Read With One Look Online

Authors: Jennifer Horsman

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General

With One Look (4 page)

BOOK: With One Look
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Their voices rose as Monsieur Deubler and Jade sang favorite arias from the opera as they strolled home. Jade's hand rested lightly on his arm, while the other hand held tight to Hamlet's lead. Her laughter rang sweetly in the moist night air. She occasionally interrupted her friend's song to supply the correct words, though her thoughts kept returning to the earlier encounter with an American named Victor.

He had been so engaging and charming and ... well ... something! Her inexperience prevented her from the immediate understanding most women had when meeting Victor. She settled for the descriptive words: intriguing, somehow exciting and interesting, but these words felt entirely inadequate.

Still counting her steps, she stopped. "Shhh." She motioned. "We must be quiet now. The convent is just ahead and the good sisters will be sleeping. Let's go the back way around. I fear the mud's too thick to pass in front anyway."

Monsieur Deubler made no response at first. He stared at the oddity in their path. A dead fish surrounded by a circle made of some kind of white powder and—Mon Dieu! What was that? It looked like some kind of heart.

Jade sensed something amiss. She went very still and asked, "Is something wrong?" "No, nothing," he assured her, relieved that she could not see the grotesque configuration.

He shook his head. These voodoo practitioners! Imbeciles! Something must be done. He would bring it to Father Nolte's attention Sunday next. "Just step to the right, cherie ..."

Jade Terese did not understand what had happened, but Monsieur Deubler seemed suddenly subdued, his gaiety and high spirits disappearing. She tried to press him again for an explanation but he politely changed subjects. Silence came between them as they at last turned onto Basin Street.

Jade Terese maintained a modest cottage conveniently close to the convent, where she acted as an instructress in the Negro girls' school. Her position as the music instructress at the school had been an accident of her family's tragedy. Jade's mother, Elizabeth Devon, had been a Catholic by marriage, but not by faith. However, long ago Elizabeth had solicited Mother Francesca's help with a situation she had found troubling and quite foreign to an Englishwoman's sensibilities, and she had found the Reverend Mother's advice not only intelligent but also helpful. And over the years, their friendship had grown, deepening and blossoming, surprising them both as they each trespassed the conventions of society and the disparities of their stations and backgrounds to find a comfort in then-shared beliefs and intelligence. Elizabeth's death had been a devastating blow to Mother Francesca, until Jade began to fill the missing place in her heart.

So of course, Mother Francesca had known all about Jade Terese and her uncommon gifts long before the fateful day that she had stepped into Jade's life. First of all, Terese was graced with a perfect memory. In addition to a wealth of poems and verses, including much of. Shakespeare's works, Jade knew half of the Bible, verse by verse. She could play chess in her mind or complete a ten-row sum of numbers without benefit of pen and paper, and much faster than anyone else. She spoke four languages fluently. And, after the accident and her resulting blindness, she used her considerable resources to painstakingly live as normal a life as possible for a blind person.

This often caused trouble for those who knew her well. Presently Monsieur Deubler and Jade had almost reached her doorstep, but the good man had completely forgotten he escorted a blind person. She slipped right into the oozing muck between the wooden boards. Monsieur Deubler quickly caught her fall, cursing himself for his carelessness. "Jade Terese, just look at your hem! Your boots," he said, not realizing the ridiculousness of the suggestion, too horrified at what he had done. "It will be ruined—"

Hamlet stiffened, sniffed the air. The smells were wrong. He smelled man, the faint air of spilt blood, death. Danger! He barked, reared back, jumped forward and barked again. The hairs lifted on his coat, he barked warning.

"Oh, Hamlet!" Jade said, alarmed. "Hush! You shall wake the entire neighborhood."

The dog quieted obediently, but maintained a low menacing growl, his body stiff as he stared off at the house. Watching the dog, Monsieur Deubler felt a sharp premonition of doom and, for no reason he knew, his hands went clammy. He studied the darkened windows of her house. No lights shone inside but then there was no reason for Maydrian to leave a light on after she retired.

Still ...

"Let me escort you inside Jade Terese," he said at the bottom of the stairs.

'"Oh, 'tis not necessary," Jade tried to assure him as Hamlet's growl lifted to a bark again. She laughed at her dog and bent over to remove his leash. Maydrian had taken to feeding an old tomcat, and the cat had taken to teasing Hamlet unmercifully. She imagined the cat sat on the sill or roof and as she set Hamlet free, she warned, "That cat will make mincemeat out of you yet!" To her friend she said, " 'Tis no doubt this cat Maydrian has taken to feeding. Do you see him somewhere about?"

"No, no," Monsieur Deubler said. "He's looking at the house, Jade Terese. There is something wrong. Let me go inside and make sure all is well first—"

"I'm sure it is nothing—"

"But of course." He smiled as he reached for the doorknob. "Let me just make certain, Jade Terese."

Standing on the porch now, Jade acquiesced. Hamlet growled menacingly still and she knelt at his side, trying to comfort him. His body felt as stiff as a board and his fear became hers. She listened intently as the door opened and Monsieur Deubler stepped inside.

Darkness permeated the front sitting room. He could see nothing. "The sitting room is so

dark..."

Above her dog's growl she heard Monsieur Deubler's boots move away from the door. A

sudden unnatural thump sounded, a sucking of breath, another thump. Jade leaped up with alarm. "Monsieur Deubler!"

With arms extended, she started toward the door, imagining her friend had stumbled over a table or chair in the darkness. Hamlet barked a warning, racing ahead into the house. Jade stumbled after him, feeling her way through the darkness, calling for Maydrian and Monsieur Deubler.

She screamed as Hamlet's vicious growls sounded.

A painful howl died as a whimper. Jade froze, terrified. A hand came over her mouth. Her muffled scream sounded as she was jerked backwards into the house. The door slammed shut. The

man held her tight, forcing breath from her, and during the first few seconds, she felt too shocked to struggle. A pure animalistic terror claimed her and like a drowning person, her body convulsed in an effort to draw breath. The hand stayed over her mouth but loosened somewhat and she caught breath in gulps, fighting the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her.

Then he grabbed a handful of hair, forced her head back, and she screamed again as he pressed a wet cloth to her face. A sickly taste saturated her mouth, nostrils and lungs, choking her. She squirmed desperately but then darkness—a darkness from within—spun around her and she felt herself sinking, sinking ...

*****

Chapter 2

Darkness spread across the river and the forests beyond as Victor Nolte, Sebastian and Murray, Victor's former ship surgeon, made their way back to Shady Faith, Victor's new manor house some five miles north of New Orleans. The night air felt mercifully cooler. A thousand stars laced a night sky, dimly illuminating the well-traveled road that followed the Mississippi up through New Orleans all the way to Baton Rouge and beyond. Huge gangly oaks lined the road.

Thick moss draped the boughs and looked eerily like the black mourning crepe abandoned after a funeral. They occasionally passed a fishing hut or house, that was all. Above the soothing sound of rushing water and the steady trot of the horses, their laughter and loud exclamations disturbed the sanctity of the quiet night.

A happy mood it was. The Fair Winds had met with astonishing success. Victor's ship had captured Don Bernardo's Black Crest just after the pirate ship had raided two American clippers and left over half of the crew dead. It had been a vicious fight but, slowed by the weight of its bulging holds, the Black Crest had been unable to outrun the Fair Winds. In the exchange of cannon fire, the Fair Winds suffered only minor damage, while the Black Crest would be dry- docked for months. Then Don Bernardo's remaining crew, outnumbered almost two to one, had been forced to endure the humiliation of transferring the ship's riches to the Fair Winds, a procedure they were used to watching, not enduring.

With the Black Crest rendered defenseless and motionless, Don Bernardo's crew watched the Fair Winds sail out of view, sinking mysteriously into the horizon. Afterward, the Fair Winds met with another of Victor's ships, the Minerva, and the cargo was transferred again. The pirate would have no revenge. For no one knew who stood behind the Fair Winds or which port the graceful ship called home.

The Black Crest was the fourth victim of the mysterious pirate's pirate, and within days, everyone in New Orleans would be asking the same question: Who is the pirate's pirate? Victor, his ships and crews were never suspect. In addition to his shipbuilding business, Victor sailed three ships from New Orleans, each engaged in legitimate trade. No one besides his father and the governor knew of Victor's fourth ship, the Fair Winds, docked sixty safe miles away in the Gulf of Mexico.

With his sword in hand, Sebastian began vigorously attacking overhanging branches as they rode along. With branches left in neatly sliced pieces behind them, Sebastian turned his attention to invisible enemies as a quiet dawn began stretching across the landscape and they neared the Mississippi's levee. For several miles along the riverbank, ships and boats of all kinds rocked at moorage. When Victor's ships were in port, they occupied the far southern end with the other proud oceangoing vessels. Next, in a perfect rank order according to size—and therefore importance—came smaller vessels, sloops and schooners. The boats continued to become smaller the closer one came to the city until, stretching for miles upstream sat row upon row of the dirty and uncouth backwoods flat-boats, archaic vessels that Victor hoped to soon replace with new river steamers he had started to build.

The night lanterns of New Orleans—another thankless innovation of Claighborne's—still burned as they reached the marketplace. Bordered by darkened shade trees, the long, earthen dike stretched before them, marking the focal point of the marketplace. Even at this hour longshoremen had begun gathering, and would soon start the endless loading and unloading of the mounds of coal, the bales of cotton, the barrels of tobacco and sugar, the case after case of merchandise that filled the levee as far as one could see. One by one, sleepy-eyed merchants and their servants began arriving to direct the day's traffic. Seated beside huge baskets of goods, Negro women assembled in their own small groups, gossiping as they sipped coffee before a long day of selling. Behind the levee sat the actual marketplace, row upon row of canvas-shaded stands spilling out in every

direction from the long brick structure in front of the Place d'Arms. Servants had already begun the morning stacking of goods at the fruit and vegetable stands.

The three riders reined in their horses and turned them around a stack of boxes piled across their path, and as they did so, Victor caught sight of a half dozen Ursuline Sisters up ahead. Their curious costumes—the long black robes topped with starched white wimples whose tips looked like birds in flight—made them stand out. They talked in whispers at the river's edge, anxiously looking upriver as if they were waiting for someone. He wondered if they could be waiting for his father, whom he heard had left to deliver last rites to a dying priest in Baton Rouge. Then he noticed the man with the good women.

A nod of his head indicated the direction. "Look who's standing with the Sisters." "Girod?" Sebastian appeared surprised. "I don't believe I've ever seen the good constable

outside of Crescent Hall Saloon. I know I've never seen him standing sober at dawn."

"No doubt some imminent disaster awaiting your father's return," Murray guessed. "Should we stop and find out?"

Victor watched as two other constables rode quickly up to the group, appearing to report some news. "No." He shook his head. "I'd rather let my father handle his own catastrophes." He sighed with a telling grin. "Somehow I have no doubt if he needs me, I'll hear about it soon enough anyway." He quickened his mount into a trot. His friends followed suit. "It's been a long enough night ..."

"But she must be somewhere! She must!" Sister Catherine cried, dabbing her reddened eyes with a handkerchief. She could not imagine a worse tragedy. She could hardly believe this was happening. "And Maydrian? Where is that old woman?"

There was no answer. Last evening, Marie Saint's servant had arrived with the mysterious warning of some mishap waiting for Jade Terese. Mother Francesca and Father Nolte were away giving last rites to old Father Lopez in Baton Rouge; Mother Francesca was not expected back until midday at the earliest, Father Nolte not until the evening on the morrow. So, just in case, three of the good Sisters had set out to find the young lady and bring her into the protective walls of the convent for the evening.

They soon discovered Jade Terese had gone out with Monsieur Deubler, who often escorted her and his family to the opera or the theater. It took a number of trips to find where that man lived. Finally, they had made their way through the streets to his residence. Only to be told he

had not yet returned from the opera, even though the opera should have been over sometime before. So, they had rushed back to Jade's house.

Hamlet lay in a pool of blood; Monsieur Deubler lay unconscious, hit on the head with a heavy object. Maydrian was nowhere to be found. And Jade Terese had vanished.

Constable Girod looked away from the sorrowful and frightened faces of the good Sisters.

He withdrew a silver tin from his back pocket. "’Tis a most regrettable situation. Very bad." He shook his head and heaved a great sigh before raising the silver cask.

BOOK: With One Look
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