine—of ours—I can’t go on acting as though things don’t matter to me.”
Gabrielle pressed her body joyfully against his. He loves me, he loves me! Oh, why doesn’t he say it? she thought happily. But neither of them was able to say another word, for a few moments later they were once again whirling in a well of pleasure.
“Weapons—guns!” Rafe stalked up and down the room like a caged tiger, his face a mask of ruthless aggression. “Damn Lafitte’s black soul! Damn him!”
Gabrielle looked at him in confusion, sitting down unobtrusively with a cup of tea still in her hand from dinner. He hardly noticed her as he continued to rage about the room.
“Christ! Jackson will be here in three more days! Three more days! The British are bound to know about it, and they’re not going to be wasting too much more time.” “Have you—have you found out something new?” she asked him uncertainly.
He stared at her, and his eyes were black with frustrated fury. “The bastard’s been holding that ace for long enough! Damn him! He’s got a cache of arms hidden somewhere and is in no hurry to tell us about it! Demanding to receive a written document, signed by Claiborne himself, granting him full pardon—or he’ll destroy the arms himself before escaping into Mexican territory!”
Gabrielle couldn’t quite see the cause for such agitation. “Well then, it seems simple enough. Why doesn’t the governor give Lafitte what he wants? We need the munitions, you said as much yourself.”
Rafe swung around to her, a scornful contempt on his face. “Do you think the governor is about to trust a renegade like Lafitte to keep his word?” he asked accusingly.
“But wouldn’t he have escaped if he weren’t going to keep his word? Why would he even bother to mention the arms?”
Rafe, completely exhausted after a night spent at the Cabildo, tried to regain his patience. “Don’t you see, Gabrielle? Lafitte could be using this as another ploy to gain time. While Claiborne talks his offer over with the legislature, Lafitte could use the time to get away! Then we’ll have lost both the pirate and his weapons. If Claiborne should decide to send him the signed pardon, he could use that to get out of the United States and into Mexico!
“If only we could be sure that he was telling the truth!
If only we could trust him! Jesus, what I wouldn’t give to be able to hand out a few more guns among the recruits! And ammunition would be a godsend. Do you realize that we can’t even use real ammunition for target practice? Now, how the hell is a man going to learn to shoot when he has no idea where his bullet is going?”
Gabrielle’s heart went out to him. If only there were some way she could help him, she wondered desperately. A dark, secret answer welled up and entered her brain ... she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t! Rafe’s words interrupted her thoughts.
“A general like Jackson deserves more than we can offer, kitten. What good are brilliant military strategy and brave men when one has no guns? Bravery and intelligence don’t make the enemy back away.”
His face looked anguished, and Gabrielle closed her eyes, wondering at the twists of fate that had once more put a horrible decision in her hands. Would she do any good if she went to Lafitte? He could lie to her just as easily as to the governor, or, worse, he could hold her hostage once she got there. No, Rafe would never allow her to go—and could she do it behind his back? Would he understand? Oh, God, what should she do? His next words seemed to make the decision for her.
“Since General Jackson will be arriving soon, Gabrielle, I’m afraid I’ll have to stay the week in the city. The governor is putting up all of his aides in his own house so that we can plan our strategy from there. When Jackson does arrive, I’ll be on call for a few days. I’ll be back as soon as I can, sweetheart.” He kissed her quickly, then went upstairs to make ready for the journey.
Gabrielle chewed her lip nervously. What she was about to do was foolhardy to say the least! It was a dangerous plan and one she wasn’t even sure the governor would go along with. And it would have to be carried out in the strictest confidence between Claiborne and herself. If the plan went wrong, she would have only herself to blame. She sat down in a chair to think of how to go about it and was still sitting there when Rafe came back downstairs.
“Don’t look so worried, kitten,” he said, regretting his careless words before. “I shouldn’t have said anything to you, but I was upset, myself. There’s absolutely no need to concern yourself with these things. You stay here and take care of Isabel and the children, and I’ll see if perhaps we can arrange a dinner for General Jackson when he arrives. That should keep you occupied.” He brushed her lips regretfully, thinking of the long, weary nights without her to warm his bed.
Gabrielle saw him to the door, then went upstairs to compose a letter to the governor. Sealing the envelope, she hurried to order one of the stableboys to take it into the city. All she could do was wait now. She went back inside and found Isabel waiting for her in her sitting room.
“You look tired, Gabrielle,” she said gently. “I’m afraid these past days have been a trial for you.”
“As they have been for everyone,” Gabrielle added.
Isabel shrugged. “You always did seem to feel things more intensely than others,” she went on. “Gabrielle, you are unfortunate enough to be different from most of us empty-headed coquettes who have but one aim in life—to catch a man and persuade him to marry us.” She laughed sardonically. “I always did envy you that special quality.”
Isabel sighed deeply, then went on. “I’ve been thinking lately how my life has changed since I was that spoiled debutante in Paris, and then Henri’s wife. I’ve known some difficult times, some degrading experiences—much like yourself.” Her dark eyes were sharp in the knowing face. “But I’m not asking you to compare notes with me,” she said with a husky laugh. “I guess what I’m leading up to is—well, we’ve both got our own lives to live now. We’re women with different needs and desires from the goals of those two schoolgirl friends in Paris. We’ll always be friends, time has been the test of that, but—now it’s time that we part. I’ve realized that it will never be the way it was before.”
Gabrielle nodded, her mind far away in Paris for a moment
“So, I’ve come to a decision. I’m going to take up residence in the city with Ria. I’ve already discussed this with Renée. Now, don’t get that wide-eyed look. No, I’m not going to prostitute myself or bring up Ria in the wrong kind of environment. I’m going to be a seamstress for Renée, and she’ll lend me enough money to find a place to live until I can pay her back. Who knows, with the contacts I’ll have, next week may find me with my own sponsor!”
“Next week . . . ?”
Isabel nodded firmly. “I’m leaving tomorrow, Gabrielle. When I come to a decision, I’ve got to stick to it, or I might not be brave enough to follow through later.”
“I—I know what you mean,” Gabrielle responded thoughtfully.
Isabel hugged her. “Don’t think I’m not grateful for—for all you’ve done for me. If it weren’t for you—well, things would never have turned out like this, would they?”
“No,” Gabrielle agreed with a shade of bitterness in her voice.
When she had gone, Gabrielle sat down, gazing out of the window at the gathering dusk. Isabel, she had always told herself, had a propensity for taking care of herself. She loved the company of men, and Gabrielle had the idea that she was growing a trifle bored having no one to flirt with at Fairview. Isabel was like a bright, flickering jewel that needed just the right setting to be shown to best advantage. Objectively, she would make the perfect mistress. Isabel must do as she thought best and she, Gabrielle, must do. ...
She glanced anxiously at the clock and wondered if the stableboy had reached the governor yet. God knew, Governor Claiborne had enough on his mind without catering to the strange fancies of one of his aide’s wives. She only hoped he would not show the note to Rafe. That night she went to bed keyed up and was unable to sleep.
It was quite early the next morning when one of the maids told her that a soldier from the garrison was waiting downstairs to conduct her to the Cabildo. All traces of sleep vanished, and Gabrielle jumped out of bed to dash some water on her face. The time had come, she thought, with a lump in her throat.
Gabrielle Page 46
