Love's Vengeance (7 page)

Desiree remembered well her mother asking her to run along the shore of the lake with her dog while she quickly caught the antics with bristle and canvas; and since its completion, the painting had graced this wall as a silent testimony to things past.

Life had changed so very much since this painting had been completed. The grove of young saplings, that lined part of the lake were now full grown trees. The dog, a sweet and shaggy black mutt, had long since run away as abruptly as he had come to live with the Chandelles. The little girl, no more than four years old at the time, with ebony hair whipping about her as she ran with the dog trailing behind, was now grown. And the artist, her beautiful mother, was gone forever.

Desiree stood before the painting, lost in thought. She did not hear the silent intruder, quietly moving closer and closer behind her. White-hot pain exploded in her head and lights flickered before her eyes, then when out, as she crumpled like a marionette whose strings suddenly had been snipped.

***

“Mary! In here—Desiree’s room!”

Bridgett coughed and choked as the acrid smoke burned her eyes and throat. She fell to her knees beside Desiree, turning her to her back and brushing hair from her pale face. Mary rushed in with her apron held to her mouth to filter the deadly fumes.

“Oh Lord! Is she dead?” she cried.

“Mary, help me.” Bridgett gasped, as she attempted to lift Desiree, “Let’s get her out of here, the whole house is going up.”

Bridgett and Mary struggled to pick Desiree up between them, grasping her about the waist and pulling her arms over their shoulders. They staggered from the room and along the smoke filled hall, using a small window at the top of the stairs, to gage their progress.

Reaching the flight, they could see flames licking at the main hall. Sheers and heavy velvet draperies over the front windows were falling in flaming tatters to the oaken floors. The arch of the front hall was a blaze of shimmering light dropping crimson embers in a shower to the entryway below.

With no other choice, they grasp the banister and drug Desiree down the stairs between them, making their way to the front door and struggling to open it. The cool air from outdoors rushed in through the open portal, causing the flames to leap with new fervor and in moments, the staircase was engulfed.

Bridgett and Mary collapsed, with their mistress, on the lawn next to the other servants, facing the huge mansion. As they expelled the smoke from their lungs, Desiree’s coughs and moans drew their immediate attention.

“Desiree child—are you all right?” Bridgett asked, as she brushed strands of hair from Desiree’s face.

Slowly Desiree opened her eyes, then closed them again, as the tall green trees above her seemed to be spinning like tops.

“Oh my head.” She choked out with a grimace and reached up to gingerly touch the lump that had formed at the crown.

“What is it child? Did you bump your head?”

Desiree opened her eyes again and drawing her hand before her saw that it was covered with bright red blood.

Bridgett carefully helped her to a sitting position while Mary moved aside the hair to find a small, nasty gash seeping a fresh flow from the scalp.

“It sure is a goose egg you have there.” Mary announced, tearing a strip of cloth from the hem of her singed dress and pressing it gently against the wound.

“I was hit! Something hit me!” Desiree exclaimed trying vainly to look up at Bridgett as her head was tilted down toward her chest while Mary tended to her, “I was in my room, looking at mother’s painting, when someone must have come up behind me and struck me over the head. The next thing I remember is being here with you.”

Desiree placed her hand to the cloth Mary held, taking over the task, as Bridgett looked into Mary’s eyes. Worry was plainly written on the elderly housekeeper’s face.

“Oh the house!” Desiree moaned, as she looked up at the flames licking out the upstairs windows.

“Are you all well?” Julien called out loudly to be heard over the breaking of glass and crackling of wood. He puffed and panted, as he gingerly approached on aged legs. He was very old; nearly four score and the stoop of his once tall frame, made the effort at running look almost painful to Desiree.

“
Oui
, we are fine.” Bridgett assured him, “But for a bump to
Mademoiselle
Desiree.”

“I saw someone running into the woods after the fire began." He pointed off toward a stand of trees. “I don’t know who it might have been but it was a man. I could not give chase so I tried to douse the fire but my attempts were futile. It was as though it had been set in three or four locations.” He shook his head apologetically and then trotted back toward the Château to help the stable hands battle the blaze.

***

Madeleine Roche’ happened to glance out the window, where the warm sunshine beckoned her and a scream caught in her throat. Across the lake, a pitch black cloud of smoke billowed into the clear blue sky.

“Nooo!” she cried, “Francois—Francois!”

She ran along the hall and into the study where Francois was already on his feet and heading toward her frantic cries, when she flew in, gesturing wildly for him to follow as she raced to the French doors, “It’s burning—the Chandelle’s! The entire house! Look!” She pulled aside the sheer draperies, with an agonized sob.

“
Mon Dieu
!” Francois rasped as he dashed from the room. He raced from the house, clearing the railing of the front veranda with a bound and crossing the distance to the stables at a gait that little testified to his age.

“Men! The Chandelle’s is afire!” he shouted, skidding to a halt at the overturned carriage.

“Oh Lord!” Georges’ whispered dropping the mallet and chisel he had been using to disassemble the carriage.

Philippe leapt from the partially enclosed compartment with a groan, “Desiree!” he rasped.

Without another word, all hands raced to the tack room, then to the stalls, quickly saddling every available mount. Francois Roche’ was the first out the stable door and the echoing clatter of horseshoes at a fevered pitch, marked his rapid departure.

***

Francois slowed his mount as he rounded the drive, seeing a group of women standing on the lawn before the Château. Desiree was cradled in Bridgett’s arms and was weeping, as she watched all that had been her home and all that was left of her parents, vanish into the thick black plume. Bounding off the heaving horse before it had come to a complete halt, he exclaimed, “Ladies is everyone out? Is anyone injured?”

Bridgett rubbed Desiree’s back consolingly as she spoke, “We are all fine but this was deliberately set. Someone rendered Desiree unconscious. We fear this was an attempt at murder!”

She beckoned him to examine Desiree’s wound and after seeing the evidence and hearing the entire story, coupled with what had been learned of the carriage accident, he had to concur.

The men from the Roche’ house arrived with a chorus of hooves at a breakneck pace and a cloud of dry dust from the road, billowing behind them. All hands dashed to lend assistance in the battle against the blaze but the heat of the fire, now at a heady pitch, could be felt well out onto the lawn and it was clear that salvation was beyond hope. Even the bright green leaves of the trees surrounding and above the mansion were shriveled by the intense inferno.

“Ladies, we should go. There is nothing to do here. The men will tend to this until it dies down.” Francois urged haling a stable hand and ordering a carriage be brought around.

Desiree watched the men throwing buckets of water on small grass fires started by cinders falling to the ground like fiery stars from the heavens.

“Mary you set everyone up in the cottages for now. We shall see about supplies after the fire is under control.” She said with authority she little felt.

Mary nodded and with a sob, embraced Desiree for a long moment. “Oh my sweet little flower, my heart breaks with what I know you must be feeling. Believe me child, this will be the end of your grief, we shall all see to it.”

Desiree hugged her old housekeeper, placing a kiss upon her cheek and nodded bravely, not trusting her voice to speak.

The carriage was brought around and Bridgett helped Desiree up, while Francois tied his mount to the rear of the coach; then joined them for the drive home.

Desiree sat silently, watching out the window as they drove from her home. The black cloud, now drifting on the breeze, fanned out across the sky from east to west. A black flag marking the end of all she had loved. A tear slipped down her face and she could find no words that might express her feelings.

Chapter Five

The study was deathly quiet, but for the ticking of the large mantle clock over the stone fireplace where Desiree sat silently upon a settee with Bridgett at her side. With her hands folded demurely in her lap and eyes lowered, Desiree watched the pacing back and forth of Francois Roche’s booted feet before her. Daring to glance up she noted the stern scowl and knitted brow of her godfather and the thought occurred to her that he looked just like a schoolmaster who had caught a student cheating on their examinations. With hands clasp behind his back, he looked at the Persian rug beneath his feet, as he pondered the dilemma set before him. When he had finally gathered his thoughts, he stopped before them, rocking back on his heels, contemplating Desiree.

“Desiree you can not be serious about this! I must insist that you reconsider. What purpose would you have going to the colonies? It is a barbaric place—horrid living conditions—savages! Diseases of all sorts—backward…completely primitive!” he shook his head in disbelief that she could even entertain the notion.

“No—not so bad as all that! Aunt Colette has written often of the progress of the colonies. It is not at all as barren as it once was. Why she has written they have cobblestone streets, a town hall—merchant shops! I feel it would be a marvelous chance to see for myself.” She looked hopefully into his eyes but saw he did not share her obvious excitement, so she continued more seriously, “Of course in addition Francois, the fact remains that I am no longer safe here. We have no clue as to the identity of the persons who killed my parents and tried to kill me. We could be in grave danger this very moment and be unaware. I could meet with some accident such as my parents—how do you know that right now your carriage is not being tampered with? Next time it could be you or Madeleine who fall to your deaths.”

“Our house and grounds are being guarded, nothing else will occur.” He assured with conviction.

He began pacing again and strode to his desk, retrieving his pipe and then paused at a sconce, setting a fine reed to flame and touching it to the bowl, puffing until it caught. Desiree couldn’t resist a smile, entertaining the thought that he had acquired this fashionable habit, from the very land he considered barbaric.

“You feel going halfway around the world by yourself is not at all a hazard?” he gripped the pipe tightly in his teeth, drawing the fragrant smoke, then replaced it in his hand, “And you can not believe this—
person
will forget the entire notion in your absence! That is ludicrous Desiree!” He paced across to look out the veranda doors, where he could see work on clearing the gutted hull of her home well underway.

“Francois, I will not be going alone—Bridgett shall accompany me on the voyage, and travel to the New World has become almost commonplace. I wish to go—I feel I must. For my own safety but more importantly for the safety of the people I love. I could not bear to lose anyone else!”

Desiree met his light blue eyes without wavering and he turned from her to the window once more, with a snort. She waited patiently and then, he dropped the drape back into place with a sigh. She could see his resolve weakening. She was winning the argument.

“And you are most certain Colette will have room to accommodate you? I’ve heard they live in nothing but thatched huts over there.” he said with distaste, as he came to stand before her once more.

“Francois…” Desiree laughed softly, “Colette has a lovely two story home right on the coast of New Hampshire at Portsmouth. From what she has written of it, it sounds wonderful!”

He rubbed his gray bearded chin solemnly, eyeing her, “Well if you are set on this expedition, I shall get you a place on one of my sloops to Le Havre and then I suppose you might go across on the
Angelica
.”

He started to the desk in search of the schedule of his ship but Desiree halted him in stride, “There is no need for that. Bridgett and I shall make our own arrangements for passage. I would rather not go aboard your or one of my father’s ships, for that matter. I feel for safety’s sake it would be best to find a neutral party.”

He could see the determination flashing from her violet eyes, “Perhaps the proprietor of the Le Havre Inn will help you with those arrangements.” He sighed, resigning himself wearily.

“Oh
Merci
!” Desiree squealed, jumping up and placing an excited kiss upon his cheek in spite of his stern expression. She hugged him tightly, “Bridgett shall help me with all that, worry not.”

“Worry not! I shall do nothing else. Desiree what of your business—your house?” he pointed out the door toward her home, “Have you considered any of that?”

Desiree nodded in affirmation, “I have discussed all that with
Monsieur
Monet. He will see to everything, including the house to its completion. It will work out fine, you shall see.”

“It seems as though you had all this arranged even before discussing it with me.” He scowled darkly.

“
Oui
I must admit I did.” Desiree confessed, placing another kiss upon his cheek and with a quick hug, she and Bridgett scurried out of the room to make plans.

Francois listened to them giggling like schoolgirls and with a shake of his head and a heavy sigh, he went back to the work awaiting him on his desk.