The Seven Sapphires of Mardi Gras (27 page)

“Maybe she was jealous of sharing Edward’s attention.”

“It was more than just a childish prank. You should have seen the look in her eyes.” She watched me closely. “Christine was with you the day you had the riding accident—just as she was with you at the old house. Something happened in there, didn’t it? Something that upset her.”

Though I did not reply, I could tell by her expression that she knew her words had gotten through to me. I could not ignore the fact that Christine
had
been nearby when both incidents had happened. And each time, she had been angry with me.

Lydia gave a sigh. “No matter what Edward may tell you, Racine was a devil. I knew him! And his daughter—she suffers for her father’s sins.” She moved her hands in a helpless, fluttering gesture. Away from the harsh light of the window, she once again seemed flawless, like some lovely, exotic flower. “I’ve warned you.” The words were spoken softly, but with genuine emotion. “I don’t know what else I can do.”

I was surprised to see the tears in her eyes. Suddenly, she covered her face with her hands, her frail body with its tiny, corseted waist shaking with uncontrolled sobs. “We’ve both made terrible mistakes in coming here, Louise. Neither of us is welcome. And neither of us will ever belong. Just beware of her, Louise. Beware of everyone! Elica wasn’t careful and now she’s dead!” With that, Lydia turned and rushed out of the room, leaving those alarming words echoing through my brain.

I had barely time to settle my nerves before Christine returned, singing in her delight, a heap of slightly worn ball gowns thrown over one shoulder. She tossed them triumphantly upon the bed. “There they are. The costumes I was telling you about. All three of them. Aren’t they just perfect?”

Luxurious folds of satin trailed the floor as I held one of the gowns up in front of me. “But where did they come from?” I asked. Then, with sudden alarm, “Surely they aren’t Lydia’s—”

Christine threw back her head and laughed. “Did you think I’d ransacked her closet? I found these packed away in the attic. They’re just old clothes.”

“Do we have Edward’s permission to use them?”

“Why, of course,” she retorted with a particularly disarming smile. “Dare I even breathe without Edward’s permission?”

The dress I held before me was a frothy concoction of bright yellow satin, bows, and lace. Christine held up still another gown, a deep, rich emerald in color. It was a more sophisticated dress, with a slightly daring neckline. The bodice was trimmed with pale lace gone ivory from being closeted away too long in a dark place.

“Oh, you did find some jewelry!” Christine squealed with sudden pleasure as she noticed the array of necklaces upon the bed. Greedily, she snatched up the green strand of beads. “Do you have earrings to match?” Dragging the emerald dress along, she hurried over to the vanity mirror.

“These pieces of jewelry belonged to my mother, so please be careful with them.”

“Oh, I’ll be ever so careful!” Christine promised as she preened in front of the glass.

Christine and I tried on the first two dresses, laughing at our reflections in the mirror. The light diversion was just what I needed. Her emerald dress, in desperate need of alteration, dragged the floor, while my yellow one with its layers of satins and bows was definitely a fiasco.

“Now let’s trade,” she said, taking the yellow one from me. As she pulled it in an eager and most unladylike fashion over her petticoats, she exclaimed, “Louise! Look at me! Why, I look like a wedding cake all covered with frosting.”

“And I didn’t fare much better,” I said. The emerald dress, which had almost fit Christine, hung on me like an old sack. In the short time that I had been here, Christine’s girlish form had filled out, while I had lost several pounds. Now I was astonished to discover that she was slightly larger than me.

Almost at the same time, we both turned back toward the dress that had lain neglected upon the bed. Not as bright and eye-catching as the other two, it had been overlooked by both of us. Now, Christine held it out with a speculative frown, tugging at a small tear upon the sleeve.

“It’s only a seam, and can be mended easily,” I said, taking the dress from her to inspect the tiny rip.

“Then why don’t you try it first, Louise?” she insisted. “Blue becomes you.”

“Why not?” I slipped the dress over my petticoats, aware of its comfortable fit. Though not as showy as the other two, the dress was styled to perfection, from the elegant trim of beaded satin to the fashionably tight-fitting sleeves.

“Why, it’s beautiful!” Christine exclaimed minutes later as I paraded in front of her. “You wear that one, and I’ll wear the emerald gown. We’ll find some eye masks and matching scarves to disguise our faces. Yes, this will be just perfect!”

Yet, the reflection in the mirror disturbed me. There was something wrong about the tall, dark-haired figure that stared back at me. My eyes seemed large and sunken in my thin face. And since when had I grown so pale?

The dress accentuated the slimness of my body, hugging every curve in a flattering way. Yet, somehow, I felt extremely uncomfortable. Though I was enchanted by the way it made me look, I was also a little awed and frightened by the change in my appearance.

“See? I told you that you’d look just—bewitching!” Christine exclaimed. “May I try it on, too?” she asked.

“With my blessing.” I slipped the dress off quickly, glad to exchange its sensual, mysterious appeal for my simple brown skirt and white shirtwaist.

Christine was now struggling eagerly with the buttons. The dress came over her head, then slipped down her hips and waist. When her face appeared, her eyes were shining with excitement and two high spots of color had appeared on her tanned cheeks.

She studied herself in the mirror. “I believe I prefer the emerald—I never cared for drab colors. Besides, a queen’s lady should wear the bright colors, and the queen be the more sedate, don’t you think?”

She swirled around for me, the smile disappearing from her face. “Louise, why are you staring at me like that? Is something wrong?”

“Why, no, Christine. Whatever you decide.” I had to turn away to disguise my sudden alarm. In the emerald dress as well as the frothy yellow pomp of bows and lace, Christine had looked like a child playing dress-up. But the girl who turned from the mirror to look back at me was suddenly transformed.

The dress fit her much as it had fit me, though even more snugly. The dress hugged the curve of her hips, the bodice fitting snugly and daringly about her budding breasts. The deep, rich color brought out new highlights in her dark hair, accentuating the softness of her cheeks and the sensual turn of her lips. The girl that looked back at me was no longer a child—she was a woman!

Chapter Nineteen

I slipped out into the garden to avoid Ian, who had not left my side all evening. Edward’s garden was a tranquil, beautiful place in twilight, yet as I wandered past tangles of honeysuckle and rose vine, I could not calm the vague sense of uneasiness that stirred in my breast. The sight of the unfinished fountain brought back thoughts of Nicholas and how we had met beneath its shadow, thoughts of the dark-robed figure who had attacked me shortly after.

“Louise!” My name floated through the air, a whispered, eerie sound. I started, my eyes automatically moving to the winged statue; I could almost imagine that he had shifted positions slightly.

Ian Winters stepped out from behind one of the enormous flowering bushes. Disengaging himself from their shadows, he moved toward me. “Why, Ian, I seem to run into you everywhere!” I said, trying to conceal my exasperation.

“Don’t think it’s by accident,
ma chère,”
he cautioned with a reckless smile. “Well, have you given the matter more thought? Will you let me take you to the Mardi Gras?”

“I haven’t decided,” I hedged, glancing away.

“You will break my heart!” There was a vague hint of desperation in Ian’s voice. “The Mardi Gras is but a week away now!”

How well I knew that! Since my return, I had heard about nothing but the Mardi Gras from Ian, Christine, and Mrs. Lividais. Christine had, of course, persuaded me to be her chaperone. And Ian, hearing that I had agreed to go for Christine’s sake, had not given me a moment’s peace since.

“It’s a beautiful night,” I said, attempting to change the subject. “Shall we walk?”

“Ah, yes,” he said, falling into step beside me. “A lovely night, a lovely garden, and—an even more lovely lady. Now, which poet was it who said that?”

“Ian Winters?” I guessed with a laugh. He reached out suddenly to pluck one of the blushing-pink roses from a drooping branch. He handed it to me, bowing low with the flourish of an old-time cavalier.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have picked it!” Then I added quickly, “But thank you all the same.”

“I should put it in your hair.” He came closer, taking the tiny rosebud from my hand, his eyes liquid amber in the darkness. “In fact, I will!”

“I shall look foolish” I protested.

“Shh.” Ian silenced me as he placed the rosebud gently above my right ear. “Remember—in New Orleans, I promised you a rose.”

I thought about the pale pink rose he had given me as a welcome to Louisiana. I smiled, remembering how he had tossed the wilted blossom into the river, consoling me with the promise of another.

“Stunning, alluring, irresistible!” Suddenly, Ian pulled me into his arms. I turned my face away as his eager lips sought mine.

“Ian, please—”

“I’m sorry, my dear Louise. But I’ve missed you! Those few days you were gone were like torture to me.” He held me at arm’s length, looking into my eyes. “I’ve been so worried about you, knowing you were virtually alone in that dreadful house with Nicholas, fearing that he might try to take advantage of the situation—”

“You needn’t have worried. He was the perfect gentleman.”

“But I’m not,” Ian declared with a roguish grin. “In fact, I’m not above stealing a kiss in the moonlight!” This time his lips claimed mine before I had a chance to turn away. His was a practiced kiss, one intended to arouse passion, yet I remained stiff and wooden in his arms.

“Ian ...”I began, pushing him gently away. A sudden rustling sound in the nearby bushes silenced me. Ian, too, looked startled. I turned back toward the dark fountain, and my heart froze. For just a moment, I saw the brief shadow of a dark-clad shape silhouetted against the pale stone.

“Someone is out here!” I stared out into the darkness, but that vague impression of a human shape had slipped off into the cover of darkness.

“I don’t see anyone,” Ian said, a tinge of annoyance in his voice over the interrupted kiss.

“Someone was hiding out there near the fountain, Ian. Someone was watching us!” Who? The person wearing the voodoo mask? Nicholas?

“Why, Louise, you’re trembling! There, there. It was only a nightbird.” Though Ian’s voice was smooth and calming, an uneasy frown settled into his thin brows as he glanced in the direction of the now-still rose bushes. I knew then that the dark-clad figure had not been my imagination. Ian must have seen it, too!

Ian took my arm gently. “Come, Louise. Let’s go back inside.”

We returned to encounter Edward in the hallway. He didn’t seem quite himself. As he came toward us, I noticed a barely discernible stoop to his usually ramrod-straight shoulders, and his graying temples were ruffled as if he might have been running a distracted hand through his hair. The pouchy skin beneath his eyes made me wonder if he had not been losing sleep lately. “Have either of you seen my wife?” he asked in a strained voice.

“Why, no. I haven’t seen Lydia all evening,” Ian answered him. “But didn’t she say something about writing a letter at dinner tonight? Have you checked the little parlor?”

“I’ve looked everywhere,” Edward replied. His gaze focused upon Ian, cold and accusing, as if he held him personally to blame for his wife’s absence. The tension between the two men was like a living thing. “I could have sworn that I saw her in the garden a short while ago. With you.”

“It must have been me who you saw,” I explained. “Ian and I have been out walking.”

Edward nodded curtly. “Well, if either of you do happen across Lydia, tell her I’ll be in my study.”

“Of course, Edward,” Ian replied smoothly. Something in his tone hinted lightly of mockery. I stole a glance at him, startled at the ugly look that had crossed his face, a look I did not quite understand.

What was the basis for the hatred between the two of them? I knew that Edward was resentful of the flattery that careless Ian bestowed upon every woman, including his lovely, obviously discontented wife. But Lydia was Ian’s aunt! Surely, Edward could have no reason for obsessive jealousy concerning the two of them.

“Good night, Ian,” I said as we neared the stairs.

“Are you retiring so early?” he asked, surprised. “I thought we might sit in the parlor a while.”

“My head is beginning to ache.”

“Then you must rest.” The surly arrogance he had displayed around Edward was gone. He stood watching me with eyes alight, like an eager child anticipating Christmas. “You
will
think about letting me take you to the Mardi Gras? It would mean so much to me.”

I hesitated. After all, he was not proposing marriage, only a simple evening of supper and dancing. We would not be alone, but with Nathan and Christine. What harm would there be in accepting his invitation?

My instincts told me that it was not usually in Ian’s nature to be so doggedly persistent in his pursuit of a woman. Could he really be falling in love with me? If so, my acceptance would only encourage him. “No, Ian. I’m sorry. I’d rather not go with you.”

I saw the disappointment on his face. Then the lips beneath the handsome, well-trimmed mustache parted into a smile. “The Mardi Gras is still a week away,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes. “I’ve plenty of time to change your mind. Sleep well, Louise.”

I was much too tense for sleep. Once in my room, I stood for a long time at my bedroom window, staring out into the garden. Straining my eyes in the pale glow of moonlight, I could just barely make out the ghostly whiteness of the stone figure of the unfinished fountain. Who had been hiding near that fountain, watching Ian and me kiss?