The Seven Sapphires of Mardi Gras Page 20

  “I didn’t find out until the eve of our wedding who she really was,” he continued. “It was your grandfather who first recognized her. Yes, it was Raymond Dereux who warned me—”

  But of course I had known. Wasn’t it all written there, just as he was telling it, in the old man’s journal? I was suddenly afraid of what might come next. Was his talk leading up to some terrible confession? What if, here in this room where Elica had died, he began to reveal to me the details of his hideous, unforgivable crime?

  My voice was barely a whisper. “Who was she, Nicholas? This woman—your wife. What was her secret?”

  “Angelica Robinette by birth; Elica Robbins, as I knew her.” I caught my breath at the stark look of anguish in his eyes. “She was Racine Dereux’s mistress!”

  “His mistress!” I cried out in total astonishment. “But how could that be?” I suppressed a tiny shiver of fear. The woman he loved—the man he envied.

  “I will try to explain. You must remember that all of this happened nearly fifteen years ago—during the war.” Again, he began to pace before the window. “But to fully understand, we will have to go back even farther, to the time when the South was in its glory and your grandfather was a young man. You see, in those days, it was quite common for the son of a wealthy plantation owner to take a free woman of color for a mistress. Your grandfather Raymond had such a woman. No doubt he was introduced to—this woman at one of the fabulous quadroon balls in New Orleans.”

  “Quadroon balls?”

  “A rather quaint southern tradition. These dances were extravagant social affairs where men from well-to-do families came to be introduced to beautiful, light-skinned young ladies of color. They would choose from them, if they so desired, a mistress.”

  Nicholas inclined his head slightly toward me. “Are you shocked? You needn’t be.” His lips curved into a faint smile. “Being a mistress to some wealthy planter was no disgrace. In fact, many young women were dressed up in their finery and escorted to the elite balls by their own mothers. The mothers themselves often were, or had once been, the mistresses of white men. They knew how a good ‘second marriage’ to the right man could secure a young girl’s future. It could exchange a life of drudgery for one of silks and satins.”

  He continued with a weary sigh. “Elica was the daughter of such a mother. Her father was a local plantation owner. Elica had so little Negro blood in her that her skin was as white as a lily’s; yet in the eyes of the law she was still a woman of color.” He shook his head sadly. “Educated in France, trained from early childhood for the genteel life of mistress to some wealthy planter—”

  “I still don’t understand—”

  “By the time the war broke out, the quadroon balls had more or less come to an end. With war so rapidly approaching, few men could afford the time or luxury of a mistress. Many young women of color, some of them quite innocent, were forced by desperation into gambling salons and whorehouse stables.” He paused before adding, “The woman who had once been your grandfather’s mistress, by her own choosing, ran such a place.”

  “How—how do you know?”

  “Dominique’s, it is called. In New Orleans. I spoke to her there.” He smiled faintly at the recollection. “A bold, earthy woman, this Dominique, but not without heart. She took me into her chambers and there she told me Elica, or Angelica’s, story.

  “Angelica was little more than a frightened child when Dominique took her under her protective wing. Her mother was dead, her father refused to acknowledge her existence. The girl was well bred and delicate—too delicate, Dominique thought, for the life of a common whore. She spoke to your grandfather about her.

  “During a lull in the fighting, your grandfather introduced the two of them, Racine and Angelica. She must have been all of fourteen when Dominique and Raymond Dereux set her up in a little room above the gambling house to become Racine’s mistress,” Nicholas finished with a heavy sigh.

  “How terrible.”

  “Not when you consider her options.” His smile was ghastly. “One man—or the life of a prostitute. Who can blame her?”

  I did not think that Nicholas held her to blame. But could he have forgiven her?

  “What else did you find out?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing more.”

  “How long did their—relationship continue?”

  “The war was raging all around New Orleans by then. It was hard to trace Racine’s movements. No doubt he spent time with her when he was nearby.” Nicholas paused slightly. “At least until he married.”

  “Married?”

  “Edward wanted an heir. He had been pressuring Racine to find a wife. He was married in New Orleans in the heat of the war. The woman chose to stay with her own family while Racine was away at war. She was in poor health, and died in childbirth.”

  “And that child was Christine!”

  “Yes, Christine, and not the son Edward wanted. But the news of Racine’s death made her precious to him. That’s why Edward brought her here.”

  “What happened to Elica?”

  “Who knows?” He made a dismissing gesture. “She wasn’t heard of again for over fourteen years—until she appeared to me under the guise of someone else.”

  “But when she came here, wasn’t she afraid of being recognized?”

  “She was older, wiser, more sophisticated. Somewhere along the way she had learned that she could better her situation if she passed for white, as many a light-skinned lady of color chooses to do. She had a new identity, a new life. Your grandfather and Racine Dereux were the only members of the family who knew of her existence. Racine was dead, and Raymond was old and feeble. Their meeting had probably been brief in the first place. Perhaps she thought that he would not remember her. And if he did, who would believe him?”

  “Such a strange story. I have to wonder, Nick, why—”

  “Did she seek me out knowing that I was Racine’s cousin? Why did she risk everything by returning?” His deep voice had risen slightly. “Don’t you think I’ve asked myself those same questions a thousand times? Was it revenge upon the family that she wanted? Racine was a cruel man, perhaps a violent lover.” He was pacing again. “No, there had to be another reason.” I could see pain in his eyes, the reflection of a deep hurt. “Whatever her reasons, I knew that it was never love for me.”

  With a faint tremor in my voice, I asked, “Did you love her, Nicholas?”

  He moved abruptly away from me, toward the window. His face was obscured by shadows. Only the stiffness of his broad shoulders betrayed the slightest hint of emotion. “At first I was captivated, intrigued, by her. Later, when I suspected that she was using me, I began to hate her.” When he turned back toward me, I was alarmed by the change in his dark features. His eyes had grown savage. “But I didn’t kill her!”

  Fear made a hard knot in my stomach. My voice was shaky, trembling. “How do you know that she was murdered?”

  Once again, restless hands shifted through the tumbled thickness of his hair. “I went up to this room twice that evening. The first time, I was an anxious bridegroom of only a few hours. Elica had slipped away from the masquerade ball after just a few dances. A long time elapsed and still she didn’t return. I was getting worried, so I went up to see what was delaying her. I started to knock upon her door when I heard voices whispering to each other from inside. Angry, muffled voices. I knew someone was there in the room with her, but I couldn’t tell whether the voice was a man’s or a woman’s.

  “Curiously, I called out her name. When Elica finally came to the door, she was laughing, but her face was pale. She had tossed the small silver mask that she had been wearing at the masquerade aside. She seemed so agitated. She kept fingering the necklace above the white lace at the throat of her dress as she promised me that she would be right down. It was then that I really noticed the pendant, though I knew that she had been wearing one all evening. I don’t know that much of jewelry,” he confessed, “but I’ll never forget th
e way the jewels in that necklace caught the light, like a ring of tiny, brilliant blue stars.”

  “Nick—” I started to speak, but he didn’t seem to hear me. My breath caught in my throat as I remembered the glittering drops of blue within the lining of the old trunk. Could it have been the same necklace Elica had worn? If so, what could it mean?

  Harsh, rugged lines deepened along the edges of his fierce black eyes as Nicholas continued his tale. His voice was raw, his words a torment. “When I came up the second time, the fire was raging. I saw her lying in a heap upon the floor—so still. I got close enough to her to know beyond any doubt that she was dead. The flames were licking all around her, but it was not by fire that she had died. Her head was twisted at such a strange angle. Then I saw the dark, bruised marks upon her neck where the pendant had once been.”

  “The necklace was gone?”

  “Not a trace of it was ever found. That small piece of jewelry is my only link between Elica’s death and her killer. A similar pendant was part of the missing Dereux family heirlooms.”

  “But if it was the same necklace, then how could it have been in Elica’s possession?”

  His reply was a sardonic laugh. “Racine wasn’t exactly the pariah Edward makes him out to be. He always had gambling debts. I’ve even suspected that he might have taken the missing jewels. Elica might have in turn stolen the jewels from Racine. She obviously had come into some kind of money—” He shook his head as if to deny any possibility of his words. “No, I won’t believe the worst of her—She could have come to own the sapphire necklace innocently enough,” he continued. “Racine might have given it to her as a gift. She could have worn it that night, never guessing of its origin or the fact that it might be recognized by one of the members of the Dereux family.”

  “Nicholas, you said that my grandfather was the only one who might have recognized her. Do you think he might have had something to do with her death?”

  “Not for a minute!” He sounded genuinely surprised. “You mustn’t even think that! Your grandfather could be a hard man, but he would never have resorted to murder. Besides, he is dead.” I gasped at the firmness of his next words. “Whoever murdered Elica is still alive!”

  “How could you know that?”

  “Someone has been searching the house. Many times now I’ve heard them. I keep watching, waiting, hoping that they’ll make the wrong move.”

  “Then you do believe my story about someone wearing the voodoo mask?”

  He nodded. “I am certain that the person who murdered Elica that night is the one who struck you down.” He began to walk across the room, beckoning for me to follow. “Let me show you something.” He stopped at the far corner where he kneeled upon the floor and began to tap upon the hollow wood as Christine had done earlier upon the corridor wall near the ballroom. Suddenly, a small part of the flooring gave away to reveal a trapdoor. Beyond that door was a continuation of the damp stone stairway that led from the ballroom into the cellar below.

  “Whoever was in the room with Elica must have made his exit from here after he set the room ablaze,” he said. “Careful, now.” Nicholas took my arm and began guiding me down steep, dark steps. In what seemed like no time, we had reached the ballroom level. “From here he must have opened the panel, come out into the corridor, and rejoined the masquerade party.”

  A shiver of apprehension swept over me as we continued to descend the hidden stairs that led into the cellar room. As far as I knew, there were only three people who knew of the existence of the secret passageway: my grandfather, Christine, and Nicholas himself. Grandfather was dead, and I was certain that Christine had not been the one who had attacked me. One push was all it would take to send me tumbling down the cellar stairs. A small voice kept whispering that I was being a fool to trust him.

  The closer we came to the claustrophobic little room, the more my tension mounted. It was all coming back to me in full force. The glittering object half buried in faded silk. That ghastly masked form, arm upraised, the stiff, inhuman grin of the voodoo mask. Eyes burning with the silver gleam of madness as the black club came crashing down—Nicholas’s eyes?

  Nicholas was standing near the charred piece of wood which had been the cause of my injury. It looked huge and menacing. The very sight of it made my head throb with unpleasant remembrance.

  “When you first began talking about voodoo masks and the like, I thought you were hallucinating,” he confessed. “But when I came down here later that night, I discovered that the blow you received could not possibly have been caused by a falling beam.” He pointed upward. “See how the ceiling slopes? If that chunk of wood had fallen from up there, it would have landed in the opposite direction.”

  He was watching me now, his dark eyes penetrating my thoughts. “Louise, you kept repeating something about sapphires—glittering blue sapphires.”

  I had to trust him! I took a deep breath. “It was in there,” I said, pointing to the old trunk in the corner. “After Christine locked me in, I wandered about the room for a while. Then I noticed the trunk. I was curious, so I opened it up and looked inside. I saw a shiny object partially concealed within the lining. It looked like a fine piece of jewelry. It was blue, and it sparkled. Nick, do you think it could have been the missing sapphire necklace?”

  I did not know whether or not he had even heard my question. He had stepped over to the old trunk and was already beginning to pry at the lid. A cloud of dust filled the room as, with a heavy moan, the rusty hinges parted.

  I stepped forward to peer into the trunk with him. “The necklace, or whatever it was, was in here,” I reached a finger into the rotted satin of the lining where the glittering object had been, grasping emptiness. I raised my eyes to Nicholas’s in surprise. The pendant was gone. The trunk was empty.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When we returned to the kitchen, Christine was waiting. The ribbons in her long hair ruffled behind her as she rushed over to me, taking both of my hands in hers. “Oh, Louise! You don’t know how I’ve suffered!” She lowered her eyes dramatically. “It was dreadful of me to leave you in that awful old cellar room, even for a moment. Can you ever forgive me?”

  Standing there in pristine white dress, her unruly tangle of hair caught up in a huge white bow, she seemed the picture of innocence. She looked so forlorn and repentant that I felt my heart go out to her. No matter how thoughtless her cruel trick of leaving me alone in that ghastly room had been, I did not hold her to blame for what had happened next. “Let’s forget it ever happened.”

  “Oh, Louise! Could we?” she cried out in genuine relief. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. Truly.” She reached out to hug me tightly.

  “You should thank your lucky stars Louise has such a forgiving nature. I’m sure I would not be so easy on you.”

  Christine turned to face Nicholas, focusing her charm upon him. “Nick!” she preened, tossing back her mass of chestnut curls. “You’ve taken such good care of our Louise!”

  His teeth flashed white against the darkness of his tanned skin, his anger vanishing. “It was my pleasure,” he replied, lost by Christine’s winning smile.

  I stole a glance upstairs. “I’ll just go gather up my belongings—”

  “Everything’s right here,” Christine said. “Cassa showed me up to your room and I threw it all into this bag.”

  “Then we should be going.”

  Reluctantly, Christine agreed. “I guess so. I’ve left Nathan out there with the horses a long time.”

  Nicholas walked with us out to the waiting carriage. He lifted me up inside, his hand lingering against my waist. His lips brushed ever so softly against mine. I remembered the safety from the fear and blinding pain I had found in his arms. He pressed his hand into mine. “Take care, Louise,” he whispered before he moved away.

  If Christine had noticed the moment of closeness between us, she made no comment. Her mind seemed to be occupied with other matters.

  “Things
have been terrible since you’ve been gone. Just terrible!” Christine moaned as the carriage started moving toward Royal Oaks. “I’ll tell you all about it on the way home.” Almost in the same breath, she added, “But something good has happened, too. I’ve found the perfect costumes for us, and now we won’t have to waste our time sewing.”

  I frowned slightly. “Costumes?”

  “For the Mardi Gras. Louise, surely you haven’t forgotten! It’s only a few weeks away now. Oh, nothing compares to the Mardi Gras! The feasting and the dancing and the big parade! Of course, Edward’s forbidden me to go,” she confided as we reached the fork in the road. “But I think I’ve found a way to change his mind,” she added, a reckless grin upon her lips.

  “I hope so,” Nathan drawled from the driver’s seat. “I wouldn’t want to go with anyone else but you.”

  “Don’t worry. If he doesn’t relent, I’ll slip out anyway. You can wait for me down by that big cypress tree as you’ve done before.”

  “I’d wait all night for you if I had to,” Nathan said, his lazy voice filled with unabashed adoration.

  Christine’s excited chatter combined with the motion of the carriage made me feel dizzy. Nathan wasn’t the best of drivers. Every bump in the road set my head to throbbing again. I was glad when we finally reached sight of the house.

  To my surprise, the entire family was gathered in the parlor, awaiting our return. Ian hurried to the door to welcome me back, an anxious look in his amber eyes. “We were so worried about you, Louise,” he exclaimed, taking my arm and leading me toward the stiff-backed sofa. He was just in time, for another slight wave of dizziness suddenly washed over me. “Here, sit down. I’ll have Mrs. Lividais bring you a glass of wine.”

  As he hurried off to the kitchen, Edward came over for a moment to stand near the edge of the sofa. “How are you feeling, Louise?” The concern in his voice made a lump rise in my throat. “Christine tells me that you would like to have the old fountain in the garden repaired in memory of Raymond. I thing that’s a grand idea. I’ll have Nathan start working on it right after the Mardi Gras.”