The Countess Misbehaves

The sea, they now realized with some surprise, had calmed dramatically in the last few minutes of their lovemaking. They were not going to die after all.

Armand gave Madeleine a quick kiss, levered himself up and drew her to her feet. In haste they dressed and hurried out on deck, hearts pumping with adrenaline.

The steamer had reached the sinking ship, but it was a small vessel. Passengers were already clamoring over the Starlight’s railing and crowding onto the steamer’s deck, endangering the vessel that offered safety.

“No more!” shouted the worried steamer captain, “we can’t take any more passengers. We’ll swamp if we do! Water’s already to the gunnels! Get back, get back!”

A cry of protest rose from the pushing, shoving mob of men. Determined to get Madeleine on the steamer and save her life, Armand swept her up into his arms and forced his way through the crowd.

“Wait!” he shouted to the captain of the City of Mobile, handing Madeleine down onto its decks, “You must take her! She’s the last woman on board. Show a little mercy, Captain!”

“Very well,” the frowning captain reluctantly agreed, “but she’s the last one I’ll take.” He drew a pistol from his waistband and shouted, “I’ll shoot the next man who tries to board this vessel!”

Amidst curses and threats from those left behind, the dangerously overloaded steamboat backed away from the sinking ocean liner. Jostled and pushed about, Lady Madeleine stood on the crowded deck and looked back at the sinking ship.

Her tear-filled eyes clung to Armand de Chevalier as he gallantly smiled, waved and threw her a kiss. The lump in her throat grew bigger as she kissed her fingertips and threw the kiss back. And when he hastily unbuttoned his soiled white shirt and whipped it off his left shoulder to reveal her blue satin garter encircling his hard brown biceps, she laughed and sobbed at the same time.

“Armand,” she said without sound, realizing that her lover was going to die. She would never see him again.

After many long, nightmarish hours spent on the badly over-crowded City of Mobile as it steamed through the Gulf and made its slow way upriver, Lady Madeleine at long last arrived in New Orleans.

It was sunset.

Wan and exhausted from the ordeal, Madeleine stood at the riverboat’s lacy railing wondering if her Uncle Colfax and Lord Enfield would be at the landing to meet her. She wondered if they had heard of the hurricane in the Gulf and the sinking of the S. S. Starlight. Would they think she had perished? Gone down with the ship? They would have no way of knowing that she had been spared.

Madeleine sighed as she shaded her eyes from the dying summer sun. She couldn’t expect them to meet every river steamer making port in hopes she would be on it. It didn’t matter. As soon as she reached the levee, she’d hire a carriage to drive her straight to her Uncle Colfax’s French Quarter mansion.

Her eyes lighted in anticipation of seeing her adored uncle. It would be so pleasant to have a little time alone with him before she had to face her fiancé, Lord Enfield. The prospect of looking the lord in the eye and pretending that she was still the high-moraled lady he thought her to be, filled Madeleine with dread and apprehension. She was eager to see him, of course, but now that reality had sunk in, she was so riddled with guilt she wasn’t sure she could conceal her anxiety.

Dear, kind, unsuspecting Desmond. If he knew what she had done, his heart would break and he would surely hate her for all eternity.

The Louisiana sun finally sank beneath the horizon as the slow-moving riverboat approached the levee. In the lingering orange afterglow Madeleine spotted, standing side-by-side on the bustling levee, her Uncle Colfax Sumner and Desmond Chilton.

Torn by conflicting emotions, she raised a hand and waved madly.

“My sweet little Madeleine!” exclaimed her beaming uncle after the riverboat captain had personally escorted her down the gangway and into the outstretched arms of the spry, sixty-seven-year-old Colfax Sumner. “We heard about the terrible storm,” he said, embracing Madeleine, but addressing the captain. “The S. S. Starlight, did she make it?”

Madeleine’s heart hurt when the captain replied, “Afraid not, sir. The last we saw of her, she was swiftly going down. Those left on board most surely perished.”

“Such a tragedy,” said Colfax, then hugged his precious niece so tightly he almost crushed her ribs, unaware of his own strength. Against her ear, he said, “I never gave up hope. Thank the Almighty you’re safe!”

He released her and Madeleine stiffened slightly when the tall, blondly handsome Lord Enfield immediately took her in his arms. He hugged her, but made no attempt to kiss her and for that she was grateful. He was a well-mannered, blue-blooded nobleman who thought it common and vulgar to demonstrate affection in public. Thank heaven. She was not yet ready to kiss him. She needed a few days, or at least a few hours, before she kissed anyone again.

Holding her in a much gentler embrace than her spirited uncle, Lord Enfield said softly, “My dear, we were so worried.” He pulled back to look down at her. “Are you unharmed?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, not feeling fine at all. Forcing a smile, she glanced at her uncle and added, “Now that I’m here with the two of you.”

The trio climbed into the waiting carriage and Colfax himself drove them directly to his Royal Street town house. The troubled Madeleine experienced a measure of well-being when the carriage passed through the mansion’s heavy iron gates and rolled through the porte cochere.

She loved this comfortable French Quarter home with its captivating gardens and private courtyard. A charming Creole town house, the structure consisted of a ground floor containing the kitchen and service rooms that opened onto the courtyard. Stairs to the living quarters were mounted outside the galleries in the courtyard. At the far back edge of the property, beyond the courtyard, were a couple of two-story garçonnières, carriage houses that had originally been built for male relatives or guests. Their only occupant was the indomitable black woman, Avalina, who single-handedly tended the Sumner house.

On the second floor of the main house were the entertaining rooms: drawing room, dining room, small ballroom, and Colfax’s book-lined study and spacious bedroom suite. On the third floor were a number of bedrooms, one of which belonged to Madeleine, even though she had stayed in it only two or three times in her life.

As she alighted from the carriage, Madeleine automatically inhaled deeply and sighed with satisfaction. The sweet scent of magnolias and azaleas and honeysuckle and japonica and Cherokee roses made her realize fully that she was back in the seductive semitropics of New Orleans.

That, and the damp, muggy heat that caused her hair to curl around her face and beads of perspiration to stand out on her forehead.

Eagerly climbing the stairs to the second floor gallery that was embellished with fancy iron lace, Madeleine hurried through the tall, fan-lighted double doors and stepped into the spacious entryway. She had taken but a few short steps before Avalina, her signature white tignon on her head, her broad black face radiating pleasure, was there to meet her.

“My stars above, Lady Madeleine, you had us all worried sick,” exclaimed the smiling woman who for the past thirty-one years had demonstrated unquestioned efficiency, style and undying loyalty to the man whose home she so capably ran.

“I know and I’m so sorry,” Madeleine replied, wrapping her arms around the stout woman.

Half embarrassed, as she always was, when the spirited young noblewoman embraced her—a mere servant—Avalina quickly pulled away, nodded to Lord Enfield and said to Colfax Sumner, “Welcoming celebrations and countless questions about her ordeal will have to wait until Lady Madeleine has fully recovered. She looks weak and pallid and she needs rest.”

Nodding, Colfax Sumner quickly agreed with the intuitive Avalina. Lord Enfield similarly demonstrated his caring and kindness, insisting, along with her concerned uncle, that she go directly up to bed and remain there for a least a week. She surely needed that long to recover from all she’d been through.

Madeleine put up no arguments. There was nothing she desired more than to escape the unsettling presence of her devoted fiancé, whom she could hardly face, so plagued was she with guilt.

“You go on now, dearest,” said Lord Enfield. “I’ll come up to say good-night once you’re settled in bed.” He glanced at Colfax Sumner. “That is, with your permission, sir.”

“Permission granted,” said Colfax, smiling.

The lord turned his attention back to Madeleine. “Dear?”

Madeleine inwardly cringed, but managed a smile as she said, “Yes, that would be nice.” She turned and hugged her uncle, then followed Avalina.

Upstairs, Madeleine released a soft sigh of relief and nodded gratefully when Avalina asked if she would like to take a nice, long bath.

Moments later Madeleine sank down into the depths of a tub filled to the brim with hot sudsy water. While Avalina gathered up her soiled clothing and laid out a clean white nightgown, Madeleine laid her head back against the tub’s rim, closed her eyes and began to unwind as she tried to fully relax.

But with her eyes closed she saw again the handsome face that had been just above her own when the Creole had made love to her during the storm. She was heartsick to think that Armand de Chevalier had drowned, but she knew that it was true. She was genuinely saddened by his death and at the same time filled with remorse for what she had done.

Madeleine opened her eyes and reached for a loofah and bar of sweet-scented soap. She began to anxiously lather her body and to scrub vigorously, determined to wash away any lingering traces of Armand de Chevalier.

As she avidly lathered every inch of her flesh with the soap and hot water, Madeleine told herself that this cleansing bath was exactly what she needed to put everything right. She would, she was determined, successfully wash away even the nagging memories of what she and Armand de Chevalier had impetuously done.

But when, fresh and clean from the bath, she lay in the big four-poster awaiting Lord Enfield, Armand de Chevalier was still very much in her thoughts. It was, she realized, going to take more than a hot bath to free her from the clutches of the Creole.

At the gentle knock on the door, Madeleine glanced at Avalina, half tempted to ask her to stay. “Please invite Desmond in,” she said to the housekeeper.

Avalina nodded, opened the door and left as Lord Enfield entered. When he quietly closed the door, Madeleine automatically stiffened. Smiling, he crossed to her, sat down on the edge of the bed facing her and held out his arms.

“Alone at last,” he said and reached for her.

He drew her up into his arms and Madeleine fought a perplexing desire to push him away, to order him out of her room, to tell him to leave her alone, that she wasn’t feeling well. She sat there in bed with her arms around his neck, her cheek pressed to his chest, feeling trapped and uneasy.

She felt his lips in her hair as he murmured, “How I yearn for the day when we’re married and I no longer have to leave you at bedtime.” He pulled back to look at her and said, “If only we were already man and wife. I could undress, get into bed with you and hold you all through the night.”

Madeleine swallowed convulsively. “Yes, that would be…wonderful.”

He read the anxiety in her expressive emerald eyes and felt her slender body tremble. He gave her a puzzled look. “What is it, my dear? You’re not yourself. Why, you’re trembling.”

“It’s just…well, I am very tired and I…”

“Oh, of course you are.” He was immediately contrite and sympathetic. “How thoughtless and selfish of me. I’ll run along now and let you get some rest.”

“Thank you, Desmond.”

“Good night, my dearest love,” he said softly, and his face slowly descended to hers. Terrified he was going to kiss her, Madeleine sighed with relief when he merely brushed his lips to her forehead.

“I love you very much, Madeleine,” he whispered, “and I’m so relieved that you came through that terrible disaster unharmed.”

Lord Enfield rose to his feet, smiled down at her, and said, “Dream of me tonight, darling.”

“I will,” she said.

But after he had gone and she’d put out the lamp and lowered the gauzy mosquito baire around the bed, it was not Desmond Chilton who filled her thoughts. Armand de Chevalier again intruded.

Madeleine impatiently kicked off the covering sheet, yanked her long nightgown up around her thighs in an effort to battle the sultry New Orleans heat, and closed her eyes.

Exhausted, she fell instantly asleep. But the man who tortured her waking hours followed her into her dreams to hold her and kiss her and make her misbehave.

“She’s sound asleep.” Avalina, having looked in on Madeleine after Lord Enfield left, announced to Colfax Sumner. “I expect she’ll sleep round the clock.”

“Yes, bless her heart. She needs the rest,” he said. Then he stated, pleased, “It sure is good to have her here.”

“It is,” Avalina agreed. “And the best part is, she’ll be right here at home with us for eight full months.”

“That’s right,” said Colfax. “The wedding is planned for April. We’ll have time to enjoy her before she marries and leaves us.”

“Indeed,” Avalina replied.

“Well, I think I’ll retire myself,” said Colfax. “It’s been an exciting day.” He turned, started down the hall toward his bedroom suite, but stopped after taking only a few steps. “Avalina, be sure all the doors have been locked before you go to bed.”

“I always do, sir.”

“I know you do.” He nodded, smiled and went on to his room.

There he disrobed, slipped into the nightshirt Avalina had laid out for him, and got into bed to read. But soon he was yawning sleepily, the words blurring on the pages. He laid the book aside, blew out the lamp, and stretched out on his back, folding his hands beneath his head. He sighed in the quiet darkness, content as he hadn’t been in a long time. His only niece was now in his house, safe and sound upstairs, sleeping the sleep of the innocent.

In minutes he, too, was sleeping soundly.

But in the middle of that hot dark night, Colfax Sumner was abruptly awakened by the sound of something hitting the streetside balcony just outside the open French doors. Heart hammering, he lunged up, grabbed his dressing gown and hurried out to investigate.

There on the balcony lay a small leather pouch. Colfax gingerly picked it up, took it inside, lit a lamp and examined the contents of the bag.

Several locks of human hair. Some nail parings. The skin of a reptile. A couple of chicken bones tied together to form a crude cross.

Colfax Sumner had learned enough about the practice of voodoo from Avalina to know that a bundle like this left in the dark of the moon was supposed to work incalculable harm on the occupant of the house.

An intelligent, logical man, Sumner did not believe in black magic. But he did believe that someone wanted to frighten or even harm him. Or someone in his house.

He decisively shook his head and told himself he was being foolish. He had no enemies that he knew of. No one who would wish harm on him or his. Most likely the sneaky person who had tossed the bundle of gris-gris onto his balcony had, in the darkness, gotten the wrong house.

Still, as Colfax threw the offensive pouch into the trash before he took off his dressing gown, he trembled.

And it was a long time before he fell back to sleep.

Seven

It was nearing ten the next morning when Lady Madeleine awakened to the sound of a feminine voice with a pronounced southern drawl excitedly calling her name. Madeleine struggled to open her eyes as a young, pretty woman with coal-black hair and pale-white skin stepped close to the bed and yanked up the mosquito baire.

“Lady Madeleine Cavendish!” the young woman happily exclaimed as she sank down onto the bed facing Madeleine.

“Melissa Ann Ledette!” replied Madeleine, lunging up, smiling broadly.

The two young women threw their arms around each other and hugged like long-lost sisters. Madeleine was genuinely delighted to see this raven-haired Creole belle with whom she had become close friends on her last visit to New Orleans. Full of vim, always animated and ready to gossip and laugh, Melissa was the pampered only daughter of prominent New Orleans physician, Dr. Jean Paul Ledette.

“Oh, Maddie, I couldn’t wait one second longer to see you,” exclaimed Melissa, finally releasing her friend.

“Well, I expected you last night,” Madeleine responded.

Melissa’s pale, pretty face immediately screwed up into a frown. “But I didn’t know you were here last night!”

“I know you didn’t,” Madeleine said. “I was teasing you.”

“Oh, of course.” The bright smile was back on Melissa’s face. Then, the questions began. Taking Madeleine’s hand in both of her own, Melissa said, “Now you must tell me all about the terrible sea disaster. Weren’t you absolutely terrified? Did you think you were going to die? Did you actually see people drown? Were there women and children who…who…” Melissa abruptly interrupted herself to say, with a sudden look of sorrow, “Oh, Maddie, the saddest thing…a New Orleans native was on that ill-fated vessel and he didn’t make it. He went down with the ship. He drowned.”

“I—I’m sorry to hear that,” said Madeleine, feeling suddenly as if a band had tightened around her chest.

“I just can’t believe he’s really gone. He was so handsome and charming and half the women in this city were hopelessly in love with him, including me.” Melissa bowed her head and tears welled up in her large, dark eyes. “New Orleans will never be the same without Armand de Chevalier.” She immediately raised her head and asked, “Maybe you met Armand on the ship and…”

“I don’t think so,” said Madeleine, “the name doesn’t ring a bell.”

Melissa nodded. “If you’d met Armand, you would remember him.”

Madeleine gave no reply.

“Forgive me for being so maudlin,” said Melissa. “From now on I’ll speak of only pleasant things. Want to hear all that’s happened in the year since you were here?”

Madeleine finally relaxed a little. “You know I do.”

“All right. Let’s see, oh yes, you remember Prudence Picard? That prissy girl with the frizzy blond hair and the high-pitched voice? Well, she up and married old Louis Jaubert. It’s scandalous, if you ask me. Prudence is barely eighteen and Jaubert is well into his seventies.” Melissa immediately burst into laughter and added, “He can’t hear and he can’t see too well, but apparently one part him still functions. Prudence is pregnant!”

“Oh, no!”

“Oh, yes!” Melissa bobbed her head for emphasis. “Let me see, what else? The youngest Le Blanc boy got killed in a duel last Thanksgiving. No one was surprised. He swaggered around asking for trouble all the time. Pierre Lemonnier’s widow ran off with a cabinetmaker from Mobile before her dear-departed was cold in the ground. Abigail Stuart called off her wedding at the last minute and…”

Melissa continued to talk, to inform her friend of all that had happened in the river city since they had last seen each other. Finally she paused, took a breath, and said, “I declare, what gets into me? Momma says I just never shut my mouth. Forgive me, Maddie. I really do want to hear about the shipwreck and all.”

Madeleine relayed, in the briefest terms, the events of the disaster, concluding with, “And then a small steamer appeared, took me onboard and saved my life. I’m sure the ocean liner went down less than an hour later.”

“What a terrible nightmare,” Melissa commented. Then patted Madeleine’s hand and said, “But it’s over and now you must put it behind you.”

“Yes, I know.”

“It’s so great to have you here and…and…oh, did I tell you? This year we’re planning a big holiday bazaar in December to aid Florence Nightingale and her brave nurses in the Crimea. You’ll help out, won’t you?”

“Certainly,” Madeleine said.

“It’ll be great fun. Then, after the holidays we’ll have to start planning your wedding! I will be maid of honor, won’t I?” Not giving Madeleine a chance to respond, she gushed, “You are so lucky. Lord Enfield will make the perfect husband. He is handsome and distinguished and respected and…and he’s rich. Isn’t he? I mean, I assume he is, everyone says he is.”

Madeleine smiled. “Desmond has, for years now, worked very hard and has made a great deal of money in the cotton and sugar markets. The profits were wisely invested in various other enterprises, such as real estate. Yes, he is a wealthy man.”

Melissa sighed. “Well, I’m green with envy. He’s so madly in love with you. You’ll be pleased to know that I have attended numerous social functions where beautiful women openly flirted with your blond nobleman, but to absolutely no avail. Lord Enfield’s heart belongs solely to you.” She gazed dreamily at Madeleine.

Feeling as if she had to comment, Madeleine said, “And mine belongs to him.”

“Oh, it’s all so romantic,” said Melissa, clasping her hands together beneath her chin.

The two young woman continued to talk and laugh until Avalina, knocking softly on the door, entered and said, “Miss Melissa, you have been here for over two hours. Time for you go so Lady Madeleine can rest.”

“Avalina’s right,” Melissa said to Madeleine and rose from the bed. She leaned down, pressed her cheek to Madeleine’s, and promised, “I’ll be back to see you real soon.”

Lord Enfield’s many business interests required all of his time and attention during the daylight hours. But he visited the Royal Street town house and his cherished fiancée each evening. Taking care not to overstay his welcome and tire his bride-to-be, he would ascend the stairs to her bedroom every evening, bringing with him a bouquet of fresh-cut flowers, or a book, or a box of bonbons. He would pull up a chair and visit with Madeleine, gently holding her hand and smiling at her as they talked quietly together.

Concern for her welfare always uppermost in his mind, the lord never stayed longer than an hour or two. And when it was time for him to depart, he would lean down and brush a brief kiss to her forehead or her cheek.

“I love you so much it hurts to leave you,” he’d whisper. “But I want you to get plenty of rest, so I’ll go now.”

Madeleine was touched by his thoughtfulness. Most men would have already been pressing her for intimate kisses and caresses, but the blond nobleman was chivalrous. He realized fully that she was not yet well enough to be receptive to displays of passion.

His unfailing kindness and astute understanding caused Madeleine to suffer even greater bouts of guilt. It would have been easier if he had behaved the impatient male and attempted to make love to her. Then she could have blamed him for being so unfeeling and intolerant.

As it was, she could blame him for nothing. He was consistently the empathetic, compassionate fiancé who cared only for her well-being. She was, she knew, a most fortunate woman to have such discerning gentleman eager to make her his wife.

Nonetheless, when Lord Enfield was not there with her, when Madeleine was alone, her thoughts unfailingly returned to the darkly handsome Creole who had gone down with the sinking ship. Armand de Chevalier was, she knew, dead. She knew, as well, that she would never completely forget him.

Fortunately, Madeleine was seldom left alone to brood. Overjoyed to have her in his home, her uncle Colfax spent long hours with her, talking, reminiscing, enthusiastically discussing her upcoming marriage to Lord Enfield.

On a hot, sunny day in early September after spending a full week in bed, Madeleine awakened feeling rested and eager to get up. She reached out and pulled the bell cord that would summon Avalina.