The Seven Sapphires of Mardi Gras (41 page)

“But so much time had passed—”

There was a somber look on Nicholas’s face. “Time, for Racine, stopped nearly fifteen years ago.”

“How did you know Racine was here tonight?”

“I was coming back through the woods toward the masquerade when he attacked me.” Unconsciously, my gaze wandered to the wicked cut on his forehead. “I turned just in time to get a vague glimpse of him before the butt of the pistol knocked me cold. Though his face was concealed by the voodoo mask, I knew that he was too tall to be Ian and too thin to be Edward. I knew then that my suspicions were right. Racine was still alive!”

“What happened after he left you unconscious in the woods?”

He continued with his story. “When I came to, I discovered that my cloak and black silk scarf were missing. Because Racine was of a similar size and height, I knew that he was now wandering about the Mardi Gras disguised as me. It was then that I began to fear for you, for by this time, I knew that he was the one who had attacked you that day in the cellar.”

“Yes, he thought I had the jewels,” I said, understanding at last. “He believed that Elica had returned the stolen jewels to my grandfather to keep her identity safe. He was convinced that my grandfather sent them to me in a black ebony box.”

Nicholas’s dark eyes turned curiously upon me. “Is it true?”

“No, but I know that at one time he planned to. Then
something made him change his mind. He wrote me a letter saying that there was a change of plans—that he would not send the jewels, but trust them in the hands of a guardian of some sort until I arrived. Though he died before he posted the letter, he evidently had time to go through with his plans.”

“Who do you think he trusted the jewels with?”

“I don’t know. But Ian and Lydia got ahold of the letters. They, too, have been trying to find out.”

“Of course. Lydia and Elica were good friends. Elica must have confided in her. In turn, Lydia must have told everything to her lover, Ian. Ian must have convinced Lydia to get involved. The two of them have been working with Racine to find the jewels all along. I suspected Ian was a part of it when you said that he was there, in New Orleans.”

“Do you think they might have found the rest of the jewels?”

“We’ll know soon,” he said with a dark look. “But I don’t give a damn about the jewels.” His voice was thick with emotion. “I’m just glad that I found you and Christine in time!”

“But how did you know where to look for us?”

“When I couldn’t find you at the masquerade, I began to search the woods. There I came upon Nathan. From him, I learned about how the two of you had discovered Christine’s ribbon floating in the water and how you had gone off to look for her.” Horror was reflected upon his dark face as he added, “And then I saw the blaze from Evangeline.

“I feared that you might be trapped inside. But I didn’t have the slightest idea where to look. Once I thought I heard your voice, but with the roar of the fire all around me, I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It was such torture, knowing that you must be trapped there inside that burning house, yet not knowing where to find you. And then the china doll flew out and landed at my feet. I knew at once that it was a sign from you, and that you
must be trapped in the old cellar. I was trying to think of some way to reach you when Racine attacked me from behind.”

Shivering, I recalled the fierce battle I had witnessed just outside the tiny cellar window. A shadow fell across Nicholas’s face as he said quietly, “I’ll never forget the way he looked tonight. His eyes were wild, his face twisted with such bitter hatred. Since our childhood, he has considered me his rival, his enemy. I believe that is why—” Nicholas’s voice had grown low and wary, as if he had been on the verge of relinquishing a carefully guarded secret.

“Nicholas, please continue—”

There was pain in his eyes, pain in his voice as he said softly, “Tonight isn’t the first time Racine has left me for dead.”

“Oh, Nicholas—”

“That night during the war, the night Racine disappeared, Pierre, Racine, and I were playing cards outside our tent, biding time while we waited for some sign of the Yankee soldiers. Tempers were hot that night, the tension high in the air. Racine and Pierre began arguing over the cards. Pierre accused Racine of cheating. Racine pulled out his gun and shot him. Then he turned on me. He left me for dead. He knew, of course, that our deaths would be taken for an enemy attack. Then he disappeared into the swamp, where, ironically, he must have been captured by the real Yankee soldiers who were hiding nearby.”

“But—all these years—Why did you keep your silence?”

His voice was flat, emotionless. “I thought Racine was dead.”

“If you had only known the Racine I remember,” Nicholas said sadly. “A laughing, devil-may-care young man with a brave soul and a fascinating kind of charm. If it hadn’t been for the madness—” The words seemed to choke him. “The madness that made him turn against Pierre—and me. I could almost pity him—”

I saw Nicholas’s jaw suddenly clench in fierce rage. “Until tonight. When he picked up that burning torch and
began setting fire to the tall weeds just outside the cellar window, I would have killed him with my bare hands! I still remember his taunting voice. After all these years, he was still my rival, still fighting a battle between us that had never really existed except in his mind. His words will always be with me: ‘Neither of us will have the jewels now, Nicholas. And you’ll never get to Louise and Christine on time.
’
”

I had to know. “Nicholas, did you—kill him?” Nicholas shook his head. “I lunged toward him, and then he lost his balance and fell against the burning gallery.” He stopped talking suddenly and, still managing the horses with one hand, he used the other arm to pull me close. “It was horrible the way he died. Thank God I found you in time!”

* * * *

A worried Mrs. Lividais had met us at the door that night, greeting us with her own bit of excitement. Ian and Lydia were gone! They had taken off in Edward’s carriage just moments before we arrived. And Edward, she claimed, had locked himself in the study and refused to come out.

Her voice faded as she suddenly caught sight of us in the light of the hallway. She stood openmouthed and speechless, her bright eyes darting from my torn costume to Nicholas’s soot-streaked face. We made way for Nathan, who was carrying Christine. I heard Mrs. Lividais gasp as her sharp black eyes flew down to the bloodstains upon Christine’s dress.

Nicholas stepped quickly forward, taking Mrs. Lividais by the arm. “You must hurry and get Cassa. I’ll explain later.” With a frightened nod, Mrs. Lividais was out the door.

Some of the color had returned to Christine’s face by the time I had gently undressed her and bathed the shoulder wound. I was relieved to discover that once the dried blood was washed away the wound did not look too serious.

Some of the sparkle was beginning to return to Christine’s eyes. By the time Mrs. Lividais returned with Cassa, she had revived to the point where pain had given away to excitement. As Cassa administered the wound, I marveled to hear her chattering endlessly about her wedding plans.

After the commotion had died down, I slipped from the room. Christine, finally lulled into drowsiness by Cassa’s tender care, was sleeping peacefully now, Nathan watching anxiously over her.

I paused in the hallway by Edward’s closed door. I raised my knuckles as if to rap upon the wood. Then, from within, I heard the rasping sound of a man’s bitter weeping. Was he mourning his son’s death, or the desertion of his young wife? I wondered if Nicholas or Mrs. Lividais had told him about Racine. Again, I moved as if to knock, then let my hand fall to my side. Edward was not a man who liked to be caught in his weakness. Tomorrow he would need my love and support. But tonight I would leave him alone with his sorrow.

It was only later when I went up to my room to bathe and change from my torn, bedraggled costume that the frightening events of the night began to catch up with me.

I thought about the journal I had burned, imagining Grandfather’s shocked horror when he first recognized Nicholas’s intended bride for who she really was.

I remembered the words
I
must talk to her tonight. Before the wedding. Before it is too late.
Elica must have known that she was in danger and had hinted in some way to my grandfather that she was frightened. Up to that point, Grandfather must not have even suspected that Racine was alive. He must truly have believed that Elica was afraid of Nicholas.

And then, some time before the Mardi Gras ball, Elica and Grandfather had talked. Elica must have returned the jewels to him then. Had she known that Racine was looking for her and that she was in danger? Or had she relinquished the jewels in order to bribe my grandfather into keeping her true identity from Nicholas? It was even possible, I conceded, that she had wanted to return what Racine had stolen. Whatever her reasons, she had given the stolen heirlooms back to Raymond Dereux—except for the sapphire necklace.

Why had she kept the necklace? Was it out of greed, as Racine would have had me believe? Or had it had some sentimental value to her? It was too late to guess her motives. The mistake had cost her her life.

I remembered the other disturbing entry in the journal.
Who could hate a child—
Because of Mrs. Lividais’s gossip about Elica and Brule, I had naturally assumed Elica was carrying another man’s child and that Grandfather feared for her life should Nicholas find out.

Now I knew that the scrawling passage must have been written
after
the Mardi Gras and Elica’s death. By that time, Grandfather must have discovered that Racine was alive. He knew that Racine had murdered Elica and feared that Christine, too, was in danger.

If Grandfather knew that Racine was still alive, then why had he not told Nicholas or Edward? Had he been trying to protect Edward from the knowledge that his adored son was not only alive, but scarred and mentally twisted? Or was it Racine himself, his beloved grandchild, that the old man had been protecting? That would explain why, throughout the journal, no name appeared to identify the person he spoke of—only the impersonal “he.” A “he” that I had naturally taken to mean Nicholas.

My eyes suddenly fell upon the black lacquer box upon the vanity. I raised the lid, even though by now I knew its contents by heart. Gaudy baubles and glass beads, feather hairpins, and the comb of bone ivory with its curious strand of embedded black hair.

I gave a little cry of surprise. Resting on top of the costume jewelry was the amethyst brooch that had belonged to my mother. Who had returned it? Lydia? Ian?

I opened the vanity drawer, and saw that the letters from my grandfather had also been returned. They rested in a neat stack, just as I had left them. And on the very
top, was the missing letter.

My
dear Louise:

I can no longer guard the treasure, for the wolves are at my very door. As my darling May’s daughter, I know that you can be trusted. In a short time you will receive a package. Within the package will be a black lacquer box. The contents are invaluable. Keep it with you until you hear from me again.

Raymond Dereux

Lydia and Ian had been right. Raymond had sent, or at least had intended to send, the jewels to me for safekeeping. But that still did not explain what had become of them.

I stared at the box, realization coming to me suddenly. The frivolous ornaments that seemed so unlike my mother, the strand of dark hair that couldn’t have been hers—With a sudden shock I realized that the black box had never been Mother’s, after all. It had belonged to Elica. I was certain now that the jewels had once rested in the ebony box.

What could have become of the jewels? Had someone tampered with the box before it was ever sent, replacing the items of value with costume jewelry? If so, who? If the jewels had been taken by Ian or Lydia, they would not still be searching for them.

Grandfather could have become suspicious of Lydia and Ian. Grandfather himself might have removed the jewels from the box. Then he could have sent the package off to trick Lydia and the others into believing that he had sent the jewels away!

Once more, I read the last letter that had been written just before Grandfather’s death.
I
am weak, Louise. Can feel myself growing weaker by the day. Why haven’t you contacted me? Don’t you understand how important this is?

Please hurry, Louise. There must be a change of plans. Until I hear from you, the guardian will keep our secret safe.

There was only one person left that he could have trusted the jewels with. Edward! Unless—

I passed a weary hand over my eyes. What could it all mean? Staring out the window, I thought about my grandfather, crippled by age and the fire, taking his morning walk in the garden, perhaps thinking of me, hoping that I would soon come. Something clicked in my mind. Suddenly, I understood. I slipped silently down the hall to Grandfather’s room.

The photograph of Grandfather and my mother was still in the desk, where I had left it. I studied the two of them, smiling against what looked like a stone wall, the backdrop of blooming roses. Taking the photograph with me, I slipped silently out into the moonlight garden.

* * * *

Nicholas was coming up the walk toward me. He took my arm and we began to stroll along the garden path. The morning air was sweet with roses and blooming magnolia. Far away, the charred remains of Evangeline made a dark spot against the sky. But someday I knew that another house would stand where Evangeline had once been. Maybe not as elaborate as the old house had been. Perhaps not as beautiful. But it would be our home, a place where our children would laugh and play and be happy. The sun was bright and promising. We had a lifetime to build together.

“There’s just one thing I want to know. The figure in black I was dancing with at the masquerade—was it really you?”

A mysterious smile played upon the corners of Nicholas’s lips. “I don’t recall any dance.”