Merline Lovelace (18 page)

Christ! Someone had spun a fast web to gather all this evidence so quickly.

“Then there’s the matter of her pending inheritance,” Cappingham said, his lip curling. “Reports are it’s considerably more than a sergeant major draws in pay.”

The web had not only been spun fast, Daniel realized grimly, it had been spun fine. And it was beginning to look as if it might yet be woven into a noose.

Lieutenant Wilkinson couldn’t have pulled all these strands together. Not this swiftly. Or this ruthlessly. He might have the brains but he didn’t have the guts. There was more going on than Daniel grasped, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what or how Louise played into it.

He needed time to think matters through. Needed to force his mind past the shock and grief over Elizabeth. Right now, it looked as if the only place he’d have that time was in the
cabildo
prison.

“Stay here with the Thibodeauxs until I sort this out,” he told Louise tersely. “Bernard, see that you mount a close guard over her.”

“I will.”

“Daniel!”

Her nails dug into his arm. Her eyes reflected confusion and a mounting fear, but she put both aside to make him a fierce promise.

“I shall see to Elizabeth. I swear to you she shall be taken care of. And I shall have the lawyers Bernard hires to press my claim come to the
cabildo.
They can speak for you, tell whoever makes these charges how absurd they are.”

The lieutenant was out of patience. “Guard, fix the shackles.”

Louise claimed Elizabeth’s body and buried her that same afternoon.

Bernard apologized several times for the procession that wove its way through the rain-damp streets. He’d done his best on such short notice, but worried that the funeral lacked the color and style of a typical New Orleans burial.

Since Elizabeth was not of the Catholic faith, he hadn’t paid for a mass to be said, but had arranged for a priest to accompany the cortege and say a few words at the cemetery. A hearse drawn by four horses with black plumes attached to their halters carried the plain oak coffin. Louise, the priest and the Thibodeaux family walked behind the hearse, the hired mourners walked ahead. Their keening turned heads and drew curious glances, but none of the bystanders joined in the procession, as so often happened. They’d seen enough funerals this day.

Helene Thibodeaux had loaned Louise the proper mourning clothes. The high-waisted black jersey gown hung loosely on her small frame. Its skirts trailed the wet, damp cobbles and its long mitten sleeves covered all but the tips of her fingers. A heavy veil, draped over the brim of her hat, shielded her face as well as her thoughts.

The burial ground where Bernard’s ancestors
rested was a strange place, shaded by moss-covered oaks and crowded with raised marble crypts that held many coffins. Like the Osage, the people of New Orleans did not put their dead into the ground. But neither did they put them on high biers to shorten their journey to the spirit world. As Bernard quietly explained, they raised them above the ground so the water just under the surface of this city built on silt would not seep into their coffins and wash away their bones.

The tombs lay so close together that the carriage could not proceed beyond a certain point. The hired mourners took Elizabeth’s coffin from the carriage, lifted it onto their shoulders and followed Bernard through the maze. He halted before a marble vault mounted by an angel with great, spread wings. The cemetery keeper was waiting. Hobbling on his one leg, he unlocked the tomb’s iron gate. Louise stared into the darkness of the crypt as the priest said a few words. When he finished, Elizabeth’s coffin was carried into the darkness.

The mourners pocketed the coins Bernard handed them and dispersed. The priest took a generous contribution and left as well. Helene shepherded her daughters down the path.

“It’s done,” Bernard said quietly.

“No,” Louise whispered. “Not yet. I have words to say to Elizabeth.”

“I’ll wait for you with Helene and the girls, then.”

She heard his boots crunch on the shell, heard the
clip-clop
of the horses’ hooves as the carriage drove away. Still she stared into the darkness.

A breeze sighed through the moss hanging from the oaks. As if called by the spirits, she stepped inside the dank darkness of the tomb, reached into her pocket and laid a gold earring atop the oak coffin.

“Your husband avenges you, Elizabeth. I give you this to take into the spirit world with you.”

She backed out of the crypt and stood silent while the cemetery keeper limped over. The iron gate clanged shut. The key rattled in its rusted padlock.

Still it wasn’t done. She had one last vow to make.

“This I swear to you. I will not rest until Daniel is free to mourn you properly.”

Nor would his wife, Louise thought as another breeze whispered through the moss.

R
estless and consumed with worry, Louise fretted through the next four days. Bernard attempted without success to obtain a pass for her to visit the
cabildo
prison, while his lawyers hemmed and hawed over the matters to be presented to the military court that would try Daniel.

“They say the evidence is rather daunting,” the merchant told Louise when he joined her and his family for dinner the evening of the fourth day. Candles flickered in their holders and the scent of braised pork and mushrooms set his ample stomach to rumbling. Waiting until he’d been served a generous portion and the servants had left the family
en table,
Bernard picked up the thread of his thoughts.

“The tribunal is scheduled to convene in a week. The woman who cared for Elizabeth… I forget her name.”

“Polly Tremayne.”

“She’ll likely be called to give witness. As will you.”

“Me, I will not speak against Daniel,” Louise said hotly. “Nor will Mistress Tremayne.”

“Not willingly perhaps, but her husband wears a uniform and, well, there’s no denying the woman found Elizabeth ablaze shortly after Daniel left her.”

Louise sat silent, her hands tight in her lap, while Bernard sopped up some gravy with a piece of crusty bread.

“A good many people lost all they owned in the fire,” he said between bites. “Public anger runs high against the man many are now saying started it to be rid of his feebleminded wife.”

“How can they say this! It is not true.”

She could tell from the quick glance he shared with his wife that there was worse to come.

“I haven’t showed the newspapers to you,” Helene admitted, “but they’re calling for Daniel to be hanged from the nearest street lamp.”

Louise sprang up, sick at hearing her worst fears spoken aloud. “No! No, I tell you! I will not let such a thing happen.”

“What can you do?” Helene asked. “Your association with him has already called your credibility into question.”

“I—I must think on this!”

She pushed away from the table and retreated to her room. The alcove bed and privy closet that had so fascinated her when she’d first arrived held no interest now. All she could think about was the military tribunal that would convene within a week.

Skirts swirling, Louise paced the room. Her low-
heeled slippers sank into the rose-patterned carpet. The oil in her bedside lamp had burned low when she finally decided on a plan of action.

She would go to see James. If he was the one behind her abduction, if he wanted to marry her so much that he would resort to such desperate measures, she would barter herself in exchange for Daniel’s freedom.

And if James lacked the authority to arrange his release, his father certainly did not. The general commanded all the troops in Louisiana Territory. His word was law. He could dismiss these absurd charges against Daniel. He must.

Shoulders slumping, Louise dropped down on the patterned silk coverlet. So much had happened so very swiftly that she could scarcely recall a time now when she wasn’t sick with worry and regret and shame. Could hardly remember the time before she’d opened the door to Daniel’s quarters and seen Elizabeth held in the brutal grip of the Spaniards.

At least one of them had paid for that!

Her brief spurt of satisfaction gave way to the troubled thoughts that now followed her like a shadow. Daniel had not yet been charged with the Spaniard’s death. He’d given her no details of what had occurred, but surely someone had seen the two men fight and could identify, by his uniform, the one left standing. A second charge would only add to the difficulties he faced.

She flopped back onto the coverlet, threw an arm
over her face and tried to shut out the image of a knotted rope swinging from a gallows.

She rose with the dawn, hollow-eyed and fixed in her determination to go to James. She could see no other path to take. When she announced her desire to speak with him, Bernard and Helene both objected strenuously.

“Daniel said you were to stay here until he sorted matters out.”

“How can he do this in prison? Each day that passes tightens the rope around his neck. No, I must plead with James to intercede. Bernard, will you send Thomas to tell him I must to speak with him? Make sure he tells James it is most urgent that I see him.”

The Thibodeauxs’ manservant returned an hour later with word that Lieutenant Wilkinson very much regretted that military duties precluded a meeting with Madame Chartier until seven o’clock this evening. He’d be honored to call at Doumaine Street at that hour, or receive her at his quarters should that prove more convenient. Deciding that what she had to say to the lieutenant was best said away from Helene and her daughters, Louise sent word she’d visit him at his quarters.

She dressed carefully for the meeting. The finest silk stockings. Garters trimmed with lace. A gown of cherry-striped muslin, with delicate embroidery bordering the cuffs and square neckline. Deliberately, she tugged the bodice lower to show more of her
breasts. After tying the ribbons of a bonnet lavishly trimmed with feathers, she pulled on lace mittens. As a final thought, she slipped her skinning knife into her drawstring reticule.

Bernard ordered his coach to carry them to the Royal Arms. Thomas and another well-muscled servant accompanied them. The house servant stayed with the carriage, but Bernard insisted the other come upstairs with him and Louise.

“I must speak with James alone,” she said, her nerves as taut as a bowstring now that she was here.

“That’s all well and good, but first I’ll make sure he knows I’m here.”

The servant who answered his knock looked surprised to see such a gathering at the door. “Lieutenant Wilkinson returned late from parade. He’s just washing the dirt from his hands. Will you come in and take a glass of wine?”

“My man and I will wait downstairs in the taproom. Louise, send word when you’re ready to leave.”

She nodded, her throat too tight for speech.

The corporal showed her into a sitting room made comfortable with a scattering of books and various personal items.

“I’ll inform the lieutenant you’re here.”

He closed the doors to the bedroom behind him. Strung too tight to sit, Louise wandered to the fireplace. A carriage clock ticked on the mantel beside a collection of miniatures in folding leather frames. She recognized Major General Wilkinson in full
dress uniform and had just glanced at the woman in the other frame when James came into the sitting room.

He was still in uniform, she saw when she turned to greet him, and even more nervous than she. He tried to put on a friendly smile but it barely creased his cheeks.

“Madame Chartier. Louise. I did not hope to see you again after our last meeting.”

“Which meeting do you speak of, James?”

“Why, the one in the Thibodeauxs’ parlor, of course. Will you take a dish of tea or glass of wine?”

“No.”

He fingered his neck cloth, wilted from his long day in uniform. “I was told you wished to speak to me on a matter of some urgency. May I ask what it is?”

She’d thought it would be so easy to make the bargain. Now that the moment had come, she had to force the words. “I have decided I will marry you.”

The blunt declaration dropped the lieutenant’s jaw. He gaped at her, agog, until Louise had to bite back a sharp request that he close his mouth.

“What…? When…?” He gulped and tried again. “Why have you changed your mind?”

“Because of Daniel.”

“Sergeant Major Morgan?” A stunned look came over his face. “Morgan sent you here with this…this proposal?”

“Daniel does not know I come.”

She crossed the room to stand before him, wanting
him to know the terms of their bargain, needing to see his eyes when he understood. “But if we are to marry, you must see he goes free.”

“I can’t do that!”

“You can. You must. You know him. You traveled many miles together. He cared for you when you were sick with fever. He wiped your face and spooned broth into you. You know he would not harm his wife.”

“No, I don’t,” the lieutenant protested weakly. “He came to my quarters. He assaulted me. I didn’t lay charges against him because, as you said, he gave me great service during the expedition. But now that his negligence in the matter of his wife has been—”

“I will hear no buts,” Louise said fiercely. “Do you want me, James? Do you?”

Sweat popped out on the lieutenant’s brow. He hooked a finger in his cravat again, tugging at the linen as though it choked him.

“Yes, I do.”

“To have me, you must set Daniel free.”

“I can’t,” he said again. “I don’t have the authority.”

“Your father does.”

“My father is not here. He left New Orleans the day after the fire. He’s on his way to Richmond to give evidence at the Burr trial.”

Staggered by the news, Louise pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead and tried to think. She didn’t know this place called Richmond. Was it a
great distance from New Orleans? Dropping her hand, she pinned the lieutenant with a glare.

“You will send a messenger after him, tell him Daniel must be freed.”

“It will take weeks for a letter to reach my father. Morgan is to be taken before a court in six days’ time.”

“Delay this court. Tell them you write to your father. Tell them they must wait until you receive word back from him.”

The suggestion penetrated the welter of thoughts clamoring around inside James’s head. He’d been in a sweat since receiving word that Louise wanted to speak with him this afternoon, had been sure she’d come to accuse him as Morgan had when he’d stormed into these same apartments.

James hadn’t slept except in fits and starts since. The fire had brought him running into the streets the first night, and word that Morgan had found Louise Chartier naked and drugged had haunted his every waking moment after that.

He hadn’t laid the charges against Morgan for the death of his wife. Those had come from his father’s chief of staff, Colonel Matthews, after hearing the circumstances of Elizabeth Morgan’s death and assessing the devastation caused by the fire. Someone had to answer for that. Someone had to satisfy the howls of outrage from citizens who had lost so much. James had breathed a secret sigh of relief when Matthews decided that that someone was Morgan.

And now this!

Desperately, James tried to decide how to respond to Louise’s remarkable demand. Perhaps he
should
talk to Matthews. Ask him to delay the court-martial. Buy some time to write to his father and get the general’s guidance on how to proceed with this startling change of circumstances.

No, he didn’t need guidance. He knew what his father would say. Despite betraying Aaron Burr to save his own neck, the general hadn’t given up his dreams of carving an empire for himself out of the vast Louisiana Territory. The woman standing before James now represented his father’s last hope for that empire.

She was rich, or would be when the damned lawyers finished with their endless letters. She combined both French and Osage blood and could, he hoped, rally those peoples to her cause. She claimed ties, however remote, to royalty.

And, he admitted, his glance straying to the swell of her breasts, she was very much a woman. Swiping his damp palms down the sides of his uniform jacket, James took a deep breath.

“I would be honored to take you in marriage.”

“And you will see that Daniel is released?”

“I’ll see that his trial is delayed” was all he would promise. “Until I hear back from my father.”

Her breath escaped in a little hiss. For the life of him, James couldn’t tell whether that signified anger or agreement. He curled his hands to hide the sweat pooling in his palms and stood stiffly until she nodded.

“It is done.” She turned away and started for the door. “I leave you to make what arrangements you must.”

“It’s not done yet.”

“What do you mean?”

James wet his lips. He’d never know where he got the daring for what he was about to propose. “I mean you should stay and watch me write the letter to my father. That way you will know I keep my word. And in return, you must show you will keep yours.”

She cocked her head, her eyes wary. “How am I to show this?”

“By coming to my bed. Tonight. And staying here with me until we marry.”

She stood silent for so long, James was sure he’d overplayed his hand. Nervously, he cleared his throat.

“You must understand my position. You rejected me most embarrassingly that night in the Thibodeauxs’ parlor. I’m only seeking to make sure—”

“Yes.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yes, I will bed with you.”

Not sure he’d heard her right, he demanded confirmation. “Here? Now?”

“Here,” she said stonily. “Now.”

“And you’ll stay with me until we’re wed?”

“Yes.”

By God, he’d done it!

“Write this letter to your father,” she said, her
voice flat. “I shall go down and tell Bernard I do not go back to Doumaine Street with him.”

When she walked out, his elation went up like a puff of smoke. She wouldn’t return. He’d bet his last copper penny she’d change her mind and scurry away. Either that or Bernard Thibodeaux would come pounding on the door, pistol in hand. If so, he’d better be prepared.

Calling to his batman, James strode into the bedroom.

“Simons! Lay out my pistol. And my frogged dressing gown,” he added, just in case.

Louise expected Bernard to object to the bargain she’d struck—and he did. Long and vigorously. Drawing her into a private corner of the taproom, he laid out argument after argument against the scheme.

Wilkinson had not promised to release Daniel, only to delay the trial. Daniel might still hang.

If Louise went to the lieutenant’s bed like this, he could well decide not to marry her, but keep her as a mistress.

And if they did marry, she would be tied to the man for life. Was that what she wanted? Was it?

“No, but it is what I must do.”

“He’ll have control of your fortune. Of you.”