15

I be here ta dress you, miss.”

Catherine blinked as Aurelia pulled back the curtains to allow the bright sunlight to stream into the room. Considering the heat and angle of the sun, it must be quite late.

“I’ve overslept again.”

“Dat’s what happens when ya creep around half de night day after day.”

“You saw me?”

Instead of answering, the housekeeper hummed softly as she tugged open the doors of the large armoire. She selected a white muslin gown dotted with green and gold flowers and laid it on the bed. “This be better in de heat. A lady like you ain’t used to it.”

“Like me? An Englishwoman, do you mean?” Catherine wondered what sort of ideas about England filtered down to a slave on a Louisiana plantation. “What do you know about England?”

“I heard Massa Henry’s papa—God rest his soul—talk ’bout it bein’ colder ’n ice. Didn’t never understand why yo’ mama din’t come back.”

“I heard they had a funeral for Maman and declared her dead.”

Aurelia continued humming.

Catherine couldn’t let this go. “She’s not buried in the tomb here. Now you’re saying Uncle Henri knew it too. Then who pretended to bury her, and why?”

“Wouldn’t know. Come before my time.”

“Then you didn’t know Maman?”

Aurelia shook her head slowly. “She gone long ’fore I come here.”

Of course. Aurelia had said she’d been here only a decade or so. But perhaps she knew some of Maman’s beloved servants. Rufus, Winnie, and one she’d simply called Nurse still hung in the recesses of Catherine’s memory. They were likely all gone, but she had to ask.

Aurelia selected a pair of slippers and shook her head when Catherine finished listing the names Maman had mentioned. “None of dem here now.”

Catherine breathed out in disappointment. Perhaps she shouldn’t have hoped so much for a link to the past. According to DeMornay, servants moved around more than she’d imagined. Maman had made it sound like the servants were so intertwined with the plantation and the family that they would always be there, like the sugarhouse and the pigeonniers.

“Where were you before you came here?”

The housekeeper clucked her tongue. “One plantation pretty much like ’nother, ’cepting de massa and de missus.”

Catherine supposed that was true, though she’d hoped for the impossible, that this woman might be Elizabeth’s nurse. “Then you’ve never been to Key West.”

“How’d I git way off dere?” Aurelia snorted. “I cain’t jess up and leave.”

The reality of Aurelia’s situation sank in. She’d come to Black Oak because she’d been bought. If she left, it would be because she’d been sold.

Aurelia hefted the petticoats onto the bed. “Let me git ya dressed.”

Silence ensued while Aurelia performed her duties and Catherine stood where she was directed. The servant had deft fingers, and soon the underpinnings were complete.

“Did anyone from Key West ever come here?” Catherine prodded. “Or have you ever met another . . . servant . . . who came from there?”

Another pause. “Why’d ya think dat?”

“A friend, Elizabeth, misses her nurse, who was sold to a planter here.”

“Wouldn’t know ’bout dat.”

The housekeeper’s answer came too quickly. Catherine glanced at the woman, whose expression had gone blank. She would learn nothing more from her this morning.

Aurelia lifted the gown over Catherine’s head and tugged it into place. Then her fingers hastened from button to button, securing the bodice. “Dere. Dat’s de last of ’em. Sit now and I’ll brush out yo’ hair.”

Catherine glanced at herself in the mirror before taking a seat. She looked fresh, though she felt anything but.

Aurelia deftly undid the plait that held Catherine’s hair in place when she slept and began to brush. Knots came undone in her skilled hands without a single pinch.

“You’ve been a lady’s maid,” Catherine remarked.

“No, miss. I’m de housekeeper. Ain’t been a missus here fo’ years.”

In the mirror’s reflection, Catherine saw Aurelia’s gaze dart to the door and back. Fear hung in the air, thick as the mosquitoes at dusk. Had the housekeeper heard DeMornay outside the room?

With a few quick twists, Aurelia worked Catherine’s hair into a pretty knot, which she secured with pins. A few graceful tendrils framed her face.

“Would you be wantin’ a cap?” Aurelia asked.

“No.” Catherine despised them as a relic of a bygone age, best worn by elderly matrons. In this heat they would be intolerable. “This will do. Thank you.”

“Very well, miss.” Aurelia began to move away.

Catherine caught her arm. “One moment.”

The whites of the housekeeper’s eyes shone from her dark face as her every muscle tensed. “What you be needin’?”

Catherine loosened her grip and lowered her voice. “It’s not what I need. I just want you to know that if you ever need to talk . . .” She let the rest go unsaid. Given Aurelia’s warning upon their arrival, she would know what Catherine meant.

The woman’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I best be gettin’ back ta de cookhouse.”

Aurelia slipped from the room, her steps hastened by fear. Catherine wondered what horrors had driven fear deep into the woman’s soul. If only she could find a way to help.

Tom couldn’t find any words as Captain Rourke O’Malley steered him out of the tavern.

“Well?” Rourke demanded. “The last place I expected to find one of my crew is in a New Orleans drinking house.”

“What are you doing here?” Tom asked again. “I thought you were wrecking the Allerton.”

“John has charge of the Redemption, and Rander is running the crew on the Windsprite.” Rourke glared at him and didn’t release his grip on Tom’s upper arm. “But that’s not the point. You left my employment without notice.”

“I asked—”

“And I denied.”

“I left a letter with your wife.”

“Letters are for cowards. A man gives notice face-to-face.”

Tom felt awful. He hadn’t done this the right way. Moreover, he’d just contributed to another man’s sins by providing the temptation. Rourke must think the worst of him. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m not proud of the way I handled it, but I had to go. I couldn’t let Catherine—uh, Miss Haynes—travel unprotected.”

“Are you saying she is in that grogshop?”

“No! Never! She’s at the plantation.”

“Good. Then you did your part.” Rourke’s expression softened slightly, revealing he wasn’t as angry as he’d first appeared. “But it doesn’t explain why I found you frequenting a black hole of iniquity. You know where that path leads.”

“I didn’t drink one drop. But a tavern is the best place to get information from sailors and dockworkers.”

Rourke released him. “What sort of information is so important that you left us shorthanded?”

“You could have easily replaced me.”

“I could fill your spot, Tom, but I couldn’t replace you.”

That only made Tom feel worse. “I shouldn’t have left when you needed me.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Rourke’s expression eased. “Thankfully, they don’t need all three of our vessels on-site anymore.”

Tom breathed out with relief. He hadn’t cost his captain as much as he’d feared.

Rourke didn’t relent. “I still expect you to tell me why you really left.”

Tom rubbed his arm and swallowed. He hadn’t told Rourke about his quest. He’d told no one until revealing it to Catherine. There was no sense keeping it secret now, especially from a man with the integrity of Rourke.

“I think I’ve found my father’s stolen ship.”

Rourke digested that a moment. “Explain. You told me your father is dead.”

“He is, and the man who stole his ship and set him adrift in the ship’s boat is to blame.”

“Go on.”

“This man told my father he was a Spanish nobleman. Don Luis Mornez. He’s here.”

“In New Orleans.” Rourke sounded justifiably skeptical.

“At Catherine’s family plantation. Except he now goes by the name Louis DeMornay. I’m certain it’s him. He has the exact scar that Pa described, just below his left eye. Moreover, Catherine told me that a man fitting DeMornay’s description arrived at her father’s estate a couple months before this thief approached my father. She said he left in haste, and she later found an entry in the accounts referring to a man by the name DeMornay.”

Rourke followed the train of thought faster than Tom could get it out. “And this man is at Catherine’s family plantation.”

“He’s the manager.”

Rourke looked around. “At the plantation where you left Miss Haynes.”

Tom squirmed. “Leaving her was a mistake. I’m going back at once.”

“I trust her family is there to protect her.”

“That’s another peculiar thing. There’s not one family member on the plantation, just DeMornay and the slaves.”

“Yet you left her there.”

“She insisted. I couldn’t convince her to leave. She’s trying to figure out what’s going on there. The place is dilapidated, and there aren’t many slaves, at least not that I could see. DeMornay says they’re harvesting the farthest sugarcane fields. They didn’t show up at the main house the day I was there.”

Rourke pondered that for a moment. “All very believable, yet you think he’s lying?”

“I do.”

“What reason would he have to lie?”

Tom didn’t mention the uneasy feeling he had about the man, especially after speaking with the seamen ashore. “DeMornay pretended he’d never heard of my father or his ship. Yet that’s not what I learned here on the wharves. DeMornay has a ship, and it could well be Pa’s.”

“You would recognize it?”

“I know every plank and seam, every place where she leaked, every gouge and mark. I’d know her in an instant, and the moment she comes back to port, I’ll be able to identify her for the authorities.”

“You have a bill of sale or enrollment certificate?”

“I have both, as well as the disposition of the legal proceedings when Pa returned. I have all the proof I need, but there are some who think the judges here have a local bias.”

Rourke nodded. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. First, we need to find the ship. When is she due in?”

“Within the week. Time enough for me to check on Catherine.”

“We can pay a call on Miss Haynes and perhaps search the shore on our way there.”

“We?” Tom finally caught what Rourke was saying. “Who all is here?”

“Enough crew to sail the James Patrick. Perhaps my presence will convince this plantation manager to divulge what he knows.”

Tom doubted any single person could sway DeMornay. The man made deception an art. But Tom did relish his mentor’s strength and integrity. Perhaps Rourke could sort fact from fiction.

“Who knows what we’ll find,” he murmured.

“Answers, I hope. We’ll leave at once. The James Patrick is moored nearby.”

Tom began to follow, but his business wasn’t finished here. “First I need to pay a call on Catherine’s cousin Henry Lafreniere. I promised her I would tell him of her arrival.”

“Good. We’ll meet later aboard ship, unless you want me to go with you.”

“No.” Tom was certain of that much. He must handle this meeting with great care. Henry Lafreniere might not even know of Catherine’s existence.

To Catherine’s surprise, DeMornay joined her for a late breakfast. She had taken the light meal on the gallery, which enjoyed the breezes off the river. Catherine had pulled aside the curtains so that she might see the vast lawn extending from the house to the road paralleling the river. Just five days ago she and Tom had walked up that road, uncertain of what they would find. Today she was no more certain.

“Good morning.” DeMornay slipped into the chair opposite her. “You are lovely as springtime this morning.”

His eyes drank her in a little too familiarly.

She looked away. “Surely you have work to attend to. Harvest, for instance.”

His chuckle carried no mirth. “I can see you are a woman who never tarries. You will soon learn that life beside the river moves at a much slower pace than in your native land, where a season’s harvest might be ruined with an early frost.”

“You have no bad weather here, then.”

“Touché, my dear, but the sky is clear and the winds cool from the northwest. No storms will ruin the harvest this day.”

The endearment made her cringe. “Tomorrow is another day, with challenges of its own.”

“Then why worry about it today?”

“I simply see no purpose in procrastination.”

“An admirable view, but we can at least agree to enjoy each other’s company for the moment.” DeMornay reached across the table and caught her hand before she realized what he was doing. “You are too lovely to ignore.”

Catherine withdrew her hand and clenched the napkin on her lap. His civility was overdone, as if he was trying too hard to direct her attention away from something. Since they’d been discussing the harvest, she assumed that was it.

“You are expecting additional workers to arrive for the harvest?”

She watched his reaction. He gave away nothing.

“Is it always business with you? I have never met so single-minded a woman.”

“This is now my home.” The word caught in her mouth, but she got it out. “As a Lafreniere descendant, I am naturally concerned with everything that relates to the family’s livelihood.”

“As I’ve already told you, your cousin Henry has given me complete authority to manage the plantation. If he is pleased with my management, then surely you can be.”

She couldn’t. “Speaking of my cousin, have you received any response to your letter telling him of my arrival?”

“Not yet.” His expression was taut.

“Then I ought to pay him a visit. I saw a carriage parked under the house. Might it take me into the city?” At the same time, she might locate Tom, whose absence had made the days pass slowly.

DeMornay sat back ever so slightly, but it was enough for her to realize that she’d surprised him. He’d expected her earlier refusal to visit Henry Lafreniere to mark the end of the subject. That made her all the more determined to see her cousin. Perhaps his relationship with his manager wasn’t as well understood as DeMornay claimed it was.

“Now, now, my dear Catherine. Why the hurry? I’m certain your cousin will arrive the moment he is free from business matters. There’s no reason for you to endure the grueling carriage ride into the city.”

“How long could it be? Surely no more than a few hours.”

His gaze narrowed. “The road is poor, the way treacherous in places.”

“Then I shall take the ferry.”

“Equally treacherous. Moreover, the city is no place for a beautiful woman like yourself without the protection of a strong man.”

“Such as yourself.”

He nodded slightly. “I would be glad to escort you after the harvest. That is your primary concern, is it not?”

“Yes, but how long will the harvest take?”

“Two weeks for the bulk of it. Perhaps sooner, depending on circumstances.”

“Such as the arrival of labor.”

His smile grated on her nerves. “You are astute, Miss Catherine. Your father taught you well.”

“Papa also taught me to stand my ground. I wish for a carriage to take me into the city this afternoon.”

“But did you not hear my concerns?”

“I heard and took them under advisement, but as a Lafreniere by blood, I insist on the use of a carriage. I will accept no excuses.” To emphasize the point, she stared straight into his black eyes.

This time he paused a little longer, though his smile never wavered.

“That will be most difficult, Miss Haynes.” He reached into an inner pocket of his coat and withdrew an ivory envelope, which he handed to her.

In a glance she saw it had been sent by Judge Graham. She turned it over to break the seal only to discover it was already broken. “You opened this?”

He flicked a hand, as if it was of no consequence. “I didn’t realize it was addressed to you. How would I know you had already made acquaintance with a neighbor?”

She gritted her teeth. The damage was done. Hopefully the judge hadn’t written anything personal. She slipped the single piece of paper from the envelope and scanned the brief message.

“I’ve been invited to a dance. In Titchwood.” Her pulse accelerated at the thought of leaving the plantation for even a short while. “It would be good to meet our neighbors. In fact, I should welcome such society.”

“It is merely a country dance in celebration of the harvest. Simple, perhaps, compared to what you are accustomed to experiencing.”

“It will be delightful.”

“It is tonight.”

“Tonight!” Catherine had missed that detail. “Why did the invitation arrive only now?” Unless it hadn’t. Unless DeMornay had withheld it. Judge Graham said no one visited Black Oak. Perhaps it was also the case that no one from Black Oak attended social gatherings at nearby plantations and towns.

DeMornay gave her nothing. “One can only assume it was delayed somewhere along the route.”

“From Titchwood to here? It is not a long distance.”

DeMornay’s taut smile never wavered. “Some darkies are indolent. Regardless of the delay, the dance is tonight.”

She rose to her feet. “In that case, there is much to do to prepare. You will ensure I have use of the carriage.”

“Of course, my dear.” He leaned back, content as a cat stretching after a nap. “We shall leave at seven o’clock.”

“We?” She choked on the word.

“The mistress of Black Oak must have an escort.” He swept forth his hand. “It will be my pleasure.”

The brief glimpse of freedom vanished.