18
Catherine paced before the windows of her darkened bedroom. The evening’s events had left her too curious to sleep. What document could the judge possibly have for her? Did it have to do with inheritance or something else entirely?
DeMornay had answered her questions with unusual frankness on the carriage ride home. Henry was an attorney by trade. He needed to do business in the city and thus had left the plantation to DeMornay’s care. His younger brother, Emile, commanded a regiment in Tennessee. He too had no interest in the plantation. There were no other cousins.
Catherine recalled Maman’s regret. She had missed her mother, Catherine’s grandmère. She was lonely. She had chosen to live in a foreign land and lost her family as a consequence. Catherine had come to a foreign land hoping to regain that family.
Memories swirled with the exotic scents and sounds of the dance. Though DeMornay had called it a country dance, it bore no resemblance to the pastime she had enjoyed on occasion. The dances were different and the ladies a swirl of bright colors. Gaudy even. Other than the initial greetings, only the judge spoke to her. The rest talked of her—she was sure of that—but none extended a hand of friendship.
So different from Key West, where the citizens opened their homes to her and the other passengers on the Justinian. Just thinking of Elizabeth brought a smile to her lips.
“What would you do?” she whispered into the darkness.
The night air could not answer. Even Aurelia, if she lurked in the shadows, did not betray that she’d heard. No, the night carried no comfort of human voice.
Restlessness had plagued her days and tormented her nights. How she longed to speak to Tom or Elizabeth. One day in Key West surpassed a week at Black Oak, and that troubled her. Though DeMornay had softened toward her, even insisting Maman’s portrait hang above the salon fireplace, she could not shake the sense of foreboding.
How long must she wait? Days had passed with the slowness of a snail. Much needed to be done to restore the plantation, but she could do nothing without her cousin’s approval.
Tonight she leaned out the window and breathed in the sultry night air. A broad halo surrounded the full moon. Did that moon look also on Tom and Elizabeth and Rourke? Would anyone have the answers she needed?
Clunk.
Something struck the veranda beside her window.
Catherine looked around and saw nothing. Perhaps it was her imagination. Though no trees overhung the veranda, perhaps some nut or twig had found its way to the porch.
Clunk.
The second occurrence was not imaginary. “Who’s there?” she hissed.
“Goodness. Get control of your imagination.” She walked to a different window.
This time the moonlight revealed movement near the pigeonnier.
Tom! He’d promised to return with news. Was he back? If so, he would meet her there. Unless this was a trap. Her skin prickled. What if DeMornay had overheard their plans and even now was leading her into a trap where she would have no means of escape? More and more that man frightened her. What had happened to the housekeeper before Aurelia? Where were all the servants? His explanations didn’t soothe her. She could not see beneath his polished surface, and experience had taught her that trouble lurked in darkness.
Even so, she donned her slippers and made her way out of the house and across the yard. The door to the pigeonnier was ajar.
“Tom,” she whispered into the black interior.
A hand clapped over her mouth at the same time another pulled her against a tall, masculine form.
A scream shot up her throat, but it was stifled by the man’s hand.
“Be quiet,” Tom whispered into her ear. “It’s me.”
She relaxed, and one second later she wanted to punch him for frightening her so.
“Why?” she whispered.
He pulled her into the pigeonnier. “We’re being watched.”
Again her skin prickled. “Who?”
“I’m not certain, but whoever it is, they’ll know I’m back.”
“Aurelia wouldn’t tell DeMornay.” But even as she said it, she knew she couldn’t be certain. The housekeeper confided nothing and was wary of everything. Catherine’s hope lay in one certainty. “She fears him. That’s why she told us to leave.”
“Under duress, a person will reveal anything, especially to someone who holds the power of life and death over her.”
Catherine sucked in her breath. “He could do that?”
“From what I’ve seen and heard, yes.”
“Surely my cousin wouldn’t approve of such a thing.”
“Your cousin has no interest in the plantation beyond its profitability.”
Catherine eagerly clawed for more. “You did meet with him, then. You told him about me. Is he coming here?”
“I’m sorry, but he acted like he’s never heard of you. He thinks you’re a fortune seeker.”
The words crushed the last hope she’d harbored. No one wanted her here.
“A fortune seeker.” She shook her head. “What fortune? I can’t see much of value here.”
“That’s not what he believes. He is confident the plantation makes a handsome profit.”
“How can that be?” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “If only I could look through the accounts.”
“You haven’t had a chance to look?”
Catherine had to admit she had not. “DeMornay keeps the study locked. Even the windows are latched from the inside. I did look for the items on your list, but I couldn’t find any of them.”
“That’s disappointing. But I found my father’s ship. It’s moored just inside Black Oak boundaries.”
“It is?” Catherine’s heart sank. She’d hoped there wouldn’t be a connection between the theft of the ship and her family plantation, but more and more it appeared there was. “Maybe my cousin doesn’t know about it.”
“He might not.” Tom paused. “I asked if the plantation had a ship, and he acted incredulous that I would even think such a thing.”
“At least he’s not involved.” She didn’t want to think ill of her cousin.
“He doubts you even exist.”
As much as she didn’t want to admit it, cousin Henry, who must have been very young at the time Maman left, would have believed whatever his elders told him.
“The family not only claimed Maman died but erased her from the record.” That put Catherine in a very tenuous position. “They will never accept me.” The realization hurt.
“You can prove it with the records you brought.”
“But what good will the baptismal record do when Maman is listed as Lisette Haynes? It comes down to my word.”
“I believe you.”
“Oh, Tom.” She leaned against him as her heart swelled. Who had ever trusted her that much, even endangering his life for her sake? “What have I gotten you into?”
He lifted her face with a finger beneath her chin. “You have gotten me farther than I could ever have gotten on my own.”
Though he surely meant that her desire to rejoin Maman’s family had led to the discovery of his father’s ship, she lingered a moment in the tenderness of his embrace. If only it were that simple. If only their lives weren’t so different. If only her future wasn’t tied to liars and thieves.
“What do we do?”
His lips swept close to hers. So close that his words tickled her cheeks. “We press on.”
“How?”
“The judge. I will speak to him in the morning, tell him about my father’s ship and where it’s hidden.”
“He is coming here late tomorrow morning. You can speak to him then.”
Tom leaned back to look at her. “The judge is coming here?”
“He has some sort of document for me, something my uncle entrusted to him.”
“I can fetch that for you, but you need to get out of here. Tonight. It’s too dangerous to stay.”
A large part of her wanted to do just that. She could run away from everything with Tom at her side.
But she twisted from his arms. “I can’t. I have to see the document myself. The judge wouldn’t entrust it to anyone else. I won’t leave until I see it.”
“We could stop by his house on the way to the ship.”
“Titchwood is more than a mile inland. It isn’t on the way to any ship.”
Tom held her. She could feel and hear his desperation. “We will take the time to get it. You’re the most important thing in my life. Leave with me now, while you still have the chance.”
She almost agreed. Almost. Then she remembered Maman’s portrait and the love her mother had for this plantation. Too many questions remained unanswered. “I can’t. Not yet.”
How could Tom make her see that this place would destroy her? She had lost her home in England and was clinging to this as the only possibility for a new home. Yet it wasn’t. Based on how Lafreniere acted, Black Oak would never be hers.
“Your family doesn’t even recognize you.”
She turned away.
Tom tried another tactic. “I’m afraid something illicit might be going on here. Smuggling, using my father’s ship. No doubt DeMornay is in charge. You are in danger here. Leave with me.”
“And go where?”
“To the James Patrick.” Tom grasped her by the shoulders. “Rourke is here. He has a full crew. We can leave this place.”
Even in the dark he could feel her shaking her head. “I can’t. This is my home now.”
“Home isn’t a place. It’s the people who love you.”
He heard a sob escape her lips. She felt alone. The realization crashed on him like a severed mast.
“I love you.” The words escaped his lips without thought, though the moment they were out, he knew their truth.
She gasped. “But you know so little about me.”
“I know enough.” He grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her close. No woman had ever felt as perfect as Catherine. “I know you are strong and determined and witty and spirited. I know you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. From the moment I first saw you looking me in the eye through the windows of the Justinian, I could not get you from my mind.”
“But you don’t know me.”
He cupped her chin and gazed into eyes that reflected the pale moonlight that sifted through the open door. “I want to learn everything about you, to spend a lifetime exploring every tiny thing. Why one corner of your mouth tilts up a little higher when you’re amused. When your eyes are dark as a forest and when they’re bright as an emerald. What makes you laugh and how to take away the tears.” He swiped a thumb across her cheek.
She shivered. “You’re simply saying that so I will leave with you.”
“No, I mean every word,” he whispered, so close to her face that he could feel her breath against his cheeks.
Her lips were so close, so tempting, so perfect.
“I thought of you throughout each day,” he whispered, letting her melt against him. “I couldn’t bear being separated, wondering what had happened to you, if he had harmed you.”
“He didn’t.”
That eased his conscience a little, but not the desperate urge to claim her. He cradled her chin between his hands and lowered his lips. The first brush sent a thrill through every nerve. She did not object, so he lingered longer, claiming her as his own. Then she responded, and he lost his head.
Fortunately, she broke the kiss and stepped away.
His heart raced as if he’d run from the Key West harbor to the far side of the island. He swiped at his lips. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Her voice was soft and languid as slack tide. “I missed you too.”
“Then come away with me.” He caught her hand. “Leave while you still can.”
“I can’t. Not until I know what Judge Graham has for me.”
“I told you. We’ll stop there first.”
She shook her head and backed away. Before he could react, she’d slipped through the pigeonnier door.
He stumbled after her and grabbed at her hand but missed. She hurried across the lawn. He followed only a few steps before halting.
DeMornay stood on the staircase, a lantern in his hand. “Catherine! I’ve looked everywhere for you.”
Had DeMornay seen Tom?
Catherine’s heart pounded. She could not turn back, lest she betray Tom’s presence. She must walk forward as if glad to see DeMornay when that was the last thing she felt.
Tom’s kiss still lingered on her lips. She should have left with him.
“Miss Cate.” DeMornay glided down the steps. “I feared something had happened to you when Aurelia said you were not in the house.”
The unfamiliar nickname grated on her nerves, but she brushed it off for Tom’s sake. She must draw DeMornay into the house so Tom could escape.
“I came out to look at the moon.” It was a flimsy excuse, since she had come from the direction of the pigeonnier, whose interior afforded no view of the night sky. “Then I decided to walk about the yard since I was restless.”
DeMornay lifted the lantern to peer at her, likely to ascertain the truth of her statements. “You could have come to me. I was working in the study.”
“I did not want to disturb you. Moreover, you could not sort out my jumbled thoughts.”
He cupped her jaw and ran his thumb along her cheek.
She pulled away, unable to bear the man’s touch.
“You are chilled.” DeMornay slipped out of his smoking jacket and placed it on her shoulders.
She wanted to throw it back at him but had to play along with her stated purpose for being out of doors at this hour. “I was deep in thought and didn’t pay attention to the temperature.”
“A beautiful woman should not trouble herself with deep thought.”
“No. I should sleep.” She extended her hand. “Will you assist me back into the house?”
“Of course.” DeMornay’s covetous grin turned her stomach, but he did lead her up the steps and into the house, giving Tom time to escape. “Aurelia will draw a hot bath for you. That will ward off the chill and relax you for slumber.” He halted as the housekeeper approached.
“De bath is ready, Massa,” Aurelia said, her gaze cast down.
“Very well. Miss Haynes will follow you to her room in a moment.”
Aurelia hurried off, and Catherine slipped out of the jacket.
“No, no.” He stopped her. “Keep it for now. Aurelia will bring it back to me.” His hand grazed her cheek. “I want only the best for you. Do you believe that?”
His black gaze could mesmerize if she let it. But she was no longer a child. She fought off his attempts to woo her. “Good night, then.”
“Beautiful dreams, my sweet.”
She hurried across the salon but stopped to look back. DeMornay was gone. She tiptoed back to the veranda. The man was rushing toward the pigeonnier. For a moment she feared he would discover Tom. The thought caught in her throat, and she moved forward to warn Tom.
“He be gone.”
The whisper came from behind her.
“Aurelia.”
The housekeeper motioned for her to return to the shadows. “Your friend gone.”
The fear dissipated. “You saw him leave?”
Aurelia nodded.
Catherine heaved a sigh. “Thank goodness.”
“Massa suspects.”
A new fear welled. Aurelia had seen Tom. Would she tell DeMornay? “Don’t say a word.” But Aurelia did not take orders from her. “Please.”
Aurelia’s eyes glittered in the moonlight. “Leave dis place while you can.”
Catherine did not miss the ominous tone. Everyone warned her. Why? What was happening at Black Oak that no one wanted her to discover?
“This is my home. Why should I leave?”
Aurelia looked left and right as if someone was listening to their conversation. “You don’t know de truth.” The whispered words barely reached Catherine.
She stepped closer. “Tell me.”
Instead of explaining, Aurelia turned without a word and retreated to Catherine’s room.
Catherine followed and closed the door behind them. “Explain.”
Aurelia moved behind her to unbutton her gown. Her whisper was very soft. “Gibson, Hunt, and Angel be mine.”
The words shivered down Catherine’s spine along with Aurelia’s icy fingers. “They are lovely children.”
“Dey all got de same papa.”
“I didn’t know you were married.” Catherine hadn’t seen a man on this plantation the right age to be Aurelia’s husband. Maybe he was one of the workers that DeMornay said were out in the farthest fields.
“Ain’t no slave be married de way white folks is.”
“What do you mean? They deny you marriage?”
Aurelia didn’t speak for some time. When she did, it was with icy hatred. “Dis man take what he want.”
Surely the woman did not mean what Catherine suspected. The father of Aurelia’s children had forced himself on her. She could not speak the word. Rape. “Was it . . . that is, is their father my cousin?”
Aurelia shook her head. “He here now.”
Catherine breathed out in relief. Not one of her cousins or even her late uncle. But this could not continue. “Does he still . . . harm you?”
Again Aurelia was silent for a long moment while she undid the corset and petticoats. When she spoke, each word was spat out with fierce desperation. “Gibson be ’most ten. Dey go away when dey old enough.”
Aurelia began to hum, leaving Catherine to ponder. It didn’t take her long.
“Sold?” she asked the housekeeper.
“Dat de way. But it better den bein’ a woman an’ catchin’ Massa’s eye.”
DeMornay’s attentions had increased daily. Was Aurelia jealous or warning her? “What happens to the women?”
“Dey disappear.”
“Sold?”
“No one know.”
Catherine felt ill. “None of this will happen when I’m in charge here.”
Aurelia’s laugh was bitter. “You never be mistress of Chêne Noir. He never let you.”
Catherine’s mouth was dry, though steam filled the room from the hot bath. “Who?”
“De devil.”