The Seven Sapphires of Mardi Gras (31 page)

I was supposed to have ridden into town with Nathan and Christine. They had probably long since left for the water’s
edge. It didn’t really matter. I had lost my enthusiasm for the Mardi Gras.

And what of Nicholas? An image of him standing there at the bottom of the stairway flashed through my mind. Shock mingled with anger enlarged his pupils, making the dark spot in his left eye even more pronounced. Even now, the dark look of him sent icy shivers up and down my spine. For a moment, his was the angry, sinister face of a stranger’s.

How could I ever face him again after what had happened? How could I face
anyone?
Wearily, I covered my damp forehead with my hands, feeling tired, lost, and alone.

A timid knock sounded upon the door. “Miss Louise?”

Surprised, I recognized Mrs. Lividais’s voice. “Just a moment.” Wondering why she was still here, I reached for my dressing gown, slipped it on, and opened the door. She stepped inside, an enormous Gypsy in beads, bangles, and brightly colored skirts. The stiff, empty face of her mask dangled upon a long string about her neck just below her ample chin. She cocked her head to one side, studying me with worried eyes. “Why, you’re not dressed, child,” she scolded, making a bold pretense that nothing was wrong. “You must hurry, or we’ll miss the parade!”

“You shouldn’t have waited for me. Please tell Edward and the others that I won’t be joining them,” I pleaded, turning my back to her.

The colored beads and bangles tinkled like tiny bells as Mrs. Lividais made her way slowly toward me. She reached out her large hand and patted my shoulder with kindly understanding. “Now, don’t you feel bad. What happened out there wasn’t your fault. We all know that it was her doing. She’s got the devil in her, that Christine!”

“Where is she now?” I asked, suddenly remembering my promise to watch her. “Is she with Nathan?”

Mrs. Lividais shook her head. “She took off running down the road all by herself.”

“And I promised Edward I’d see that she stayed out of trouble tonight!” I mourned. “Some chaperone I’ve
turned out to be!”

Now that I knew she had gone off by herself, I was beginning to worry. She had seemed so agitated tonight, so feverish with excitement. Christine had a knack for stirring up trouble, and I knew that a crowd of masked, drunken strangers was no place for a disturbed young girl alone.

“Oh, nobody can control that one. Not even Edward.” Mrs. Lividais shook her heavy head, making the hoops of enormous golden earrings jingle. “But don’t you waste your time fretting about her,” she admonished. I had to smile just a little as she added quite wisely, “She takes care of herself fine. It’s the poor man she marries someday that needs to fear!”

The housekeeper-turned-Gypsy glanced about the room, her alert eyes falling to where the crumpled velvet dress still lay in a heap upon the floor. Then, with a delighted look, she caught sight of the yellow gown draped across the chair. “Oh, there’s the one Lydia meant!” she said, revealing that the two of them must have been discussing my plight.

Suddenly, she pulled a dainty yellow mask decorated with white and amber sequins from her pocket. “Lydia, she said to give this to you right before she left with Edward. Now, you go ahead and put the other dress on,” she coaxed. “It’s still not too late. Ian is still waiting for you. And he intends to wait, I can tell. You don’t want him to miss the Mardi Gras. No sense in letting a naughty child spoil everyone’s good time.”

“Why did she do it?” I demanded suddenly of the Cajun woman. “Dress me up like Elica, I mean?” Tears were brimming dangerously near the surface. “Nicholas will hate me now.”

She nodded. “And that’s just what Christine intended.”

Mrs. Lividais tossed her black hair, the bright baubles clinking as she turned toward the door. “Maybe it’s been for the best, after all. You saw the way Nicholas looked tonight when you came down the stairs. He belongs to Elica,” she said.

“But Elica is gone,” I whispered.

“Then he belongs to the dead.”

She left, closing the door softly behind her. With reluctance, I took up the yellow gown and slipped it on wearily over my petticoats. Then I glanced briefly at my image in the mirror.

I looked again, startled to discover what was actually a flattering fit. Once properly adjusted, the frothy “wedding cake” appearance of the princess-style gown diminished. The shiny satin and huge bows gave the dress a festive air. The radiant sun-color complemented my dark eyes and brought a warm, golden glow to my soft brown hair, which still hung loosely about my shoulders. With the addition of the elaborate mask which Lydia had provided, it served as a more than adequate costume.

As I moved toward the doorway, I glanced back only once to the pile of crushed velvet upon the white rug. Mrs. Lividais was right. I must forget about Nicholas. The slightest tremor passed over me as, just for a moment, I remembered the horror upon his face as I came down the stairs in Elica’s dress.

I would not think about it. For the moment, I would have to push my own bruised emotions aside. Finding Christine was most important now. The cruel jest of dressing me up like Elica left me wondering if she might be more unbalanced than I had suspected.

I was growing more and more worried about her. I could imagine her bright-eyed, feverish emotions running wild as she weaved her way through crowds of drunken masqueraders down by the bayou.

A sudden connection formed in my mind between Nicholas’s anger and Christine’s hasty departure. Could she have run after him, hoping to apologize?

Christine was so unpredictable that it was difficult to make a guess as to where she had gone. She was so obsessed by Nicholas, so hungry for his attention that, on impulse, she might have followed him back to Evangeline. But it was just as likely that she had put the entire incident from her mind and was now dancing merrily with Nathan down by the water’s edge. I didn’t know which way her fanciful mind had turned, but I knew that I would not rest easily until I
found out where she was. Because if she had gone after Nicholas—

Fragmented pieces of Mrs. Lividais’s gossip kept coming back to haunt me. Elica’s distressed appearance at Cassa’s cabin, the rumor of an unborn baby, the potion—Shivering, I realized that I had never seen Nicholas angry before. I recalled the look upon his face, the tormented passion, the pent-up rage as he had turned away from the stairs.

For the first time, I had caught a glimpse of him as others must have seen him. And suddenly, I feared for Christine’s safety. For the look in those stormy black eyes tonight had been one of sheer madness!

Chapter Twenty-two

Ian smiled happily as I came down the stairway to meet him. His face beneath the yellow crown was bare; the dark mask that he intended to wear to the Mardi Gras still dangled loosely from his arm. “Why, you look splendid, Louise,” he burst out, admiring my change of costume.

I glanced about the room, searching for Mrs. Lividais, but she was nowhere in sight. “I sent her on ahead,” Ian explained, taking my arm with a look of sheer triumph. “It looks as if you’re going to the Mardi Gras with me, after all.”

There was no time for argument. I was as anxious as he to get to the Mardi Gras. I wanted to make sure that Christine was safe. I made no protest as Ian tugged eagerly at my arm. “Well have to hurry or we’ll miss the parade. Since Edward and Lydia have taken the carriage, we must walk.”

Trying to match his long, impatient stride, I hurried with him down the garden path. “Be careful that you don’t tear your dress,” Ian cautioned as Edward’s tamed garden gave way to a tangle of underbrush. It was a long walk. By the time we reached the bridge, we were both out of breath.

From the water’s edge, we could hear the sound of faraway music. “It’s no use. We are going to miss the parade!” Ian mourned, disappointed. “Unless—”

Reading his thoughts, I followed his desperate gaze down to the pirogue that danced wildly in the water just below us. “Ian, are you sure you can handle such a dangerous little boat?”

“Nothing to it!” Purple robe flapping in the breeze, he climbed down and began untying the pirogue. “Come on. Climb aboard.”

I glanced down at Ian and had to smile. He made a rather absurd figure, his crown askew, robe billowing out like giant wings behind him as he struggled for control of the slim, canoe-like boat. With some reluctance, I took the hand he offered.

It was difficult to remain wary of him. No matter what scheme he and Lydia might be involved in, I was convinced that Ian himself was harmless. If injury came to me tonight because of Ian, it was much more likely to be a result of sheer recklessness than malice.

The pirogue pitched dangerously as I stepped inside. The oars made small lapping sounds against the sides of the tiny boat as we bobbed like a cork beneath the bridge. A clap of thunder made me glance up above where bulging clouds still threatened rain.

The music grew louder and louder as the tipsy little boat carried us downstream. A band was playing brisk, lively music that seemed out of sorts with the gloomy, rain-streaked atmosphere.

As we floated toward the dock, I caught my first glimpse of the Mardi Gras. I was awed by the sight that met my eyes. Huge paper flowers made bright splashes of color against a pearly gray sky. The haunted cypress was adorned with fluttering streamers of purple, red, and blue.

In the distance, wagons laden with enormous, glittering floats lined the cobbled streets. Restless horses pawed the ground as if waiting for some magical cue to begin motion. I caught sight of a silver castle, cardboard towers, and a huge dragon with a giant bobbing head of papier mâché upon the first float.

As Ian tied the pirogue to the dock, children dressed in
their Mardi Gras costumes scurried up to greet us. “Hurry! Hurry, mister,” urged a bright-faced clown, his enormous pants stuffed with straw. “Rex is coming. He’s coming!”

“Just in time!” Ian exclaimed breathlessly. As he came up beside me, the lively music began to slow into a grand, pompous march. “Rex is the king of Mardi Gras, and his procession always ushers in the parade,” he explained for my benefit. He paused for a moment to don his mask, and I did the same. Then we searched for a place to stand in a street crowded with bandits, Indians, ghosts, and Zulu warriors.

The very air was charged with excitement. I had to hold tightly to Ian’s arm to avoid being swallowed up by the sea of masked faces. We found a spot to wait for the grand procession, which was just making its appearance at the head of the waterfront street.

A twitter of laughter passed through the crowd as a couple of children dressed as court jesters appeared, juggling oranges as they frolicked by. My eyes swept over the crowd of demons and hobgoblins that had gathered to watch the parade, searching for some sign of Christine. I looked around, watching for Lydia’s cat-face or Mrs. Lividais’s Gypsy costume, wondering how we would ever find any of them in this pressing mob of strangers.

“Something tells me that mask of yours is concealing a very troubled expression,” Ian said unexpectedly.

“I’m sorry, Ian. It’s just that I can’t help worrying about Christine. I promised Edward that I would watch over her tonight, and she’s already slipped away from me.”

“Is that what’s been bothering you?” Ian laughed dryly. “I’d not give her a thought after the cruel trick she played on you this evening. Besides, Christine can take care of herself. Why, nobody pays any mind to chaperones on the Mardi Gras!”

But it wasn’t only Christine’s erratic behavior that cast a gloomy spell over the Mardi Gras for me. In spite of myself, my thoughts kept wandering back to that dreadful moment on the stairway, reliving time after time the pain and
horror in Nicholas’s eyes as I had come down the stairs in Elica’s dress.

Two trumpeters appeared behind the jesters, announcing the arrival of King Rex. Tension filled the air as the crowd waited. A procession of knights and nobles upon proud Arabian horses came slowly toward us. They wore feathered hats and were dressed in fine silk ornamented with braids of gold.

“What a spectacular sight,” I commented. I turned to Ian, surprised to find that his gaze had shifted from the parading knights to the throng of people behind us.

“There’s Christine,” he said, pointing into the crowd. “See? I told you not to worry.”

I followed his gesture with my eyes. “Where? I don’t see her.”

“Well, she was there just a moment ago,” Ian replied. “I’m sure I saw her!”

I caught a brief flash of emerald dress disappear into the mazes of people that gathered about the water’s edge. Christine? It was too late to tell.

“Was she alone?”

“No, she was with a werewolf and a red creature—old Lucifer himself, I believe.” Ian chuckled. “Good company, indeed! Perhaps you were right to be worried.”

But I breathed a sigh of relief, because for days I had heard Christine sing the praises of Nathan’s devil costume. Obviously, she had met him here as she had planned. I knew how much the boy adored Christine. With Nathan, the only danger would be a stolen kiss or two. With Nathan, she would be safe.

The Mardi Gras spirit was beginning to sway me. Now that I knew Christine was not wandering about alone, I began to pay more attention to the finely dressed knights on their snorting white horses, the men in full armor who followed on foot.

I turned to Ian. “For all your talk about the coming of the Mardi Gras, you have never once explained its significance to me.”

Ian seemed pleased at my curiosity. “Why, I didn’t think you’d be interested.” Carefully, he explained. “Mardi Gras is the French name for Shrove Tuesday, the day before the beginning of Lent. Every good Catholic knows that Lent is a period of penitence and prayer. And so, on the day before Ash Wednesday, there is one final bout of merrymaking before the solemn time of fasting begins.”

“But few people fast during Lent these days.”

“That is so,” Ian replied, and I imagined his smile behind the stiff mask. “But they all still celebrate the Mardi Gras.”

A pleasant smell filled the air, the aroma of roasted nuts and brown sugar, which put me in mind of the French market in New Orleans. An old colored woman wearing a bright
tignon
pushed through the crowd, selling fresh pralines. Ian bought some from her, and we savored the delicious pecans in their sticky syrup as we continued to watch the procession of the King of Carnival.