One of the heavy logs settled in the fireplace, making a hissing sound and sending a shower of golden sparks up the chimney. Lowell Augustine had been reading a book but looked up and watched the display for a moment. He got up and walked over to the fireplace. He picked up one of the logs, put it on top of the glowing embers, and then used the heavy poker to shove the log until more sparks flew upward. The tiny flames began to lick around the fresh fuel, and for a time Lowell stood soaking up the heat. It had been a cold November for New Orleans, and Lowell made a note to remind Julius to bring in more wood for the fireplaces.
From somewhere deep in the house, he could hear voices. Punctuating this noise, the grandfather clock began striking a slow, sonorous tune. Replacing the poker, Lowell walked over to the window and looked up at the leaden gray sky. The sun had been hiding itself for several days behind heavy gray clouds, and now the whole earth seemed cloaked in funeral garb.
Lowell’s gaze fell upon a large red squirrel that scampered down the tree and dug industriously in the soil, then sat up. He folded his paws and for a moment looked like a priest engaged in his prayers.
“I wonder if squirrels ever pray,” Lowell murmured, and then the foolishness of his thoughts made him grin. “I’m going crazy in this house. I’ve got to get away.” He turned and walked around the room, looking at the covers of the books. His Uncle Ancel had been a collector of fine first editions, and Lowell had found great pleasure in going through the library. He remembered suddenly how grim life had been as he and Zara grew up. Their father had been a failure in business, and they had moved from one wretched house to another as he tried to eke out a living at various occupations. None of them had succeeded, and when he had finally died, Ancel Augustine had taken his family in.
Reaching up, Lowell took down a book and ran his hands over the fine leather cover, memories flooding him about the days that he, his sister, and his mother had first come to Belle Fleur. It was like going to heaven, he thought. Plenty of food, warm rooms, no worry about how to pay the bills.
He thought briefly of his mother, who had died only two years after they had moved to Belle Fleur. He still missed her, for he’d had a genuine affection for her. He replaced the book slowly, stood irresolutely before the books, and considered his future. He had tried several occupations. None of them seeming to suit, and he faced up to the fact that he was not by nature a driven individual as his Uncle Ancel had been. He loved the life of high society; parties, balls, and social events of all kinds were his delight. Zara was the same. Both of them had grown accustomed to an exorbitant style of living. Their Aunt Maria had been generous, far more so than Uncle Ancel had been. Since Ancel’s death, she had given them everything they wanted, although at times she also delivered a lecture on wastefulness.
Footsteps coming down the broad hallway interrupted Lowell’s thoughts, and he turned to see Julian Harcourt enter. “Hello, Julian,” he said. “Foul weather, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” Julian walked over and turned his back to the fireplace, spreading his hands out behind him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it snowed.”
“Not in New Orleans. It’s not our style.” Lowell studied Julian carefully. At the age of twenty-seven, Harcourt was a fine-looking man, not more than average height and very trim. He had fair hair, bright blue eyes, and classic features. His family had a long and illustrious history, but Harcourt’s grandfather had started dismantling the family fortune with his dissolute habits, especially gambling. Harcourt’s father, Sir Ralph Harcourt, had done the same. He had finally killed himself rather than face poverty, leaving Julian, his mother, and two sisters practically penniless.
“Are you and Zara going out?”
“Yes. The McKays are having a ball. You’re not going?”
“I think I will. Nothing to do around here particularly.”
“How is Lady Maria?”
“She’s getting better. That doctor seems to know his business.”
“I never heard of him.”
“No. He’s new in practice here.” The two men talked aimlessly for a while, and then Lowell said, “Maria’s gotten very close to Leonie.”
Harcourt shot a glance at his friend. “That’s only natural, I suppose. She’s taken care of her during this sickness.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good thing, Julian.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, come now. You must know that we’re on mighty shaky ground here. If that girl is really Ives’s daughter, my aunt will make her the main heir of all of this.”
“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it, I suppose,” Harcourt said gloomily.
“I suppose not. It scares me a little bit.”
“What does?”
“The idea of having to go to work. I’m not fit for anything.”
“Well, I’m not either, I suppose. Blast it!” Julian’s countenance darkened, and he added vehemently, “All would have been fine if she hadn’t shown up! Zara and I would have gotten married. The money would have eventually come to us. We could have gone on just like we have been.”
“You’d better talk to Zara about it.”
“What can she do?”
“She can be nicer to our aunt, for one thing. It’s past time to use a little caution.”
“All right. I’ll try.”
“I’m going up to get dressed. I’ll ride with you, if it’s all right, to the ball.”
“That’ll be fine.”
Zara entered and twirled around. “How do you like my new dress?”
The dress was made out of a dark purple silk with a low neckline, tight-fitting bodice, and long sleeves. The neckline and the sleeves were trimmed with black lace with a row of tiny black bows running down the middle of the bodice to the cinched-in waist. A black silk sash was tied around to the back in a bow, and the full skirt featured black embroidered flowers with three rows of the same black lace along the bottom edge. She wore a black lace wrap around her shoulders and black shiny shoes peeked out from under the long skirt.
“You look beautiful as always, Zara.” Julian went over and put his arms around Zara. She embraced him, received his kiss, and then stepped back, putting her hands on his chest. “Don’t muss me up now. It took me two hours to get this way.” She turned back to the mirror.
“Well, it was worth it. Oh, by the way, Lowell’s going with us to the ball.”
“I guess that’s all right. It ought to be a fancy affair. The family has enough money to do it.”
“I’ve got to talk to you, Zara.”
Surprised at Julian’s tone, Zara turned and studied him. “What is it?”
“It’s about us, I suppose. Things are not going well.”
“What do you mean, ‘not going well’? You don’t mean that girl?”
“Yes, I do. Lowell said he’s talked to you about her.”
“Oh, he has.”
“Well, you should listen to him. I might as well spell it out.” Harcourt grimaced. “We’re in trouble here. You know I have no money. We’ve been depending on the estate coming to you. I feel bad enough about that.”
Zara moved closer and looked up at him. “We’ve talked about that many times. When we’re married, it won’t be ‘my money’ or ‘your money.’ It’ll just be the two of us sharing it.”
“That may never happen. The old woman’s getting mighty fond of Leonie.”
“Well, what can I do about that, Julian?”
“You can do what Lowell says: be nicer to her.”
“That girl! If only she hadn’t shown up!”
“I know, but she did. And she’s not going away.”
Zara’s face clouded. “We’ve got to get rid of her somehow.”
Julian stared at Zara. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean she doesn’t deserve to be the heiress of Belle Fleur. Lowell and I are the family.”
“Not if the courts declare her the daughter of Ives Augustine.”
“There’s not enough evidence for that!”
“I’m not sure about that. In any case, you be sweeter to your aunt.”
Zara looked at Julian and nodded. “All right. Maybe you’re right.”
“My, you look like a young woman, Lady Maria.”
Maria Augustine was sitting in a chair. The doctor had arrived that morning and was sitting across from her. He smiled and reached out and took her wrist. He felt the pulse, then nodded. “Running like a fine watch. I do pronounce you ‘Out of danger.’”
“It’s been a hard sickness,” Maria murmured. “I don’t remember a worse one.”
“Scarlet fever’s a terrible thing.” Ransom shook his head. “I see sad things every day. Whole families decimated. There’s not really much we can do.”
“You did a great deal for me, Dr. Sheffield.”
Ransom smiled. “You’re a tough patient. Always questioning the doctor.”
The two were sitting in Lady Maria’s bedroom. Faint sunshine had broken through the clouds and threw its beams on the fine carpet. It also touched Maria’s face, and Sheffield noticed that her color was much better. “I’m going to leave instructions for a special diet for you. I’m going to put some meat on your bones.”
“Just give it to Leonie. She’ll see to it.” She looked at the doctor curiously. He had made three visits to Belle Fleur, staying overnight, and had been a comfort to Maria. She had actually been fearful for her life, but Ransom Sheffield’s cheerful manner, his care, had been a comfort to her. She had watched him carefully, and being a good student of human nature, she knew that there was a chance he was just after a wealthy patient. She had, however, also listened as Sheffield had talked to Leonie about the work he did with the poor people of New Orleans, and now as she considered him, she asked, “What about your practice? You seem to be rather able to leave it.”
“Well, my patients can’t go anywhere else.” Ransom grinned. He had a cheerful, open expression, and there was a winsomeness in the man that Maria liked. He was not handsome, but even the roughness of his features had a certain attraction. He had none of the classic good looks of Lowell or Julian Harcourt, but he had a strength that Maria admired.
“Couldn’t you take over some of Dr. Duvall’s practice?”
“He talked to me about it, but I couldn’t see my way clear to doing that.”
“Why not, Doctor?”
“Because I have another dream.”
“What sort of dream?”
“I don’t talk about it too much. I’ve told Leonie about it. My mother died because she couldn’t get the proper medical care, and somehow God put a desire in my heart to become a doctor to help those who couldn’t get help anywhere else. So, that’s what I want to do.”
“Couldn’t you do that and carry on Dr. Duvall’s practice at the same time?”
“I don’t think so. I think God’s calling me full-time to serve Him in this way.”
Maria considered the young man thoughtfully, then said, “Leonie told me that your facilities are very limited.”
“Oh yes, they are. Just a couple of rooms in a run-down house. It gets packed like sardines in a can sometimes, but I’ve done something now that’ll make it better.”
“And what is that?”
“Well, I’ve rented an old warehouse. It’s right in the heart of one of the worst slums in New Orleans. It’s a mess,” he admitted ruefully. Then he laughed and said, “I’ve been working nights trying to make it presentable, but just hauling off the trash is pretty tiresome.”
“And you’re going to make some sort of a hospital out of it?”
“Well,” Ransom answered, “I think that’s a bit too ambitious. But I could make a clinic out of it. There are some rooms in the back that could be made into living quarters. I could cut expenses that way. But it’s going to take a while just to get it prepared. It needs a lot of work.”
Maria looked down at her hands and thought for a moment. Then she looked up and said, “I have an idea—something that might help with your work.”
“And what’s that, Lady Maria?”
“It’s the middle of the winter, and there’s nothing much for the slaves to do until spring planting. Why couldn’t I send them down to help you with this renovation work?”
A pleased light came into Ransom Sheffield’s eyes. “Why, that would be of immense help!”
“I’ll do it then. I’ll send Julius down the first thing in the morning, and you’ll have all the help you want. Also, if you need supplies, I’ll write a note to the supplier who furnishes that sort of thing for us here at Belle Fleur.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll take advantage of you?” Ransom smiled.
“No, I’m not.”
Ransom blinked. “Well, I’m glad you feel that way, Lady Maria, and I’ll keep a strict account.” He got up and began to pace around. “This is going to be great!” he said enthusiastically. “I can first—” He broke off when Leonie came into the room bearing a tray covered with a white cloth. “Leonie, guess what?”
“I guess it’s time for Lady Maria’s lunch.”
“Yes. Here, let me help you.” He walked over, picked up a small table, and put it in front of Lady Maria. Leonie put the tray down, uncovered it, and said, “I made you some candied sweet potatoes. I know you love that.”
“Oh, Leonie, that smells so good!” Maria said. “And what’s this?”
“Mushroom and eggs a la ritz. I learned to cook it for my employer when I was a seamstress.”
Maria tasted it and said, “This is delicious. You’re a fine cook.”
“You eat, Lady Maria, and let me tell Leonie the good news.” He turned to her, his face was alight with pleasure. “Lady Maria is going to send some of her slaves down with Julius to help with my new project. I haven’t told you about it.”
“What is it, Doctor?”
“I’ve rented a big warehouse, and I’m going to turn it into a clinic. There’s nothing like it in New Orleans, and I’ve been working nights trying to get it ready. It was such slow work, it seemed almost hopeless.” He turned to Lady Maria, reached over, and put his hand on her shoulder. “Now we’re partners. She’s also going to pay for some paint and some materials to put in walls for private rooms.”
“Oh, Lady Maria!” Leonie exclaimed. She was pleased to see the color in her grandmother’s cheeks and said, “I think it’s wonderful to help like that. And I want to help, too, if you agree.”
“Certainly,” Lady Maria said.
“Come anytime, Leonie. I think it’ll be pretty confusing for a while, trying to renovate that warehouse and see patients at the same time. I’m going to see if I can interest some of the other doctors in coming in and seeing a few patients.”
“I’ll drive in with Julius tomorrow,” Leonie said. She went over and took her grandmother’s hand and held it. “I’m so glad that you’re willing to do this. It’s very kind of you.”
Lady Maria was not accustomed to being praised for her virtues. She flushed and said, “It’s nothing, really.”
“That’s not so, Lady Maria,” Leonie whispered. “It’s something.”
The work at the clinic had gone well. For three days Julius oversaw a dozen of the slaves there, and Leonie had made herself responsible for feeding them well. They had enjoyed the work, apparently, and the good food that she put before them.
The warehouse was a low-ceilinged, rambling sort of place, but Julius, who was a gifted carpenter, had thrown up extra walls, and some of the women had been painting. They had begun to sing during their work. Some of the songs were ones they sang while they were working in the fields. Once Ransom had come to stand beside Leonie, and the two of them had listened. “They sound happy, don’t they?” Leonie said quietly.
“Yes, they do. They don’t have much color and light in their lives. Slavery’s a bad thing. It’ll have to go one day. God willing, it will be soon.”
“I don’t see how that could happen.”
“It’s in God’s hands, but the abolition movement in the North is very strong.”
“Come along. I want to show you your office. We’re all through with it.” Leonie led the way, and when they stepped into one of the larger rooms, Ransom said, “Why, it’s beautiful!”
“No, but it’ll be handy. Notice you get lots of light from the sun through those windows.”
One side of the large room was banked with three windows that admitted sunlight freely. The walls had been whitewashed, and Leonie had managed to scrounge some furniture from the attic back at Belle Fleur. Medical equipment was at a minimum, but at least there were chairs, tables, and cabinets to keep a spare store of medicine and equipment.
“Why, this is really fine! You’ve done wonders, Leonie,” Ransom said, walking around the room, his eyes lighted with pleasure.
Leonie smiled. “I’ve enjoyed it, and Lady Maria is going to come and see it as soon as she gets better.”
“I couldn’t have done it without her and without you.”
The two were talking about the improvements that still had to be made when suddenly a voice rang out. “Hello, Leonie!”
Leonie turned to see Jean Larue come through the door. She smiled. She had seen little of him since she had worked for Madam Honore, but he had visited the clinic a couple of times and met the doctor. He went to her and took her hand, leaned over, and kissed it. “There you are, my little seamstress.”
“Not a seamstress anymore. She’s my chief helper,” Sheffield said.
Larue said quickly, “Doctor, I brought you a patient. I don’t know what to do with her.”
“What’s wrong with her, Jean?” Sheffield asked.
“She has been badly beaten.”
“Beaten! Who beat her?” Leonie asked, her face indignant.
“She worked for a man over in the Quarter. He misused her and beat her. I’ll fix him, though. You wait and see.”
“Where is she?”
“In my cab. Can I bring her in?”
“Of course. Bring her right in here.”
Jean disappeared, and Leonie began to make a place for the new patient. “It’s sad, isn’t it, when things like this happen?”
“Yes, it is. I think Jean’s mad enough to shoot somebody.”
They waited until Jean came in, half supporting a young woman.
“Here. Put her right here in this chair.”
“You take care of her, Doctor. I’ll be back to see you later on, Leonie.”
“Thank you,” the injured young girl whispered to Jean. She was no more than seventeen or eighteen, Leonie figured. She had a beautiful, light-olive complexion. Her eyes were swollen nearly shut, her lips were cut, and there was a large bruise on the side of her cheek. She cried out when the doctor bent over and touched her.
“Here, why don’t you lie down, Miss? What’s your name?”
“My name is Lolean Delaughter.”
“Would you stay with me, Miss Dousett? I may need some help.”
Leonie said, “Yes, of course, Doctor.” As Ransom began to examine the girl, she was shocked at the severe beating the girl had taken. She could barely move, and Sheffield murmured, “I think you’ve got some cracked ribs there. Nothing much I can do about that except try to make you comfortable, but we can take care of some of these cuts on your face.”
After treating the girl, he asked, “Do you have a home to go to?”
“No. I have noplace.”
“Well,” Ransom said, “we’ve got a room practically ready, and I’ve got a cot we can put in there. You can stay there until you find someplace better.”
“Thank you, Monsieur,” the girl whispered. She lifted her eyes to the doctor and said, “I have no money.”
“No money necessary. Why don’t you take care of this young lady, Miss Dousett?”
“Come along, Lolean. Here. Let me help you.” She assisted the young girl, who could barely walk, to one of the rooms and saw that she had all she needed. “I’ll bring you something to help you sleep.”
“Thank you, Mademoiselle.”
Blaise Mignon appeared unexpectedly the next day. He greeted Leonie with a smile and said, “Maybe we can talk.”
“Of course. Come over here where it’s quiet.”
Blaise followed her and looked around at the slaves who were banging away, putting up a new wall. “What is all this?” He listened as she told him the plan to make a clinic for poor people, and he said, “That doctor, he must be a nice fellow.”
“He’s a fine man.”
Blaise said, “How are you getting along with your grandmother?”
“She was very sick, but she’s better now. Dr. Sheffield treated her, and she’s paying for having this clinic refurbished.”
“Has she said anything about you?”
“You mean has she admitted I’m her granddaughter? We haven’t talked about it.”
Suddenly a loud voice—an angry voice—sounded.
“Who’s that yelling?” Blaise asked, looking toward the door.
“I don’t know.” Leonie quickly moved outside and saw a very large man towering over Sheffield. He was shouting, “I’ve come to get that girl! My name’s Carl Hackman, and she’s my property!”
“She’s not a slave. You don’t own her,” Ransom said. He was as tall as Hackman but looked thin next to him.
Hackman had a blunt face, and his eyes were small and burning with rage. “You keep out of this! I’m taking her back!”
“No, you’re not. She says she won’t go back with you—that you abused her.”
Hackman continued to shout, and then he looked up and saw that the young girl was watching him fearfully. “You come with me,” he demanded.
“No. I will never go back with you,” Lolean whispered.
“Then I’ll take you!”
Hackman started for the girl, but as he did, Ransom reached out and caught his arm. “You can’t take her. I’ll have—” He had no time to finish, for Hackman had swung a fist and caught him right over the eyebrow. Sheffield reeled backward into the wall, and at once Hackman was at him, striking fierce blows at his body and face. Sheffield tried to defend himself, but he was no match for the bruiser.
Leonie cried out, but before she could do more than that, Blaise Mignon reached down and picked up a short length of timber. Swinging it like a bat, he caught the big man on the side of the head. Hackman staggered but did not go down. As coolly as a man casting a fly with a fishing pole, Blaise took another swing even more powerfully that hit the man again in the head. Hackman collapsed, blood streaming from his head.
“We’ll have him arrested,” Mignon said lightly.
“Is he dead?” Leonie whispered.
“Unfortunately not. He’s got a hard head.” He walked over to Sheffield, who had stumbled to his feet, and said, “You must be the good doctor.”
Sheffield was dazed, and Leonie went to him and said, “Come and sit down, Dr. Sheffield.”
Blaise left and returned shortly with two burly policemen. They hauled Hackman to his feet, and Blaise said, “I’ll be down to press charges later.”
“Your poor face,” Leonie whispered to Ransom. “Let me put some cool compresses on it.”
Slaves had gathered around to watch, and Julius said with indignation, “If I’d been here, I could have hit him my own self !”
“Just do that the next time he comes in,” Blaise said with a smile.
“Are you hurt badly?” Leonie whispered to Ransom.
Ransom Sheffield reached up and touched his bruised face.
She said, “Where are you hurting most?”
“I guess I hurt all over more than I do any particular place.” He tried to smile and said, “Ouch!” He looked up at Blaise and said, “Thank you, sir.”
“Anytime. Come to think of it, maybe I can make a living as a tough guy.”
“You need a doctor to put you together,” Leonie said to Ransom. “That eyebrow. That cut’s going to take some stitches. I’ll go down the street and get Dr. Roberts.”
As soon as she left, Blaise said, “That’s a fine young woman.”
“Yes, she is. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“I’m Blaise Mignon, an old friend of Miss Dousett.”
“I hope that fellow doesn’t come back.”
“I don’t think he will. A few days in jail may cool him off. I’ll go along now. Tell Leonie I’ll be back later.”
“Yes, sir, and thanks for your help.” As Blaise Mignon left, Sheffield got slowly to his feet. His ribs hurt, and as he went over to look in a mirror, he said, “You were ugly enough to begin with, and you’re going to look like a gorilla now.”
“Are you all right, Doctor?”
He turned around and saw the young Creole woman, Lolean. Concern was in her face.
“I guess we’re about the same. Both of us had a beating.”
She reached up and touched his face. “I am so sorry. He is a cruel man.”
“He won’t be back anymore. I promise you.” He looked down at the young woman and smiled. “I guess we could hire a bodyguard to take care of both of us.”
Tears came to her eyes, and she said, “Thank you for taking care of me.”
Ransom Sheffield had a tender heart. “Why, that’s what I’m here for, Lolean.”