This is a work of fiction.The characters, incidents,anddialoguesareproductsof theauthor’s imaginationand are not to beconstrued as real. Anyresemblance to actualeventsorpersons,livingordead, is entirelycoincidental.

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Copyright©1978and2013byPatriciaMaxwell

FirstFawcettEdition:1978

FirstE-ReadsEdition:2000

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1

“MAM’ZELLE CAROLINE,willyounottellus,please,of how you shot theprivateer?”

The lady thus

addressed lifted her head,assuming a severeexpression, though atwinkle lingered in herdove-gray eyes. “I’ll do nosuch thing. You aresupposed to bememorizing the poem Igave you, my dearEstelle.”

“Oh, I did that agesago.” The young ladykneeling on the floor withher skirts spread around

her looked up with anengaging grin. Clutchingthe book in her lap, sherattledoff the firstcantoofChilde Harold. When shebegan on the second, heroldersisterAmélie,seatedon a rattan chair on theother side, put her handsoverherears.

“Don’t, please don’t!”shebegged.

Estelle came to a halt,one hand flung out in a

theatricalgesture.Cockingher head to one side sheasked, “Does it upset you,Amélie? I mean all thatabout the ‘wild sea-mew’and the ‘billow’s rage’? Iknow you didn’t preciselyenjoy your sea voyagehome from France withMam’zelle Caroline, but ithasbeenoversixmonths.Surelyyouarenotgoingtohaveamegrimoversuchasilly thing as a few lines

fromapoem?”Amélie’s gentle face

wentquitepale.“Youdon’tunderstand. We mighthave been killed, our shipsunk — or worse,” shewhispered.

“What could be worsethan being dead?” Estelleasked, her foreheadwrinkledinafrownofsuchconcentration andundisguised curiosity thather sister flung a look of

appeal in the direction ofthe woman who acted astheirgoverness.

An expression of wrycommunication passedbetween CarolinePembroke and her eldercharge before thegoverness took up thechallenge. “It is notunknown for the — theBrethren of the Coast totorturetheirprisoners.”

“The brethren are

pirates,” Estelle pointedout. “The privateers aredifferent,aretheynot?”

“Quite true,” Carolineadmitted. “During warconditions privateers sailunder letters of marque,making their pillage of theseas legal, but it doesn’tconstrain them to behavelike gentlemen in thepresence of the ladiesunfortunate enough to beaboard the ships they

capture.”“Thentheprivateeryou

shotofferedtoharmyou?”Estelleasked.

“No,notexactly.”“Heinsultedyouthen?”“I—no.”“Then, why was it

necessary to shoot him?”the girl pursued, arelentless look in hersherry-browneyes.

Caroline surveyed herwhilearuefulsmiletagged

atherfinelyshapedmouth.The girl was just turnedseventeen. In a fewmonths, when theyreturned to New Orleansfor the winter season, thesaison des visites, shewouldbemakingherdebutat the French OperaHouse, receiving eligiblesuitors in the familybox. Itwasnoreasontosupposethat Estelle, given herdowry of adequate though

not generous size, wouldnot be a married womanby this time next year. Itwasashameshewasnotbetter educated in theways of men. In truth, alittle frankness in thematter of the privateermight not be a bad thingfor Estelle, but there wasAmélie to consider. It hadbeenquite anordeal for agently bred, convent-educatedgirl.The frightof

ithadcomeneartomakingher ill. The family hadmade as light of theincident as possible,avoiding discussion whichmight awaken unpleasantmemories. They shouldhave guessed that Estellewith her flair for dramawould eventually growdissatisfied with themeager facts she hadbeengiven.Still, itwasnopartofCaroline’sduties to

enlighten her on eitherhead.ThatCarolinehadamelancholy suspicion noone else, particularlyMadame Delacroix, couldbe depended on to do somadenodifference.

Atlastshereplied,“Wehad no guarantee theprivateer would not harmus.Inanycase,hemadeanear fatal error. Heassumed I did not knowwhat todowith thepistol I

was holding when heenteredourcabin.”

“Were you frightened?”Estelleasked,slipping intoa more comfortableposition.

“Yes,certainly.”“I’ll wager Amélie was

perfectly useless fromsheerterror.”

“Estelle! That was anunkind thing to say,”Carolineprotested.

“Unkind, bat also true,”

Amélie said in asuffocating voice. “I havenever pretended to bebrave.”

“Wewillnotspeakofit,I think, since recalling theincident distresses you.”Caroline sent a warninglook in Estelle’s direction.The hint was lost onAmélie’syoungersister.

“Whatdidhe look like?Washefierceandbeardedandugly?”

Caroline took a deepbreath. “My dear Estelle, Ifindyourintenseinterestinthis matter unladylike, notto say ghoulish. We willfind another subject fordiscussion,ifyouplease.”

“Yes, of course,Mam’zelle,but—washe?”

“I have no intention ofopening my lips on thissubject again,” Carolinedeclared, returning herattentiontotheflounceshe

wasmendingononeofherbatistenightgowns.

“Was he, Amélie?”Estelle persisted, swingingto her sister. “Was hehorrifyingtolookat?”

“I—don’tknow.Inever—Ineverreallysawhim.”

Estelle’s expressiveface went blank. “Neversawhim?”

“Iwaspraying,kneelingin supplication to le bonDieu to save us,” Amélie

explained, a tinge of colorrising beneath the bisque-china perfection of herskin. Her fingers clenchedonthedelicateembroideryinherlapuntiltheknucklesgleamed white. “Thecannons sounded like thethunderofdoomandtherewas awful clamor andyelling as the ship wasboarded. I feared — Ifeared I know not what.And then the cabin door

crashed open. I think Imust have fainted, fallingsenselessacrossmybunk.When I came to myself,Mam’zelle Caroline and Iwere alone again and allwasquiet.”

Estelle made nocomment,butthelookshethrewhersistertoldplainlyher opinion of suchspineless conduct. Bitingher lip, Amélie turned herheadaway.

Estelle turned to hergoverness,butattheliftofCaroline’s eyebrow and acool stare from her grayeyes, the girl abandonedthe interrogation. Silencereignedonthegallery.

Althoughitwasearly inthemonthofMay,theheatofsummerwarmed theairso that the soft touchof avagrant breeze from theriver was welcome. Thescent of magnolias

enveloped them like acloud, wafting from thetrees that lined the driveleadingfromthelevee.

The upper gallery,underthedeep,shadowedoverhangoftheroofoftheWest Indies planter-stylehome known as BeauRepos,wasaperfectplacefor lessons. High off theground, perched on brickpillars above the raisedbasement of the house,

the gallery afforded amagnificent view of thesurrounding cane fieldsand the Mississippi Riversweeping past on its waydown to New Orleans. Itwasquiet,comfortable,outof the way of the youngerchildren and their nurses,though it would becomethecenterofCreole familylifelaterintheday.

Thereweretenchildrenin the Delacroix ménage.

The eldestwasAnatole, ayoungmanayearpasthismajority. Then cameAmélie,twoyearsyounger,followed by Estelle, andthen Théophile, who wasfifteen. The next threechildren died in infancy,leavingagapintheregularplacement of births. Thiswas made up for byMadame Delacroix whohad, in the six years justpast, presented her

husband with a pledge ofher affection punctuallyevery spring. The presentaccounting was threemales and three femalesstill in the nursery, thelatest addition amere fivemonthsold.

An indolent woman ofuncertain temperamentand little energy, MadameDelacroix had discoveredthat childbearing made anexcellent excuse for lying

abed.Shedidlittlebeyondincubating,eating,reading,and issuing orders for therunning of the householdto be carried out by herdistant kinswoman bymarriage, MademoiselleCaroline Pembroke. Shewas happy to leave theeducation and training ofhereldestdaughterstotheindispensable Mam’zelleCaroline, while theyounger children were

consigned to theexclusivecompany of their nurses.The older sons had longoutgrown the need ofsupervision and certainlyoutdistancedinintellecttheman who served BeauRepos in thecapacityofatutor. That did not preventtheir former mentor frombeinghousedwith them inthe garçonniére, thatseparate building whichwas theprovinceofyoung

males in the Frenchhouseholds of southernLouisiana. Their repeatedattempts to remove himseemed to make noimpression. M’sieurPhilippe belonged, and apolite fiction that he wasstill necessary would bemaintained until theyoungerboyshadneedofhim.Hehadhadaplaceatthe Delacroix board fortwelveyears,sincehehad

come toBeauReposasayoungman of good familybut little income; hewouldhave one for twelve moreyears if he so desired.Hewas a fixture, acceptedand forgotten, counted nomore of a burden orexpense than M’sieurDelacroix’s aging aunt,Tante Zizi, who had comeforavisitofbutafewdaystwenty years before andstill occupied a corner

bedroom. Such wasFrenchCreolehospitality.

One of CarolinePembroke’s greatest fearswas that she too was indangerofbecomingsuchafixture. She had given theDelacroix family fouryearsofheryounglife,sinceshewas a girl of nineteen. Bythe accounting of her hostand hostess she was an“antique virgin,” a womanwho might as well throw

her corset on top of thearmoire. Itwasnot lackofopportunity that hadbrought her to this pass.Shehadbeenawaremorethan once that a littleencouragement to someparticular man might havenetted her a home of herown.Theprizehadnotyetseemedworththeeffort.

SuddenlyEstellespokealoud.“There isnoreasona privateermight not be a

handsomemanratherthanan ugly one, is there?Perhaps he looked likeByron, dark andmysterious.”

“Not at all,” Carolinecorrectedas the instinct toinstruct roseupwithinher.“The poet who wroteChilde Harold has blueeyesandauburnhair.Iwilladmit him to bepersonable, but neitherdark nor particularly

mysterious.”“You have seen

Byron?” Estelle asked,sitting up straighter as herinterestwascaught.

“A number of times,when I used to go intoLondon society before myfather died. That wasbeforeByronbecamequitesofamousamanofletters,ofcourse.”

“You knew him, spoketohim?”

“IcanhardlysayIknewhim, though we did speakon several occasions. Iwas not just in his style,much too tall, and I’mafraid I must admit, rathergauche. I was onlyeighteen, no more than amonth or two older thanyou.”

“It must have been along time ago,” Estellesighed.

Turningherheadaway

to hide a smile Carolineagreed. At times it didseem likeavery long timeagosinceshehaddancedthe night away, attendedrouts and levees andmasquerades, and beenconcerned with nothingmore important than theshadeofribbonstogowithher next gown or the bestway of answering a too-daring compliment. Thedeath of her father in a

riding accident, which hadbrought all that to an end,wasnomorethanablurinhermind.Shethoughtshecould remember herfather’ssister,aquerulouswidow with a largehousehold,suggestingthatCaroline join her uncle atNatchez in the Mississippiterritory in the new world.She could not recallagreeing. Her welcomethere,or rather the lackof

it, was vivid in her mind,however. She had knownfrom the first that heruncle’sCreolewifehadnotwantedher.Whathadhurtthemostwashisblusteringattempts to excuse hiswife’s behavior. Naturallyshe could not stay afterthat.

“But,” Estelle said,rising to her feetwith lithegrace and moving to situpon the balustrade that

enclosed the gallery, “thatdoes not tell me what theprivateerlookedlike.”

“It doesn’t, does it?”Caroline agreed, payingstrict attention to hermending.

A mutinous lookappeared in the set of theyounggirl’smouth.“I thinkyou are mean, you andAmélie. You get to travelback and forth across theseaandtohavewonderful

adventureswhileImustsithere at home. Then yourefusetotellanyoneaboutit! I think it is too bad ofyou, and also decidedlyodd, almost as ifsomething happened outthere of which you areashamed.”

Startled, Carolinelooked up. She had notconsideredthecaseinthatlight. There had beennothing of a shaming

nature to remember andshe did not like theimplicationthattheremightbe.Itwouldnotdoatalltohave Estelle incorrectlyrepeating her suspicion.Still, how to reply withoutgoing into details was avexingproblem.

It was Amélie whoanswered her sister. “Wedid not mean to make amystery of it,” she said inherquiet,musicalvoice. “I

assure you we didn’t. It ismy fault that Mam’zelleCarolinehasnotspokenofitmore.Iexpectitissillyofmetobesoaffected,butIcan’tseemtohelpit.Ifyoureally wish to know, I willwithdraw my objections,thatis—ifMam’zelledoesnotmind.”

“There,” Estelle said,turning triumphantly toCaroline.

With the barrier of

Amélie removed, Carolinesuddenlydiscoveredwithinher own self a reluctanceto speakof the incident. Itwas not that it distressedher,thoughithadnotbeenpleasant to shoot a man.There was somethingmore, something she hadnever been able to tellanyone. Estelle, with hertalk of mysteries, was notsofaroffthemarkafterall.

She was saved from

thenecessityofansweringbytheclickofheelsontheheart-cypress floor. A tall,thin form appeared in theopendoorbehindthem.

“Ah,thebeautifulyoungladies — I include you,naturally, Mam’zelleCaroline. One hoped tofindyouhere.”

“Mincing fop,” Estellesaid in English under herbreath, savage at theinterruption.

“Voyons,”thetutorsaid.“It is most wise of yourhonored father to haveMam’zelle Caroline teachyou her language, as I’vesaid many times before,but it is discourteous touse it before those whocannot understand thebarbarously difficultsyllables. InFrench, if youplease,mapetite!”

As Estelle’s face set inmulish lines, Amélie filled

thesilencewhichbegantostretch. “It was nothing,M’sieurPhilippe.Wereyousearching for us for aparticular reason? If so,won’tyoutakeachairandrecountittous?”

Mentally blessing thenuns who had taughtAmélie her manners,Caroline moved her chairback to allow the tutor tomake one of their circle.She could cheerfully have

wrung Estelle’s neck forputting her to the blush.Shewouldhaveawordortwo with that young ladylater. She was getting atrifleoutofhand.

Thetutor,drawingfortha cane-bottom chair,parted his coattails, sweptthe seat with thehandkerchief he took fromhis sleeve, then carefullysatdown.Aman justoverthirty, the tutor was not

withoutacertainvanity.Heoften hinted at aconnection with thearistocracy of pre-Revolutionary France andclung with smilingobstinacy to the fashionsof that era. His powderedhairwasworn long,drawnback with a black ribbontie. His coat was full-skirted and heavy withembroidery,andwithkneebreeches he wore much

darned white stockingsand slippers with redheels.

Nowfromthepocketofthecoathedrewoutafanofpaintedchickenskinandbegan to ply it. “A warmday,doyounotagree?”hesaid,touchinghisupperlipwith his handkerchiefbeforepushing itback intohiscoatsleeve.

Amélie agreed politelywhile Caroline gave him a

vague smile. Estellescowled.

“Ah, I trust I am notcome at an inconvenienttime?”

“Not at all,” Carolinesaid quickly before Estellecould open her mouth. “Ithink you had news,M’sieur?”

M’sieurPhilippedidnotlike to be hurried. Heindicatedthiswithapainedgrimace of his thin lips,

bowingatthesametimetoshow his acquiescence tothewishesofa lady. “Youwill never guess,” hebegan,continuinginarushasEstelleexclaimedunderherbreath. “We— that is,the family — are to haveneighbors.”

“You don’t mean—”Carolinebegan.

“But I do, Mam’zelle. Imean that Felicity, theplantation which marches

beside Beau Repos, hasbeensold.”

“Bah,” Estelle said.“Rumors! We have beenhearing such anytimethese past five months,andnoonehasyetarrivedto take down the shuttersand sweep out thespiders.”

“This time, Mam’zelle,there is something moresubstantialthanarumortoexcite us. This time there

isanametoputtothenewowner.”

“A name?” Amélieinquired as the tutorpaused expectantly.“Who?”

“The Marquis deRochefort.”

Their responsewasall,the tutor could havewished. Amélie droppedherneedle.Estelle’smouthfell open, and Carolinelifted her head to stare at

himinamazement.“Ithoughtyouwouldbe

pleased,” M’sieur Philippemurmured, toying with hisfan with a small, self-satisfiedsmile.

“How do you know?”Estelle demanded,recoveringfirst.

The tutor shrugged. “Itis common knowledge inNewOrleans.Ihadit froma friend who is employedas a clerk in the

Governor’s office. TheMarquis dined withGovernor Claiborne not aweekago,wherehemadeknown his intention ofsettlingpermanentlyinthisarea.”

“A real marquis,”Amélie breathed, a hint ofcolor stealing into hercheeks.

“Hewillnotusehistitle,ofcourse,”M’sieurPhilippesaid with a look of regret.

“So mundane, thisrepublican form ofgovernment.Still—”

“Still, he is a realmarquis,” Estelle finished.“Iwonderhowoldheis?”

“I believe him to be inthe vicinity of thirty,Mam’zelle.”

Estellemadeamoueofdisappointment.“Soold?”

“Thirty is not old, farfrom it,” Caroline said indryremonstrance.

“No!” M’sieur Philippemade his agreementemphatic.

“I wonder if he has awife and children? Thelittle ones here would likenew playmates,” Améliesaid.

Carolineglancedat thegirl. There was no sign ofguile in her soft browneyes. Her face, with herfine dark hair caught inringlets on either temple,

held nothing but politeinterest.

“Therewasnomentionof a family,” the tutoranswered, “though Iunderstand his cousin, ayoungmanafewyearshisjunior, bears himcompany.”

“Tante Zizi will behappy,” Améliecommented. “She canprobe into his lineage toher heart’s content. It will

beanewinterest”Caroline could find it

within herself to be sorryfor the Marquis. She hadbeen thoroughly quizzedconcerning her ownancestors when she hadfirst come toBeauRepos.Sheoftenfelt thatonlythediscovery of a belted earlon a lateral branch of herfamily tree had made herat all acceptable asgovernesstotheDelacroix

children.“Clothes,” Estelle said

abruptly. “We must havenewclothes.”

“Must we?” Amélieasked.

“But certainly. Thereare certain to beentertainmentsgiveninthehonor of the Marquis. Herequires to be welcomed,doeshenot?”

“You go too fast,”Caroline said. “First your

father must call on theMarquisanddiscover ifheis the kind of gentlemenwho would be acceptablecompanyforhisfamily.”

“Acceptable? He is amarquis!”Estelleobjected.

“That does notnecessarily make him agentleman.”

“Mam’zelle!” the tutorprotested.

“He was acceptable toGovernor Claiborne,”

Estellepointedout.“Even so, it is for

M’sieur Delacroix todecide.When that is donewillbetimeenoughforyouto worry about theentertainmentsforournewneighbor. You should notexpect to be included ineverything. You have notyetmadeyourcurtsytotheton.”

“I amaware, but in thecountry and on such a

special occasion it mightbe overlooked, don’t youthink? I am sure Mamanwill agree if Papa can bepersuaded. Oh, isn’t itexciting?”

“Whatisexciting?”The new entrant into

the conversation wasThéophile Delacroix. Hesauntered up the steepsteps with their curvedbannisters in the styleknown as “welcoming

arms.” Bareheaded, hedisplayed amop of brownhair, sun-bleached alreadytoanauburnhue.Hisshirtsleeves were rolled to hiselbows, and above thetops of his muddy bootshis breeches appeared tobestainedwithriverwater.Inonegrimyhandwashiswhite cravat, containingwhat looked to be acollection of plump purpledewberries.

M’sieur Philippe raisedthequizzingglassheworeon a ribbon at his lapel. Leveling it at Theo’sbreeches, he drawled, “Iapprehend, sir, that youhave been wading in theriver—again.”

Theo agreed without asign of repentance.“Anyone care for adewberry?”

“Themostfamousthinghas happened, Theo,”

Estelle said, absentlytaking a berry. “We are tohave a marquis for aneighbor.”

“Iknow,”Theosaid.“You know?” his sister

repeated.“Hearditaweekago.A

real swell. Has a wholeship full of prime stuff,anchored out in the riverwaiting for all the legalbusiness to be over with.Hasaphaetonwithahigh

perch and yellow wheels,and four of the sweetestgoersyoueversawtopullit.BoughttheminEngland,theysay.Mustberichasanabob to do that. Won’tAnatolebegreen?”

The tutor lookedpained. “Your language isshocking, Theo. One canonly surmise you havebeen associating withriffraffagain.”

A grave expression

descended on Theo’ssnub-nosed face. “I docrave pardon, M’sieur.‘TwasonlyJack,thesonofthe overseer at Felicity.Didyouwish to joinme inmy rambles instead?ShallIawakenyouwhenIleavethehouse in themorning?I do not plan to be at theriver until just before thesunrises.”

“No, no! I would notdeprive you of

companionship your ownage,” the tutorsaid,barelysuppressing a shudder. “Itwould not be — that is, Iwould not dream ofintruding.”

“Jack isagoodman tohave about. He may notknowtheriveras Ido,buthe’s a great hand withhorses.”

“Very interesting, I’msure,” M’sieur Philippesaid, taking out his

handkerchiefandwavingitlanguidly at a fly buzzingabout, attracted by thesticky, sweet berries. “Ibelievewecanwaittohearaboutyourfrienduntilafteryou have made yourselfmorepresentable.”

“As you wish, M’sieur.”Theo inclined his head,completely unperturbed ashe turned to do his tutor’sbidding.

“Wait!” Estelle cried.

“You haven’t finishedtelling us about theMarquis.”

“What else is there totell?” Theo inquired,popping the rest of thedewberries into his mouthand wiping his hands onhis shirt. “Anyway, you’llsee soon enough. Theyexpect him at Felicitywithintheweek.”

As Theo disappearedinto the house, Estelle let

out her pent-up breath.“Odious boy,” she said,then promptly forgot him.“There is so little time.Maman must bepersuaded to increase ourwardrobes, and you musthelpme see to it, Amélie.Shewilldo it foryou.Nexttoseeingyou take theveilasanun,shewouldliketosee you take a noblehusbandtowed.”

“You know I have no

ambition in that direction,”Amélieprotested.

“Yes I do, but it can’thurttopretend,canit?”

“You still have no ideaof the man’scircumstances,” Carolinesaid,awarningtoneinhervoice. “For all you know,hemayhaveawifewaitingon board ship with hisfurnishings.”

“Itdoesn’tsignify in theleast,” Estelle replied with

an airy wave of her hand.“Married or no, there aresure to be fêtes of everysort given to make himwelcome.Itcan’thurttobeprepared.”

“Maman may beresting,” Amélie protestedashersisterstartedtowardthedoor.

“Isn’t she always?”Estelle asked, and turnedintothediminterior.

Thetutorgottohisfeet.

“I am desolate to leaveyou, Mademoiselles, butonemustplacedutybeforepleasure, n’est-ce pas? Igo to prepare a lessonworthy of young M’sieurTheo.AtoutàI’heure.”

His bow was amasterpiece of style.Watching him walk away,Caroline reflected thatmannersandastylishbowwere two things thatshould not, in this society,

beundervalued.Leaning back in her

chair with a sigh, shetuckedwispsofsoftblondehairintothechignoncoiledonthenapeofherneck.Attimesshewondered ifshewere accomplishing asmuch as the tutor. It wasnot easy to handle thevolatile Estelle and stillremain on terms offriendship with her. Thegirl’s mother made little

attempt tocontrolher,andher father wasmore likelyto laugh and cosset herwith bonbons and almonddragées than to establishany kind of discipline. Apartofthatcouldbetracedto their expectation duringthe girl’s adolescence oflosingtheireldestdaughterto the cloister, but a fargreater portion stemmedfrom Estelle’s intelligenceand high temper. It was

impossible to tellwhatshewouldtakeintoherheadtodonext.Onlyafewweeksago she had declared herintentionofgoinguponthestage, and had irritated alltheir nerves by strikingdramatic poses atinopportunemoments.

Shehadthelooksforit,classical features, astraight, upright bearing,enormousblackeyes,anda cloud of hair so dark it

had a blue-black sheen.Such a thing wasimpossible, however. Thetheater was the milieu ofthe demimonde. It wasunthinkable that Estelleshouldjointheircompany.

Caroline had thoughtthatambitionforgottenuntila few moments beforewhen Estelle haddisplayed her unusualtalent for committing linesto memory. It was to be

hoped that the arrival oftheMarquiswouldpushallsuch foolish ideas to theback of her mind, andcome spring, a suitableparti could be found whocould oust themcompletely.

Amélie was a differentchild altogether, Carolinethought, letting her gazedrift to where Estelle’ssister sat diligently plyingherneedle.Thewonderof

it was that she had everfound the courage to telltheMotherSuperiorat theconvent where she was anovice thatshe lacked thevocationtobecomeanun.It was this momentousdecision which had set inmotion the GreatAdventure,asEstelle likedtotermit.

When the letter hadcome from Amélie askingto be allowed to come

home, Madame Delacroixhad been within weeks ofaccouchement. She couldneither travel to France tofetch her daughter norwould she allow herhusband to leave her sidefor that purpose. Carolinehad been dispatched tochaperone Amélie on thehomewardvoyage.

In the fall of 1814, thewar with Britain hadseemed stalemated.

Except for skirmishes faraway near the Canadianborder, there was littlefightingandmuchtalkofapeacebynegotiation.

Taking ship from NewOrleans was not difficult,nordid itseemparticularlydangerous. The voyagewas smooth anduneventful. They had notso much as a glimpse ofthe infamous Britishblockadewhichhadstifled

trade in recent years, noroftheprivateerssetbytheUnitedStatestocombatit.

Two weeks in FrancesufficedtocutAmélie’stiesthere. The girlwas happy,excited at the prospect ofseeing her family again.Her leave-taking from thenunnery in the north ofFrance where she hadspent thepast three yearswas amicable, though shecould not prevent a few

tears from falling as theydrove away in theircarriage.

The problem arosewhen it came time toarrange their passage toNew Orleans. There wasnot a ship destined forNorth America in theharbor at Le Havre, andnone was expected for ase’nnight.Carolinewasforsettling down to wait, butAmélie, after so many

years away from herfamily,wasanxiousforthereunion. She had set herheart on being with themforChristmas,and, thoughshedidnotmakeafuss,itwas plain that herdisappointment would bedeep if that provedimpossible. AccordinglytheyremovedtotheportofCalais.Here,too,theymetnothingexceptdelay.

In the end, their best

plan appeared to be tocross the channel toEngland, and from theretakeaBritishvesselsailingfor Havana via the WestIndies.Therewasasteadystream of traffic plyingbetween thatSpanish portand NewOrleans. Findinga ship homeward-boundshouldbenoproblem.

Doubts about thiscircuitous route plaguedCaroline from themoment

the plans were made.Once in England herhesitationswerereinforcedby the tales of theunofficial blockade ofBritish shipping byAmerica’s legal pirates.Not even the IrishChannel, the BritishChannel, or the Bay ofBiscay was safe fromthem, according to onereport. Still, the war wasnearing its end. The

dangerwasnotsogreatasinthepast.Thethoughtofretracing their route backto France was toowearisome to be borne.Papa andMaman and allthe little ones waited inNewOrleans.They turnedtheir faces toward homeand set sailwithin aweekoflandingatDover.

It was not a pleasantvoyage. Gray days oflashing rainandhighseas

followed one behind theother. Confined to a smallairless cabin, tendingAméliewhohadfallenpreyto seasickness, Carolinefound it hard to keep herdoubts from transformingthemselves into a dismalpremonition of disaster.Then, eleven days outfromEngland, itceased tobenecessarytotry.

Theywereawakenedina pink-tinged dawn by the

boom of a cannon. TheBritish merchantmancarried no guns orarmaments. She was nomatch for the sleek shipwith the lines of aBaltimore clipper whichhad put a shot across herbow.

From the portholeCaroline and Améliewatched as the privateermoved in for the kill.Seeing the great, black,

spread-wingedbirdofpreywhich served as afigurehead and the proudname emblazoned on herside,AiglonNoir,theBlackEagle,theycouldhardlybeblamed for expecting theworst.

If the captain and crewof the merchantmanresisted in any way, therewasnoindicationofit.Thesound of grappling hooksbeing set, the grinding of

the ships’ hulls together,the triumphant sound ofthe boarding privateershadanightmarishquality.

The side of the othership blocked the portholeofthecabin,leavingitdim.At the sound of feetpounding along thecompanionway, Carolinesnatched up the smallpistol, a parting gift fromher uncle when she hadleft hishouse tomakeher

own way, one she alwayscarriedwithher.Hermouthset in a grim line, shestationed herself behindthedoor.

Still inhernightgownofvirginal white, Améliedropped to her kneesbeside the narrow bunk,with her hair spread indisarray upon hershoulders. She presentedan angelic picture, butCarolinecouldnotfeelthat

the privateers would besuitablymovedbyit.

They could hear othercabins being entered andsearched. The footsteps,thejovialshoutsandcalledorders, drew nearer.Amélie’s fingers clenchedconvulsivelyonherrosary,while Caroline gripped thewood-grained butt of herpistol, glancing one lasttime at the priming. Thevoices and footsteps

paused in the corridoroutsidethecabin.Thelockwas tried. Then came asplintering crash and thedoor flew open, swingingon its hinges to bound offthecabinwall.

Caroline sidestepped,halting in thecenterof thetiny cabin. In the briefmomentofquietsheheardAmélie’s soft sigh as shefell forward in mercifulunconsciousness.Shehad

no time to look to her. Aman, tall, broad-shouldered, black-beardedin the Spanish style,detached himself from thegroupgatheredbeyondtheopening and stepped overthethreshold.

The man carriedhimselfwithaneasyairofcommandthoughhisdresswas casual. He wore awhiteshirtofcheapmuslinwithout the decency of a

cravatorshirtstudstoholdit closed. His breecheswere tucked into kneeboots with wide revers.The red sash at his waistheldabraceofpistolsandawicked-lookingknifewitha curved blade. He worehis dark hair long, tiedback with a sealskin bag.In his sun-bronzed face,his eyes were narrowed,obscuring their colorbehind a screen of

womanishly long lashes,though there was nothingsoft about him. Hispresence in the smallcabin was overwhelming,and, as he advanced,Caroline took aninvoluntarystepbackward,coming up against theedgeofthebunks.

“Stay where you are!”she said, steadying thepistol with both hands onthe target of the man’s

broad chest. “Stop rightthere,orIwillfire.”

“Put down the pistoland you will not beharmed. I give you myword as Captain of theBlackEagle.”

He spoke in English indeference to her as apassenger on an Englishship, though his speechheld a French inflection.Whatever the accent, hiswords carried conviction.

Caroline might havebelieved him if the menbehind him had not beenedging forward, a strainedwaiting in their stance.Somewhere in thebackofthe group aman laughed,anuglysoundinthetensesilence.

Caroline was hideouslyaware of the trembling inher arms and lower limbs.Itwasanefforttounclenchherteethenoughtospeak.

“You broke down the doormerelytoinformusofthat,Isuppose?”

“Amistake.Thisiswar.One does not often findwomen on the seas.” Histone was conciliatory.Caroline wavered, and hemade his secondmistake.Heeasedforward.

“I warn you—” shebegan, then had time forno more as with aswordsman’s catlike grace

he lunged at her.Instinctively she broughtthe pistol to bear, pressedthetrigger.

The explosion wasdeafening. The recoilshuddered through her,throwing her off balancefor a moment. Acrid bluesmoke filled the room,makinghereyeswater.

Then the pistol waswrenched from hernerveless fingers. As her

vision cleared, Carolinefound the Captain of theBlack Eagle perilouslyclose, almost against herasheclungwithonehandto the upright of the bunkabove her head. Bloodsplattered his shirt,spreading in an ever-widening patch from awoundlowinhisside.

A grim smile crossedhis bearded face. “Clearthecabin,”hesaidoverhis

shoulder. “Post a guardoutsidethisdoor.”

Carolinehadan instantin which to ream thecomplete helplessness ofher position, and then asthemen departed and theroom grew quiet, shereceived the full attentionoftheCaptain.

His speechwas slowerthan before and had aforced sound. “As I said,you will not be harmed. I

claim this ship as a prizeaccording to the rules ofthe sea and the letter ofmarque and reprisalgranted me by thePresident of the UnitedStates. It will be mannedby my men and sailed tothenearestAmericanport.From there you should beable to find your way toyour destination. Do Imakemyselfclear?”

Swallowing with

difficulty,Carolinenodded.“Neither you, nor your

companion,” he went onwith a glance at Amélielying with her eyes closedhalfacrossthebunk,“haveanything to fear from mymen,thoughIhaveposteda guard to insure yourprotection.”

“Your wound —shouldn’t you — summonhelp?”Carolinewhispered.

“Your concern is

touching,”hesaidwith theghostofalaugh.

Caroline compressedher lips into a line, awareofanabsurddesire tocry.Sheer nerves, she toldherself fiercely, or theeffectofthesmoke.

“No, no, don’t frownso,” he said. “I will live.Who knows?Perhaps youwillhave thechance to tryyour skill with firearmsanother time. If itwillease

yourconscience,however,Iwillclaimaforfeit.”

Beforeshecouldmove,he used the butt of herpistol to tip her chinupward. His lips camedown on hers in a firmdemand, lingering for aninstant to taste thesweetness of aninfinitesimal responsebeforeherhandscameupto push with all herstrengthagainsthischest.

He stepped back, ashuttered look comingdown over his face as heinclinedhisheadinapolitebow. Turning on his heel,he strode from the cabin,though he moved with acertain stiffness, holdinghisrightarmtohisside.

Her mind in a turmoil,Caroline stood unmovingas the cabin door closedbehind him. Itwas a reliefwhen Amélie stirred,

diverting her thoughts,requiring her completeattention.

It was Amélie whobroke her absorption oncemore.

“Mam’zelle?” she said,her gentle voice insistent.“Mam’zelle, it is Maman’spersonal maid. Mamanrequiresyourpresence.”

“I beg your pardon, Imust have beenwoolgathering,” Caroline

murmured apologeticallywith a quick glance to thestately Negro womanwaiting in the doorway.Rising, she went quicklyintothehouse.

2

MADAME DELACROIXLAY upon a brocade-upholsteredchaiselongue.Her ample form wascovered by a wrapper of

puce satin edged at thecollar, sleeves, and hemwith blonde lace. On herfeet were Turkish slipperswith embroidered,upturned toes. Her eyeswereclosed,anduponherbroad forehead rested acloth soaked in violet-scentedcolognewater.

At Caroline’s entrance,the recumbent form ofEstelle’s mother wasgalvanized intoaction.Her

eyes flew open, and shesat up, dislodging lace-covered and velvet-tasseled pillows so thatthey slid to the floor ineverydirection.Thebolsterbeneath her head shifted,revealing a quick glimpseof a French novel in ayellow cover beforeMadameDelacroixpusheditoutofsightagain.

“There you are,” theolder woman said in

aggrieved accents. “Tellme, if you will, what thisridiculous child is talkingabout with her prattle ofnoblemen and newwardrobes. One wouldbelieve theKingofFrancehimself was about todescend upon us.Doubtless she hasmistaken the mattercompletely.”

Estelle, sitting on thesteps which mounted to

the four-poster bed juttingintothecenteroftheroom,senthermotheranobliquelook.“Iamnotachild,”shesaid distinctly. MadameDelacroix paid noattention.

“If rumors are to bebelieved,weare indeedtobehonoredbythenobility,”Caroline said easily.“According to the latestreport, the Marquis deRochefort has purchased

the plantation that lies tothenorthofBeauRepos.Iunderstandwemaylooktosee the gentleman inresidencewithintheweek.”

MadameDelacroixtookadeepbreathandletitoutslowly,asmilegrowingonher face. “Mon Dieu,” shesaid, “that I should live tosee it.” Abruptly shefrowned.“Youarecertainitis as Estelle has sworn,theMarquisisunmarried?”

“Why, no, that is,M’sieurPhilippethinksnot,but—”

“The tutor? What hashe to do with anything?”the older womandemanded.

“He has been one ofour primary sources ofinformation,” Carolineadmitted.

“I might have known,”Madame Delacroixexclaimed, throwing

herself back upon thechaise,sendingflyingoncemore the pillows hermaidhad only just replaced. “Itis probably all a farce,concocted to plagueme. Iwill not be taken in, I willnot.”

Watching MadameDelacroix fling out herhandtohermaidinamutecommand for hervinaigrette, Caroline foundherselfthinkingthatEstelle

came by her penchant fordrama in the most naturalway possible. Before shecould speak, Estelle rosefrom her seat, movingquickly to her mother’sside.

“It is not a hoax,Maman, I swear it,” shepleaded, falling to oneknee and taking hermother’shand.

“If only I could believeit,” hermother said with a

shake of her head thatsent her mobcap of laceandribbonsfallingoverhereye. “Such an opportunityfor Amélie, to form aconnection with a rich,attractive, personablemember of the aristocracy—”

“We do not know hisappearance or monetarystanding,” Carolineremindedinadrytone,butshemightaswellnothave

spoken for all theimpression her wordsmade.

“When that Corsicanmonster is returned to hisisland prison once moreand monarchy is restoredin order, who knows whatmighthappen?Mydearestdaughter might take herplace among the noblestfamiliesofEurope.”

“Hardly an honor withEurope in an uproar over

Napoleon’s escape fromElba,”Carolineobserved.

Madame Delacroixturned a reproachful gazeuponher.“YoudonotthinkAméliewouldbeasuitablewifefortheMarquis?”

“I cannot venture tosay, never havingmet thegentleman, but youunderstand the Marquis issaid to be prepared tomake his home here, andthe title is useless in

America.”“A great foolishness.

Titles are never useless,”Madamedeclared.

“Then you agree?”Estelleputineagerly.“Youwill send for MadameHérbert to make newgowns for Amélie andmyself?”

“Amélie cannot needmany,” her motherobjected. “She hascreationsmadebythebest

modistes in New Orleansespecially for the victorycelebrations given for theheroic Jackson after thegreat battle on ChalmettePlain.Youknowsheneverworethehalfofthem.”

“But I was not out,Maman. My wardrobe isbare and what I have aretooshort,tootightor—ornot in the mode. MayMadame Hébert not comeforme?”

“You give me theheadache with yourceaseless demands,Estelle. I cannot think,really I cannot. Wait untilyour papa comes home.WewillseewhathehastosayaboutthisMarquis.Wewill see what he thinksaboutMadameHébert.Wewill see what he feels weshould do abouteverything.”

It was Madame’s last

word.ThoughEstelle, in afuryofimpatience,railedatwatching the rest of theday decline into eveningwithnothingdone,shewasforcedtoawait thecomingofherfather.

SinceM’sieurDelacroixhad driven off in anortherly direction in hiscurricle after breakfast,therewas somehope thathis arrival might increasetheirstoreofknowledgeof

their prospective neighbor.Suchwas thecase.At thedinner table, when at lastM’sieurDelacroixputinhisappearance, a briefquestion or two served tolaunchthatgentlemanonavigorous account of hisday. He had spent thebetter part of it sitting onthe gallery of CypressGrove, the home of anAmerican gentleman withbusiness connections in

town. The American,Fletcher Masterson, hadan interest in acommission housesupplying ready cashagainst future crops toplantation owners, as wellas sundry other servicesincludingtheimportationoffood, wine, furnishings,and wearing apparel, andthe arranging of domesticstaffandfieldhands.

“Yes, mignonne, I

swear by my deceasedrelatives, what you haveheardistrue.Doyoudoubtmy given word? MystèreMastersonhasbeenthesepasttwomonthsemployedin discovering a cook ofthe finest sort and aselection of servants fromupstairs maids togardener’s boys forFelicity. The Marquis’ssecretary, a younggentlemanwhoisacousin

of some variety, has beenin residence these threedays, in bivouac in theemptyrooms.”

“When is the Marquisexpected?” Estelle askedwith scant concern fordomesticdetails.

Her father shrugged.“One assumes when hisbusiness affairs are inorderandthepleasuresofthetownnolongertempt.”

From the foot of the

table, Madame looked upfromherdishofoysters inbrown sauce to comment.“The Marquis mustcertainly be familiar withthe pleasures of Paris.What can he findentertaining in a provincialbackwater such as NewOrleans?”

“New Orleans hasmuch to offer that Parishasnot,”M’sieurDelacroixreplied. “We must hope

that theMarquis is not soveryhardtopleaseifheisto be much in ourcompany,n’est-cepas?”

“Everyone will wish toentertain him, Papa,”Estellepointedout.

“That is true,” M’sieurDelacroix agreed, pursinghislips.

“As I am to bepresented this fall,might itnot be possible for me tobe included in the party

fromBeauRepos?”Her father glanced at

his wife for confirmation.Receiving it, he gave hisassent.

“Youwouldwishme tobeacredittothefamily—”hisdaughtercontinued.

“Of a certainty,” herfather said, his facesolemn, though a glint ofamusementlayatthebackofhiseyes.

Carolinehidasmileas

she watched Estelle. Thechild would get what shewanted,which in thiscasewas little enough.Thepitywas that she should haveto resort to suchmeasures.Preparationsforasuitablewardrobeshouldhave been underway longago.

She shook her headwith a rueful sigh. In aFrench Creole household,thingswerenotdoneasin

the English counterpart.For instance, the inclusionof all family members atmeals. InEnglandchildrenwere relegated to thenurseryuntil theywereoutof the schoolroom. Here,except on those rareoccasions when therewere guests, everyoneexcept the smallest babesat at theenormous table,each child with hispersonalnursebesidehim

to attend to hiswants andmanners. She hadschooled herself to acceptthese things, and for themost part she succeeded.Still, there were timeswhen exasperation camenear to overcomingresignation.

“Why do you sigh,Mam’zelle Caroline?”M’sieur Delacroix asked.“There is no need forrepining,Iassureyou.You

are not forgotten. MistaireMasterson sends hismostkind regards to you andpromiseshewilldohimselfthe honor of calling uponyouthisSunday.”

Caroline could notprevent a tinge of colorfrom spreading across hercheekbones. On the otherhand, she could not beangry with M’sieurDelacroix for his teasing,either. Beneath his rather

puckish sense of humor,he had a romanticdisposition overlaid by agenuine concern for herunmarried state.Nevertheless, Carolinewas grateful whenMadame Delacroix turnedthe conversation to otherchannelsandshewasabletoeatherdinnerinpeace.

~~~

THEDAYSTHATfollowedwere filled withpreparations, leaving littletime for lessons. MadameHébert, with two assistantseamstresses in tow,dutifully arrived from NewOrleans. She brought withher several gownsalreadymade up for the approvalof Mademoiselle, plusbundles of mousselineindienne, batiste, tulle,silks, crêpe, and, for later

in the season, cashmere,velvet, brocade,andsatin.She brought also agenerous selection ofbonnets, shawls, slippers,stockings, ribbons, fans,pomade, and scent —everything, in fact, afashionable lady mightneed to complete hertoilette.

Seeing the redoubtablemodiste comfortablyensconced in one of the

best bedchambers proveda day’s work in itself,especiallywithEstelleandAméliestoppingtoexclaimover the treasure trovewhich came tumbling fromhertrunksandbandboxes.Persuading Estelle thatcertain colors and outréstyles did not suit eitherher coloring or her youthfilled the best portion ofanother day. In theprocess Caroline and

Madame Hébertdiscoveredineachotherasimilarity of tastes andideas that made themallies.

The temptations socunningly spreadwere toomuch for MadameDelacroixtoresist.Thoughshe lamented thepossibility, as yetunconfirmed, of anotherwinterseasonspent in theloges grilles of the Opera

House, a part of thetheatrearranged for ladieseither largewithchildor inmourning, she orderedseveral gowns to her ownmeasurements.Characteristically, shechose those very colorsand styles denied toEstelle. Nor was Amélieleft out. It was discoveredthatmuchofherwardrobewas unsuitable for warmweather,andsoonshetoo

was cheerfully sippingorange flowerwater in themidst of pins and tapesand sewing scraps, andporing over the latesteditionsof theJournaldesModes and the CourrierdesDames.

Even Tante Zizi, onememorable afternoon,summoned the modiste toher apartments. MadameHébert stayed the betterpartof twohoursandwas

seen to leave the elderlylady’s chamber with asatisfied smile on hersallowface.

Caroline was notimmune to such delights.Shewashappytogiveheropinion when asked todebate the rival merits ofthe simpleGrecian styleàla Madame Récamier, orthe rich ornamentationpreferred by Leroy, thegreatdesigner to the royal

courts of Europe.However, her ownpurchases were restrictedto a clutch of ribbons forrefreshing a gown or ahandful of plumes torescue a bonnet fromfashionoblivion.

Something drastic wasrequired to distract theattention of the ladies. Itcame at sunset on thefourth day followingMadameHébert’sarrival.

Amournfulwhistle,longand wailing, intruded onthe evening peace.Pandemoniumimmediatelybrokeloose.

“Steamboat!Steamboat!” From thedirection of the nurserycameabangandaclatterfollowed by the sound ofrunning feet. The children,Jules, six years old,Mathilde, who was five,Ange-Marie, four,Baptiste,

three, and Thérèse, atoddleroftwo,torethroughthe house with theirnurses, calling at everybreath,rightbehindthem.

Baptiste, an imp withsparkling black eyes andfine brown curls, stoppedlong enough to put hishead in at the door ofMadame Hébert’s room.“Steamboat, Maman,” hesaid,patently inviting themto come view the

spectacle. They acceptedthe invitation with alacrityand were joined withinminutes by M’sieurDelacroix and M’sieurPhilippe who, wineglassesin hand, stepped frominsidethestudy.

Thesteamboatwasstillnewenoughontherivertobe a novelty to them all.The year before, they hadcounted twenty-one plyingup and down, quite an

increaseinthethreeyears’timesincethefirstofthem,the New Orleans, hadmade its initialappearance.

This boat was theGeneral Jackson. In bulkysplendor, it steamed pastthelandingofBeauRepos,trailing a cloud of blacksmoke shot with orangesparks. In the dusk ofevening,thesurfaceoftheriver had a pearl sheen,

reflecting the pink tint ofthe afterglow. The bow ofthe steamboat cleft theiridescent water, sendingbackafoamingwakelikeadowager trailing a train oflace.

The children pelteddown thestepsandstruckout along the path to thelevee.Theretheylinedtheembankment waving andjumping up and down inimminent danger of a

dunkinguntilfirmlycollaredbytheirdistraughtnurses.

Withafineappreciationfor his audience, the pilotblew another ear-splittingblastontheboat’swhistle.The sound echoed backfrom the dense forest thatstretched on the oppositeside of the river androusedM’sieur Delacroix’shunting hounds, pennednearthebarns,toafrenzyofbaying.

It was Theo, comingfrom somewhere in therear of the house to jointhe ladies on the bettervantage point of thegallery, who spied thephaeton. Surrounded byboxes, crates, and burlap-wrapped bundles, theblack and yellow vehiclesat across theboat’s bow,its silver fittingswinking inthefadinglight.

“It’s theMarquis,”Theo

exclaimed. “See, the boatcarries no passengers —not one is standing at therails— and the cabins onboardaredark. Itmustbecarrying the Marquis’sfurnishingstoFelicity.”

“Oh!” Estelle cried,leaning over the rail tocrane after the boatwhichwas fast becomingindistinct with distance.“Do you suppose he is onboard?”

Theo sent her ascornful look withoutdeigningtoreply.“ThereisAnatole,” he said, noddingtowardahorsemantrottingup the dusty road thatskirtedthelevee.“Iwonderifhesawit?”

“Saw what?” Estelleasked.

“The phaeton, silly.”Theoreplied.

“Personal remarks areunnecessary,” Caroline

said automatically, herattention caught by amovement down the river,some distance behind thesteamboat.She thoughtatfirst it was a water bird,then the white blurresolved itself into thetriangular wing of a ship’ssail. It was a two-mastedschoonerghostingalonginsilent grace, skimming thewaterasconfidentlyasanyswan.

Down on the levee thechildren fell silent. Besideher,CarolineheardTheo’squick indrawn breath. Itheld the soft sound ofpleasureneartopain.

On the ship’s deckstoodalonefigureleaningagainst the mast, outlinedagainst the pristine whiteofitssail.Catchingsightofthosewatching, he liftedahand for an instant, then,turning,wentbelow.

“My faith,” Theowhispered. “Who willwager that was not theMarquis?”

M’sieur Delacroix wasbesieged at the breakfasttable.

“Bonjour,Papa,”Estellesaid, jumping up theinstant he entered thedining room. “Letme pouryour coffee.Will you haveblackberry jam with yourcroissants? Or shall it be

figpreserves?”M’sieur Delacroix

easedhisamplefigureintoa chair and took up hisnapkin from its silver ring.A smile played over hismouth beneath his smalltrim moustache before hereplied in a matter-of-facttone, “Fig, if you please,petite.”

Amélie colored a littleas she came under hisgaze, butCaroline noticed

shewasquick topass thesugarbowlwhenherfatherrequired it. It was, shethought, a promising sign.It was time and past thatthe girl took an interest innormalfemininepursuits.

The four of them werealoneatthetableforonce.Madame breakfasted inbed always, and theyounger children were fedas they arose. Theo, tojudge from the scattering

ofcrumbsathisplate,hadeaten and departed, whileAnatole seldom left hisbed, even in the country,beforenoon.

With Gallic cunning,Estelle let her father getwell into his meal beforeshe commenced herattack.“Papa?”

“Yes,petite?”“I expect you mean to

call upon our newneighbor?”

M’sieur Delacroixbuttered a section of rollwithout looking up. “Youspeak of the Marquis deRochefort?”

“Butcertainly!”“Of course you did,

foolish of me,” her fathermurmured, spreading figpreserves.

“Well—doyou?”“Do I what? Oh, I

remember.Ah,no,petite.”“No?” Estelle choked.

“But why not? It is yourduty. You must make himwelcome.Itwouldbemostunkind of you if you didnot.”

“I should not like to bethought unkind,” M’sieurDelacroixsaidpensively.

“No, I was sure of it.”Estelle said with an eagersmile. “Then you will doit?”

Her father shook hishead.“Ithinknot,chérie.”

“But — why?” Estelleexploded.

Fearful of what hercharge might say toembarrass both herselfand her teacher, Carolineintervened. “I believe,Estelle, that youarebeingwhatwe inEnglandwouldcall‘roasted.’”

“Just so,” came thevoiceof her eldest brotherfrom the doorway. “Youmighthaveguessed ifyou

had the leastunderstanding, my dearsister. You are always toobusytalkingandthinkingofwhat you will say next tolisten.”

With this pithyobservation, Anatolestrolled into the room.Surprise at seeing him soearly held some of theirnumber speechless;astonishment silenced therest.

For the occasion, hehad donned a dressinggownofsilverbrocadewithlapels of royal-purplevelvet worn over a shirtwhose collar points juttedout level with his cheekbones. His cravat waslace-edged and tied inimitation of a waterfall,while black jet shirt studsdrew theeye irresistibly tohis chest. His hair curledover his head in careful

abandon à la Titus, andpeeping from beneathpantaloons of mustardyellow were a pair ofbedroom slippersfashionedlikesabots.

After the first look,M’sieur Delacroix avertedhis eyes. Seeing this, ameasure of Anatole’sassurance fell away fromhim. Moving to the table,hedroppedintoachair.

“Coffee,” he said,

propping his head on onehand.“IamliketoexpireifIdonothavemycoffee.”

It was Amélie whosignaled to the butlerColossus, standing atready next to thesideboard, to fill his cup.Anatole tookasipandsetthecupbackdown.

“Well, Papa, do wego?”heasked.

“We?” M’sieurDelacroix asked, fixing his

eldestsonwithajaundicedeye.

“I thought I might bearyou company,” Anatoleexplained, a shade ofdefensivenessinhisvoice.

“You do me too muchhonor, M’sieur,” his fathersaid.

“Now don’t try to —roast me, sir, I know youwill uphold the standing ofBeauReposbypayingtherequired visit. The only

questionis,when?”“As much as I dislike

causing you distress, Imust tell you I do not gountil tomorrow at theearliest, perhaps the nextday. You have expendedthe energies of yourselfandyourvaletthismorningfornothing.”

Anatole glanced at theolder man as if hesuspected a doubleentendreinthestatement.

“However,” M’sieurDelacroixwenton,“solongas you have left your bedyoumayaccompanymetothebarns.Isawadealerinmules at Cypress Groveyesterday, and he is tobring some prime stock,Tennessee-bred, for myinspectionthismorning.”

Anatole shudderedvisibly. “What does onewear to view mules?” heinquiredinpainedtones.

“Somethingthatwillnotgive them a disgust ofyou,” his father replied.Pushingbackhischair,hedropped his napkin on thetable and strode from theroom.

Amélie stared at herplate. Estelle, her eyesdancing, turned to herbrother.

“One word, only oneword,” he threatened, adull red color beneath his

olive complexion, “and Iwillflingyouintotheriver.”

“You cannot frightenme,” Estelle shot back athim. “Ihaveno fear, for todo this youmust get yourso-longbreechesmuddy,athingIdonotlooktosee.”

Before he could reply,she jumped up, gave atoss of her curls, and ranfromtheroom.

The petty bickeringbetween the brother and

his sister increased in thenext two days untilCarolinewasdrivennearlyto distraction. A peculiarrestlessnessgrippedthem,like that of a theatreaudience before thecurtain goes up. Carolineherself felt it, but itannoyed rather thanunsettled her. She foundherself wishing at oddtimes that the Marquis deRochefort hadchosenany

place in the world for hisresidence other thanFelicity. Since he had not,she wanted nothing somuch as for M’sieurDelacroix to pay his calland be done with it. Theclose inspection that mustfollow would, no doubt,disclose theMarquis tobea man with human faultsand frailties and withoutmystery. His title wouldbecome, in this land of

democracy, an emptyhonor. A fewentertainments would beenjoyedonhisaccount,hewould soon find a suitablebride,andintimehewouldbecomenomore thananyother landowner along theriver. That settled, theycould all be comfortableagain.

Such happy reflectionsproved overly optimistic.Judging the time right,

M’sieur Delacroix oneafternoondonnedhismostmodish buff breeches andsnuff-brown coat, clappedon his tricorn, and withAnatole somewhat morenattily tamed out besidehim, drove off in thedirectionofFelicity.

With a brave show ofspirits, Madame rose fromherchaisetodressherselfin blue bombazineornamented with fringes

and tottered into the salonwhere Caroline, Estelle,andAméliehadcomposedthemselves to awaitM’sieur Delacroix’s returnwith news of theirneighbor.

They were not keptlong in suspense. Sometime before they had anyreasontoexpectthereturnof the head of thehousehold, they heard thesound of carriage wheels

onthedrive.Colossusmovedwitha

heavy if stately tread toopenthedoorandtakethegentlemen’s hats, gloves,and canes. M’sieurDelacroix lingered in thehall for a few words withthebutler,allowingAnatoleto reach the salon aheadofhim.

That young manentered precipitously, hisface alight with mingled

gleeandanticipation.“Themost marvelous thing,Maman, the Marquis hascondescendedtodinewithus.”

“Nom de Dieu,” hismother exclaimed, startingup from her seat, only tostop short as she caughtsightofherhusbandinthedoorway with the tallshapes of two other menloomingbehindhim.

“My dear,” M’sieur

Delacroix said, movingtoward her, “allow me topresent the Marquis deRochefort, and his cousin,M’sieurVictorRochefort.”

Madame made agallant recovery. As thenobleMarquisbowedoverherhand,shemanagedtospeak thepolite response,at the same time directinghis attention to her twodaughters.

“Charmante,” the

Marquis said, salutingtheminturnbeforemovingexpectantlytoCaroline.

“MademoiselleCarolinePembroke, anEnglishwoman and distantrelative by marriage whoacts as governess for mychildren.”

“Mylord,”Carolinesaid,extendingherhand.

The man before hercarried himself with anupright ease, his bearing

neither too stiff nor tooinformal. His hair was cutclose to his head in aperfectionthatscornedthecurrently fashionabletousled look. Startlinglygreen eyes looked outfrom under heavy blackbrows in contrast to acomplexion that seemed,comparedtotheolivetoneof the Delacroix males,rather pale. His snowycravat was unadorned by

lace and tied in adeceptively simple style.His coat of gray superfineclung to his broadshoulders with the fitimpartedbyonly thefinesttailors. Soft buckskinsmolded to his muscularthighs without a wrinkle,and his black topbootsshone with a diamond-likesparkle. The effect wasoneofsevereelegance,animpression so strongly felt

it made Anatole,resplendent in a bottle-green coat with paddedshoulders and nipped-inwaist, canary breeches,and gold-tasseledhessians,seemtheveriestdandy.

A gentleman did nottouch his lips to the handof an unmarried lady.“MademoisellePembroke,”the Marquis said, givingher a brief impersonal

smile before releasing herfingers and returning hisattentiontohishostess.AsCaroline made ready togreethiscousin,sheheardtheMarquisembarkonhisapologies for descendingupon them, adding anexplanationthatseemedtoinvolveacat,thechef,andafallfromaladder.

VictorRochefort lookedinfinitely moreapproachable than his

noble relative, though hismanner of dress wassimilar.Hisbrownhairhada copper tint while hishazel eyes and readysmile held an engagingfriendliness. SinceMadame’s attention wascenteredontheMarquistothe exclusion of all else,Caroline indicated a placebeside Amélie on thesettee for the cousin andslipped from the room to

go and hold a conferencewith the butler and thecook.

Returningtothesalonashorttimelater,shegaveaquiet nod in answer toMadame’s imperativeglance.Allwaswell in thekitchen,oraswellasmightbe expected under thecircumstances.Theircook,anenormousNegresswithan imperturbable calm,blood sister to the aptly

named Colossus, hadacceptedthenewsof theirimportant guest without avisible change indemeanor. Without fuss,she had agreed to addsavory atterreau,mushrooms farci,and liverpâté to her menu ofseafood soap, roastduckling, beef grillades,fresh vegetables, andvariouspuddingsandtarts.Caroline had left her

muttering something toherself about thefoolishness of people whoclimb ladders leaving theirmasters with nothingpreparedtoeat.

With Colossus incharge of setting the tablewith the best crystal andchinaandchoosingwinetocomplement the food, shefelt fairlyconfident that theMarquiswouldfindnothinglacking in thehospitalityof

BeauRepos.“Tell us how you came

to decide to settle amongus?” Madame was sayingtotheMarquis.

“ThesituationinEuropeis so unstable,” heanswered. “I felt theneed,aftersomeyearsofunrest,forapeacefulexistence.”

From an oddundercurrent in his tone,Caroline suspectedRochefort of mocking the

olderwoman.Flinginghima quick glance, she foundhisgazerestingalmostidlyon her face. Hisexpression gave nothingaway, however. Withouthaste, he transferred hisregard to Amélie, who satenjoying a quiet chat withVictorRochefort.

“You intend to makeFelicity your homealways?”Estelleinquired.

“Alwaysisalongtime,”

their guest answered. “Ifyou mean do I plan toreturn to France in thenear future, the answer isno. Felicity shall be myhome for the present, andfor as much of the futureasIcanpredict.”

The smile he gave theyoung girl transformed hisface, giving him anundeniable charm.Estelle,thrown off balance atdrawing his full notice to

herself, dropped herlashes, retreating from theconversation behind ablush.

Amusementatthegirl’ssuddenself-consciousnessbrought a tiny smile toCaroline’s lips. Flicking aglanceattheMarquis,shefound herself once morethe object of his regard.She tilted her head afraction,meetinghisgreengaze squarely. He was

mistaken if he thought hecould stare her out ofcountenance so easily.She was not a young girlfreshfromtheschoolroom.Still, she knew aninordinate relief when aquiet comment fromAmélie gave her a reasonto look away. For somereason that she could notexplain, she felt therewassomething faintlydangerousabouttheirnew

neighbor.“What do you intend to

plant on your acreage?”M’sieur Delacroix asked,sitting forward in obviousanticipation of a thoroughdiscussion of the value ofsugarcaneversuscotton.

Estelle cast adespairing look inCaroline’s direction. Inanswer to the unspokenplea, Caroline began tocast about in hermind for

some means of changingthesubject.

It was not necessary.Rochefort refused to bedrawn. He shrugged withmagnificent sangfroid. “Idoubt I will trouble with acrop this season. Nextyear,perhaps.”

M’sieur Delacroix wasso taken aback at thisflagrantdisregard forgoodhusbandrythatheseemedat a temporary loss for

words.It was Theo who

bridged the uncomfortablepause. Bursting into theroomwithM’sieurPhilippetripping along behind him,he checked his rush, aflashofdismayinhiseyesas he caught sight of theformal assembly, thenstepped forward, makinghisbowwithall thedignitypossible for a boy in shirtsleeves, muddy breeches,

andminushisshoes.“M’sieurRochefort,may

I make you known to myscapegrace son,Théophile,” M’sieurDelacroix presented himwith dry humor. “Theo,Jean Charles Henri,MarquisdeRochefort,andhiscousinVictor.”

“M’sieur VictorRochefort and I havemet,monpère,”Theosaid.

The Marquis’s cousin

nodded. “Theo has beenmost helpful in making usfamiliar with thecountryside and our newneighbors.”

“I hope he has notmade a nuisance ofhimself,” MadameDelacroix said with ananxious glance in theMarquis’sdirection.

“Not at all,” Victoranswered promptly beforehis noble relative could

speak. “I’m sure I wouldnot have known he wasanywhereneartheestateifI had notmade a habit ofgoing down to the boatlandingatdawn.”

“Theo?” M’sieurDelacroix said, fixing hisson with a fulminatingfrown.

“I wanted only to viewtheshipatclosehand.Sheis called the Egret, Papa.Didyouknow?”

At this point, M’sieurPhilippe, motivated byeither exasperation withbeing ignored or else anunlikely desire to distractparental disfavor from hispupil, cleared his throatwithaloudrasp.

“Eh? Oh, yes,” M’sieurDelacroix said, recallinghis duties, “My lord,may Imake known to you myson’s tutor, M’sieurPhilippeHautrive.”

The Marquis gave theman a civil nod to whichthe tutor replied with adeep obeisance completewith a sweep of hishandkerchief. “You mustnot think ill of Theo,M’sieur, really you mustnot. He was but carriedaway by his excessivefascination with thingsnautical—inshort,sir,hisadmirationforyourvessel.”

Caroline, with her past

knowledge of their ownconsequence usuallyassumedbythoseofnoblebirth, fully expected theMarquis to administer afreezing setdown to bothTheoandhistutor.

Instead, he smiled atthe grubby young manstanding so stiffly beforehim. “So you like ships?Would you care to sail intheEgret?”

Theo flushed with

pleasure.“Doyoumeanit,sir?Ifso,Iwould—thatis,Iacceptwithpleasure,andthank you most sincerelyfor your generous offer,”he said, a gruff notecoming to his voice in hisexcitement.

With the lift of a brow,Carolineexchangedalookof wonder with Amélie atthe spectacle of Theobehaving with suchceremony. He had flatly

refusedtodothepretty,ashecalledit,inthepast.Nodoubt they had nevermade him so aware of aneedforpropergratitude.

“Perhaps some of theothers share yourinterest?” Rochefort said,sweepingtheroomwithanencompassing glance.“Shall we make it anexcursion? I feel sure mychef will be equal topacking a luncheon

basket.”Anatole, not to be

outdone, signified hisintention of taking a placeintheexpedition.

Estelle turned to hermother. “Oh, Maman. Ihaveneverbeenonsuchaship. Say we may go.Please,saywemay.”

Madame sighed with ashake of her head. “Iregret, my lord, that I amnot equal to this outing.

Themotionofaship,evenon such quiet waters asthese,quiteoversetsme.Imustbegtobeexcused.”

“Papa?” Estelle swungtoherfather.

“I could not, in allconscience, leaveMadame Delacroix to goon a pleasure outing.However—”

“But there isMam’zelleCaroline. Surely if shecouldbethoughtasuitable

dame de compagnie forAmélieforavoyageacrossthe ocean, she should bechaperone enough for thisoccasion.”

M’sieur Delacroixdirected his second eldestdaughter a quelling look.“As I was about to say,thereisMam’zelleCarolineto play propriety, thoughshe looks in need of aduennaherself,inallfaith.”

“Good,” the Marquis

said before turning toAmélie. Bending a mostbeguiling smile upon her,he asked, “And do yougo?”

“Yes,” she answeredwith a breathless catch inher voice, “as long asEstelle and Mam’zelleCaroline will be in theparty.”

“Very good,” herepeated and sounded asifhemeantit.

By the time thearrangements for theouting had beencompleted, the thirtyminutes Caroline hadspecifiedhadelapsed,andColossus, on herinstructions, appeared atthe door of the salonbearing glasses of claretforthegentlemen.Leavingthemtotheenjoymentofit,the ladies made haste totheir chambers to change

fordinner.Fashion had made no

drastic changes sinceCaroline’s presentationfour years before. Theenormous wardrobethought necessary for aLondon season had stoodher in good stead in herpresent situation. Many ofthe gowns, especiallythose for evening wear,had not been off theirhangersabovetwice.

As a governessCaroline usually restrictedherselftoratherdullcolors,gray and mauve andbrown. Impulsively shetook a gown ofchampagne-yellow moiretaffeta from the armoirethat occupied one wall ofher bedchamber. Theneckline was ratherdaringly décolleté, edgedwith blonde lace. From ahigh waist just under the

bust, the skirt fell straightto the floor, ending in ademitrain.Thewaist seamwas covered with blackvelvet threaded throughblonde lace, and blackembroidery stiffened thehem. Lacking jewels, alength of black velvetribbon at her throatseemed the perfectdistraction from thenakedness of hershoulders.

Shehadbecomeadeptin the past few years atputting up her own hair. Itwasnotdifficult topileherhoney-blonde curls on thetop of her head, lettingthem cascade down theback.Giving herself a lastinspection in the chevalmirror,shefoundtheeffectnot unpleasing. Thetouches of blackemphasized the darknessof her brows and lashes

and turned her eyes thecolor of woodsmoke. Avague apprehensiontroubled her. Perhaps theeffect was too grand? Itcould not be helped,however. It was too latenowtochange.

She need not haveworried. Madame, attiredin rose satin with anoverlay of black lace, hadbrought out the Delacroixdiamonds. A necklace

camouflaged thebeginnings of a doublechin;abraceletgracedonedimpled wrist, and abrooch held a rose-tintedaigrette in her silver-streaked black hair. Thatshewasdressedinsuchashort space of time,Carolineknew,wasduetothe exalted rank of theirguest. Any lesser mortalwouldhavehad towaitanadditionalthree-quartersof

an hour before he couldexpecttoseehishostess.

Amélie, charming inapple-blossommuslin withamethysts and whorls ofpink ribbon threading hercurls, was waiting also inthebacksittingroomwhenCaroline put in herappearance. The delicatecolors, combined with herown fragile quality, gaveher an ethereal, almostangelic,look.

ItwasEstellewhokeptthem waiting. From thedirection of herbedchamber could beheard her mutedcomplaints mingled withthe scolding of the ladies’maid she shared with hermaman andolder sister. Itdid not take Caroline longto understand that the girlobjected to being dressedin insipid white withoutjewels or feathers. It was

truesuchacostumecouldnot do the girl’s vividcoloring justice, but it wascustomary for her agegroup,andnothingshortofa papal edict could saveher from it. When Estellefinally emerged, shelooked young, fresh, andextremely attractive. Theplacement of a whitegardenia,justpluckedfromthegarden, completedhercostume, which was

enhanced by the flush oftemperonthegirl’scheeksand the angry sparkle inhereyes.

Viewing her daughter,Madame sighed, thenturned in the direction ofthediningroom.

They found their wayblockedat thesittingroomdoor. In theopeningstoodan elderly lady dressed inall theaustereeleganceofblacksilkwithlongsleeves

covering her hands à lamamelouk and a highneckline relieved by acollar of white lace. Herhair was covered by awhite wig over which wasplaced awhitemuslin capwith lappets that tiedbeneathherchin.

“Tante Zizi,” Madamesaidinafadingvoice.

The elderly womansurveyed their elaboratetoilettes, her black eyes

brilliant, her somewhatprominent nose held high.“I understand we areentertaining nobility. WhywasInotinformed?”

“Bernard brought themtodinnerwhenhereturnedfrom Felicity. It was notplanned in this scramblingway,Idoassureyou.Ididnotthinkyouwouldwishtothrow on your clothing insomuchhaste—”

“You did not think at

all,” Tante Zizi said withthe bluntness acceptableonly in the aged. “If youhad,youwouldknow Iamgrateful for anything thatrelievesmyennui”

“But you never join usfor dinner,” Madameprotested.

Ignoring the justice ofthe comment, Tante Zizireplied regally, “In thiscase I shall make anexception. Well! For what

dowewait?Letusjointhegentlemen.”

The walls of the diningroom at Beau Reposabove the wainscotingwere hung with toile deJouy in apattern featuringDiana the huntress in redonacreamground.Abovetheglitteringboardhungachandelier in brass withdangling crystal lustreswhich featured the samegoddess pursuing a stag

around the base. Thesmell of myrtle waxcandles filled the air vyingwith the smells of hotseafood soup and freshcrustybread.

On this occasion theyoungerchildrenhadbeenrelegated to the pantry, aroom half the size of thespacious dining room,where food from theoutdoor kitchen wasassembledandladledonto

serving dishes beforebeingbrought to the table.Colossus had charge ofboth pantry and maindining room. Standing justinsidethedoor,hedirectedhis minions with silentnods, insuring service sosmooth that the dinerswere hardly aware of thechangeofcourses.

TheMarquis,seatedonMadame’s right, was ableto give scant attention to

his dinner. He wassubjected to a thoroughcatechism by Tante Zizi,whohadusurpedtheplaceon his right. Her presencecaused the table to beuneven,withelevenplacesset.Itcouldnotbehelped.In Creole society age haditsprerogatives.

Understandably, withthe guest of honor beingmonopolized, conversationamong the others lagged.

Madame put a fewquestions to VictorRochefort on her left. Butwhentheirvoicesbegantointrude on the discussionbetween the Marquis andTante Zizi, the old lady,who admitted to being atrifle hard of hearing, sentthem such a quelling lookthat they lapsed intosilence.

Small cups of coffeewere served in the salon

followingthemeal.M’sieurDelacroix followed theFrench style, joining theladiesrather than lingeringover the Madeira andclaret as was the customof English gentry. Hisguests seemed content tobeguidedbyhim.

When thecoffee thingshad been cleared away,Amélie was persuaded toentertain them on thePleyel piano-forte. Victor

Rochefortstoodbesideherto turn the pages of themusic, a task he seemedtofindmostagreeable.

The Marquis, corneredonce more by Tante Zizi,had begun to look a littleharried. Prompted by afellow feeling— it hadnotbeenso longago thatshesuffered much the samefate — Carolinedeterminedtorescuehim.

Drawing up a chair

besidethesetteeonwhichthey were resting, shesignaled unobtrusively toTheo. The Marquis, asbest he could, was tryingto explain his mother’srelationship to a branch ofthe Austrian peerage. Theinstant he ceasedspeaking, Carolineintervened.

“I understand, my lord,thatyouhavebroughtyourcarriage into the country

with you. How convenientthatwillbe,tobesure.”

The Marquis turned toher,anoddlight,almostofsuppressedamusement,inhis eyes. “I hope to find itso. In thecountryonecanneverbesure.”

“A team of four shouldbe equal to any roadconditions, I should think,especially a teamdescribed as—ah, sweetgoers? Grays, I believe

theywere?”“Not grays, matched

blacks,” Theo correctedbefore Rochefort couldanswer.

“Ofwhatbreed?”TanteZizi asked, then smiledwith an ironic lift of anarched white brow asCaroline looked startled,then gave a choke oflaughter.“Nevermind,”theold ladywenton, reachingout to touch the sleeve of

theMarquis’scoatwiththefan of painted silk in herhand. “Whatever theirlineage,I’msureitisofthefinest.”

The Marquis roseadmirably to what in along-gone era would havebeen recognized as aflirtatious gesture. Takingthe hand of the elderlywoman,hecarriedittohislips with a murmuredacknowledgement of the

compliment. “How could itbe otherwise?” hemurmured.

That phrase, with itssilky undercurrent oflaughter, remained inCaroline’s memory longafter Rochefort and hiscousin had taken theirleave. She could not ridher mind of it, nor of thepeculiar feeling that theMarquis had indulgedhimself in thewhimsyofa

privatejoke.

3

THE EGRET ROCKEDgently at its moorings, agangway stretching fromthelandingofBeauRepostoitsshiningdeck.Estelle,

asshewashandedaboardby theMarquis, exclaimedat its beauty. Comingbehind her, Caroline andAmélie were quieter intheir appreciation, whileTheo simply stood andstareduntilAnatolehad topush him aside to makehiswayaboard.

The breeze across thewater was fresh, the sunshone brightly, the river,high but past the spring

flood, beckoned. Nosooner had everyonestepped down onto thedeck than the Marquisgave the order to cast offand they were away,drifting downstream untilthe sails were raised tocatchthewind.

The crew was small,less than a half dozenmen. That they knew theirjob was obvious. TheMarquis ignored themand

their handling of thevessel, leading his gueststo the afterdeck where heseated the ladies inarmchairs cushioned insea-blue velvet. Fittings ofmahogany and brassgleamed about them. Fortheir protection from thesun,anawningofblueandwhite canvas wasstretched overhead withhanging side panels ofazure silk that billowed in

thewind.Theo, overcoming his

first awe, began to rattlequestions concerning thespeed and capacity of theship. With apologies fordeserting the rest of thecompany, Rochefortgratified theboy’scuriositybytakinghimonadetailedinspectiontour.Intheend,the Marquis left Theo incharge of one of theseamenwherehe sat rapt

on a coil of rope, tyingintricateknotsandlisteningto the lore of deep bluewater.

When their hostreturned, they all took aturn about the deck.Amélie leaned on the armof theMarquisandEstelleaccepted VictorRochefort’sguidancewhileCaroline brought up therear with Anatole. Theylined the rail at the bow,

feeling the rise and fall ofthe ship, listening to thecreak and hum of therigging above them. Oneither side the green-and-brown tree line of theshore, hazed withdistance, stretched awayacross the wide reach ofblue-tinged brown water.The smell of the river,compounded of silt andfish, tree blooms anddecayingvegetation,came

totheminthefreshnessofthewind.

Outofconsiderationforthe coiffures of the ladies,the Marquis soon led thewayback to theafterdeck,first pointing out a cabinwhere the ladies couldmake whatever repairs totheir appearance they feltnecessary.

Caroline had beenafraid the memoriesevoked by being on board

ashipagainmightoversetAmélie’s nerves. The girlhadindeedbeenquietandwithdrawn at first, but theMarquis’s careful concernforhercomfortandhis tallpresence beside herseemedtohaveapowerfulrestorative effect on herconfidence. When theyhad regained their seats,Amélie looked up at himwith what, for her, wasalmost a coquettish smile.

“Where does the Egrettakeus?”sheasked.

“Wherever youwill,” hereplied — a gallantanswer, but not verysatisfactory.

“You do have adestinationinmind?”

Hehadtakenaseatonthecushionedbenchwhichran along the railing.Leaning back, he crossedhis booted feet, quizzingher through narrowed

eyes.“Noneintheworld.”“What if I should say I

wishedtovisitthehauntedsandbar that liesupstreamfromhere?”

“Under the orders ofsuch an attractive captain,the supernatural holds noterror forme. I would turntheshipaboutatonce,”hedrawled.

“AndifIshouldexpressa wish to visit Cathay,”Améliemused, her fingers

smoothing the ribbon thatencircled the crown of theleghornhatinherlap.

“Why, I would give theordertosailon.”

“Andif Ishouldrequestto be returned to mydoorstepatonce?”

“You could not be socruel.”

Estelle, more than alittle tired of being ignoredin favorofhereldersister,assertedherself.“Icould.”

TheMarquisgaveheraswift appraisal.“Doubtless,” he murmuredandturnedbacktoAmélie.

Caroline, an observerofthatmasterfulsetdown,felt sorry for the youngergirl. She was pleased toseeEstelle’sfirstimpulsiveanger replaced by ablushing consciousness.She was not a bad girl,merely spoiled andthoughtless, and, above

all,young.Glancing at Rochefort,

Caroline found his greeneyes turned upon her. Foradisconcertinginstantshemet his steady gaze, thenas his mouth curved in asmile he swung back toAmélie.

It was Victor Rochefortwho took pity on them.“Never fear,Mesdemoiselles. You arenot being abducted. My

cousin Jean is being hisusual maddening self. Hehas given orders to hiscrew tocarryusbuta fewmiles downriver, then turnabout and sail homeagain.”

“You take theadventure out of life,Victor,” Rochefortcomplained.

Victor Rochefort,accepting Amélie’s prettyexpressions of gratitude,

affectednottohear.Later, when the

Marquis and his cousincarried the two sistersforward to have a betterview of an oaken barrelseen floating in the water,Caroline stayed behind.Shewastired,suddenly,ofplaying propriety to girlsscarce younger thanherself. She did not feellike a duenna today. Shefelt restless and unsettled

in mind, though oddlycontent in a physicalsense.

Resting her head onthe back of her chair, shewatched the two couplesstanding at the rail. Howattractive they were, andhow suitably matched,Rochefort with Amélie,VictorwithEstelle.Suitablematches in everyparticular. There could belittle difficulty in money

matters. Time would givethem the same circle offriends, the sameconcerns,whetherweatheror crops, social events orchildren. Rochefort had inhismannerthechallengingself-assurancethatmarkedself-mademen and rakes.It was said, however, thatthe latter made the besthusbands.

“Mam’zelleCaroline?”It was Anatole, taking

the chair beside her, whointerrupted her reverie.She turned to himinquiringly.

“Give to me, if youplease, the benefit of youropinion?”

“Certainly.”He nodded in the

directionofRochefort,andsaid.“Regardyouthestyleof dress of this so-esteemed gentleman, theMarquis. It finds favorwith

you?”Caroline dutifully

regarded the leaf-greencoat, canary breeches,tucked shirt, waistcoat ofbuff and yellow stripes,and simply knotted cravatoftheirhost.“Iseenofaultinit.”

“Butsoplain,solackingin — in flair,” Anatoleprotested.

“And yet, it becomestheman.”

“Ah,” Anatole nodded.“That is the heart of thematter. Think you,Mam’zelle, such a lack ofornamentation would suitsomeone of my age andstation?”

Shifting in her seat,Caroline considered him.Thecreambuckskinswerenot a bad choice with abrown frac coat, thoughthe latter was embellishedwith a velvet collar and

revers. His waistcoat,however, was a riotouspaisley designembroidered in a rainbowof colors, and his cravatwasaveritable fountainoflinen and lace. A quizzingglass dangled about hisneck and a collection ofjangling seals hung fromhiswatchfob.Worstofall,his boots appeared dullcompared to the glassyfinish of those of theman

he was thinking ofemulating.

At lastCaroline said, “Isee no reason why thestyle should not suit. Youwould like to give yourapparel your own privatestamp, perhaps a color ora single piece of jewelrythat has meaning to youalone. This goes withoutsaying. Still, an overallsimplicity can only bepleasing.”

Anatole surprised herby taking her hand andpressinghislipstoit.“Youare as wise as you arebeautiful,” he said withgratitude. Embarrassed byhis own gesture, hestammered an excuse toleave her and went off topretendtosearchforTheo.

Looking after Anatolewith a fond smile, shefailed to notice theapproachoftheMarquis.

“I see you have anadmirer,” he said, takingthe chair Anatole hadvacated.

Caroline controlled astart of surprise. “Onlybecause I had the goodsense to agree with hisjudgment.”

“Youaretoomodest.”“And you too kind,

though I daresay thewordyou were searching forwashonest.”

“Not I. I never insultfemalestotheirface.”

“Then — I must thankyou for the compliment,must I not?” she saiddoubtfully.

“That is the acceptedthing.” His voice was sobland she very nearlymissed the gleam in hiseye. A smile curved hermouth before she wasawareofit,andthenitwastoo late to stand on her

dignity.“That’sbetter,”hesaid,

proppingoneelbowonthechairarmandclaspinghishandsforalltheworldasifhe had no intention ofmoving for some time.“Nowtellmewhatayoungwoman with the accent ofthe English upper class isdoing employed as agoverness to a Creolefamily in the laststronghold of the French

language in the NewWorld?”

“Only if youwill tellmehow you came to speakmylanguagesowell.”

“Like many of theancien régime, my familyfled to England fromFranceduringtheTerror. Ilived there for fourteenyears and was educated,after a fashion, atHarrow.Andyou?”

“I hope I may be as

brief, though I doubt it,”she said dryly. “My fatherwasoneofthreesons.Theeldestinheritedtheestatesof my grandfather, ofcourse, leaving the twoyoungest to make theirown way in the world. Myfather stayed in London,where he married, as thesaying goes, to disobligehisfamilyandwascastoff.My mother had a smallfortune which was

augmented, more or less,by my father’s skill atcards. His brother,Benjamin, went toNatchez. This was morethan thirty years ago,before the takeover of theBritish settlement there bySpain. My uncle Benjaminprospered as a merchant,bought land, built a finehome, and managed overthe years to keep up afairly regular

correspondence with myfather. My mother diedwhile I was still in theschoolroom. Then, fiveyears ago my father losthis life in a huntingaccident, only a fewmonths after I waslaunched into society. Idiscovered to my dismaythat my father had notmadehisway in theworldparticularly well. He diedpenniless. In fact, he was

headoverheelsindebt—”The Marquis made a

soft sound which Carolinetooktobecommiseration.

“Indeed,notanunusualstory,” she went on. “Myfather was a good man,warm and friendly, full oflife; it was just that hechose an unfortunatemomenttotryawallwithaditch on the other side. Afew months earlier, a fewlater, and he would have

beeninfunds—”“But not, I apprehend,

enoughtoestablishyouasa young woman ofindependentmeans?”

“No,”shesaidbaldly.“Isoldwhattherewastoselland went to live with mymother’s sister. It was atemporary arrangementsince shewas barely ableto keep herself and herchildren on her husband’sstipend. It was she who

suggested Iwrite toUncleBenjamin.”

“Surelytherewassomeother alternative? Ahusband, for instance?You need not try toconvince me you had noprospects in the Londonmarriage mart, for I won’tbelieveyou.”

“No indeed, I am asvain as anyone of myconquests. The weekbeforemyfatherdiedIwas

forcedtolistentonofewerthan three protestations ofundyinglove.Theprospectof receiving a dowerlessbride, however, dealt adeath blow to the ardor ofallthree.Mypride,Iassureyou,wasnolessaffected.”

“So you turned yourbackonEngland?”

“I sat down and listedthose accomplishments Ipossessed which I feltmight have a value. They

were few. I am anindifferentneedlewoman,apunishing pianist, and anonlypassablesketchartist.I am fairly proficient in theFrench tongue, a goodrider, and a veritableparagon on the dancefloor.Somethingmorewasrequired to please amother of youngdaughters, at least inEngland.”

Flicking a glance over

the soft curls about herface, teased from her tidychignonbythebreeze,andher wide-spaced, smoke-colored eyes, he seemedabout to speak, thenobviously thoughtbetterofit.

When he remainedsilent, she went on. “Iwrotetomyuncleandwasassured of a welcome.Within a month I packedmy trunks and my boxes

and took ship. All mighthave been well except formy uncle’s Creole wife.She was not disposed tolike me, and nothing shesaw when I arrivedchangedhermind.The—disharmony—betweenuswas most uncomfortableboth formeandmyUncleBenjamin. I made thediscovery, however, thatas an Englishwoman hereinthisportionoftheUnited

States I had a value I didnot possess in England. Ihaveacertainuniqueness,you see, what might becalled a snob appeal. TheCreoles, the French andSpanishpeopleborninthisforeign land, begin to seethe valueof cultivating thedespised Americans. TheAmericansareindisputablythe controllers of thecommerce along the river,and thus the wealth, you

see?But inorder toeffectthis cultivation in themostlucrative manner, theCreolesonsanddaughtersmustbetaughttoconverseinthebarbarouslanguage,English.”

“I see,” the Marquissaid, his expression soremote that Carolinefearedshewasboringhim.

She finished quickly.“My uncle’s wife isconnected by marriage to

the family of MadameDelacroix, who was inneedofsupervisionforherdaughters. The thingarrangeditself.”

The Marquis frowned,his eyes focused on themiddle distance betweenthe ship and the passingshoreline. Abruptly he gotto his feet. “Your pardon,Mademoiselle Pembroke,”he said with a half bow,andwalkedbrisklyawayto

wherehisfirstofficerstoodamidships.

His purposewasmadeplain as orders wereshouted and the shipbegantoloseway.

“Whyareweturningsosoon?”Victorcalled.

Rochefort made asweepinggesturewithonearm.“Lookaroundyou.”

Caroline looked butcould see little. The treesalong the near shore had

fallen still. Clouds, whiteedgedingray,rolledinthehigh, wide sky, and thebrownwaterreflectedtheirglow with a silver sheen.Thesunstillshone,thoughwithlessstrength,touchingthe dancing waves, thespars, rigging, and bright-work of the ship with anoddlambentlight.

“Is it going to rain?”Estelle asked a shadenervously.

“There is thatpossibility,” Rochefortreplied.“Shallweenjoyourluncheon now, just incase?”

A pair of wovenhampers covered withcloths were brought frombelow with a pair ofingenious folding tables.Seeing their green baizetops, Caroline was of theopinion that their primaryusewasasgamingtables,

but shewas toohungry tocaviloversuchadetail.

Theclothswerespreadover the tables and theMarquis and his cousinbegantounpacktheladenbaskets.

“If you will slice thebread, Mademoiselle?”Rochefort suggested,handing Caroline awrapped loaf and a knife.When she had finishedthatchoreheaskedherto

serve the cold breast ofchicken and huge boiledshrimp in their shells, andtoseethatthepastriesandnougat confections wereevenlydivided.

“Where are theservants?” Estelle, lyingback in a chair with herhands folded uselessly inherlap,lookedaroundasifshe expected thecounterpart ofColossus toappearfromnowhere.

“I thought we mightmanage without,”Rochefort answered, hisattention on the ticklishbusiness of opening abottle of champagnewithout losing half itscontents.

“By drafting Mam’zelleCaroline as a slave,”Estellesaidtartly.

His task accomplished,Rochefort looked up. Hissmile was perfectly

pleasant,andyetadistinctchill had crept into hisemerald eyes. “Not at all.By requestingMademoiselle Pembroke,as the most mature ladypresent, to act in thecapacityofmyhostess.”

The explosion Carolineexpected did not come.Estelle dropped her gaze.Aninstantlater,shelookedup, her sherry-brown eyesswimming with tears. “I

meantnoinsult,Mam’zelleCaroline,trulyIdidnot.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,”Carolineanswered,thoughat the sight of such easycontrition her heartmisgaveher.

“Could I not help?”Estelleoffered.

“Ibelieveit isalldone,”Caroline said, surveyingthe repast spread outbeforethem.

“You may pass these.”

Rochefort handed the girltwo brimming glasses,then sent a smilingglanceafterherasshereachedtoplacethembeforeCarolineand Amélie, frowning inconcentrationtokeepfromspillingthegoldenwine.

His expression as heturned back to Carolinewasoncemore impassive,however.Holdingherchairat the footof the table,hebowed.“Shallweeat?”

They had reached thelast stageof themeal, thenougat and strawberries,when the wind began torise. The sun disappearedbehind a looming bank ofgray, and the river begantoheave.Aroundthemfelllightthecolorofnewgreenleaves, aching, bittersweetinitsclarity.

The far oaks andcypress began to sway. Adistant bend ahead of

themwasfilledwithmist,amist that drove towardthemrelentlessly.

Rochefort and Victorjumped to their feet,reaching for bottles andglasses, clapping lids onserving dishes, pilingplates atop one anotherregardless of bones andscraps of food. Caught upin their urgency, Carolineknelt to take the itemsflung at her, stowing them

in the hampers. Theo andAmélie entered into thefraywithzeal, leaving littleroom for Estelle andAnatole. After a half-hearted effort, theystepped back out of theway. When the first fatdrops of rain began tosplatteronthedeck,thesetwowerethefirsttoscurryforthecompanionway.

Laughing, Amélie andVictor took up a hamper

between them and divedfor shelter. Theo followed,lugging the other.Rochefort helped Carolineup with a hand under herelbow, and they reachedthe overhang of the doorjust as the ship wasengulfed in the lance-filledfogofthestorm.

With a hand on thedoorjamb, Caroline turnedback. The current of theriver had disappeared

under choppy, foam-lacedwaves. Color waswashedaway, leaving ship, shore,water, and sky a uniformgray. High above them,crows driven before thewind rose and fell, callingback and forth in jubilantwarning. Blue cranespassed them flying low,theirwing tips dipping intothewaves.

An unexpectedexcitement caught at her

asshefeltthewindtearingatherhairandflappingherskirts about her ankles.Her spirit seemed to soar,and in wonder she liftedstorm-colored eyesluminous with joy to theman beside her. In thatinstant a strong gust ofwind struck the ship,causing it to heel.Unprepared, Carolinestaggered. The Marquisreached out at once to

steady her with an armabout her waist, a faintsmile tuggingathismouthashestareddownintoherstartledeyes.

A vague feeling ofrecognition stirred in theback of Caroline’s mind.Beforeitcouldtakedefiniteform, an abrupt downdraftfromtheoppositedirectionthrewahandfulofrainintoher upturned face. With asound—halfagaspatthe

coldwetness,halfashakylaugh — she disengagedherself.Turning,shemadeher way with heightenedcolordownthestepsofthecabin.

~~~THE DAY FOLLOWINGthe river excursion wasenlivened by a morningvisit from Rochefort andhiscousin.Theirostensible

purpose was to assurethemselves no harm hadbefallen the young ladiesfrom their rather dampexperience, but they wereeasily persuaded to stayfor a luncheon of coldmeats and oven-warmtartesauxpêches.

Theywerenot theonlyaddition to the table. Afriend of Anatole’s,HippolyteGravier from theplantation downriver from

Beau Repos, had alsobeenpressedtoextendhisvisitpastthenoonhour.

The heir to BonneChance was a pleasantyoung man, solidly built,with a high-coloredcomplexion, curling blackhair, and a happy outlookon life. Like his fatherbefore him, he believed inhis great good luck andwouldplaceawageratthedropofahat.Hehadonce

bet on which of two treetrunks floating in the riverwould reach New Orleansfirst and, with his takers,commandeered a passingflatboat to follow thesodden logs to town. Hehad collected. Heunabashedlyenjoyedgoodfood,gooddrink,andgoodcompany. With lessexcuse for it in thewayoflooks, he was a worsedandythanAnatole.

The noise in the diningroom as five children, fivenurses, five youngpeople,and six adults ate, drank,clattered china and silver,and talked was incredible.M’sieur Delacroix made adetermined effort atfrequent intervals toreduce the din, but it didlittlegood.Madamedidherbest to carry on aconversation above it withher noble guest, though

more often than not herhardesttaskwasattractingRochefort’sattention.

The Marquis appearedto find the spectacle of somanydrawnuptothetablebemusing.Leaningbackinhis chair sipping his glassof wine, he watched thechildrenwith a faint smile,possibly of self-derision,curving one corner of hisfirmmouth.

Hippolyte Gravier had

been a close observer ofthe Marquis since theirintroduction.Unconsciously he toolounged back in his chair,his wineglass in hand. Heallowed a small smile toplay about his mouthbefore turning to M’sieurDelacroix.

“A good vintage, this.Monpèrewould be happyto know fromwhat vintneryou had it. The last cask

consignedtouswasjustashadesour.LargestcaskIeversaw.Takingforevertosee the lastdropof it.Tellyouonething,I’lllayyouadix—”

He was interrupted inhis wager by youngBaptistewho,remindedbymention of it, decided totaste the watered wine inhisownglass.Hisgripwasnone too steady. Theresult was a spreading

purple stain on the linencloth.

Madame signaledfrantically.Faceimpassive,Colossusmovedtoblotupthespill.

“I don’t knowwhat youmustthinkofus,”Madamesaid, turning to Rochefortwith a nervous laugh. “I’msure this is not at allwhatyou are used to in yourownhome.”

“No,”headmittedwitha

glance at his cousin inclose conversation withAmélie. “Victor and I areseldomsomerry.”

VictorRochefort lookedup.“DidIhearmyname?”

“I was telling MadameDelacroix how charmingwe find her family,” theMarquis saidwithhis slowsmile.

“Yes,” Victor agreed.“Indeed,yes.”

As sometimes

happened in the summermonths in that southernlatitude, the afternoonbrought another stormnearthesamehourastheday before. The masterand mistress of BeauRepos refused to allowtheir guests to think ofleavinginthedownpour.

Rochefort demurred,saying he and Victor hadtrespassed too long ontheir hospitality. But

M’sieur Delacroix wouldnothaveitso.

Victor took a chair onthegallerywheretheyhadcongregated to watch therain fall in silver streamsfrom theoverhanging roof.“Give over, Jean. Youknowyoudon’twanttogo,and it might be disastrousto suffer a wetting whenyou’ve only just got yourstrengthback.”

This hint of illness

brought glances of politeand not so polite inquiryfrom half those withinearshot. The Marquisappeared blind to theirpromptings, favoring hiscousinwithsosternalookthat Victor seemed sunkwith remorse forat leastahalf moment. An instantlater Rochefort was in thethick of a complicatedwagerconcerningwhichofthe two rivulets of water

inching across the galleryfloorfromblownrainwouldreachthehousewallfirst.

It was evening beforethe last carriage rolledaway along the muddylevee road. The rain hadlifted to reveal a cool,purple twilight. The rest ofthefamilyscatteredtotheirvarious chambers andoccupations, Caroline wasleft alone to listen to thechorusoffrogsandinsects

and the plaintive call of alonelywhippoorwillawayinthe woods beyond thecanefield.

It was seldom sheachieved a moment toherself. She savored it,relaxing in a fan-backedrattan chair, letting herhandslieidleinherlap.

The serenity shecravedwas elusive. Therewas a disturbance in theback of her mind,

something she could notquiteputherfingeron.

She did not think itinvolved their visitors thisday. She might feel atwinge of self-pity at notbeing an active participantinsuchgatherings,butshethoughtshehad toomuchstrengthofcharacter to letittroubleherunduly.Inanycase, she could havetaken a more active parthad she wished. She was

no downtrodden drudge.As a relative by marriageto the family, she enjoyedcertain privileges deniedmost women in herposition. She wasaccepted at the familytable, included in mostinvitations, and given agreater than averagefreedom concerningworking hours and habits.True, Madame Delacroixwasoftencapriciousinher

remembrance of therelationship,treatingherasan employee scarcelyworth her wage onemoment and loading herwith the responsibilities ofbloodkin thenext.Acasein point was the seavoyage to bring Améliehome.

Caroline shook herhead. She had promisedherself she would notrecall the incident of the

privateeragain.Memoryofitrecurredtoofrequentlyoflate for her comfort. Shefound herself at odd timeswondering if she hadinflicted much damage onthe Captain of the BlackEagle. Try as she might,shehadbeenabletohearno news, either on boardthe prize ship as it wasbeing brought into port, orlater. He had apparentlydisappeared from the face

of the earth. Of course,withinweeksofthecaptureof the Britishmerchantman,atreatyhadbeen signed atGhent, thewar finished. Letters ofmarqueandreprisalwouldhave been made uselessat the stroke of a pen.Therewouldhavebeennomore need for the BlackEagle or its Captain toroamtheseas.

Themostpeculiarthing

was that she could nolongerbringthefeaturesofthe privateer into focus inher mind’s eye. She sawhim merely as a tall,bearded, faceless figuresomehow larger than life,touched with immortality.Perhaps because the ballfrom her pistol hadseemed to incapacitatehimso little,shecouldnotfeaturehimasbeingdead.

Somuchpreoccupation

withtheonemaninherlife—andsuchaspecimen—whohaddared tokisshermust surely indicatesomething. Could M’sieurDelacroixberight?Coulditbe time she beganseriously to considermarriage?

The consideration inthat eventuality was ahusband. There were,naturally, so many tochoose from! The French

Creolegentlemandesirousof finding a wife inquiredfirst, always, for theamount of the prospectivebrides dot. Not only wasshe dowerless, she wasEnglish,aheinouscrime;agoverness, which wasworse; and fully as tall asany Creole gentleman ofher acquaintance. TheMarquis overreached her,but he could not beclassed as a Creole,

having been born inFrance. Not that itmattered,ofcourse.

Andthentherewastheburly American owner ofCypress Grove, FletcherMasterson. PunctuallyeverySundayafternoonhecame calling. Whether hewas sincerely attracted toher or whether he camebecause shewas the onlylady within a reasonabledistance who spoke his

languageaswellashedid,she could not tell. Hiscourtship, if it could becalledthat,hadbeengoingonsince the familyarrivedat Beau Repos from NewOrleans just after Easter.They had met at anevening party given atBonne Chance, andFletcherhadlostnotimeinfollowing up the meeting.Once or twice he hadaskedhertogoforadrive

with him, but somethinghadalwayspreventedit.

A more inventive, lesscareful man would havefoundawaytoachievehisaim, Caroline thought, butFletcher was circumspect,careful, formidably well-mannered. Caroline couldnotfeaturehimdemandinga forfeit under anycircumstances.

Mightthatnotbetothegood,however?Therewas

nothing dashing aboutsandyhair,blueeyes,andwell-muscled shoulders,but wasn’t dependability amorevaluablecommodity?

Disgusting to beweighing a man’s valuelike a barrel of flour or somany blocks of sugar.Such cold-bloodedcommerce was no basisfordecidingtomarry.

“May one intrude?”M’sieur Philippe did not

wait for an answer butstepped behind Caroline’schair to take the onebeside her. He crossedone knee over the other,then clasped his handstogether across his not soflat stomach. For a longmoment he said nothing,scanning the pale oval ofher face in the fast-dimming light. At last heopened the conversationhehadobviouslysought.

“What think you of ournoblefriend?”

“YoumeantheMarquisdeRochefort?”

“Butofcourse,”hesaid,his clipped tone betrayinghisirritation.

“Ifindhimgraciousandkind.”

“Do you indeed? Areyou quite sure you don’tmeancondescending?”

Caroline looked at thetutor.“Doesheseemsoto

you?Ihadn’tnoticedit.”“How could you not?

The man goes aboutmaking pronouncementswith theaplombof royalty.My ears ring with hearingfrom Theo: ‘The Marquissays this, Rochefort saysthat.’ It is not tobeborne!AndnowAnatole,theboyIhave raised with thekindness of a father, tellsmethatforgentlemanlaceis passé, M’sieur le

Marquissaysso!”Caroline sternly

repressedasmile.“Doyouintend to continue towearit?”

“Naturellement,” thetutorreplied,thoughforaninstant he appeared tornas he smoothed the laceoverhishands.

“That certainly showsgreat strength ofcharacter,”Carolinesaidinanencouragingtone.

The tutor allowedhimself a smile ofgratification before hisbrows drew together oncemore. “Not every youngwomanhasyourpowersofdiscernment. I fear for thegentle daughters of thehouse.”

“Fear? What do youmean?”

Delighted to havedrawn a more decidedreaction than before,

M’sieur Philippeelaborated. “Ispeakof theunfortunate effect onMam’zelle Amélie andEstelleofbeingdailyinthecompanyofsuchamanofthe world as Rochefort.They are guilelessinnocents, unable torealizethathalfofwhathesaystothemisthemerestgallantry devoid ofsincerity. He has nointention of the sort of

serious involvement whichleads to wedded bliss —would, in fact, reject withhorror any suchsuggestion.”

“Howcanyoubesure?”Caroline asked. She didnot for a moment creditwhat he said as the truth,but was interested in hisreasoning.

The tutor shrugged. “Itis the way of men andwomenwhobelongto that

stationinlife.”“The Marquis belongs

here, now that he hasmadehishomeatFelicity.”

“A nobleman’s whim,”he said with a dismissinggesture. “It does notchange theattitudeof oneofhiskind.”

“I see,” Carolinemurmured.

“Itellyouthistoputyouonyourguard,andsothatyou may arm the ladies

also against losing theirheartstosuchaone.”

“Youmakehimsoundamonster.”

“Not at all! I protest,thatwasnotmyintention.Ido not say the Marquisrealizes the damage hecaninflict.”

Caroline lifted a brow.“Stupid as well asuncaring?”

“Upon my sacredhonor, I did not say so. I

meant only that it is easyfor theunwary tobe takenin by what is merely asurfacecharm.”

“Shallow, stupid, anduncaring.”

“You willfullymisunderstand me,” heexpostulated.

“I think not,” Carolinesaid,risingtoherfeet.

M’sieur Philippe stoodatonce.“Ah,well.PerhapsI have been too hasty in

myjudgment.”“And unwise in your

choiceofaconfidante.”“Never that,” he

assured her, reaching outto catch her hand, holdingitclosebetweenhisown.“Iam aware that you wouldneverbetrayme.”

“Betray you? There isnoquestion—”

“I was sure of it,” hebroke across her words.“Let me hasten to spare

your blushes by assuringyou that I return youradmiration.”

Caroline stared. Herfirst thought was that themanhadtakenleaveofhissenses. Return heradmiration indeed! As ifshe could admire such apopinjay.

Before she could puther objections into words,Theo swung around theendofthestepsandcame

boundingupthemtwoatatime. To continue thediscussion in front of anaudiencewasimpossible.

Sensing anatmosphere,Theostoppedhis tuneless whistling,looking from his tutor toCaroline with interest.When neither seemeddisposed to satisfy hiscuriosity, he bethoughthimself of the messageentrustedtohim.

“Cookwouldappreciatea word with you in thekitchen,Mam’zelle.”

Perforce Caroline hadto turn in the direction ofthat outdoor structure,though it was gallingbeyondendurancetoleaveM’sieur Philippe inpossession of his peculiarmisapprehension.

In the next few daysthey saw nothing ofRochefort and his cousin.

The tedium of fittings forthe modiste, MadameHébert, was done with,and that indefatigable ladypacked her leftover bits oflace and muslin, renderedher account, and returnedto New Orleans. Timehungheavyontheirhands.With lowering spirits, theyoung ladies returned totheirmendingand lessonsandembroidery.

“Depend upon it,”

Madame Delacroix saidcomfortably. “The Marquisis being besieged bycallers. Everyonewith anypretension to gentility willfeelhemustbewelcomed.I congratulate myself thatBeau Repos was the firsthome to extend the handofaneighbor,butIcannotthink we were the onlyones.”

“No, and I expect theMarquis’s chef has

recovered, too,” Estellesaidmournfully.

“Perhaps we shall seethem Sunday after Mass,”Améliesuggested,coloringa little under her mother’ssharpglance.

Madame nodded inslow agreement. “SundayafterMass.”

The chapel that theDelacroix family attended,theonlychapelwithinthirtymiles, was a small, white,

lath and brick affair. Theinterior was beautifullypaneled, however, andboasted a marble font,hand-carved Stations ofthe Cross from Europeancraftsmen, and a rosewindow which had beensalvaged from ademolished cathedral inNormandy.

On that particularSunday, it did not boasttheattractionof theowner

of Felicity and hissecretary-cousin. The newgowns and bonnets theladiesworewerewasted.

Perhaps not quitewasted. The afternoonbrought an extraordinaryinfluxofmalevisitorstothegallery of Beau Repos.Hippolyte Gravier broughtwith him a half dozen ofthe young bloods of thearea to cluster aroundEstelle. Amélie was not

without her court also,though they tended to beolder andmore staid. Andof course FletcherMasterson, looking like asober blond giant amongthe dark and laughingCreoles,cametositbesideCaroline for a proper halfhour.

He andCaroline talkedof the same things theyhadtalkedofforthebetterpart of two months.

Caroline asked after hismother,awidowandsemi-invalid who seldom stirredbeyond the walls of herhome. He told her of theprogress of his crop; hehad only that yearswitched from cane tocotton and was anxiousabout the success of theventure. He mentionedhaving met his nearneighbor at Felicity oneday on the road, and

spokewithwondervergingon contempt of his statedaim to refrain frommakinga crop until the followingyear. When he picked uphis hat and cane andfinally took himself off,Caroline realized thatbeyond a perfunctoryinquiry about her health,he had expressed nointerest whatsoever in herorheractivities.

The most diverting

thing about the entire daywas the manner in whichM’sieur Philippe hoverednearby while Fletcher wasin attendance, directingmalevolent looks at theAmerican’s broad backwhile his target wasoblivious of the tutor’spresence. It ceased to beamusing when M’sieurPhilippe, with greatadroitness, slipped in frontoftwoyounggentlemento

take Fletcher’s vacatedchair.Hedidnotleaveherside for the remainder ofthe evening. Even whenshe got up to see aboutreplenishing therefreshments,hewentwithher.WhenColossuscouldnot be found at once, thetutor insisted on beingallowedtopullthetasseledropetosummonthebutler,forall theworldas thoughshelackedthestrengthfor

suchatask.Inthebacksittingroom

that evening the ladiesheld a postmortem overtheafternoon.

“I think, in fact I amcertain, that HippolyteGravier is enamored ofme,” Estelle announcedwithsimplepride.

Hermothersmiled.“Butofcourse.”

“I have decided toforgive him for pulling my

hair when we werechildren.”

“Very magnanimous,”Carolineobserved.

“You are laughing atme, yes? But I do notregard it. I am a womannow with many, manysuitors. I have learned thevalue of being mistress ofmyterribletemper.”

Carolinelistenedtothisspeech with an inclinationtoallowhermouth todrop

open. “Commendable,”she said when she hadrecovered.

“Astonishing,” hermother,adealmoretakenaback, dubbed it. “Andwhere did you chanceuponsuchwisdom?”

“Mam’zelle Carolinehas been telling meforever, but it was theMarquis who warned methatnothinggivessuitorsadisgust of a lady somuch

as an unbridled display oftemperament. Only verygreat actresses areforgivensuchlapses.”

“Mon Dieu,” Madamesaidfaintly, lookingaroundwith a distrait expressionforhervinaigrette.

“You told him youwished to become anactress?” Amélie asked inatonecompoundedhalfofhorror,halffascination.

“Certainement. He was

most understanding.He isacquainted with a numberofactresses,yousee.”

Madame fell back,grasping the small bottleCaroline thrust into herhand. “Oh,never,never inmy life did I ever think tohear a daughter of mineadmit to speaking of suchthingstoagentleman.”

“M’sieur le Marquisexplained tome how it is.He warned me I must be

circumspect—”“Oh, oh, oh,” Madame

moaned.“And he was kind

enoughtoexplainthehardwork, the long hours, theuncomfortable lodgings,and the lack of respect,whicharethelotofth-thes— ah, bah, I cannot saythisword.”

“Thespians,Ibelieve,isthewordyouaresearchingfor,”Carolinesupplied.

“Yes, I was mostinterested to hear thesethings. Everyone else hadtold me only that tobecome an actress wasnot done.Hein! Of courseit is done! There arehundreds, are there not?Knowing theconsequences, I am nowarmed to make my life’sdecision.”

Amélie frowned,drawing winged brows

together. “I don’t believethe Marquis can havemeant you to take hiswarninginthatlight.”

“Thenyoudonotknowhim as well as I,” Estelleasserted.

“Perhaps not,” Amélieagreedunhappily.

Madame gave anotherheartrendingwail.

In a rare daylightappearance, Tante Zizihad honored the gallery

that afternoon with herpresence. After the failureofRocheforttocall,balkingthe elderly woman of herprey, all expected her towithdrawonceagaintothesanctuaryofherroom.Shedid not. Not only did shetake the evening meal incompany,shecommandedColossus to arm her intothesittingroomwhereshesat enthroned on the onlyLouis XIV chair of which

Beau Repos waspossessed.

Now she slapped herfan in the palm of onewhite, clawlike hand. “Myfaith, Marie, do not makesuch a to-do aboutnothing. When I wasEstelle’s age, men wereexpected to beknowledgeable aboutactresses and the like.Experience in the malewas thought to be the

greatest guarantee forhappinessinamarriage.”

“Whenyouwereyoungmany things weredifferent.” Madame, stung,sat up straight. In heragitation, she took toohearty a sniff at hersmelling salts, thencoughed, her eyeswatering.

“Very true,” Tante Ziziagreed,“andIdonotjudgethechangeforthebetter.”

“I wish only that whichis right for my daughters,”Madame proclaimed,ruining the effect byspeaking through ahandkerchiefappliedtohernose.

“Let us be truthful,”Tante Zizi corrected dryly.“You wish to ally yourdaughters with thenobility.”

Madame’s mouth tookon the spiteful twist of the

weak enemyoutmaneuvered but notquite disarmed. “I wish, atall events, to ally themrespectably!”

Thiswas a telling blowindeed. InheryouthTanteZizi had visited Parisduringthelastgoldendaysof France, the reign ofLouis XV. A girl of greatbeauty, on herpresentation at Court shehad attracted the attention

ofmanyofthenobilityandof the young King. For ashort time she had beenblissfully happy, living inthe elegant rabbit warrenofVersailles.Andthenonedayshehadclimbedintoacarriage and had riddenawaywithoutlookingback.Returning home to NewOrleans, she had goneabout for a few yearssteadfastly refusing alloffers of marriage. After a

timeshewentoutlessandless.On thedeathofKingLouis XV of France shedonned mourning andceasedtogooutatall.Herparentsdied,and then thebrother who was head ofthe family. The title offamily head, plus theresponsibility for TanteZizi,felltohisson,BernardDelacroix.

Tante Zizi had moneyof her own from some

unnamed source; shecouldhavelivedalone.Onthe entreaties of hernephew,shehadcomefora visit—and stayed.Sheand Marie Delacroix werenot especially compatible,however. The elderlywomanformedthehabitofkeeping to her rooms,allowing no one to enterwithout expresspermission.

Tante Zizi could be

extraordinarily sensitive;she could also be thick-skinnedwhen it suitedherpurpose. Spreading herfan,shebegantoplyit,herblackeyeshard.

“There can be noquestionofthat,”shesaid.“What must be asked ishow?”

“Ideclare,themeansofit has me quite distracted— one cannot force themantocome,afterall.And

here is Amélie mopingabout the house like ashadow and Estellerunning to look down theroad a hundred times aday and changing hergown each time inbetween.”

Tante Zizi waited untilthediatriberandownofitsown accord. “The mancannot be forced to come,buthemaybeinvited,mayhenot?”

“Would it not look tooparticular?” MadameDelacroixventured.

“You will not invite himalone,” the old lady saidstringently.

“No, it will be a grandball!” Estelle exclaimed inrapt enjoyment of theprospect.

“It will be a soirée ofperhaps three dozenguests, with dancing andafterward,asupper,”Tante

Zizisaid firmly. “Mam’zelleCarolinecanplay—”

“And I—” Amélieinserted.

“If only we could besure the Marquis is notalready engaged for thedatewechoose.”

“Thereisonewaytobecertain.Ask!”

Estelle looked at hergreat-auntwithbrighteyes.“I — that is, Amélie andMam’zelle Caroline and I

— could drive over toFelicity tomorrow todiscoveriftheMarquisandhiscousinarefree.”

“No,”TanteZizisaid.“No, no!” her mother

cried.Caroline set hermouth

in a firm line. “Under nocircumstances will I lendcountenance to a visit toanunmarriedgentlemaninhis living quarters. Nocircumstances

whatsoever.”

4

PREPARATIONFORTHEsoirée went on apace.Madame Delacroix’senthusiasm held while theguest list was drawn up

and the invitations written.When the missives wereplaced in a ribbon-bedecked basket andgivenintothekeepingofagroom to be carried fromhouse to house in thedistrict, Madame took toher bed. Not even thetidings that the Marquiswould be delighted to putin an appearance on thenight in question couldbring more than a feeble

smile to her lips.Summoning Caroline, shecasually laid theburdenofthe entertainment on thegoverness’sshoulders.

Amélie provedunexpectedly helpful.Beneath her quiet exteriorshe had an intenselypracticalnature.Itwasshewho organized the maidsinto a work force whichthoroughly cleaned themain reception rooms of

the house, cleared thesalon of all furniture, andpolished the floor withbeeswaxfordancing.

Caroline concentratedon the menu, relyingheavilyontheseafoodthatwas in season and freshvegetables. Her rapportwith thehugewomanwhopresided over the kitchenwas excellent, and shesuffered no qualms overthe food the guests would

beoffered.Estelle, at her own

request,hadchargeof thedecorations.Shewouldtellnoonepreciselywhatshehad inmind in the way ofbeautification, but shewentdailytothegardentothe rear of the house tocheck on the progress ofthe blooms undercultivation. The elderlygardener, inexpectationofseeing his domain

denuded for the party,usuallydisappearedat thesight of Mam’zelle Estelle.Onnoaccountcouldhebepersuadedtotellherwhichof the blossoms might beexpected to be at theirpeakinaweek’stime;this,he said, would be abetrayal.

Estellegrewdailymoreincensedwith theoldmanandmoreanxious that thequality of the decorations

would not adequatelyreflect the skill of theperson responsible. Theafternoonbeforethedayofthe dinner party her fearscrystallized.

“Mam’zelle! Mam’zelleCaroline,whereareyou?”

Caroline, finding a fewminutes free, had takenfive-year-old Mathilde outonto the gallery for alesson in her letters andtheEnglish language.She

lookedupinexpectationofno less than a domesticdisaster when Estellecame bursting from thehouse.

“Mam’zelle, you cannotrefuse me, you must not.Sayyouwillcomewithmeto the forest to find themagnolia,thefern,andivytomakesplendidthesalonfortomorrowevening.”

“Oh, Estelle, do youreallythink—”

“But yes, certainly,Mam’zelle. The house willlook like the abode of thegensdupeuplewithonlyafew straggly bouquets. Idesirethegrandeffect,theluxuriance,ofmuch,muchgreenery. There shall begarlandsonthebannistersof the steps, magnificentedifices of flowers in theentrance, sprays ofblossomon the fireplaces,and masses of ferns and

sweet-smelling boughs inthecornersofthesalon—”

“My dear girl, wecannot cart the entireoutdoors into the house,”Carolineprotested.

“But we may bring alittle inside to fill out themiserablebloomsfromthegarden?”

“Themiserableblooms”included roses, poppies,and lilies, plus the foliageofanumberofshrubs.The

magnoliascouldbehadbystepping onto the frontlawn. This left only ivy forgarlands and somespecies of fern to fill outthe garden perennials. Itshould not be tooformidableatasktogatherabasketortwoofthese.

Accordingly, Carolineand Estelle, accompaniedby Mathilde, who beggedtocome,andagroom,setout.Forthetriptheytooka

two-wheeledvehiclecalleda governess cart. It waspulled by a mettlesomebaymare,andloadedwitha pair of large split-oakbaskets lined with dampcloths and wet Spanishmoss.

Theyhadnotadvancedfar before Caroline beganto realize she had beenoverly optimistic. Noordinary greenery woulddo. No dust-covered,

tattered, or otherwiseimperfect leaves were tobe allowed inside thedoors of Beau Repos.Every few feet the groomhad to jump down andbringaboughora twiningstemforEstelle’sapproval,but of these fully three-quarterswerediscardedastoo imperfect. The tendernew leaves of wild grapecaught her fancy for amoment, then were

rejected as possiblylendingatoo-bacchanalianairtotheproceedings.Theleathery green leaves ofyellow jasmine weresatisfactory, but withoutthe flowers just faded,seemed somehowincomplete.

In the end, Carolinetookthereins,allowingthegroomto range thewoodswith his machete whilethey progressed down the

roadatasnail’space.Fora long stretch, sugarcanefields and pasture landintervened, and theymoved along at a fasterclip with the groomperched on the cart’s tail.ThenEstelleespiedatrackleading beside a split-railfence back toward thedensegrowthoftheforest.

Caroline, against herbetterjudgment,pulledintothe track. She had a

feeling they were nearingthe end of the Delacroixacreage, thoughshecouldnot have said with anycertainty exactly how far itextended.

The road had a well-traveled look despite thegrass that grew to axleheight in the middle. Hoofprints were plain in thedamp sand, as thoughridershadpassedthatwaysince the last rain. No

doubt the road led to thebackofthefieldstheyhadjustpassed.Carolinecoulddo no more than guess.When driving out, a thingdoneonlywhennecessaryto get from one place toanother, the ladies neverventured from the mainroad. Horseback ridingwas looked on as toovigorous an exercise foryoung ladies and wasseldom indulged in by the

femalesofBeauRepos.The afternoon sun

began to lose height,striking down into theavenue cut through thetrees. Estelle put up theparasolshehadbrought,adecorativeaffairofsilkandlace hardly big enough forherself,thoughshetriedtoshare it with Mathilde.Birdcalls echoed aroundthem,includingthemusicalwhistle of a bobwhite. A

squirrel, startled by theirapproach, ran up a treebeside the road and outonto an overhanging limb,chatteringangrily.

Mathilde enjoyed thatsight,butshewasgrowingfretful at their slowadvance. Even at such acrawling pace, they hadcomefurtherthanCarolinehadintended,andshewasthinkingstronglyof turningback.Onlythesightingofa

clump of ferns kept herfrom acting on thisimpulse. A few yardsfurther on, a tremendousvine of shiny green smilaxcaughtEstelle’seye.

Thegroomwasbearingthisratherscratchyburdenback toward the slow-moving vehicle whenbeneath the mare’s nosearose a flurry of wings. Itwas a family of quail, thefluffybabychicksnobigger

than a thumbnail, risinglike feathers on the wind,and their parents utteringear-piercing shrieks asthough in pain as theyflopped and scuttledthrough the grass in aneffort to lure danger awayfromtheiryoung.

The mare shied, risingin the shafts with a shrillwhinny of terror beforethrowing herself into aheadlong gallop! Caroline,

her grasp lax as shewatched the grooms’approach, nearly lost thereins. Scrabbling afterthem, thrown from side toside in the madly joltingcart,shecaughtaglimpseof the groom as hedropped the smilax andbroke into an angling runfor the horse’s head.Withthereinsoncemoreinherhands she found that thefear-maddened animal

would not respond to theircommand.

Mathilde screamed,clutchingatEstelle.Estellegrabbed at Mathilde withone hand and Carolinewith theother.Asshe losther hold on her parasol,shemade a sound of halfanger,halfterror.

For an instant Carolinethought the grooms racewon,thenashedrewlevelwith the mare’s rippling

shoulder, he tripped andfell sprawling. He tried torollbutcouldnotavoidthecart’s wheel. It jouncedover his ankle with asickening thump. Thebounce, small though itwas, threw the cart offbalance so that it slewsideways. Before it couldright itself, the right wheelgrazed a sapling, then thetail of the cart struck fullforceintothetrunkofapin

oaktree.Caroline was thrown

from the seat to measureher full length in the road,the reins still tightlygrasped in her hands.From the floor of the cartcame cries and moans.She could not allow thehorse to drag the vehiclewith its shattered wheelfurther. Struggling to herfeet, she limped to thehorse’shead,soothing the

fractious, shivering mareuntil she was quieted.Tying the reins to a treebranch,shemovedalmostreluctantly to see toMathilde and Estelle andthegroom.

Estelle, her bonnethanging drunkenly downherback,wasjustclimbingover the tail of the cart asCaroline rounded theside.She turned to helpMathilde, pale with fright

butunhurtexceptforafewsplinters, out from underoneoftheoakbaskets.

The groom was not solucky as the two girls. Helaywrithingontheground,his teeth gritted in pain.Oneofhislegshadanoddboneless appearancebelow the ankle with thefootturnedatanunnaturalangle.

Caroline stood for amoment in silent thought

after she rose from herinexpertexaminationofthegroom. At last she turnedtoEstelle. “Jim can’twalk.One of us will have to goforhelp.”

“Alone?” Estelle askedwithanervouslookaroundat the silent, encroachingwoods.

“Someone must stayhere with Jim andMathilde. I’m sure yourlittle sister could not walk

all the way back to BeauRepos,atleastnotingoodtime.”

“Oh, but Mam’zelle, ifwewait—”

“There’snousemakingobjections,” Caroline saidflatly. “If wewait darknessmay find us still here. Doyougoordoyouprefer tostayhere?Choose!”

“I — I will go,” Estellesaid, then immediatelylooked doubtful of the

wisdomofherdecision.“Don’t tarry,” Caroline

advised. She turned herback at once to giveEstelletounderstandtherewasnohopeofreprieve.

At Estelle’s suddenjoyous cry, she swungaround. A horseman wasbearing down upon them.As he drew nearerCaroline’s first instinctiverelief was tempered withdismay. It was Rochefort

on a gray gelding. Hecarried himself with thestiffness associated withanger, and there was agrimlookabouthismouth.

He swung down fromhis horse and strodetoward them. As heneared, he swept the fourof them with a gaze farfromcursory.HestaredsolongatCaroline’sfacethatshe gained the irresistibleimpression that she must

have a smudge on hernose.When he shifted hisattention to their groom,sheputupherhandtofindher fingers stained withblood from a scratchacrossonecheek.

The Marquis ran hisfingers down Jim’s leg inan examination both moreexpert and thorough thanher own. “It’s broken,” hesaid,risingfromakneelingposition. “Serves him right

for getting you in thisdustup.”

Caroline, annoyed byan attitude toward themthat she consideredunfeeling in the extreme,stated bluntly, “I wasdriving.”

If she hoped to seeRochefort discomposed,shewasunrewarded.

“Indeed,” he said,leaving little doubt of hisopinionofherskill.

Estelleenteredthe listswith unexpected support.“Mam’zelle is a very gooddriver, indeed yes! If itwere not for her skill, weshould have beensmashed into the tree,completelytolittlepieces.Isaw it coming andexpected entirely to die,yes,andMathildewithme.Ifindmyselfverysurprisedto be able to stand here.ThisItellyou!”

Caroline felt that if hesaid “indeed” in thatodiously superior way toEstelle, shewouldwant tostrike him. Instead, heturned to stare back downtheroadinthedirectionhehadcomewiththeintensityofonewhoexpectstoseevisions. He was rewardedby the appearance of aheavyset man riding on afarm cob. Without unduetrouble, Caroline

recognized the man whohad acted as overseer atFelicity for the past fewmonths,Mr.Pernell.

Henoddedwithatouchof his hat brim to theladies. Withoutdismounting he listened toRochefort’s instructions,then swung about to rideback to Felicity to carrythemout.

“Please,”Carolinesaid.“One moment.” Turning to

the Marquis, she asked,“Do I understand that it isyour intention to have JimcarriedtoFelicity?”

“You do.” At herpuzzled expression, heunbent a fraction. “It iscloser, you know, and myvalethassomeexperiencewith the setting of brokenbones.”

“Closer?” Caroline wasawareofEstelle’shandonher arm, the fingers

pressingintotheskin.“Yourealizethistrackis

in some sense theboundary between BeauReposandFelicity?Whereit departs from the surveyline it becomes a bridlepath,whichwehavebeenusing as a shortcut to thebarns behind the mainhouse.”

“I see. We are mostgrateful then for anyserviceyoumaybeableto

rendertoJim.Ifyouwouldbe so kind as to send amessage to Beau Repos,you need not trouble withus—”

“I could not leave youhere alone, nor could Iallow you to wait here fordeliveranceindiscomfort.Imust insist that you returnto Felicity with me. Whenyour hurts have beenattended to, I will bedelighted to drive you to

BeauReposmyself.”“My lord, you cannot

have considered oursituation. Even mypresence would not beenoughifitbecameknownEstellehadpaidavisittoabachelorstronghold.”

“You will be happy tolearnthatIhaveinstalledahousekeeper, a lady ofsufficient age andrespectability to sootheeven your sense of

propriety. Come, youcannotrefuse.”

With Jim lying injured,Estelle clinging to her inmingled entreaty andweakness, and Mathilde,discovering her splintersand a scraped elbow,beginningtocry,itseemedheartless tostandarguing.Caroline agreed, though amoment later, like Estelle,shedoubtedthewisdomofdoingso.

The housekeeper, aMadameReau,wasa thinwoman with iron-gray hairworninplaits,anddressedin a plain gown of graycambric starched until itclashed, rather thanrustled, as she walked.Combined with her whiteapronandstoutshoes,thegarment gave her anunmistakably bourgeoisappearance. Her mouthwas set in a straight line,

andherblackeyesbehindsteel-rimmed spectaclesseemed never to blinkexcept when she lookeddown to check the time,whichshedidoften,onthesteel-encased watchpinned to her flat chest.The singularly hard,prolonged blink given atthis time gave theimpressionthatthewomanfound it incredible so littletimehadpassedsince the

last time she looked, andequally incredible that theperson with her was stillkeeping her from goingaboutherbusiness.

That she was anexceptional housekeeperwas evident. Felicityglistened; there was noother word for it. Thesoaring Corinthiancolumnsofthefrontporticoshone dazzling white, asdid theoutsidewall,which

was set off by blue-greenshutters.Thestairrailinginthe entrance hall gleamedwithpolish.Thebeautifullycarved and inlaid furniturewhichstoodabouthadthepatina that comes fromage and diligent rubbing.The walls were hung withlinendamask,thewindowswith Lyons velvet andSwiss muslin. The floorswere laid with soft,shimmering carpets from

Europe and the Far East.The countless gold-leafmirrors which hung abovethefireplacesandbetweenthe windows reflected thefaceted brilliance ofchandeliers which wouldnot have disgraced achateauinFrance.

In Caroline’s opinion,the effect, thoughbreathtakingly lovely, wasnotnearlysowelcomingasthe practical, rather

cluttered comfort of BeauRepos. The rooms wereelegantbutnotparticularlyinviting.

The housekeeper hadbeenwaitingas thoughoninstructions when theyarrived. She led the wayupstairs to a sumptuousbedchamber featuring acarved bed with soaringspiral posts, ciel de lit,footboard, and headboardhighlighted in gold leaf.

Thecieldelitwascoveredwithstraw-coloredsilkandhungwithawhitemosquitobaire weighted at thebottomwithgoldbraid.

Thebed,with theotherpieces that went with it tomake the suite, fascinatedEstelletothepointthatshecould barely bring herattention to bear on thetask of removing theravages of their accident.Caroline could have

admitted to a share ofcuriosity herself. It was soindisputably a woman’sbed they were looking at,designed with a woman’spleasureandsmallvanitiesinmind.

Their toilettes repairedasbesttheymightbe,theirsplinters and variousscratches, grazes, andbruises treated, the threedescendedtothesalon.

Their host awaited

theminthatroom,atrayofrefreshments ready tohand on a console table.He had used the timesincehe left them togoodadvantage, changing fromhis riding clothes into afrockcoat,freshlinen,andbreeches. He looked sodebonair and unrumpledthat Caroline cast him ajaundiced glance beforeshe took the chair heindicated.

“IhaveEnglishtea,”hesaid in the dulcet tonesused to tempt a sullenchild.

She could not resist aquickglanceofanticipationinthedirectionofthesilvertea service with the potreposing under a genuineknitted tea cozy. Such apleasure was practicallyunknown at Beau Repos.Withallthegoodwillintheworld, neither her

employers nor theirservants could be broughtto see why she did notprefer chocolate or coffeeas they did. Andconsidering the black, ink-likebrewservedup toherin thenameofpekoe,shehad come slowly to theirwayofthinking.

Nowareluctantsmilelithergrayeyes,likethesunafterrain,asshelookedingratitudeatthemanabove

her. Satisfied with thetransformation, he turnedtogreetEstelleandinquiregravely after Mathilde’sinjuries.

“And Jim?” Carolineasked when he hadfinished admiring the littlegirl’sbandagedfinger.

“Restingintheinfirmarybehind the bake house.Hislegissplintered,buthehas a demijohn ofMonongahela beside him

and the attention of halfthe scullery maids to takehismindoffthepain.”

Asmallfrownappearedbetween Caroline’s brows.“I had not thought — Isuppose it would be bestto leave Jim where he isforadayortwo?”

“Somymansays.”“M’sieur Delacroix will

regrettheinconveniencetoyouexceedingly.Iamsurehe will say I should have

had the groom brought toBeauRepos.”

“Ibegyouwill not let itdisturbyou.IwillexplaintoM’sieurDelacroixhowitallcame about. As to theinconvenience, thinknothing of it. I am sureM’sieurwoulddothesameforaservantofmine!”

“Yes,naturally—”“Eh bien,” he said in a

voice which brooked nomore discussion. “It is

natural to me also. May Iask you, MademoisellePembroke, to pour teasince I am without ahostess?”

Estelle was inclined topout at not being singledoutforthishonor,untilshenoticed Rochefort’ssardonicgazerestinguponher. Dropping her lashes,she accepted the cup oftea offered her with goodgrace. Showing great

fortitude, she evenmanagedtopraiseit.

Mathilde, receiving herteadilutedwithmilk,madeinroads on the plate ofcakes, tarts, andmeringues. Theconversation she left tothose who, for somereason she could notperceive, preferred talkingtoeating.

Caroline was pouringRochefort a second cup

when the door opened toadmitVictor.

“They said I would findyouhere,”hebeganasheclosed the door andadvanced toward them.His gaze made a quickreconnaissance of theroom, as if he felt theirnumber to be inadequate.Seeing the teapot poisedover Rochefort’s cup, hechecked for a perceptibleinstant,anarrestedlookon

his face, before hecontinuedforwardtotakeaseat on the settee besideMathilde.

“Tea, Victor?”Rochefortmurmured.

His cousin swallowedvisibly. “If you please,” hesaid finally as he sawCaroline was waiting forhisdecision.

When the cup wasplaced in his hand he satstirring the hot liquid as if

uncertain what to do withit. He looked up at last. “Iheard in the pantry justnowofyourmishap.Itrustthat other than yourservant the damage wasminor?” Assured that itwas, he went on. “Yourelieve my mind. I fearedsince MademoiselleAmélie Delacroix is notherewithyoushemightbelyinginjuredabovestairs.”

“Nothing so

calamitous,” Carolinehastened to reassure him.“She wasmerely reluctanttoputasideherapronlongenough to accompany us.She is overseeing thecleaning girls, youunderstand. I do hope wemay expect to see you atBeau Repos tomorrowevening?”

Therestrainedfervorofhis answer was all shecould have wished.

Thoughtfully she stareddown into the darkreflective surface of hertea. Quiet, introspectiveAmélie would be bettersuited to Victor Rochefortthan to the Marquis.Madame would not, ofcourse, be pleased withsuch a match. WhatAmélie felt, if anything atall,wasunknown.Shewassuchabiddablegirl,dutifulin the extreme to her

parent’s wishes. Carolinecouldnot think itwouldbedifficult for her to bepersuaded tomarrywhereher heart was not given.To give him credithowever,Rochefortdidnotlook like a man to besatisfied with a dutifulbride.

Glancingup,she foundthe Marquis’s gaze fixedonher,hislookexactlythesame as when he had

chided Estelle with awordless,sardonicsmile.

On the far side of theroom from where the teatablehadbeensethungagroup of exquisiteminiatures. Most of thesmall paintings were ofpeople, but one was of alarge stone mansion,almost a castle, andanother depicted a ship.For lack of some otherplace to look, Caroline

found herself staring atthem. She narrowed hereyes, the better to makeout the minute details offacial features, clothing,and the formal gardenbeforethemansion.

Abruptly Rochefort setdown his cup and stoodup. “Before you go,MademoisellePembroke, Iwish you would give meyouropinionofmy‘Folly.’”

“Your what, my lord?”

She turned puzzled eyesuptohimashesteppedinfrontofher.

“My Folly,” he said,ruthlessly removing hercup from her hand anddrawingher toher feet. “ItisakindofsummerhouseIam constructing in thegarden. Its primarypurpose is to provideshade, a seat, and a viewat the end of a walk. Youmusttellmeifitwillserve.”

It seemed she had nochoice except to complywith his whim. With theothers trailing after them,they traipsed out of thefront door and down thesteps, making their wayalong thebrickpathwhichled through the clippedboxwood of a formalgarden. The path woundacrossasmallstreamandup the side of an artificialmound. The Folly was

perched on top of thisvantagepoint.Anoctagon-shaped structure, it wascapped with an oniondome.Arabesquewindowspierced seven of its eightsides, stretching frombenchlevelabovethefloorto the ceiling. Inside, thefloor was laid with acolorful stone mosaicpatternofbirdsandflowersand trailing vines. Thewallswerenotyetfinished,

nor was the bench thatwould be used for sitting.Still, there was enoughworkdone to givean ideaof how the summerhousewould look whencompleted.

“Well?” the Marquisprompted.

“It is enchanting.Anyonemustlikeit.”

Estelle, stationed at abackwindow,saidoverhershoulder, “It’s marvelous.

The dome matches thecovers on Felicity’s watercisterns.”

Victor bowed. “Amasterlytouch,Ithought.”

“You see how modestheis,”RochefortsaidinanasidetoCaroline.

“Well, I think it mosthandsome and anuncommonly inspiredidea,” Estelle declared,dimplingatVictor.

“Ah, if only all females

had your excellent taste,Mademoiselle,”hereplied.

“Now that I look at it,”Estelle continued with herhead cocked on one side,“it also bears aresemblance to thebelvedereontherooftopofFelicity.”

“Very true. For thatinspiration you mustcongratulateJean.”

“Must I? Then I do sosincerely. I have always

heardthatthebelvedereisinrealityadomeabovethethird-story ballroom. Is itindeedso?”

“Quite true.” TheMarquis very carefully didnotelaborate.

“InthepastFelicityhashadabsenteeowners.Theballroom was never used,which has always seemedagreatshametome.”

“Yes,” he answered, alookinhisgreeneyesthat

might have beenamusementoraspeciesofaffectionateindulgence.

“It must be wonderfullythrilling to dance beneaththe dome and look up tosee the stars and moonshininginthenightsky.”

“Estelle—” Carolinesaidwithawarningtoneinher voice as she saw hercharge inching nearer andnearer toaskingRocheforttohostaball.

“Itmustbe,”heagreedsolemnly.

Estelle opened hermouth, then closed it,daunted by both hergoverness’s warningglance and Rochefort’sexpression. It crossedCaroline’s mind that thegirlwasabitmoreafraidofreceiving another snubfromtheMarquisthanofascoldingfromher.

Rochefort took up the

subject without furtherprompting. “The troublewitharrangingaball isthelack of a hostess. Awoman to oversee theaffair lends a certainnecessary propriety.Without it, most motherstend to suspect an air ofdebauchery about theproceedings.Theybecomereluctant to allow theirdaughterstoattend.”

Estelle gave an

unhappy nod. “I see. But— could not yourhousekeeper serve in thatcapacity?”

“If she were related tome, she might, but she isnot. In any case, shewould not be comfortablein such a role, being toomuch of the — I do notwishtosaylowerclass—”

“I understand perfectly.Sheisnotofthecrèmedelacrème.”

“You have it in aphrase,” he agreed.“However,thetimehasnotyet come for despair,Mademoiselle. There maystill be something that canbedone.”

Estelle opened hereyeswide in a trick newlylearned to indicatequestioning wonder, butRochefort would not bedrawn. A short time laterCaroline suggested it was

time theymade a start forBeau Repos. They drovehomeward in the pinkafterglow of a setting sunand foundonarriving theirbaskets of greenerywaiting on the steps,deliveredbeforethem.

The date of the soiréedawned bright and clear,turning extra warm aboutmidmorning. Littlebreakfastwaseaten in thehouse and less luncheon.

M’sieur Delacroix, harriedat every step by womenwhofearedhewould trackthe polished floors or dentthe cushions in the salon,got into his curricle anddroveoffinthedirectionofBonne Chance. Anatoleescapedthehubbubbythesimpleexpedientofstayingabed in the garçonnière.M’sieur Philippe took abookofpoetryand,movinga chair outside into the

shade cast by thatplastered outbuilding, satdowntoread.

Caroline did not havemuchmore to do than thetutor at that time of theday. Estelle was busilyembellishing the housewith her hard-wongreenerywhileAméliewasdirecting the arrangementof the chairs in the salon.Caroline,topreventherselffrom offering advice that

might be unwelcome,stepped out onto thegallery.

Shewas just in time tosee Theo, bareback onone of the plantationmules, riding away alongthe top of the levee.Frowning a little, shestared after him. He wasoften gone these days,slipping away beforedaybreak, coming homewhen it was too dark to

see.Hewasabsentmindedat times, even secretive,as if his mind were onotherthings.

Stepping to thebannister, Caroline calledtothetutor.

M’sieur Philippe closedthe volume he wasperusing upon hisforefingertomarkthepageand,rising,trodacrossthenewlycutgrass.Comingtoa halt below Caroline, he

made her his best bowwith his book of lovepoems held across hisheart.

“You called,Mam’zelle?”

“Yes, M’sieur. Do youknow where Theo goeswhenhe leaves thehouseofamorning?”

The tutor allowed apained expression toregister for an instant onhis face. “You wished to

speaktomeofTheo?”With a sinking feeling,

Caroline took notice of hisromantic pose. Shedecided on the momentthat ignoring suchposturing might be themost efficacious remedyforit.

“Ofcourse,”sherepliedwith a show ofcarelessness.“Whatelse?”

M’sieur Philippe lookednonplussed, then a crafty

glint lit his eyes. Hewinked. “I am not slow ofunderstanding,” he said,then continued in anoverloud tone, “I amdesolate that I cannotanswer you, Mam’zelle.Theo does not see fit toconsidermeaconfidant.”

“You have no ideawherehemaybegoing?”

“None.”“Didn’tyouthink itwise

toknow?”

M’sieur Philippe drewhimself up. “I am theteacher,not thekeeper,ofyoungTheo.Mine isnotanaturethateasilystoopstospying.”

Caroline eyed him, asharp retort hovering onthe tipofher tongue.Onlythe knowledge that thetutorwasnotwhollyatfaultheld it back. They shouldall have been morewatchfulofTheo.

Agreat squawking andflurry of wings distractedher. The upheaval camefrom the pigeonnier, thelargeplastereddovecotetothe right of the house,which balanced thegarçonnière on the left. Itwas the gardener’s boyscatching pigeons fordinner. The succulentsquabswouldbedeliciouswhen served at the table,butCarolinedidnot like to

think of the beautiful,iridescent birds beingslaughtered and divestedof their plumage. With amuttered excuse, she leftthe tutor standing andhurried back into thehouse.

Despite Caroline’smisgivings, thehousewasbeautiful when the timedrewnearforthegueststoarrive. Greenery waslooped in garlands up the

outsidestaircase.Apairofwreaths backed theflambeaux burning at theentrance doors. Inside,bouquets made airy withfern were reflected in themirror-like surfaces of thefurniture. The housesmelled of roses andmagnolias, beeswax, andthe spicy scent of myrtle-waxcandles.

The serenity was all inappearance, however.

From the direction of themaster bedchamber,M’sieurDelacroixcouldbeheard bellowing for hisbest shirt studs andcastigating his valet for afumble-fingered nitwit. Hehad returned home latefrom Bonne Chance andfound that Theo hadpurloined the bath waterleft heating for him.Consequently,hewas latedressing. Mathilde, after

being a part of thegathering of thedecorations for the soirée,was objecting strenuouslyto being excluded from it.Estelle, standing outsidehermother’sboudoirdoor,wastearfullydemandingtoknow why she must haveherhairdressed inexactlythe same style asAmélie’s. Theo alone wasdressed. Intent on thegreat feast in store if not

on the dancing afterward,he was happily dentingcushions in the salon andwhistlingshrillythroughhisteeth.

Atthesoundofcarriagewheels, all hubbubmagically ceased.Colossus made one lastinspection of the houseservants designated asfootmen, pulled on hispristine white gloves, andmovedtostationhimselfat

thedoor.Madame erupted from

herchamberinthegloryofviolet muslin over blacktaffeta. On her head shewore a Turkish turbancomposed of black-and-violet-striped cotton withdouble poufs centered byanup-standingplumeheldin place by a brooch.M’sieur,informalregaliaofknee breeches, stockings,and pumps, was not far

behind her. Améliemovedcalmly into place in herwhite muslin with whiteroses in her hair. Estelle,withhermaidtryinginvainto place one pin more tosecure her white roses,joined the reception linejust as footsteps wereheardascendingthestairs.

And then, secondsbefore Colossus swungopen the door, Tante Ziziemerged. She wore a

powdered wig that swepthigh into curls and poufsornamented with loops ofpearls and bunches ofsatin ribbon. Her gown ofpalest celestial blue had asquare neck filled in withtinyfrillsoflaceandelbow-length sleeves with fallingcuffs interfaced with lace.The wide overskirt wasdraped over panniers andopened in the center toreveal a petticoat of

cascadinglaceruffles.Thepale color and the faintlyyellowed lacewerekindtoher wrinkled skin. Theheaddress, an odditycertainly in this age, gaveheracuriousdignity.

Madame Delacroix’sface flushed alarmingly. ItwasseldomthatTanteZizicondescended to bepresent at one of herentertainments, much lessputting herself forward in

the grande toilette of theFrench Court, which mustinevitablyremindeveryoneof things better leftforgotten. One did notwash one’s soiled linen inpublic.Still, itwas too latenow for changing. UponTante Zizi’s own head beit!

It was not long beforeMadame couldcongratulateherselfonthesuccess of her soirée. It

began to look like acomfortable crush, witheverysingleguestshehadinvited, save one, puttinginanappearance.Shehaddone her best to see thatthis would be so. Thegroomwhocarriedaroundthe cards had beeninstructed to go first toFelicityandascertainifthegentlemen intended tohonortheircards.Ifnot,hewas to return to Beau

Repos, and the soiréewould be changed toanother more acceptabledate. If acceptance wasassured,thegroomwastoproceed on his appointedrounds, making certain ateach stop that the lady ofthehousenotonlyhadtheopportunity of turning overthe remaining invitationswhile searching for herown, but that she alsoknew who would be the

guestofhonor.The single guest who

failed was FletcherMasterson. He sent hisregretsbothtoCarolineaswell as to his nominalhostess,pleadingbusinessengagementsintown.

Caroline, in a gown ofjonquil muslin with yellowrosessetamonghercurls,took first turnat thepiano.Though she did notprofess a great talent for

music, she was acompetent pianist. Herfingers moved over thekeyseasily,allowinghertokeep an eye on thedancers. In just such amanner she had played inthe past week whileM’sieur Philippe, anacknowledged dancingmaster, had capered withAmélie and Estelle,polishingtheirperformanceof the quadrille, the

gavotte, the contredanse,and,ofcourse, thewickednewwaltz.

The tutor, in the fullglory of cerise satin andthe doubtful lace, waspresentalso.Hissurname,an ancient and honorableCreole appellation,guaranteedhisacceptancedespite his status in theDelacroix household. Inaddition, he wasresponsible for the skill on

the dance floor ofmany ayoung lady from theneighboring plantations,andcouldbedependedonto rescue his protégéeswholookedliketheymightbe left to sit partnerlessbeside their mamansmakingtapestry.

M’sieur Delacroix ledthewayontothefloorwithhis eldest daughter. TheMarquis sacrificed himselfto a coquettish gesture

from Madame, and Victormade his bow beforeEstelle.With theway thuspaved, the floor becamecrowdedwithcouples.

Thesalonof thehousehad been thrown open bymeans of a porte àcoulisse at one end. Withthese folding doors open,the small sitting roombecameapartoftheotherroom, forming a grandsalonthroughthecenterof

thehouse.Everyinchofthespace

was needed as thecompanyswungwith spiritinto the fast-movingcontredanses. More wouldnothavecomeamiss.

As the eveningprogressed and thedancers becameoverheated, the outerdoors were thrown open,and the level of thecontentsinthepunchbowl

setup in thepantrybegantosink.

Except for the Marquisand his cousin, all theguestswereneighborswellknown to each other.Among them there waslittle ceremony, nor didthey extend any to thestrangers in their midst.Unlike England, where anintroduction performed bya third party would havebeen necessary before

anyonecouldhavespokento the new owner ofFelicity, here the fact thathe was accepted by theDelacroix family wasenough.

Rochefort wasbesieged, there was nootherwordfor it.Thesightwas not without a certainhumor as determinedmamans with white-claddaughtersintowsoughtbyfair means and foul to

bring their offspring to hisnotice. Theman could notstand still a momentwithout two or three girls“accidentally” droppingtheir dance programs athis feet, or as Theo,standing beside Carolineto turn the pages for her,put it, shedding scarves,handkerchiefs, and bits ofribbon like chickens inmoult. If Rochefort satdown, he was nearly

pushed from the setteebyfemales jockeying for theseat beside him. If heappeared with a glass ofpunch, every girl in sightdid her best to appear tobe perishing from thirst. Itwas no wonder he tookrefuge by dancing againand again with Amélie.She was a good dancer,she had the knack ofmaking light conversationwithout seeming to cast

about too desperately forsubjects,andshemadenoeffort to clingeither duringthe dance or when it wasover. These attributeswere to be counted overand above her gentlebeauty.

Estelle came in for hershare of dances with theirhonored guest at first, butsince she tended to showbysmallgestures,aflirtofher skirt, the toss of her

head, that she consideredit a triumphover theothergirls,Rochefortsoonfailedto seek her out. Sheconsoled herself bycreating havoc among herbrother’ssetoffriendsandsingling out HippolyteGravier for specialattention. She bade fair tobeingabletosay,allinall,that shehadnot satdowna minute the whole nightlong.

“Doyounotdance?”Caroline looked up to

findTheo’splace takenbyRochefort. He stoodwaiting to turn the music,awaitingalsoheranswer.

“Certainly,butsomeonemustprovidethemusicfortheothers,”shesaid.

“Afatereservedalwaysfor the governess, I makenodoubt?”

“Justso.”“Are you resigned, or

do you thinkat some timetoexchangeyour state forapleasanterone?”

“I findmypresentstatemost pleasant, my lord,”sherepliedinacooltone.

“That isn’t an answer,butletitgo.Iwishyouwillnot go on calling me ‘mylord’ in that starched-upvoice. It gives me thedistinct feeling that I ambeingputinmyplace.”

“I never realized you

were out of place.” Sheventured a glance at him,her eyes alight withlaughter.

“No,Icanseethat.”“Oh?” she said, unable

to resistabitofdrolleryathis expense. “I had begunto wonder at your powersofobservationsinceIhaveseen you step over anynumber of droppedhandkerchiefs and suchtriflesthisevening.”

“HalfblindImaybe,”hesaid, leaning closer, “butyou must credit me withbeingnimbleoffoot.”

Caroline hit a wrongnoteandmadea recoverybefore she dared risk aswift glance upward. TheMarquis’s face was bland,though a warm light,perhaps a reflection fromthe candelabra on thepianoforte, shone in hisdeepgreeneyes.

Asthemelodyshewasplaying came to an end,Rochefort nodded acrosstheroom.“AndnowhereisAmélie coming, I think, torelieve you. If you areagreeable, you shall havean opportunity to try hownimble-footedIam.”

There were only a fewdances more beforesupper. Caroline chidedhimwithhidingbehindherskirts for protection from

thematchmakingmamans.Regardless, he still circledthe floor with her twicemore, relinquishing heronly to Victor and Anatolerespectively before takingherintosupper.

She might haveguessed that such a stateofaffairswouldnotescapeMadame Delacroix’snotice. That lady camebearing down upon whereCarolineandRochefortsat

with Amélie and Victor.There was a militant lookin her eye and her bosomheaved with indignation atthesightofhernobleguestofhonorseatedbesideherdaughter’s Englishgoverness.

Caroline did not fearthe woman’s wrath,knowing it to be mostlybombast, but she had agreat dislike of publicscenes.

Athersuddenstillness,Rochefort looked up,followinghergaze.Afrowndrewhisbrowstogetherforan instant, then withsmilingaplomb,herose.

“Madame Delacroix,”he said, “I was just abouttogoinsearchofyou.Youaretobecongratulatedonthe magnificence of yourentertainment. Truly youare an entrepreneuse parexcellence. I have been

cudgelingmy brains tryingto decide whom I mightasktoserveasmyhostessfor theball Imean to giveto christen Felicity. IbelieveinyouIhavefoundthatlady!”

His hostess wasstopped in midstride.Speechless pleasure heldher silentwhile her spleendissolvedasifithadneverbeen. Finding tongue, shegushed, “Oh,my lord, you

aretookind.”

5

FOLLOWING THE soiréeat Beau Repos the socialpace of the surroundingcommunity picked upconsiderably. There were

morning calls withoutnumber.Thevisitingcardsaccumulatedinpilesintheentrance hall. There wererouts, levées, andbreakfasts al fresco givenby the hopefulmamans ofyoungbeauties.Aconstantstream of grooms bearingbaskets of invitationsflowed back and forthalongtheleveeroad.Theyalways stopped at BeauRepos.Itwasalamentable

butrecognizedfactthatthebest way for a hostess toinsure thepresenceof theMarquis and his cousin ather entertainment was tosecurefirsttheacceptanceof the party from BeauRepos.

Frivolity andamusement became theorder of the day. Theladies of the Delacroixhouseholdtooktosleepinglater each morning,

keepingwhatamounted totown hours as their daystook on much the sametempo as the winterseason. Madame, herpregnancy confirmed,redoubled the time shespent on her chaise. Itpreparedher,shesaid,forthefatigueofescortingherdaughters to theiramusements.Occasionallyshe allowed Caroline tochaperone the girls alone,

but she never allowed hercondition to prevent herfrom attending the mostelaborate of the eveningparties held in the vicinity.Soon enough she wouldhavetoretirefromsightofallexcept familyandclosefriends.Shedidnot intendtohastenthatseclusion.

Fletcher Masterson,riding up to the front doorofthehousetendaysafterthe soirée, found only

Caroline awake enough tobe dressed and out uponthe gallery. He was notdispleased. Tossing thereins of his gelding to awaiting stableboy withinstructions to walk theanimal, he mounted thesteps. Colossus waited atthetoptorelievehimofhishat and riding crop.Refusing refreshments,FletcherturnedtoCarolinewithhisslowsmile.

“IhopeIdon’tcometooearly?”

“Not at all,” Carolinesaid, giving him her hand.“If you see little stirringabout the place, it isbecausewearerecoveringfromthe latestpassofourcurrent round of gaydissipation. Do you intendto be at Cypress Grovelongenoughtojoinus?”

A grave look crossedhis face as he took the

placeshe indicatedbesideher. “Rumors of what youare pleased to call yourdissipation havepenetrated even to NewOrleans. I fear mytemperamentisill-suitedtosuch. However, I hope togivemyselfthepleasureofstandingupwithyouattheballofournearneighbor.”

“You heard ofRochefort’s ball in townalso,Iapprehend?”

He nodded. “Orders ofthesizeandvarietyasthisfellow has placed with thesuppliers make quite astir.”

“Isupposetheydo.”“A commission house

like mine must of coursebe grateful for suchgestures of hospitality.Still, there is an aspect oftheaffairIcannotlike.”

“Oh?” Caroline saidhelpfully as he came to

pause, indecision writtenlargeonhisface.

“While in town Ichancedtospeaktoaladywho enjoys acorrespondence withMadameDelacroix.Sheletfall that Madame is to actin theplaceofRochefort’shostessfortheoccasion.”

“Thatiscorrect.”“Meaningnodisrespect

to the lady, I think I haveher measure. I foresee a

greatdealofextralaborforyou in the undertaking;laborwhichcannotbyanystretch of the imaginationbesaid tocomeunder thedutiesofagoverness.”

Carolinedidnotattemptto deny it. “I shall notmind.”

“There is anotheraspect,” he went ondoggedly, looking awayfrom her smile. “Youcannot have considered

the appearances. Youmust of necessity be inclose contact with theMarquis. I know you thinkyour age and station willprotect you from theconsequences of floutingthe conventions, but it willnot do to be seenovermuch in privateconversation with him, orto be seen at Felicitywithout properchaperonage.”

“I appreciate yourconcern,” Caroline beganin cool tones only to bestopped by an upheldhand.

“I realize only too wellthatyouhavegivenmenorighttoconsidermyselfthearbiter of your conduct.Nevertheless,Ifeelitismyduty to prevent you frominadvertently placingyourself in a position youwillfinddistasteful.Youwill

perhaps take my meaningif I tell you that while intown the Marquis wasknown for his associationwith female members ofthe cast of the Théâtred’Orléans.”

Inamomentof insight,two things were madeplain to Caroline. The firstwasthepuritanicaloutlookofthemanatherside.Thesecondwasthereasonforhisextraordinaryvisitona

day that was not theSabbath and at a timebefore noon to boot. Hewas jealous. Despite thereasons he gave, he wasfearful of her associationwiththeMarquis.

Raising her head, shesaid,“Ifailtoseehowthatconcernsme.”

Fletcher Mastersonactuallyflushed.“Youmustsee—”

“Iseeyouconsiderany

attentions paid to me byRochefort cannot, mustnot,behonorablebecauseas a governess I ambeneath suchconsideration. I thankyou,Mr.Masterson!”

“No, upon my honor Imeant no such thing. Imeantonly towarnyou tohave a care of yourreputation.”

“Your concern isunnecessary. May we not

talkofsomethingelse?”They did so, but it

availed them little. HardlyhadFletcherembarkedonan explanation of thebusiness that had takenhim into town when thesubject of their previousconversation was seentooling his phaeton alongthe road and up the driveofBeauRepos.

Rocheforttossedacoinand a smile to the eager

boy who leaped for hisreins. There was no needfor instructions. The boybegan at once to care fortheMarquis’shorseswhiletheir owner trod up thesteps. The manner inwhichRochefortflippedhiscurly brimmed beaver andhis stick to Colossus,accepting the offer of aglass of Madeira, spokealoud of familiarity.Caroline could feel the

disapproval of theAmerican, and hisantagonism.

“I trust I see you well,”Rochefort said, bowingoverher hand, thengivinga curt nod to the manbesideher.“Masterson.”

“Rochefort.”Carolinereturnedacivil

answer to the Marquis’sinquiry.Therewasasmallsilence.

Fletcher cleared his

throat before initiating apleasantry about theweather. It was Carolinewhoanswered.Oncemoreconversationlagged.

Hisexpressionearnest,the large American swungsuddenly to Caroline. “Imust not forget. I don’tmeantopushmynoseintowhatdoesnotconcernmeor to suggest any sort ofnegligence, but are youaware of young

Théophile’sactivities?AsIwas driving along thelevee, I saw him withanother persondisappearing into thewoods in what I can onlydescribe as a suspiciousfashion.”

“A suspicious fashion?”Caroline queried, a frowndrawing her browstogether.

“They clearly did notwishtobeseen.”

“The actions of a boyTheo’s age cannot becontrolled like, those of anursery tot,” Carolinepointedout. “Inanycase Itake leave to doubt thatTheo is involved inanything underhanded.” Itwasallverywell forher towonderatTheo’sabsence;her loyalty rose up inprotest when anyone elsecast a doubt upon thepurpose of his activities

awayfromBeauRepos.Fletcher, in affront at

her acerbic tone, inclinedhishead.“Imusthopeyouhavetherightofit.”

“Perhaps I can shed aray of light on thismystery.” The Marquis,crossing one booted footovertheother,enteredtheconversation. “To the bestof my knowledge, Theo,with the aid of Jack, theson of my overseer, is

engagedinbuildingaraft.”“I might have known,”

Carolinesaid,relieflendingthe smile she sentRochefort an extra degreeof warmth. “He has everbeen mad for anything todowithwater.”

“A raft?Tobeusedonthe river?” Fletcher askeddoubtfully.

“Theo is a levelheadedboy. I’m surehewould donothingreallydangerous.”

Fletcher gave her afond smile. “Boys are notrenowned for recognizingdangerwhentheyseeit.”

Undismayed, Carolineinformed him, “The riverholds little menace forTheo; he swims with theeaseofafish.”

Fletcher subsidedthough he did not appearconvinced.

“How does Jim thegroom go on?” Rochefort

asked, claiming Caroline’sattention.

Themanhadbeensenthome from Felicity only afew days before.Agreeably surprised thatRochefort should concernhimself any further,Caroline answered. “He’smending nicely, hobblingabout with the aid of astick. He’s quite the envyof the stables for hissojournwithyou.”

“I suspect his famerests on his attempt torescue the ladies of BeauRepos,” Rochefort replied.“Honor enough, surely, foranyman.”

Caroline responded tosuch a flagrant piece ofgallantrywith aplomb, andthe conversation movedinto easier channels. TheMarquismade no effort tointroduce the purpose ofhis call, nor did he inquire

the whereabouts of eitherM’sieur Delacroix or theyoungladies.

Caroline might havebroughtmatterstoahead.An odd reluctance, fueledby the frequent puzzledglances Fletcher cast inRochefort’s direction,preventedher.

Under any othercircumstances, the visitwould have been anexcellent opportunity to

discuss the arrangementsfor theball,but in thefaceof Fletcher’s disapproval,Caroline felt a sense ofconstraint.Itwasridiculousto let his preachings onpropriety trouble her, shetold herself; still she couldnot find a way of bringingthe talk around to thepreparationswithoutgivinga totally erroneousimpression of the footingon which she stood with

the Marquis. HeretoforetheirdiscussionshadbeenheldwithMadamepresent,ostensibly giving herassistance in theproceedings. The mostformal circumstances hadprevailed. ThoughRochefort was cordial, atnotimewashismanner inthe least encroaching; farfrom it. At times,Caroline,taking down the list of hisrequirements, felt that for

all his awareness of hershemighthavebeeninhisemploy rather than that ofMadameDelacroix.

Perhaps becauseFletcher was present,perhapsbecauseMadamewas not, on this occasiontheMarquisdidnot see fitto mention the ball. Whenhis Madeira arrived, heidled over it for the lengthof a discussion of croprotation and the latest

advances in agriculturalpursuits with Fletcher.Setting down his emptyglass,hegottohisfeet.

By all rights, Fletcher,with the prescribed lengthof time for his call at anend,shouldhavebeenfirstto take his leave.Rochefort, his adieusmade to Caroline,surveyed the stolid figureof his neighbor firmlyseated in the chair beside

her. Humor flashed in hisgreen eyes as he inclinedhishead.

“Do you go my way,Masterson?” he asked.“Perhaps youwill bearmecompany. There is adrainage problem in thewest field. I wouldappreciateyouradvice.”

Nothing could havebeen better calculated toarouse Fletcher’s interest.Caroline watched the

struggle that animated hisfeatures with somethinglikesympathy.Itwasnotinhis nature to bedeliberately rude or todecline a call upon hisknowledge of the subjectdearest to his heart —aftercommissionprofits.

The Marquis’s motivesinpresentinghimwith thatchallenge were harder tounderstand. It might havebeen no more than pique

at Fletcher’s obviousdistrust.Itmighthavebeena reluctance to leaveanother man in gloatingpossession of the field.Caroline was under noillusion of his need foradvice. Fromhints he hadlet drop, she knewRochefort had everyconfidence in his overseerandwasengagedwithhimin an intensive programofsoil replenishment and

reclamation in preparationfor planting the followingspring. The questionoccupied her mind longafter the dust from thedeparture of the two mentogether had settled uponthedrive.

Madame was notpleased to discover thatthe Marquis had paid avisitwhilesheslept.

“Why was I notsummoned? And Amélie

and Estelle also? Youmust have known wewould have thrown on ourclothes and put in anappearance. You cannothave thought we wouldnot. Whatever possessedyou to sit entertaining ourguests while we layasleep?”

Caroline had no readyanswer. True, Rocheforthad not asked for theladies,butneitherhadshe

offeredtorousethem.Shecould tell herself hewouldnot have allowed it; shecould plead the confusionof the moment, theantagonism between thetwomen;itwouldnothavebeen the strict truth.Thoughtlessness? Vanity?She refused to considerher motives. Sheapologizedand,withsomedisturbance of mind, wentaboutherduties.

The date of the balldrew nearer. The list ofitemspertainingtothefinalpreparations grew longer,andstilltherehadbeennoopportunity fora lastclosediscussion with Rochefort.Madamehadseen to that.With single-mindeddetermination, shemonopolized thatgentleman and, when shewas not holding hisattention with

conversation, foundexcuses to send him offwithoneortheotherofherdaughters. Rochefortseemed to have noobjection to viewing thegarden, seeing the twilighton the river, or any otherdiversion, lending himselftoallwithanairoftolerantamusement. He waspleasedtohelpAméliesortembroiderysilks,toplayatécarté with M’sieur

Delacroix or backgammonwithTanteZizi,ortoshowAnatole the finer points ofturning a curricle and pairin tandem. Not once didCaroline see boredom onhis fine, chiseled features,a thing she felt she hadeveryreasontoexpect.NoLondondandywouldhavesuffered himself to be soused, she knew. At least,notwithoutgoodreason.

One morning Caroline

awoke to the realizationthere were only two daysremaining until the ball.Decorations, flowers,dancecards,adaisforthemusicians, theselectionofthe music, the placementof those who wouldreceive, and dozens ofotherdetailswhirled inherbrain. There was no helpfor it, she must speakprivately with Rochefort.Shedreadedtheconfusion

whichmustcertainlyensueif she did not. And if shewas not to be allowed todo so when in company,then she must arrange tosee him alone. The surestwaytoaccomplishthiswastogotoFelicity.

At the thought hercourage misgave her.Despite the presence ofthe housekeeper, it wasnot at all the thing for ayoung woman to set out

deliberatelytopayacallata bachelor establishment.Shehadverylittleconcernfor appearances; still shefelt a distinct aversion togiving anyone theopportunitytosayshewaspursuing the Marquis deRochefort.

It was Anatole whosaved her blushes.Lounginginfromthediningroomwithhisgold-headedivory toothpick protruding

fromhismouth, he repliedto her query that he wasup early because of hisintention to practicefeather-edging the curvesof the river road in hiscurricle. He was just ashappytohavesomeoneupbeside him to applaud hisnewfound prowess. If shewished to stop off atFelicity, well, he often didso himself. Rochefort wasnever backward with the

offer of a glassofwine.Agrand fellow, the Marquis,un gentilhomme parexcellence! He alwaystreatedoneasaman,wasnever patronizing. Heneveracceptedanexcuseforfailure,either,butwhenone did his best, anexcusewasnotneeded.

Caroline,clingingtothecurricleseat,smiledatthisbit of philosophy, thoughnot unkindly. There had

beenagreat improvementin Anatole over the pastweeks. He had lost muchof his indolence, and helapsed less and less intohisposeasaboredmanofthe world. He evenventured to showenthusiasm on occasion.Themostdramaticchangewas in his dress. Gonewere the florid colors, theexcess of ornamentation.He lookedwhathewas,a

carefree young man ofamplemeansandabrightfuture.

Their attention wascaught by the warningblastofasteamwhistle. Itwas the General Jacksonracing along with a fullheadofsteamanditsflagsflying. The obstacle in itspathwasakeelboat,whichobligingly veered towardtheriverbank.Espyingthecurricle with its comet tail

of dust, the ladies on thesteamboat dock wavedandAnatole liftedhiswhipin reply as they graduallydrewahead.

They did not findRochefortwithindoors.Hehad ridden out with Victorandhisoverseertoinspecta newly installed canepress. The butler showedthem into the salon andwent away, perhaps toconfer with the

housekeeper, for thatworthy woman swept intothe room a few minuteslater.Hereyebrowsarchednearlytoherhairlineatthesight of Caroline, but sheput on a stiff smile andinformed them that shehad sent a messengerafter M’sieur le Marquis.With that she left themsitting, staring at eachother, Anatole in buddingwrath and Caroline torn

between amusement andchagrin.

The minutes tickedpast, marked withprecision by the ormoluclock upon the whitecarrara mantel. Thehorrible suspicion that sheshould not have comegrew in Caroline’s mind.Nervously she playedwiththe fringe on a cushion,then sprang to her feet towalktothewindow.

Itwasnotlikehertobesoagitated.She couldnotunderstand it. Theappearance of thesteamboat upon the riverbeyond the muslin-drapedglass was a welcomediversion. The GeneralJackson, with anannouncing whistle,swerved toward thelandingofFelicity.Backingits wheel, it eased up tothedock, threwout a line,

andletdownagangway.A lady dressed in

yellow muslin over silk,with a lace-edged parasolheld over her stylish coal-scuttle bonnet, steppeddaintily to the levee.Following her was astevedore with anenormous trunk on hisback.Hetookonestepforher twoandwalkedwithagatelegged swagger tokeep from overtaking her.

Behind him came a maidweighted down with arattan case and acollectionofbandboxes.

Anatolemovedtostandat Caroline’s shoulder.“Whodoyousupposesheis?”

A horseman had comeintoview.ItwasRochefort.He dismounted before thesteps to stand with handsonhips,watchingthesmallprocession.As,thewoman

in yellow caught sight ofhim, she gave a squealwhich penetrated even tothe salon. Flinging herparasolaside,sheranwithoutstretchedarmstothrowherself against his chest.Heboretheonslaughtwithfortitude, clasping her tohim.Asthewantonheldupher mouth for his kiss,Caroline turned sharplyaway.

Anatole, fighting to

remove the flimsy muslincurtain obscuring hisvision,whistled. “My faith,”hesaid.“Ithink—Ibelieve— It is! It’s MadameFrancineFontaine! Iwouldknow her anywhere, sawher five times last seasonattheThéâtred’Orléans.”

Carolinebarelyglancedover her shoulder. “I’msure Iwouldn’t know,” shesaid in stifled tones.For along moment she stood

still, then she began afrantic search for herreticule.Shefounditunderacushion.Placingitonherwrist,shewasjustabouttocommand Anatole to seeher back to Beau Reposwhenthetalldoubledoorsat the end of the roomswungopen.

Rochefort steppedthrough with the womanfrom the steamboatclinging to his arm.

“Forgive me for keepingyouwaiting,Mademoiselle,Anatole. Allow me topresent to you an oldfriend,MadameFontaine.”

Anatole had been rightastothewoman’sidentity.The swift thought passedthroughCaroline’smindofthe ladies she had onceknownwhowouldhavecutdead on the spot bothRochefort and hisparamour. Ladies did not

acknowledge anintroduction to an actress.She inclinedherhead inafrigid bow that had little todowithoutragedpropriety.

Rochefort raised aneyebrow,hisgazepiercingas he studied Caroline’sflushedface.

Anatole’s stammeredacknowledgement at anend, Rochefort scannedthe room. “You have nothad refreshment? How

does this come about?”Steppingtothebellpull,hegave it a vigorous tug.Whenthebutlerappeared,hewasmade to answer afewpithyquestions.

“It was Madame Reau,the housekeeper, maître,”the butler said. “Sherecommended that weawaityourpleasure.”

“Inform Madame Reauthat I will see her in thelibrary.Shemay ‘awaitmy

pleasure’ there until Iarrive.”

Caroline, observing thetightnessabouthismouth,suspected that somethingmore than thehousekeeper’s derelictionof duty had incensed him.Ashisgazerakedoverheroncemore,Carolinefoundher hands gripping herreticule so tightly herfingertipsfeltnumb.

MadameFontainegave

a high laugh, her blackeyes roguish. “How fierceyouare,Jean.Imighthaveknownyouwouldruleyourhousehold with the sameiron hand with which youruled—”

“Why are we standingabout?” Rochefort said,cuttingacrosstheactress’scomment withunaccustomed rudeness.“Let us sit down likecivilized people. I can

guess, Francine, why youare descended upon me—”

“Butyes,thegrandball!Invited or not, you couldnot expect that I wouldmiss it!” She sounded gayand assured, but the lookshe sent him was a trifleuncertain.

“We shall see,” he toldherandignoredherpouttoturn to Anatole. “Let mehear what brings you to

Felicity.”Anatole hastily

withdrew his bemusedattention from the whiteshoulders of MadameFontaine which wererevealed by her extremedécolletage. “It wasCaroline,”hesaid.

Feeling a strong desiretothrottletheboy,Carolinefumbled her list out of herreticule. “Yes, the — thepreparations for the ball.

There are several pointsthat need — that needdiscussion.”

“Indeed? I believeVictor has most of thedetails well in hand. I begyou not to tax yourselfundulyoverthisaffair.Thatwasnevermyintention.”

“I — I appreciate that.StillifIcouldjustknowoneor two small things, itwouldrelievemymind.”

“Of course. If I can

persuade Anatole toentertain MadameFontaine for a fewmoments,wewillwithdrawtoyondercorner.”

“That isn’t necessary,”Carolinebegan, but itwastoolate.Afirmhandunderher elbow brought her toherfeetandsteeredherinthedirectionofasettee. Itwas so narrow that whenthey were seated hisshoulderbrushedhers.

She had always beenaware of him as adangerously attractiveman, but never to thedegree she felt at thismoment. Her mouth wassuddenly dry. Shemoistened her lips beforespeaking.

“IamsorrythatAnatoleand I forced ourselvesupon you. I felt it wasimperative that I consultyou, and there has been

noopportunityoflate.”“No,” he replied, his

eyes restingon the tendercurve of her mouth. “Weareseldomalone,arewe?I’mafraidthisaffairhasnotproceeded exactly as Iplanned. Still, that cannotbe helped, since we mustkeepupthefictionthatitisMadame Delacroix whowillbemyhostess.”

Caroline glanced athim,thenlookedaway.His

bluntness made heruncertain.Didhemeanherto understand he wouldhavelikedtobealonewithhermoreoften, orwasheindicating that the womanhe would have chosen toact for him had only justarrived? The first seemedso unlikely that shediscarded the ideaimmediately.

“The list,” shemurmured, pushing it

toward him. He hesitated,then, accepting her lead,tookthepaper, thoughtheexpression about hismouth was a shadegrimmer.

Theyranovertheitemsquickly. As Rochefort hadsaid,Victor,inhiscapacityas secretary tohis cousin,had attended to themajority of the details inquestion.Carolinewas leftwith the feeling that her

concern was needless,that the Marquis’s staffwas capable of managingallwithoutherhelp.

“Is therenothingelse?”Rochefortasked.

“Nothing,my lord,” sheanswered, folding thepiece of parchment andputtingitaway.

His eyes narrowed ather formal address. “Inever suspectedyouwerea snob, Mademoiselle

Pembroke.”“Ibegyourpardon?”“It is obvious,” he said,

meeting her startled gaze,“thatyoudonotapproveofmy guest, and therefore Iaminyourblackbook.”

Caroline liftedher chin.“It is not my place toapprove or disapprove ofyourguests,mylord.”

“No. Remember that,please. And rememberalso to prevent yourself

fromcallingmebymy titlein that high tone, or beready to accept theconsequences.”

His face was inchesfromherown.Shehadtheabsurd idea that if shedidnot obey him hemeant tokiss her. She swallowedhard,droppinghergazesothat her lashes made fanshapes on her cheeks.“How should I addressyou?”

“Jean is my givenname. I make you free ofit.”

Itwasalsothenamebywhich the actress hadcalled him. Caroline knewreluctance to follow soquickly in her path. Shestared at her fingers,clenchedinherlap.

“Well?’“ he prompted,his voice holding apersuasivetimbre.

“Holà, mon ami,” the

actressbrokeinupontheirabsorption. “Is this adiscussion you conduct ora seduction? You neglectyour other guests,specificallyme.”

Color mounted in asuffocating wave toCaroline’s face. She wasscarcely aware ofRochefort helping her toher feet and leading herbacktotheothers.

“Oneday,Francine,ma

chère, someone will wringyour neck,” Rochefortdrawledtothewomanwhowalkedbesidethem.

Throwing her headback in a provocativegesture that showed thelovely lines of her throat,theactressonlylaughed.

The day of the balldawned cloudy. The airwascool,and therewasamistontheriver. Itdidnotrain, but neither did the

gray threat of it go away.As they bounced along inthe ancient berlin thatserved as a familycarriage, Estelle leanedforwardtopeerthroughthewindow.

“I suppose it will pourbeforetheeveningisover.Such a waste! The parlormaid toldme the servantsat Felicity have beenhangingcoloredlanternsinthe gardens for days,

hundredsofthem.”“Be pleased not to

fidget, my love,” Madamesaidfromthecornerofthecoach.“Youwillcrushyourgown.”

Estellepulledafacebutsettled back obediently.With careful fingers, shesmoothed imaginarycreases from the skirt ofher blush-pink silkembroidered in white. Hereyes were bright with the

excitement that grippedthem all. The feeling thatthis would be a specialnightwasapalpable thingwithin the confines of thecarriagefilledwithfemales.Madame’s color ran highas she surveyed herdaughters. Amélie lookedaboutherwithatremulousanticipation. Caroline satupright with her handsclasped in her lap as if tohold on to her precarious

composure.The steady thud of

horses’ hoovesaccompanied them. Toleave more room for thedresses of the ladies,M’sieur Delacroix, his twosons, and their tutor rodehorseback. With thecoachmanandagroomonthe box, it was animpressive cavalcade thatroiled up the drive to thestepsofFelicity.

Lantern light, aided bythe flare of torches, threwa golden path of welcomeacross the portico. As thebutler showed them intothe salon, Rochefort andVictorgottotheirfeet.

“Here we are at last!”M’sieurDelacroixsaidwitharoguishsmile.“Idohopeyouhadnotgivenusup.”

Rochefort bowed overMadame’s hand. “Not atall. Iknewyour lovely lady

wifewouldnotfailme.”Madame simpered

under his approving gaze,watchingwithabenigneyeasheturnedtoAmélieandEstelle. Caroline receivedno more than a nod asMadame claimed hisattention once more,demanding to be shownthe ballroom and thearrangements for the latesupper. Rochefortcompiled, and the rest

troopedbehindthem.Caroline, dropping

behind the others, couldnot prevent herself fromlooking about for somesign of the actress. Shefound none. No doubt thewoman was still abovestairs,dressing.

The ball was wellunderway before she wasabletosatisfyhercuriosity.Rochefort, claiming theprerogative of host, had

ruthlessly chosen the twodances he desired fromthe programs of each ofthe ladies from BeauRepos. When the secondwaltzbegan,hepresentedhimself before Caroline,swinging her out onto thefloorbeforeshecouldutterthe excuse trembling onherlips.Hermovementstothe lilting music blendedperfectly with his. His armabout her waist was firm,

his guidance sure. After amoment,shefoundherselfenjoying the dance almostagainstherwill.

Drawingbackalittle,hesaid, “You see? You didnotreallywishtorefuse.”

“No indeed,” sheanswered, steadying hervoice with an effort. “Howcouldyouthinkit?”

“You had everyappearanceofbeingaboutto snub me in my own

ballroom.”“IhopeIamnotsorag-

mannered.”“No, not if taken by

surprise. Then youbecome stiff with thefamous English reserve. Iwonderwhatyouwouldbelike if you did and saidexactlywhatyoupleased?”

“Insufferable, I don’tdoubt.”

“Or enchanting,” hesaid.

Caroline refused to lifthereyesabovethelevelofhis pure white cravat. Asthey whirled she caught aglimpse of them in one ofthe pier glasses that linedthe walls reflecting thedancers, multiplying theirnumbers. She saw a tallfigure in a black coat ofsuperfineandgrayeveningbreeches holding a girl inMediterranean-bluemuslin. The dark head

inclined toward the blondeone, giving the impressionof intimacy between them.An instant later theimpression was gone asother dancers intervenedbetween them and themirrorimage.

“Youareangrywithmebecause of Francine —MadameFontaine.”

She nearly gasped athis casual introduction ofthe name. Involuntarily,

she flickedhimanupwardglance. His expressionwasserious,evenstern.

“Itisnotmyplace—”“Mon Dieu!”‘ he

exclaimed wrathfully, “ifonce more in my hearingyou mention your place Iwill not be responsible forwhatIdo!”

Caroline stiffened, hergray eyes stormy. “Myemotions can be of noconsequencetoyou.”

“Allow me to be thejudgeofthat.Fornow,lookabout you. Look at thepeopleinthisballroom.DoyouseeMadameFontaineamongthem?”

Caroline could notresistaquickglance.

“Doyou?”heinsisted.Goaded, Caroline said

sharply,“No!”“Do you wish to know

why?”“Notparticularly.”

“Because she wasuninvited.Thatbeingmadeplain to her, she foundurgent reason forjourneying on to Natchezonthesteamboat.”

Caroline knew afleeting sympathy for thedepartedwoman.Fromthegrim curve of Rochefort’smouth,shethoughtitcouldnot have been a pleasantinterview.

“My lord,” she began

withelaboratecalm.There was a balcony

that opened out from therear of the third-storyballroom. With a glidingturn, Rochefort whirledCaroline out throughFrench windows onto itsdimlylightedexpanse.

Out of view of thoseinside,Rochefort drewherclose.Hisarmsweresteelbands which held hermotionless. “I did warn

you,”hesaid,alownoteofamusementinhisvoice.

A shaft of excitementpierced the armor ofCaroline’scomposure.Shefeltatremblingdeepinsideasherstrengthseemed todeserther.

“Caroline?”The moment was

shattered as Victorstepped through thewindow. Rochefortreleased her with a soft

imprecation.“Y-yes?” Caroline’s

voice was distressinglyunsteady as sheanswered.

Victor looked from oneto the other before hespoke. “Amélie sentme tofindyou.LikeaclumsyoafI have stepped on aflounce of her gown andtorn it. She begs you toassistherinpinningitup.”

“Of course,” Caroline

murmured, and reenteredthe ballroom without abackwardglance.

When she let herselfinto the retiring room setaside for the use of theladies,Amélieswungawayfrom themirror where shewas patting her curls intoplace.

“Oh, Mam’zelleCaroline. It was good ofyou tocome.Therewasamaid on duty, but she

couldnotmanage the tearwithout its lookingobviously repaired. Thatwould not do at allbecause I particularly toldVictor it was the merestrent, easily hidden. I willnot have him flayinghimself with remorse onmyaccount.”

Caroline made herselfsmile. “I’msure somethingcan be done. Let me seethedamage.”

“Why, Mam’zelle,”Amélie said as Carolineknelt to pick up the hem.“You are as pale as aghost.Areyouwell?”

“Perfectly,” Carolineassuredher. “Iwonder if itwould be possible to havethe use of a needle andthread, if there are suchthings in thisestablishment?”

Amélie nodded. “I wastold I might ring for

whateverIrequired.”“Verywell.Doso!”With the essentials in

hand, the repairs did nottake long. Caroline andAmélie soon joined theothers. Victor, as thoughlying in wait, whiskedAmélie onto the floor themomenttheyemerged.

The music justbeginning indicated aquadrille. The nameopposite the dance on

Caroline’s program wasFletcher Masterson. Shehad no more than lookedabout her for the locationof the party from BeauRepos when she saw herscheduled partner bearingdownuponher.

“There you are. I’vebeen looking for you thispastquarterofanhour.”

Caroline was in nomood for explanations.“You have foundme,” she

replied and gave him herhand to lead her into theset.

There was not muchopportunity forconversation as themovement of the danceforced them to part andcome together, and inanycase most of their breathwas needed to keep upwiththeswiftpace.ForthisCarolinewas thankful.Herrelief was short-lived.

Following the dance camean interval in which themusicians and dancersalike took a well-earnedrest. Fletcher showedevery indication ofspendingtheintervalatherside. Hoping he wouldaccept it as a dismissal,Caroline requested him toreturn her to the chairsreserved by Madame andher two daughters. It didnotserve.Madame,whose

presence might havediscouraged him, was onthe farsideof the room inanimated conversationwitha lady inaNile-greenturban, while Amélie wasstanding some distanceaway with Victor andRochefort in attendance.Only Estelle, surroundedby her court; was left tohold their places. Theclamor of six high-spiritedyoung men, each

demanding to be allowedtotakeEstelleintosupper,proved no bar to adiscussion of theeconomies of entertainingbyFletcher.

“Look at the candles,look at them. There mustbe thousands, and nomyrtle wax, either.Beeswax, importedbeeswax. I daresay thecost of the candles alonewould keep a reasonable

manforthebetterpartofayear. Silver worth a king’sransom. And ice, real ice!Theysayhehadaspecialshipment brought in bysteamboat from north oftheOhio. A terriblewaste,terrible. Think of themoneyspentforsomethingthat will melt away beforethenightisover.”

“Youmust admit it is anoblegesture.Andaslongas he can afford it, we

have nothing to complainof.”

“Thatisn’tthepoint,”heanswered, a testy note inhisvoice.

“Whatisthepoint?Thatyou could think of betterways of spending hismoney?” Caroline had notmeanttosoundquitesoill-natured, but the wordswere out before she couldstopthem.

“My dear Caroline.

Surelyyouagreethatsuchprofligacy is to bedeplored?Icouldnothavebeen so mistaken in yourcharacter.”

Contrite, Caroline gavehim her best smile. It wasnot fair to take her oddhumor out on him.“Tomorrow I will deplorehis shocking waste of hisresources. Tonight I havea craving for a cup ofpunch cooled by some of

that hideously expensiveice.”

By the time Fletcherreturned and the punchwas drunk, the musicianshadmountedthedaisoncemore.Theo,dressedinhisfirstsetofeveningclothes,stepped forward to claimhis dance with her. Heswungherwithahardywillthrough a contredanse,thoughhehad little to sayfor himself. Caroline was

not too surprised; the boywas an indifferentconversationalist at best,so involved was he in hisownpursuits.

“Are you enjoyingyourself at your first largeball?”

“Huh? I beg pardon,Mam’zelle?”

Caroline repeated thequestion.

“I’ve been to dancesbefore,” he answered, his

attention moving from theskylight of the belvedereoverhead to the windowsthat led to the balcony.“Wasthatlightning?”

“I don’t know, I didn’tseeit.ThedancesatBeauRepos can hardly beclassedasballs.”

“Isupposenot.”Hisanswerwasvague,

though he had switchedhis attention to the figurebeingcalledinthedance.

“Is anything thematter?”Carolineasked.

“Matter?” His headcame up. “Why shouldanythingbethematter?”

Hisvoiceheld the rightamount of surprise andcuriosity. Carolineshruggedandpasseditoff,though she still had theniggling feeling that someformofanxiety,orperhapsexcitement, gripped him.Another time she might

have probed deeper, butnotthisnight.

TheFrenchwindowstothebalconywereopen,aswere the tall windows thatlinedthewallsbetweenthepier mirrors, and yet theonlyairthatstirredwassetin motion by the dancers.Theatmospherewithin theroom grew moreoppressive as the eveningwore on. The ladies’ fanscame into vigorous play.

Faces were flushed andcurls began to fall in thedamp heat. There was arunonthepunchbowl,andsoon, despite the bestefforts of protestingmamas, couples began towind their way down thestairs to the coolness ofthegardens.

It might have beenunwiseofCarolinetoelectto join them whenM’sieurPhilippe made his bow

beforeherforthequadrille,butshecouldnotbear theprospectoftakingthefloorwithhim.Itwasnotthathewasnotagooddancer;hewas.Itwashisstylewhichwas at fault. He had atendency to make anexhibitionofadancewhengiven a partner ofanywhere near equal skill,executing complicatedsteps and sweeping turnswhich practically

compelled all otherdancers to yield themajorexpanseofthefloortohim.

“You are quite certainyoudonotwishtodance?”he inquired with aconsciously gracefulgesture of one hand, halfcovered with lace, towardthefloor.

“I trust you are notdisappointed,” Carolineanswered,hertonegrave.

“Notatall.”Hetouched

his forehead, his lips, andhis heart in a flourishingbow. “Your wish is mycommand, my dear. I willescortyoutothedepthsofhellifyousowish.”

Caroline smiled, layingher fingers on the arm heoffered. “I would prefersomewhereabitcooler.”

He made no reply.Onceinthedimnessofthestairwell lit only bycandelabra on the

landings, she thought shesaw his thin lips curl in asmile tinged withsatisfaction.Asmallshiverof distaste passed overher, but she conquered it.With a lift of her chin shetold herself she was wellable to correct anymisconception the tutormightbeentertaining.

A fitful wind lifted thesoft blonde tendrils of hairon Caroline’s forehead as

she stepped out into thedarkness.Comparedtothenoisy, overwarm ballroom,thegardenheldasenseofpeace. It was possible toignore the rustling of thewind in the trees, themoving shapes, and thelowvoices that came fromthedimness.

She sighed, permittingM’sieurPhilippetoleadherfarther from the house.The path to Rochefort’s

Folly or summerhousepresented itself, and theytook it, wandering alongwithout speaking as themusic grew fainter behindthem.

The brick path leadingto the elevation on whichthe summerhouse stoodwas damp and slipperybeneathherthinslippers.Itwasa relief to standuponthesmoothmosaicfloor,toturnandgazeat thedark,

ripplingsurfaceoftheriver.The moon had retreatedbehind a ceiling of darkclouds, but the waterseemed to holdluminescence enough toshow the winding watercourse.

Behind them Felicityshonewiththeyellowglowof candles.Theglassed-inbelvedere above theballroom, reflecting thelight in the huge chamber

below,castbeamsintothenight likeabeacon. Itwasa beacon which might beneeded.Onthefarhorizonthe lightning Theo hadspied earlier flickered,followed by the distantboomofthunder.

“Mam’zelle, you aresublime tonight, a visiontoo beauteous for humaneyes,” M’sieur Philippebreathed,movingsoclosetherufflesonhisshirtfront

brushedherarm.She stepped away,

tryingalightlaugh.“Surelynot?”

“Iassureyouitistrue.Ihardly dare to gaze uponsuchwondrousfairness.”

Hiswarm,moist breathon the back of her necksent the first hint of alarmalong her nerves. “Youexaggerate,asalways.”

“It is not possible toexaggerate such — such

—?”“Feminine pulchritude?”

Carolinesupplied.“Youarepleasedtotoy

with me. I do not mind,knowing you must turn tomeintheend.Whydoyoutorture me by making mewait? Come into my armsnow,thismoment.”

A sharp retort rose toher lips, but she checkedit. He stood between herand thedoor,and itwould

be undignified to grapplewithhim.

She took a steadyingbreath. “You haveindicated before that youthink I am enamored ofyou. What have I everdone to give you such animpression?”

“Nothing whatever, machère. You have beendiscretion itself. Myknowledge came fromanothersource.”

“I don’t understandyou.”

Catchingherelbow,hefollowed her arm to herhand which he raised tohis lips. “One who knowsyour heart toldmeof yourattractiontome.MayIsayI have never been sogratified in my life as themomentIlearnedofit.”

“My dear sir,” shebeganinprotest.

“Nay, I will not permit

you tobeembarrassedbyyour love,” he said,drawinghernearer.

As his lips moved onher fingers, Carolinesnatchedherhandawayindisgust. “Have done, sir!”she cried, using her otherhand to hold him at arm’slength. “I demand to knowwho has told you such anabsurdtale!”

“Shesaidyoumight, inyour pride, deny it. You

seeme,allunderstanding.Castasideallpretense,mybeloved, and let us behappy.”

“Stopit!”shesaidashepossessed himself of herhandoncemore. “I donotlove you, I don’t carewhosaidso!What I feelat thismoment comes closer topurestdislike.”

“Donotsayso.Youaredistraught, my heart.” Hisarmsas theyclosedabout

her were surprisinglystrong. She felt thehardnessofhisshirtstudsagainst her breast, andthen his face came downtoward hers, blocking outthe light. She twisted andturned, avoiding his lipswhich slid wetly over hercheek.

“Let me go!” shepanted,strikingathimwithher fists, but the blowsmadenoimpressiononthe

paddedsatinofhiscoat.Abruptly she was free.

There was a flurry ofmovement, the soundof ablow, and the tutor wentflying into the wall of thesummerhouse. The sill ofthe low wall at one of thewindow openings caughthim behind the knees.Unable to stophimself, hecrashed through and, withayelp,wentsomersaultingdowntheslope.

A sound between alaughandasobcaught inCaroline’s throat. Herknees were suddenlyweak.She put out a handfor support to one latticedwall.

“Areyouall right?”Thetone was abrupt,unceremonious. Rochefortwas not even winded byhisexertion.

“I — yes, I’m perfectlyall right,” she managed

afteramoment.“I trust my intervention

wasnotunwelcome.”“No,”shesaidfervently.

“No,itwasnotunwelcome!Imustthankyouforit.”

“It seems your night toberescued.”

Was there a hint ofhumor in that lastcomment? She could nottell.“Yes,”shesaidbriefly,and waited for him toexplain how he had come

to be so fortunately tohand.

He did not oblige her.“When you are sufficientlycomposed,Iwillescortyoubackinside.”

“Yes,” she answered,aware of a stab ofunreasoningdisappointment. “Madamewill wonder what hasbecomeofme.”

M’sieurPhilippedidnotreturn to the ballroom, the

only eventuality for whichCarolinefoundcausetobegrateful the rest of theevening. Fletcher hadmarkedherdeparturewithone man and herreappearancewithanotherand was inclined to besullen. The fact that sherefused to satisfy hissuspicious queries did notimprovehisdisposition.Hehad the temerity tocommunicate his

displeasure to Madame inthe course of aconversation betweenthem while Caroline tookthe floor with Anatole. Notunnaturally, that lady’scuriositywasaroused.

Fletcher, looking a bitshamefaced, was justmoving off when Anatolereturned Caroline to hismother’s side. Madamewaitedonlyuntil bothmenwereoutofhearingbefore

commencing her attack.“So!Iunderstandyouhavebeenseeninthegardeninthe company of twodifferent men. I haveoverlooked the freedomwith which you havedisported yourself on thedance floor tonight,Mam’zelle, but this I willnot tolerate. I think youknowsuchflirtationsinthedark are unbecoming in afemale ofmy household. I

demand that you explainyourconduct!”

“Imustaskyou toholdme excused,” Carolineanswered as she caughtsight of Estelle andHippolytemakingtheirwaythrough the press ofpeople toward them.“There is not time to tellyoujustnow.Thematterisratherpersonal.”

“What is personal?”Estelle, catching the last,

askedinsaucygaiety.“M’sieur Masterson

seemstofeelCarolinehascaused some sort ofaltercation between twogentlemen in the garden,”hermotherreplied.

“No!” Estelle soundedintrigued. “Which twomen?”

“Please,”Carolinesaid,butshewasignored.

“She was seen leavingthe ballroom with our

M’sieur Philippe andreturning in some hastewith the Marquis. Sherefuses to explain,therefore she must be insomewayat fault.Doyounotagree?”

Estelle said nothing. Aworried frown drew herbrows together. She metCaroline’s eyes, thenlookedquicklyaway.

“Don’t you agree,Estelle?”

Estelle glanced at hermother. “What? No. No, Idon’t see that Mam’zellemustbeatfault.Therearedozens of otherexplanations; hundreds,even.”

“It isalwaysthesame,”Madame lamented to noone in particular, thoughHippolyte moved restivelyas her accusing gazetouched him. “Never am Isupported by my own

blood. They take anotherviewpurelytoannoyme,Iknowtheydo.”

Theremighthavebeenmore if Rochefort had notchosen that moment topresent himself, solicitingAmélie for the supperdanceshehadpromisedtohim.

Supper was a tediousaffair. Dancing had giveneveryonesuchanappetitethat they crowded about

the food-laden tables. Theselection brought toCaroline by Fletcher wasuninspired, a poorrepresentation of themarvelousvarietyofexoticdishes available. It did notmatter, she could notswallow a morsel. Shesipped a glass ofchampagne to ease hertightthroatandplayedwithher fork. Though Carolinesuspected him of using it

as an excuse to avoidconversation, Fletcherseemed to feel no lack ofappetite. He ate his waysteadily through threeseparate platefuls, thenasked Caroline if sheintendedtoeatthesliceofturkey breast left on herplate.

The champagne on anempty stomach gaveCaroline a headache. Itwas,allinall,areliefwhen

Madame declared aftersupper that they had hadenough frivolity for oneevening.

Duringthelasthourthedistant storm had drawnnearer. Standing beneaththeporticowaitingfortheircarriage to be broughtround, they could see theflare of lightning reflectedintheriverandfeel the jarofthunderthroughthefloorbeneath their feet. The

rising wind fluttered thelight skirts of their eveninggowns and tugged at theendsof theirshawls,whilethe air seemed chargedwith energy. NothingRochefortcouldsaywoulddissuade Madame,however. She insisted onleaving.

As the Marquis hadpredicted, the rain caughtthem halfway home. ThedashupthestepsofBeau

Repos left them all damp,disheveled,andcompletelyout of sorts, a conditionCaroline credited withsaving her from thesummons from Madameshehadexpected.

According to Colossus,thetutorhadarrivedhomehours before and wastuckedupdryinhisbed.

6

DESPITETHELATENESSofthehour,Carolinecouldnot sleep. Her mind wasfilled with images of thethingsthathadtakenplace

during the evening. Theyhaunted her, returningagainandagainnomatterhowhardshe tried toshutthemout.At lastshegaveup the battle and laystaring into the dark,listening to the steadilyfalling rain, trying to sortoutherfeelings.Itwasnotaneasytask.Shehadrunthegamutfromexcitementthrough anger andresentment to fear. Poor

Fletcher. He could notunderstand her. Smallwonder; she could notunderstand herself. Shefound it difficult to forgivehim for pouring out hisgrievance toMadame; stillshe could not hold agrudge.Herbehaviormusthave seemedincomprehensibletoamanwho had every right tobelieve she was notindifferent tohim.Shehad

received him when hecame to call, had madeherself agreeable. Unlessshewaswillfullyblind,shemust have seen the trendhe was taking when hesingled her out with hisweekly visits. The troublewas, she had been blind.She had accepted hisfaithful attendance withouta thought for theconstruction he might putupon it.Thathecould feel

he had some claim uponher affections had nevercrossedhermind.Oh,shehad toyedwith the ideaofmarriage as an alliance ofthe only two English-speaking residents of thedistrict. In truth, shesuspected that was hergreatest attraction forFletcher. She had alwaysknown she must refusesuch a cold-bloodedarrangement. Itwasnot in

her character to dootherwise.

With M’sieur Philippethe situation was entirelydifferent.Tryasshemight,shecouldfindnoreasontoaccuse herself ofencouraginghim.Shehadher suspicions as to thecause of his suddenpassion.Ifshecouldprovethem,shewascertainshecould put an even moreeffective end to his

persecution of her thanhad been brought aboutalready.

At the memory of thetutor’s undignified descentfrom the summerhouse,Carolinechuckled.Hehadbeenwellservedforgoingabout pouncing on ladiesin thedark.Shewonderedif his satin breeches hadsurvived such Turkishtreatment. If only she hadbeen rescued by anyone

otherthanRochefort.Whatmust he think of her! Notthat it mattered, she toldherself, flouncing over inbedandgivingherpillowafierce thump. She was byno means certain that thehonorable Marquis wouldnot have behaved inexactly the same mannergiventhechance.

What did he want ofher? Since he hadremained single this long,

itwasdoubtfulheintendedto alter his state for thesake of an Englishgoverness.Howdidheseeher?Asfairprey,afemalealone in the world for allpracticalpurposes,withoutprospects, withoutprotectors? Perhaps hethought she would behonored to grace his bedwithout benefit of clergy?No, more than likely hewas indulging in nothing

more than a mild flirtationto enliven his stay in thecountry. He had chosenher to receive hisattentions because heconsidered her of an ageand position to expectnothing more. Of the twopossibilities, she could nothave said at that momentwhich she found lessappealing.

Toward morning thestorm returned in all its

fury.Thunderrolledaroundthe house and lightningflashed continuously. Therain marched across thecypressshinglesoverheadin windblown sheets,drowningallothersound.

Caroline raised herselfonherelbowtolisten.Theconstant, keening windhadalmost thesoundofahurricane, though sheknewitwastooearlyintheseason. On impulse, she

threwbackthecoversandslid out of bed.Sleepwasmadedoubly impossible inthisweather.Shemightaswellgetup.

By the time she haddressed in a gown of lightblue cambric, the rain hadbeguntoslacken.Givingalastpat to the lowchignonon the nape of her neck,she let herself out of herroomandstartedalongthehall.

A sound, like theslamming of a door, drewher up short. She stoodstill, protecting her candleflame from draughts withher cupped hand. Whocould be abroad at thishour, on such a day?M’sieur Delacroix wouldnot even think to ventureout to inspect the damagedonebythestormuntiltherainhadstopped.

After a moment she

movedon.Shemusthavebeen mistaken. Perhapsthere was a jalousie blindloose. These had beenclosed over the windowsthe night before by theservants. Or the morningmight be more advancedthan she thought due tothedarkeningeffect of therainclouds. If theservantswere stirring, there mightsoonbeacupofcoffeetobe had. That was a

welcomethought.She had left her Berlin

embroidery in the sittingroom.Workingat itservedto pass the time. Whenthat palled, she threw ashawl around hershoulders and went tostand on the back gallery,staring at the falling rain,watching the drenchedgarden take shape in thegraduallyincreasinglight.

It was there that

Colossus found her as hetrod up the stairs from hisroom on the lower floor.“Mam’zelle!”hesaidwithastart.“Ithoughtyouwereaghost, standing there inyour pale gown. Here,come into the salon and Iwill bring your morningcafé. That should warmyourbones.”

His concern warmedherasmuchasthecoffee.Ashe fussed,bringingher

a footstool, asking if shewanted a roll or tattler totide her over until thebreakfast croissants weretaken from the oven,Caroline wondered howmuch he guessed of herproblems. It was wellknown that theservants inaFrenchCreolehouseholdkept abreast of the affairsof those they served. Itwould not surprise her tolearnthatColossuswasas

well aware of what hadtaken place the nightbeforeasshewasherself.

The sound of hoofbeatsbroughtherheadup.Shesetdownhercupandgottoherfeet.Atthetreadof booted feet on thesteps, she nodded toColossus to unbolt thefront door. He swung itopen to reveal Rocheforton the gallery using thelyre-shapedfootscraperto

clean the mud from hisboots. Rain dripped fromthe brim of his low-crowned hat and beadedthe oilskin cape that hungfromhisshoulders.

“Good morning,Colossus,” he said andlooked past the butler towhere Caroline stood inthe hall, giving her a civilbow. “Could you tell me ifyoungTheoisinhisbed?”

“Idon’tknow,M’sieur.I

have not looked in thismorning.”

“Doso,ifyouplease.”“Certainly,M’sieur.”Very much on his

dignity at this peremptoryorder without explanation,Colossuswentaway todoashewastold.

“Won’t you stepinside?”Carolinesaid.

Rochefort took off hishat, shaking it free ofwater, but made no move

toenterthehouse.“Ican’tstay.”

“Issomethingwrong?”He looked for a

moment as if he doubtedthewisdomof confiding inher, then he said shortly,“Jack Pernell, the son ofmyoverseer, ismissing. Itwas thought best to see ifthetwoboysaretogether.”

“I see,” Caroline saidslowly. Theo had returnedhome with them the night

before. If hehadgoneoutthis morning, he had notused the main doors, forboth had been securelybolted. There were manydoorsandFrenchwindowswhichledoutofthehouseonto the galleries,however. The sound shehad heard earlier couldeasily have been one ofthem.

“You look as if you didnotsleepwell,”hetoldher

abruptly.“Thank you,” she

returned, smiling. “Awoman always likes toknow when she lookshaggard.”

“You should havesomething better to keepyouawakethanworryoveracapermerchant.”

“You think so?Considering the companyyoukeep,Iwouldnothavethought your standards to

besolofty.”“If you are referring to

Francine — MadameFontaine—”

“I do wish you couldmake up your mind howyou wish to call her, mylord!” The words camepouring out beforeCaroline could stop them.Itwasas if theyhadtakenuptheirquarrelwheretheyhad left off the eveningbefore. It was uncertainty

allied to an ancientprotective instinct thatcaused her to fire up soquickly.Shecouldnothelpherself, nor could sheexplainherurgentneedforprotection.

What he might havesaid or done she wouldneverknow.Hisgazewentbeyond her to whereColossus,dignityforgotten,came quickly toward themdownthehall.

“M’sieurTheo,heisnotinhisbed,” thebutler saidthe moment he was inrange.

Rochefort swore.Swinging about, heclapped his hat on hishead.

“Wait!” Caroline calledand quickly related whatshehadheard.

“What time was this?”Rochefortdemanded.

“Two, perhaps two and

ahalfhoursago.”“Didyouhearahorse?”Caroline shook her

head, frowning. “It wasraining pretty heavily. Imightnothave.”

“I heard no horse,”Colossusvolunteered.

“Heisonfoot,then.Tellme,doyouhaveany ideaexactly where the raft theboys were constructing islocated?”

Caroline shook her

head. Mutely, Colossuscopiedtheaction.

“I should have made itmy business to find outwhen Pernell firstmentioned the project,”Rochefort said unhappily.“Iwouldgivea lot toknowitisstillunfinished.”

The trend of histhoughtswasobvious.Themerepossibilityoftheideahe was entertaining drewtheir eyes irresistibly

toward the river windingbeforethehouse.Itlaylikea wide silver banner,shrouded in the mist-likerain.

Suddenly Rochefortsteppedtotheedgeofthegallery. With a hoarse,indrawn breath, Colossusfollowed. Narrowing hereyes, Caroline searchedfor whatever it was thatrivetedtheirattention.

Tree limbs torn down

duringthenight,patchesofshredded bark and rottedwood littered the wind-ruffled surface of thewater. Among so muchdebris, it was hard to pickout a single object. Still,withoutbeingtold,Carolineknew she was looking forthe square shape of a lograft.

She located it by themast,alogpoleamidshipsfrom which dangled a

flapping, bedraggled sail.With a hand over hermouth,shestoppedthecrythatrosetoherlips.Therewas no sign of anyone onboardthepitchingcraft.

Rochefort took thestairs in two bounds.Flingingasidehat,oilskins,coat, cravat, and shirt ashe ran, he made for thelevee.BythetimeCarolineand Colossus reached it,onlyhisbootsstoodonthe

earthen embankment.Rochefort, his strokesclean and strong, was inthewater, already halfwaytotheraftandswimmingatanangletointerceptit.

From this closervantage point, Carolinecould see what Rochefortmust have seen all along.Attheedgeofthetiedlogsbobbedasleekblackhead—no,twoheads.Tearsofreaction sprang into her

eyes,andshewiped themaway impatiently so thatshe could see. She couldnot tell which boy waswhich.AsRochefort camenearer a feeble shoutechoed over the water,nearlylostinthespatteroftherain.

“What isthemangoingto do? What can he do?”Colossusmuttered.

“Hewill do something,”Caroline replied, and was

amazed at how sure shewasofit.

“M’sieur Bernard, andM’sieur Anatole, I shouldgo and rouse them. Theymightbeneeded.”

“Yes,”Caroline agreed,butthebutlerdidnotmoveuntil he had seenRochefort heave himselfonto the raft anddrag firstoneboyandthentheotherupbesidehim.

For a moment,

Rochefort bent over theboys;thenhestraightened.He stepped to the mastwith its sagging sail andmade a few adjustments,andtheclothcamealive.Itstruggled in his hands,billowing, snapping tautwith its belly full of wind.Slowlytheraftcameaboutandpointeditssquarebowtowardthelevee.

Caroline watched longenoughtoseethatitwould

reach the bank downriverfrom where she stood.Uncaring of the rain ormud,shesplashedafter it.Herspiritssoared,andshewanted to laugh aloud inher relief. The knot of herhair came loose anduncoiledlikeasnakedownher back. She did notnotice. She had to keepwiping the raindrops fromhereyessoshecouldsee.Jack, Theo, Rochefort; all

weresafe.The raft was nudging

gentlyagainsttheleveebythe time she reached it.She caught the ropeRochefort tossed her,holding it taut while hehelped the boys one at atimetothewetandmuddyshore. They stumbled alittle, they were pale andblue from cold, butotherwise unhurt. Theowould have tried to

expresshisgratitude, triedto explain their escapade.Rochefort, his voice curt,stopped him. “Later,” hesaid.

With a thankful glance,theboysubsided.

Back along the riverroad could be seenrunning figures. Soonenough would come thequestions andexplanations as well aswarmdrinks, blankets, dry

clothes. Her eyes bright,Caroline turned toRochefort who stood halfsupportingJack.She liftedher gaze to his face, thenfroze,staring.

Riverwaterranfromhisblack hair, dripping downhis face and over hismuscled torso. The effectwas to pull his croppedhair back, as though itwere tied in a queue. Hehad not taken the time to

shave thismorning, and ablue growth of beardshadowed his chin andupper lip. Stripped of thetrappingsofawell-dressedgentleman, he was morethe primitive male,dominating and self-assured. The storm, thesight, movements before,of the billowing sail in hishands, combined with hisappearance to force thetruth upon Caroline. Her

mind filled with aburgeoning pain, shedropped her eyes to hisside, knowing what shewould find. It was there,thepuckeredscarofanoldwound, exactly where shehadshothim.

The man before herwas not Jean CharlesHenri, Marquis deRochefort. He was animposter, a scoundrel, aprivateer.Hewastheman

once feared by Britishmerchants, hated byBritish seamen, andcursed by the captains ofBritish ships. He was theman known, like hisvessel,astheBlackEagle.

~~~AT THE SOUND ofscratching on the Frenchwindow, Caroline raisedher head. A soft, almost

hesitant knock followed.Putting aside her Berlinwork, she moved to theglass-paned panel whichopened from Theo’sbedchamber out onto thegallery.

M’sieur Philippe stoodoutside. “Forgive me fordisturbingyou,Mam’zelle,”he said, his hand goingnervously to the ruffles athisthroat.“Iwishedonlytoinquire after Theo. How

doeshegoon?”“Very well. He is

sleepingjustnoworIknowhe would be glad to seeyou. He is to be allowedvisitorstoday.”

“Ah, that is wonderful.So brave he has been,fighting the river and thisterrible congestion of thelungs. His is a gallantheart.”

“That is certainly true,”sheagreed.

“How close thesethoughtless boys came totragedy,hein? To ride theriver on such a tiny raft insuchweather,suchagreatfoolishness, was it not?Butweneedsmustforgivethem.Itistobehopedthatthis Mistaire Pernellrealizes that our Theocould have saved himselfwith easewhen theywereswept overboard. But no,hemustriskalltosavehis

friendwhocouldnotswim.Such self-sacrifice mustsurely be rewarded with areturntohealth.”

“I think you must givesome small credit toM’sieur le Marquis. Theowas too spent by hisexertionstobeabletopullhisfriendandhimselfbackontotheraft.”

“Naturally,” the tutormade haste to agree. “MyoneregretisthatIwasnot

able to render such aservice.”

Caroline lowered herlashes to hide thecontemptinhergrayeyes.“Youswim,sir?”sheaskedinnocently.

“I regret to say I donot.”

“I see.”Shemadeas iftowithdraw.

“Mam’zelle Caroline, ifyou would tarry amoment?”

Caroline glanced atTheo to be sure theirvoices had not disturbedhim,thensteppedbackoutonto the gallery. She keptthe doorknob in her hand,lifting an eyebrowinquiringly.

“Thenight of theball, I— that is, I realize myconduct wasreprehensible. I wish tobeg your forgiveness if Ioffendedyou.”

The only thing wrongwith this most handsomeapologywas the surenessofM’sieurPhilippethatshewould grant what heasked.

When she did notanswer,hewenton.“Iwascarried away by themoment. Drunk with yourbeauty, I was tooimpetuous. I pressed youwhen I should haverespected your maidenly

reserve. You have myword it shall not happenagain. In the future I willalwaysallowyoutosetthepace in what passesbetween us. My worship,my love, nay, even mybody, is at your disposal.You have only tocommandme!”

“M’sieur,” Carolinebegan,atalossastohowto make plain that it wasnot“maidenlyreserve”that

had caused her to refusehim but a total lack offeelingforhim.

“You do not have tospeak, shy mistress, onlyallowmetokissyourhandin token of yourforgiveness.”

A quiet knock and thesoundof thedooropeninginto the room behind herdistracted Caroline at thatinstant. Before she couldprevent him, M’sieur

Philippe had taken herhand and carried it to hislips.She snatched it awayat once, but the damagewasdone.

“Ah, my goddess, mylove, you have made methe happiest of men. Butsomeone comes. Do notdespair, I will arrange allso that we may betogether.”

“But M’sieur!” Carolinecalled as loudly as she

dared. It did not serve.Sketchingahastybow,hewasgone.

Turning back into thesickroom, Caroline nearlycollided with Amélie. Thegirl drew back with a softlaugh. “Sorry. I thought Iheardsomeoneoutside.”

Caroline shook herhead, whispering, “No, itwas only M’sieur Philippeinquiringafterourpatient.”

“Oh. It will be time for

him to use his talents atentertaining soon enough.Papa thinks Theo can situp out on the gallery in adayortwo.Itwilltakeallofus making his dayspleasanttoholdhimthere.But that isn’t what I cameto tell you. Iam tositwithTheo while you have theluncheon youmissed, andthenMamanwishestoseeyouinherboudoir.”

Caroline thanked her.

Shehadbeenexpectingasummons any time thisweek. She was onlysurprised Madame hadbeensolonginsendingit.

Assheturnedtogatherup her sewing, the othergirl put her hand onCaroline’s arm “Mam’zelle—”

“Yes,Amélie?”“I—Ihopeyouwillnot

be hurt by anythingMamanmaychoosetosay

to you. We have talked itover, Estelle and Anatoleand I, and we are certainyou are guilty of nomisconduct. We would besorry indeed to see youleaveus.Idon’tknowwhatIwouldhavedonewithoutyou on the voyage fromFrance,andtoAnatoleandEstelle youare likeoneofthefamily.”

Impulsively, Carolinereached out to hug the

gentle, dark-haired girl.“Dearest Amélie, I am sograteful foryourconcern. Iaminnohurrytoleaveyoueither,soyoumaybesureIwillnotsayordoanythingtojeopardizemyposition.”

After giving the girl afew instructions, Carolineletherselfoutoftheroom.Améliewas indeed a dearchild,deservingofthebestlife had to offer. Thatincludedthebesthusband.

Somehow,shemustfindaway of telling M’sieurDelacroix that theMarquiswas an imposter. Amélie’sfatherwasthebestmantoputastop toany romanticnotions the child mighthave in that quarter.Caroline realized sheshould not have let thematterwaiteven this long.Her only excuse was thatshe had been tooastounded to take the

proper action at once, tooastounded even to speak.And then it had seemedcallous and ungratefulbeyond permission so toaccuse the man who hadjust risked his own life tosaveTheo’s.

Madame Delacroix layupon her chaise longue ina darkened room. Ahandkerchief moistened incologne water lay acrossher forehead, and a glass

of hartshorn and waterstood at her elbow. Hereyes were closed and herhands lay listlessly at hersides.

Thesmellofscentwasoverpowering. Carolineswung the door wide,hoping to create a draftthat would clear the airsomewhat. Standingprudently near theopening, she said, “Youwanted to see me,

Madame?”Madame allowed her

eyelidstoflutteropen.“Oh,it’s youat last.Besokindastoclosethedoor.”

This was not a goodsign. Grimly Caroline didasshewasbidden.

“How is my darlingson?” Theo’s motherasked in the subduedtones usually associatedwithadeathinthefamily.

“Very well,” Caroline

repliedheartily.“Heatehisluncheonwithappetite.Heis sleeping quite naturallynow and has not coughedforsometime.”

“Le bon Dieu bepraised. Three times Icameneartosendingforapriesttoshrivehim.”

“As you can see, thatwould have beenpremature.”

Caroline’s tone wasdry. Madame sent her a

sharp glance. “No doubtwe owemuch to you, andto the valor of M’sieur leMarquis, for my son’sreturntotheliving.Myoneregret is that my ownwretched health kept mefromhisbedsideatsuchatime.”

When she saw ananswer was required,Caroline murmuredsomethingappropriate,hergaze on the French

windows behind thechaise. She thought ashadow had movedbeyond the draperies, butapparently she wasmistaken.

“However,” Madamewenton,“nowthatTheoisrecovering sonicely, I feelit is time we turned ourattention to unfinishedbusiness. Icannot letyourexcessive zeal in thesickroomblindme towhat

may well prove to be aserious flaw in thecharacterofonetowhomIhaveentrustedthewelfareofmyyoungdaughters.”

Her excessive zeal!Could thewomanpossiblybesuggestingthatshehadnursedTheoinanefforttomake up for pastmistakes? “Your meaningeludes me, Madame,”Carolinesaidinhercoldesttones.

“I am speaking of yourbehavior on the night ofthe Marquis’s ball, as youverywell know. I declare Iwas near to sinking intothe floor withembarrassment at beingforced to listen to FletcherMasterson describe howyou entered the ballroomfrom the garden on theMarquis’sarm, looking likea kitchen maid who hasbeen caught in the pantry

with a footman! Is this theexample you set for myEstelle and Amélie?Should they pattern theirconductafteryours?Ifso,Iassure you there is not aman in theparishwhowilloffer for them. Virtue andthe manners befitting alady are necessaryqualities for attracting ahusband. If you do notrealize that, perhaps it isthereasonyouremainstill

unmarried at three-and-twenty!”

The blood rushed toCaroline’s face, glowingwiththeheatoffury.Neverin her life had anyonespoken to her in suchterms. She was onlypreventedfrompouringoutthe hot words that rose toher lips by thememory ofAmélie’spleaforcaution.

Taking a steadyingbreath, she began, “If you

willonlyletmeexplain—”“By all means!”

Madame cried. “I’ve beenwaitingthisweekandmoretohearthisstory.”

Carefully, concisely,Carolinesetoutthetrainofeventsthathadendedwithher return to the ballroomonRochefort’s arm.Whenshe stopped speaking,silence fell, a silenceechoingwiththesoftpatofMadame tapping the ends

ofherfingerstogether.Thesound stopped. The roomwasstill.

Abruptly the frame ofthe chaise squeaked asMadame sat up. “Do youreallyexpectmetobelievethis tale you haveconcocted?AmIsupposedto swallow this fabricationof my tutor’s suddenpassion for you without amurmur? You must takemeforafool!”

Caroline’s politedisclaimer went unheardas the other womanstormed. “What proof doyouhaveofwhatyousay?None, I’ll warrant, while Ihave the proof of mysenses. For one, I haveseen no sign of thispenchant for romance youdescribe in M’sieurPhilippe. And for another,when Rochefort returnedwith you, he had the look

of a man laboring undersomedeepemotion.”

“He was angry,”Carolinesaid.

“Some people mightagree with you, but not I.No,Icanfindnoreasontobelieve a word of yourstory.”

Caroline drew herselfup.“ThenIamafraidthereis only one thing to bedone.Ishallregret leavingBeau Repos, but I cannot

staywheremyword,evenmyveryhonor,isindoubt.Ifyouwillbesogoodastoarrange for my return toNew Orleans, Madame, Iwill relieve you of mypresence as soon asmaybepossible!”

As Caroline utteredthose last words, theFrench windows of theroomswungopen.“No,no,Mam’zelle!” Estelle criedas she pushed into the

room.“You must not do this

thing!”Madame slewed

around on the chaise.“Estelle! What do youmeanbythis interference?Iwillnothaveit!”

“But you do notunderstand, Maman.Mam’zelle Caroline hastold you nothing but thetruth. You must believeher!”

“You know nothingwhatever of the matter,”Madametoldherdaughter.“Have the goodness tocease putting yourselfforward in thingswhichdonotconcernyou.”

“But—theydoconcernme, Maman,” Estellefaltered, her face fiery asshe turned beseechingeyes to Caroline. “I — Ihave been mean andstupidand—andodiously

jealous. Itwas IwhogaveM’sieur Philippe the hintthat Mam’zelle — thatMam’zelle was notindifferenttohim.”

Madame’s indrawnbreath was perfectlyaudible. Caroline allowedherself the luxury of asmall feeling ofsatisfaction. Itsaidagreatdeal forEstelle’scharacterthat she had broughtherself to own her

misdeed. It would havebeen much easier for hertoallowCaroline todepartunderacloud.

Clasping her handstogether, Estelle blinkedaway tears. “It seems theMarquis had no time for afemale just out of theschoolroom. When wewere together, he alwaysappeared to preferconversation with mychaperone to anything I

might have to say. He —he always took her partagainst me, and if I wasthetiniestbitrude,hegaveme the most jarringsetdownorlookedatmeinthat amusedway, as if hethoughtIwasbehavinglikeachild.Morethanoncehementioned to meMam’zelleCaroline’s greatgoodsense,asif—asifitwere a quality I stood inneedof.”

“How dared he!”Madameexclaimed.

“So I thought,” Estelleadmitted with a wan andwatery smile. “I set out toprove him wrong in hisjudgment — and onlyprovedhimright! I thoughtthat if Mam’zelle could bemade to look just a littlefoolish,hewouldnolongerthinkherperfectandwouldceaseholdingheruptomeasanexample.”

“My poor baby,”Madamesaid,shakingherhead.

Estelle gulped,searching wildly for ahandkerchief. Carolinestepped forward to offerher own clean one whichshe had tucked into herpocketthatmorning.

Scrubbingherfacewithit, Estelle went on, “WhenM’sieurPhilippesaidtomeonemorning that it was a

shame Mam’zelle hadnever married, the ideaseemed to spring into mymind full-blown. I hadonlyto suggest in a confidingway that Mam’zelle’saffections had lighted onhimforM’sieurtoact.I—Iregretted the words assoonastheywereout,butI could not call them back—”

Estelleendedonawail.Her mother opened her

arms. “Oh, my poor, poorbaby! Come to Maman,”she said, and as Estellethrewherself down besidethe chaise, drew herdaughter’s head into herlap, smoothing thedisorderedblackcurls.

After a moment, thegirl’s voice came again.“Oh, Mam’zelle, I nevermeant to cause so muchtrouble,trulyIdidnot.Iamsorry,sosorry.”

“There, there, machére, do not distressyourself,” hermother said,givingCaroline a look thataccused her of causingEstelle pain instead of theotherwayaround.

“I hold no grudge,Estelle,” Caroline saidabove the sound ofsobbing. “Wewill talk of itlater,whenyouarenotsoupset,shallwe?”

There was no answer.

Caroline stood therefeeling completely de tropfor the space of a fewseconds, then, turning onherheel,shelefttheroom.

~~~“MAM’ZELLE, MAY Iintrude?”

Carolinelookedupfromher book. M’sieurDelacroix stood besideher, a grave look on his

usually sunnycountenance.

“Yes, certainly,” shereplied, setting the volumeaside and straightening inher rattan chair. M’sieurdrew another chair closerandtookaseat,restinghishandsonhisknees.

For a moment neitherspoke. With compressedlips, M’sieur Delacroixstared at the planking ofthegallery floor.Liftinghis

gaze, he stared out overthe gleaming width of theriver. He pursed his lipsand then compressedthemagain.

At last Caroline tookpity on him. “Has Estellerecovered?”

“She has,” he said,visibly relaxing. “Sly littlekitten that she is, I thinkthistimeshehaslearnedavaluablelesson.”

Carolineagreedwithout

heat. “She is very young,and it will, I think, do herno harm to discover theunpleasantness that canbe caused by actingwithoutduethought.”

“You are verycharitable.”

“Not at all,” Carolinesaid, embarrassed alreadyat speaking her thoughtsaloud toEstelle’s father. “Iamafraid I sounded likeaprig.”

“Oragoverness,whichisnotunreasonable,hein?”

Whenshesmiledathissally,hecontinued.“Thisiswhat I wished to speak toyou about, my dearMam’zelle Caroline. Wewouldlikeyoutoknowthatwewant you to stay— infact, we insist that youstay.Wewillnotallowyouto go under any but themostdirecircumstances.”

“You are very kind, but

—”“No, please, hear me

out.InthisIspeaknotonlyfor my daughters andmyself, but also forMadameDelacroix.Iknow,for she has told me, thatshesaidsomehardthingstoyou.Youneedsmustbea saint to overlook thementirely, but I beg you totry. Madame, my wife, ismany things, but a harshwoman she is not — at

least in the ordinary way.She is, you mustunderstand, over andabove all else a mother.For her children she canbe suspicious andvengeful, a veritable tigerin their protection. Thismay not always be good,but neither is it alwaysbad.”

“I think I take yourmeaning, sir,” Carolinesaid, a tiny frownbetween

hereyes.M’sieur Delacroix

nodded. “Before, whenAméliewasimmuredinherconvent and Estelle stilllearning her letters andhow to use watercolors,Madame was quitepleasant,isitnotso?Quiteso.Butnow,withbothgirlsto establish suitably in theworld, you are become insomesenseanobstacletothat aim. Add to that the

suddendescentuponusofa matrimonial prize of thefirst water, and what doyou have? A motherdesirous of claiming thatprize for one of herdaughters, a mother wholooks balefully on anyonewho might in any wayinterferewithherplans.”

“If Madame feels sotoward me, perhaps itwould be best if I did goaway.”

“No, no, how can yousayso? It isAméliewhommy wife would prefer tosee as a marquise, butwould I sendEstelle awayinordertoleavemyeldestafairfield?Never!”

Smiling, Caroline said,“But I am not yourdaughter.”

“No,” he answered. “Apity. I would have beenproud.”

Theywent on to speak

of other things, of Theo,his lucky escape, and hishero worship for the manwhohadsavedhim.Onceor twiceshecamenear totellingM’sieurDelacroixofher discovery concerningRochefort. Each timesomething held her silent.ShemustbalanceAmélie’swelfare against that ofTheo, she told herself. Itwould be hard to keepsuch knowledge from the

boy, and in his weakenedcondition the news mightoverexcite him, even setback his recovery. Thismust not be allowed tohappen. It was a reliefwhenTheo’s fathermovedon to talk of the damagedone by the storm, theflattenedcaneanddownedtrees,thegreenfruitblownfrom the trees in theorchard. So lush andbountiful was the soil of

Louisianathat thescarsofthe earth would soon becovered over andforgotten.

Not so her own.DespiteM’sieurDelacroix’sprotests, Caroline knewshecouldnotstayatBeauRepos. Soon, when Theowas completely well, shemustgo.Itwouldbebetterthatway.

They were joined onthe gallery by the younger

children, Mathilde, Ange-Marie, Baptiste, even two-year-old Thérèse. Theyhad escaped from thenursery for a few preciousseconds.Fullofglee, theydescended on their father,climbing over him likeplayful puppies. Pushedaside by the others, tinyThérèse settled forCaroline’s lap, laying herfirm, plump cheek againstCaroline’s breast.

Smoothing her hand overthe fine ringlets whichcovered the small head,Caroline felt anunaccustomedache in theregion of her heart. Withthis mite in her arms, itwas not so difficult tounderstand Madame’sprotective maternalinstincts.

The day was hot, aportent of the summer tocome.Thesundrewvapor

from the stiff-damp earth,increasing the discomfort.It was no surprise to seeriders in short sleeves onthe river road. Theastonishing thing wasdiscovering their identity.One was Anatole, theother,Rochefort.

As they dismountedRochefortslippedbackintothecoatdemandedby thedictates of fashion andsociety; Anatole did not

troublehimself.“Lemonade,” Anatole

cried, mounting the stepslikeamanonhislastlegs.“Orangeade, ratafia,anything!Iamliketodieofthirst!”

“Is this my son I seewith actual pearls ofperspiration dewing hisface? Wonders will nevercease. Tell me what canhave occasioned such aphenomenon?”

Anatole grinned at thisbit of raillery. “RochefortandIhavebeenshowingabrace of field hands thebest way to clear adrainageditch,haven’twe,sir?”

Rochefortacknowledged it with aninclination of his head. “Iwillstandasyourwitnessifyouwillbemine.”

“Done! And a hunger-making business it was

too, especially for a manwho missed his middaymeal.IfIremovedsomeofmy dirt, do you think Icould persuade Cook todish up something in thekitchen?”

M’sieur Delacroixstaredat his son,whonotsomanyweeksagowouldhavejustbeenarisingfromhis bed and querulouslyordering his valet to servehis breakfast in his room.

“I’m sure she will be ableto find you a crumb ortwo,”heansweredfinally.

“Excellent! Anything foryou, sir?” he inquired ofthemanbesidehim.

“Nothing, thank you,”Rochefortreplied.

“Then take a chair andchat with my father andMam’zelleCaroline.Iwon’tbelong.”

When the sound ofAnatole’s footsteps had

faded, M’sieur Delacroixasked,“Hasthatboyreallybeen grubbing in adrainageditch?”

“Uponmy word. It washe who noticed theclogged condition of it aswerodealong.Ibelievehewas in the process ofinspecting the drainagecanals around all yourfields for storm debriswhenIcameuponhim.”

“You are saying

Anatole expended somuch energy to clear oneofmyditches?”

Rochefortsmiledat theolder man’s increduloustone. “Just so. I find himremarkablysensibleonthesubject of estatemanagement.”

“By all the saints,”M’sieur Delacroixbreathed.

“Idon’tknow if youareaware of it, but your son

has been what he callskeeping an eye on thingsthis last week or so. Heconsiders it the least hecandoatatimewhenyouare otherwise occupied. Ibelieve, if I may say so,that he considers himselfsomewhat toblameforhisbrother’s escapade. Heseems to think that asTheo’s elder he shouldhave done something tostophim.”

“ButIhavesaidnothingto give Anatole such anidea.”

“No,I’mcertainyoudidnot,” Rochefort said, thenlooked away. “Consciencecomes to all of us soonerorlater.”

M’sieur Delacroixslanted a keen glance athis guest but made noreference to that crypticremark. “At any rate, I amgrateful toyouforallowing

my son to hang on yourcoattails. Young men hisagemusthavesomeonetoimitate, and I doubt hecould have found a betterman.”

“You do me too muchhonor,” Rochefort saidstiffly. “I enjoy your son’scompany.”

“Itisgoodofyoutosayso. I don’t feel I havethankedyousufficientlyforsavingTheo forhis family,

andnowIfindmyselfoncemoreinyourdebt.”

Rochefort left his chairand, moving with thecontrolled step of a mansuppressing strongemotions, went to leanagainst the railing in frontof them. “If you wish toplease me, you will forgetit,” he said, folding hisarmsacrosshischest.

Obligingly, M’sieurDelacroix changed the

subject. “We have seenlittleofyouatBeauRepossincetheaccident.”

“Therewasmuchtobedone at Felicity. You didnot need visitors heregettingintheway,andmyman kept me informed. Iunderstand Theo is muchrecovered.”

“With the grace of thegood God, and ourneighbor,” M’sieurDelacroix saidandsmiled,

unrepentant, whenRochefort frowned hisdispleasure.

The man they hadknown as the MarquislookedatCaroline,hisfacecarefully blank as hesurveyed the little girl nowfastasleepinherlap.“Youare very quiet,Mademoiselle.”

“With good reason, asyou see,” Carolineanswered, keeping her

voicelow.“I believewhat I see is

a result of your quietnessratherthanareasonforit.”

She forced a smile.“That leaves nothingexcept my surlydisposition,then.”

Thecornerofhismouthmoved upward for amoment before he turnedhis attention to M’sieurDelacroix.

Involved as she had

been with Theo, this wasthe first time Caroline hadset eyes on Rochefortsince that terrible momenton the rain-soaked levee.At that instant she hadbeen able to say nothingwhatever, and then theothers had been uponthem.Concern for the twoboys had takenprecedence overeverything else. By thetime Theo and Jack had

been settled in bed andshehaddriedherhairandchanged her own clothinghe was gone. He hadreturned the next morningto take Jack, none theworse for his dunking,back to Felicity, but shehadnotbeeninformedofituntil he was well awayfrom the house; Madamehadseentothat.

Looking at him now,Caroline found herself

wondering how she couldhavebeen soblindasnotto recognize him at onceas the Black Eagle. True,hehadbeenbeardedthen,hishairworn long,andhehad been without thetrappings of the aristocrat.But the eyes were thesame, the nose, thearrogant bearing. Thosewere the same firm lipswhichhadtouchedhers—

Abruptlyawarethatshe

had been staring, shelooked away. Along thegallery a pair of Frenchwindows opened, andEstelle came trippingtoward them. Behind hercame twoof the children’snurses, their frowns andscoldings hiding smiles ofrelief.

“I told you where youwould find them. TheyalwayslookforPapa,”shesaid, ruffling her father’s

hair as she reached him,“justasIdidwhenIwasachild. Good afternoon,M’sieur le Marquis. I didnot know you were withus.”

In view of the freshmuslin of pale pink shewore and the new ribbonsin her hair, Carolineconsidered the laststatement to be patentlyuntrue.Therewasno timefor a reproving glance,

however. Thérèse,awakening, refused to beparted from Caroline,clinging with amazingstrength to her neck. Theonly thing that wouldcontent her was forMam’zelle to carry herback to the nursery. ThisCarolineagreed towithouttoo much persuasion, justas happy to be given theopportunity to smooth herhair and compose her

features.Shehopedthat ifshedawdled longenough,bythetimeshereturnedtothe gallery Rochefortwouldhavegone.

She was not sofortunate. She not onlyfound him still supportingthe railing, but thecompany had beenexpanded to includeAmélie and MadameDelacroix.

Catching sight of her

where she lingered in thedoorway, Estelle called,“Oh, Mam’zelle! Guesswhat treat is in store forus? When Theo is wellenough, we are to beallowedanothersailontheMarquis’sship,thistimetothehauntedsandbar!”

7

AS THE DAY FOR theproposed outing drewnearer, the list ofpassengers for theMarquis’s Egret grew

steadily longer. FletcherMasterson,returningtohishabitual weekly visit,mentioned casually thatRochefort had ridden overto invite him to be one ofthe party. Overhearing,Anatoleadmittedtohintingto the Marquis, with greatsubtlety of course, thatHippolyte Gravier, his twosisters, and a cousincurrently visiting BonneChancefromBatonRouge

would be ecstatic if theycould join them. To hisgreat relief andastonishment, Rocheforthad immediately includedtheminhisplans.

Caroline had notmissed the faint flush thathad mantled Anatole’scheeksashespokeoftheGravier cousin, nor wasshe gullible enough tothink that he had riskedRochefort’sdispleasurefor

the sake of his friend,Hippolyte. “A femalecousin, you said?” sheaskedwithasmile.

“I said no such thing,”Anatole protested, “but ifyou must know, yes, afemale. A nice little thing,pretty in a quiet sort ofway,fromBatonRouge.”

Tante Zizi, her eyesclosed, had been enjoyingthesoftbreezewhichblewacross the shady gallery.

Nowshecamealertlikeanancient turtle emergingfrom its shell. “Who isshe?” the old womanasked.

Anatoledidnotmistakehis great-aunt’s meaning.“She is aRoussel, relatedonMadameGravier’s sideof the family,” he began,and supplied as manynamesandconnectionsasa young man could beexpectedtoremember.

TanteZizinoddedonceor twiceduring this recital.“Yes, yes, I know thefamily. It is well. She willdo.”

The lookofgratificationon Anatole’s face at thispronouncement was arevelation.

With this in mind,Caroline paid specialattention to the girls, whoalightedinaflurryofpastelmuslin when Hippolyte

Gravier, on the day of theouting, drove up to BeauRepos. The Graviersisters, twins, were alikeas two peas, plump,laughing girls with brighteyes and smiles and aready inclination to beamused at any andeverything. They showed,in fact, a lamentabletendency to giggle.Untangling their variousscarves, parasols, and

reticulesprovedahilariousand time-consumingbusiness. To the Graviercousin’s credit, sheshowednoannoyancebutsat quietly until herboisterous companionshadalighted.Herpatiencewas rewarded by theappearanceofacavalierintheformofAnatoletohelpher down and relieve herof the burden of herfeminineaccoutrements.

She was, as Anatolehad said, a pretty littlething. Not quite five feettall, she had a well-proportioned figure, fine,golden-brownhair,andtheshyeyesofafawn.

Caroline waited on thegallery to be introduced.Seeing that Anatole hadhimself well enough inhand to offer the girl achair and a glass oforangeade,shewentaway

to roundup therestof theDelacroixcontingent.

Estelleshemetcomingout of her room with herleghorn hat carried overherarmbytheribbonslikea basket. She was veryfine in a gold, short-sleevedspencerwornoveragownofyellowmuslin.

“Have you seenAmélie?”Carolineasked.

“Not insome time.Sheisn’tinherroom.”

“I expect to see theEgretcome insightatanymoment. We had best beready.Also,thegroupfromBonne Chance hasarrived.”

“I will go and entertainthem, then. Tell Améliewhen you see her that Ihave borrowed her goldlocket.Shewillnotmind, Iknow, but I would not likefor it to be a completesurprise when she sees it

aboutmyneck.”An admonishment

would serve little purpose,Carolineagreed.

JustincaseEstellewasmistaken, Caroline tappedon the door of Amélie’sbedchamber and steppedinside.Amaidwasalreadyputting things away,getting ready to clean.When asked, the girlvolunteered theinformation that Madame

had sent for Mam’zelleAmélie a good half hourbefore. The look thatpassed between servantand governess at thisdisclosure was eloquent.Swinging around, Carolinelefttheroom.

She paused for amomentoutsideMadame’sbedchamber.Thesoundofglad cries from thedirection of the galleryheralding the approach of

Rochefort’s shipstrengthened her resolve.Squaring her shoulders,she raised her hand andknockedonthepanel.

Madame’s Frenchmaid, her eyes hooded,openedthedoor.Sheheldin her handa combwhichshe had obviously beenusingtocoaxAmélie’shairinto a new coiffure. Someof the girl’s front hair hadbeen clipped so that it

curled engagingly abouther face while the blackhair was drawn up into adouble, ribbon-tied knot ála grecque. It wascharming and mostsuitable to the summerseason. Caroline did notthinkthatthefewsoftlocksofhair that layonthefloorwerethecauseofthetearsthat stood in the girl’seyes.

Nor were they.

Madame sighed withannoyance at the sight ofCaroline, but she did notabate the lecture she wasreading her eldestdaughter.

“We all, at times, mustdothingswefinddifficultordistasteful. We cannotalwayspleaseourselvesinthisworld.Youwilldowellto listen to your motherwho has your bestinterests at heart. Try my

suggestions,onlytrythem.You will find they areeasier to employ than youbelieve and much moreproductive of results. Oneday, when you are older,you will thank me forhaving this little chat withyou.”

“Forgive the intrusion,”Caroline said when theolder woman ceasedspeaking,“buttheshipwillbedockingatanymoment.

We do not want to keeptheMarquiswaiting.”

Rochefort’s false titlestuck in her throat; still, itwastime,shethought,thatitwas used to somegoodpurpose.

“Very well, you maygo,” Madame said toAmélie. “I charge youthoughtorememberwhatIhave said. You arefrittering away anopportunity such as may

notcomeyourwayagain.”“Yes, Maman,” Amélie

replied.ThelooksheflungCaroline as she hurriedpast her was the haplesslookofthehunted.

Thedaywasbrightandclear with a gentle breezejuststirringthetreetops.Inhonor of the occasionCaroline had donned agown of cherry-stripednain-sook mull. LikeEstelle, she preferred a

leghorn hat to theinconvenience of carryinga parasol. The crown ofhers was flat anddecorated with a smallspray of artificial cherries.Its cherry ribbons she hadtied rather daringly justunder one ear. She felt alittle daring that day, evena littledefiant.Shedidnotfeel in the least like agoverness, she felt youngand full of life, ready to

laugh or to quarrel, toshout or to sing. Nothingcould dampen her spirits,not even the presence ofFletcherMasterson.

They were twelve onboardbythetimetheEgretswung out into the riverchannel, not counting thecrew. Rochefort and hiscousin, Anatole, Theo,Hippolyte, and Fletchermade up the complementof men. Caroline and

Amélie, Estelle, Béatriceand Bonita Gravier, andtheir cousin, LouiseRoussel, comprised theladies.Thegroupgatheredin the stern beneath thecanopy at first,congregating around Theowho was the ostensiblereason for the pleasurecruise.Theboywasmuchrecovered, enough so thathecouldwithstandagreatdeal of cosseting from the

ladiesandrailleryfromthemen on his escapadewithout losing hisheretofore touchy temper.At last he was allowed toslip away and mingle withthe crew as he wished inthe warm andstrengtheningsunshine.

In a small lull in theconversation,Mademoiselle Rousselasked, “What is this placewe go to, this haunted

sandbar?”Sinceher trustinggaze

was turned to Anatole, itwas he who sought toenlightenher. “It isa largesandbar in the river somemiles above CypressGrove, the plantation ofM’sieur Masterson. Unlikesmaller bars, this one hasexisted in the river’schannel for years, longerthan any can remember,since the time when only

Indiansknewtheriver.”Here, Fletcher

interrupted. “It’s known asa sandbar because of thedeposits of silt that havebuilt up along one side. Itshouldbemoreaccuratelycalled an island since it isalmost certainly a sectionof land surrounded by theMississippi when the riverchanged its channel to goaroundbehindit.”

If Fletcher expected

applause for this piece ofinformation, he wasdisappointed. After amoment the companyturned back to the originalnarrator.

“Thank you, M’sieur,”Anatole said with a politebow.“AsIwassaying,thesandbar is of ancient age.Exceptforthisfact,thereislittle or nothing to single itout from hundreds ofothers that occur in the

river. It has trees, somesmall wildlife, a few birds—anditsghosts.”

Béatrice and Bonitagave a squeal followed bynervous giggles. “Howexciting,” they said,clingingtooneanother.

Well pleased with thesensation he had created,Anatole agreed. “Yes, anaffecting tale — at leastmost find it so.Therewasonce a maiden of the

Houma Indian triberenowned for her beautyand sweetness of temper.Many braves desired her,but she was promised byherfathertothesonofthechief of the tribe. Herfather neither knew norcared that themaidenhadgiven her love to thebravest, strongest warriorof the tribe. This warrior,unwilling to give up themaiden, challenged the

sonof thechief to fight forthe maiden. He accepted,and in the cool of earlymorningthepairarrivedbyseparate canoes at theagreedmeeting place, thesandbar.Itwasalongandbloody fight. Though bothwereinjured,neitherwouldcry quits. Finally thewarriorkilledthesonofthechief.Butwhenhe tried todrag himself to his canoe,hewastooweakfromloss

of blood, and so he alsoexpired. The maiden,suspectingwhathadtakenplace,went looking for themen when they werediscovered missing. Shefoundthem,sawwhathadhappened. Inhergriefshetook up the knife of thewarrior and plunged it intoher own breast. In deaththemaidenandherwarriorare together. Sometimeswhen the wind blows you

can hear them talkingsoftly, speaking words oflove.”

Mademoiselle Rousselgave a soft sigh. Estellesaid, “Yousee?Was Inotright?Sosad—andyet itis very romantic also, is itnot? I think to have twomen fight over you is themost romantic thing in theworld, except, of course,for a runawaymarriage totheIndianMission.”

“Oh, Estelle!” BéatriceandBonitachidedasone.

“You don’t agree? Butyou are not asadventurous as I,” the girlsaid in a pitying tone. “Ithink it would be beyondanything grand to fly withyourbelovedinthedeadofnight along the river andthrough the forest, to bemarriedbythegoodfatherby the light of a flickeringfireandarushcandle.”

“Yes,” Hippolyte said,“and a good thing too,doingthedeedinthedark.Just imagine what youwouldlooklikeaftersuchaflight, your clothes filthywithriverwaterandgrime,and thedirt from twodaysof sleeping out in thewoods. And if you thinkanypriestworthhisfrockisgoing to wed a pair ofrunawayswithoutringingapeal over their heads they

will never forget, you aremuch mistaken. Nobodylike a fat Capuchin formaking a body feel small.Then when it’s all over,you’ve still got to comehomeandfacethefrowns,the cuts of the sticklers,and the interferingbusybodieswhowill comearound. Be lucky, too, ifyour parents don’t scratchyourname from the familytree. No, no. Leave the

runaway marriages tothem that don’t wantpeople tobeable tocounttoo close from the date. Iwantmymarriage all rightand tight, bands,engagement breakfast,basketofgiftsformybride,thewholerigmarole!”

Estelle fluttered herlashes at Hippolyte,poutingalittle.“Butwhatifyour family objected, whatif youand thewomanyou

loved were to be tornapart?”

“That’ll never happen,”the young man said, theolive skin of his facedarkening a little as heflushed. “Thegirl Iwant is—willbe—acceptable tomyfamily.”

“You are very sure ofyourself,”shesuggested.

He was not to bedrawn. “Yes,” he saidsimply.

Watching them,Caroline thought therecouldbe little doubt of thedirection of HippolyteGravier’sthoughts.HeandEstelle werewell suited, ifonly the flighty young girlcouldbebrought tosee it.They balanced each otherexactly. In addition,Hippolyte was much thesamekindofmanEstelle’sfather was: kind, practical,hard-working, but with a

well-developedappreciation for thepleasures of living. Theywere both indulgent to afault to those they loved,butwhenitcametoafinalaccounting, they wouldstandnononsense.

“What are you smilingat?” Fletcher asked,leaning so close that shewas aware of the smell ofthe lavender pomade heusedonhishair.

“Nothing,” sheanswered.“Nothingatall.”

Rochefort, this day,was impartial in hisattentiontotheladies.Witha giggling damsel clingingtoeither arm, hegave theGravier girls a tour of theship. His face solemn, heexplained the name anduse of everything the twoladies found strange, andthey appeared to befamiliar with nothing

whatever.“How odd that you

should be soknowledgeable,”oneofthesisters said, hiding herwide smile behind thespread of her fan, “almostas though you had oncebeenasailor.”

Caroline could notprevent the swift glancesheflungatRochefort.Hisgaze locked with hers,holding for a longmoment

beforehereplied,“Callitapastime. One way andanother, I have spent agoodlyportionofmylifeatsea. On a long voyage, aman must do somethingwithhimself.”

When the strolling triopassed on out ofCaroline’s hearing, shedrew a deep breath ofrelief. She had givenherself away, she wasalmostsureofit.Rochefort

wasfarfromstupid.Beforenow he must havewonderedather refusal tobealonewith himor evenstay in the same roomwhere he was. It was notthat she meant to snubhim, only that she wasafraid she would moresurely betray herknowledgeifshestayed.

What now? She couldonlytrusttothetacticsthathadservedher in thepast

few weeks and pray theywouldsuffice.

The sandbar wasperhaps a half mile longand half again as wide. Athicket of willow, oak, andcypresscoveredmostofit,with the exception of thewide stretch of sand thatfronteditlikeabeach.Thetrees were entwined withsawbriarsandgrapevinesnear the edge wheresunlight penetrated. Once

inside thebarrier of densegrowth, the ground wasclear, carpeted with aspongy mass of fallenleaves. In theapproximatecenter of the bar was acool, freshwater springwhich at one time hadbeen curbed with thickwood planking, now rottedandfallenaway.

At no point on theisland was it possible toget away from the rushing

sound of the river or themurmuringoftheleavesofthe trees overhead. Andyettherewasanunearthlyquiet about the place.When the dinghy, whichhadbroughtthemfromtheship, anchored in thechannel, had grounded inthe sand, a single giantwhitecranehadlifteduptoflap majestically away.Therewasnoothersignoflife. It was peaceful, still it

was not an easy peace. Itwas as though at anymoment the river coulduproot the trees, dissolvethe land, and wash thewhole out to sea. It wasnot hard to see why theplace was thought to behaunted.

“I’ve seen rabbits here,and squirrels,” Theo saidas they stood around thespring. “They aren’t afraidof people, or much of

anything. They’ve neverbeen hunted, I guess, notevenbyafoxorwolf.”

“They may not beafraid,” Bonita said — orwas it Béatrice? — “but Iam. I say we go back tothesandypart.Idonotlikeithere.”Witha tinyshiver,she looked back over hershoulder, as if sheexpected to see theshades of the Indianmaiden and her lover

peeringatherfrombehindthetreetrunks.

Luncheon was spreadon the grassy vergebetween the sand and theforest. It was shady thereasthesunmovedanhourpast its zenith. The smellof the crushed grass wassweet, and there was anamplenumberofcushionsandclothsandcoverletstoassure the comfort ofeveryone. They sat in a

semicirclewith the viewofthe river rushing pastbeforethem.

Thefoodbasketscamenot only from the kitchensof Felicity, but from thoseofBeauReposandBonneChance also. The ladiesparceled out a portion ofthe contents, thegentlemen made excellentinroads on that andmore,and still the baskets werefar from empty when

everyone had declaredthemselves unable toswallowanothermorsel.

Theodidnotlingeroverhisrepast.Anappletart ineach hand, he wanderedoff along the edge of thesandbar, disappearing atlastaroundthefarend.Hereturned just as thedesultory conversation theothers had been holdingtrailed off and half theirnumber were threatening

to succumb to anafternoonnap.Therewas,he informed them, agigantic duck’s nest filledwith eggs and newbornnestlingsontheothersideofthesandbar.

The reaction to hisannouncement was all hecould have asked. Estelleatonceprofessedadesireto see this wonder, andHippolyteoffered toescorther. Anatole volunteered

his arm shouldMademoiselle Rousselalso feel inclined. Gazingsoulfully at Rochefort, theMesdemoiselles Gravierdeclared they had neverbefore viewed such aspectacle.Theretheyhungfire, however. Rochefortwas much too wily to becaughtinsocoarseanet.

“I’ve seenmany ducks’nests,” he drawled, “butnever such a pretty little

spring as lies in thehaunted woods there.Would you not ratherreturn with me to see itagain?”

The young ladies, witha nervous giggle and abackwardglanceovertheirshoulders, disclaimed anysuchnotion.

“Then perhaps M’sieurMasterson will stand yourescort. I am certain he ismuchmoreknowledgeable

aboutthenativewildlife, inany case.” There was aglint of humor inRochefort’s eyes as heneatlycut theground fromunderhisneighbor’sfeet.

Fletcher looked toCaroline for direction.Callously she waved himonward.“Gobyallmeans,but don’t try to persuademe to any such effort sosoon after luncheon. I amjust going to put things

away and then do nothingbutliehereintheshade.”

“And you, M’sieurVictor?” Bonita asked withanarchsmile.“Areyoutoolethargic for a littleexercise? Come with us,do.”

Victorhadbeenstaringfixedly at Amélie. Whensherefusedtolookathim,busying herself withhelping Caroline, heshrugged and allowed

Bonita Gravier to take hisarm. “Why not?” he saidreadily enough, andwalked away in the wakeoftheothers.

Rochefort hesitated.“Are you certain I cannotpersuade either of youladies to explore thisparadise with me? No?Then, Theo, my lad, Isuppose we must beareachothercompany.”

Theowasnothingloath.

From the corner of hereye, Caroline watched thepair of them stride off intothe woods. Beside her,Amélie reached for awineglass and knocked itover. Her small cry ofdistress mingled with thesound of breaking crystalas the glass struck theedge of a dish. Suddenlytears of silent anguishstreamed down the girl’sface.

“Why, Amélie, did youhurt yourself?” Carolineaskedindistress.

The girl shook herhead, hastily drawing herhandkerchief from herreticule. “No,” sheanswered on an indrawnbreath.

“Then—what is it,mydear?”

“N-nothing!”The denial was

accompanied by fresh

tears and a hiccoughingsob.Carolinewassilentfora considering moment,then she placed her armaround the girl’s slendershoulders. “Perhaps I canguess? You have beenlookingabitoff-colorsincethismorningwhen I foundyouwithyourmother.Wassomething said, perhaps,toupsetyou?”

Améliescrubbedathercheeks with her

handkerchief, then sattwisting the scrap of lace-edged lawn in her fingers.“Mam’zelle—” she began,thenstopped,drewadeepbreath, then began again.“Mam’zelle, is ever therightthingto—toentrapamanintomarriage?”

Carolineleanedforwardslightly, trying to seeAmélie’s expression, butthe girl kept her eyesdowncast. “What do you

mean?”“If — if Maman were

here, she would say Ishould have managedsome way to come uponthe Marquis in the woodsalone. Then if someoneshouldseeus,orbetter,ifIcould manage for him tobe seen making love tome,hewouldbeobligedtomarryme.”

“I wonder if yourMaman can have thought

what a miserable life youmust lead tied to a manwho knows he has beentricked?”

“She says first that Imust not let him know it,but should he find out, hewill be grateful and evenflattered to have his handforced.”

“I take leave to doubtit,”Carolinesaid.

“Yes,” Amélie agreedwithawansmile.“SodoI.”

“In any event I wouldthink a girl would have togetupearlyinthemorningto trick a man who hasreachedtheageRocheforthas without being caughtinaparson’smousetrap.”

Amélienodded.“IfearIam neither intelligentenoughnorbrazenenougheventomaketheattempt.”

“I for one do notconsider that abad thing,”Carolinetoldher.

“But—whatamItotellMaman?She is so set onthis marriage she wouldnotcavil if I ranawaywithhim to the Indian Mission.Shewill be very angry if Imakenopushtofollowheradvice.”

“Tell her circumstancesdid not permit it. I musthave gone with you, youknow, if you hadaccompanied Rochefortinto the woods, or even if

you had wandered off inthatdirectionbyyourself.”

Smiling, Amélie said,“Yes,ofcourse.Whatelseis a chaperone for, excepttopreventsuchthings?”

“Precisely.”“Thebeautyof it isthat

she cannot even be angrywith you. Oh, Mam’zelle,youhaverelievedmymindso.”

“I’m glad,” Carolinesaid, and prosaically

began once more to clearaway the remains of theirmeal.

Amélie picked up aplatterandsatstaringat itas if she had never seensuch a thing before. “If aman and a woman loveeach other,” she saidslowly, “their stations inlife,whotheyareandwhatthey are, should notmatter. All the rules andmanners should make no

difference. Why can theynot just declarethemselves? Why can awomannot just say ‘I loveyou’ and have done withit? Why must everythingdepend on theconvenience and theopinionsofothers?”

Caroline sat quite still.In her bitter and nearincoherentoutpouring,wasthe girl trying to say shewas in love with

Rochefort?Wassherailingat her mother’sinterference, bewailing alaggard lover,orall three?With an odd, hurtfultightnessinherthroat,shesaidcarefully,“Therulesofsocietyaredesignedinthiscase to protect youngpeople from making amistake in their choices ofmates which they willregret the rest of theirlives.”

“Better to make yourown mistakes than havesomeone else make themforyou.”

What answer couldthere be to that? Withoutknowing what was in thegirl’s mind, Caroline couldnot hope to help her, andAmélie, ashamed perhapsof her earlier outburst,seemed in no mood forconfidences. Her faceshuttered, the girl pushed

platesandglassesintothebaskets any way theywould go. Her fingerstrembled with somesuppressed emotion, andthough her tears hadceased, she looked as ifthe leastwordof kindnessor sympathy might bringthem back again.Reluctant to breach thattenuous self-control,Carolineremainedsilent.

If Amélie’s affections

were in truth engaged,whatthen?Couldsheinallconscienceallowthegirltomarry aman she knew tobe an imposter? No, shetoldherself,tuckingaclothover one of the basketswith unnecessary vigor.But how could she bringherself to tell Amélie thatthe man she loved hadbrought himself to hernotice under cruelly falsepretenses?

She must dosomething, and soon. Itwas no good, this lack ofresolution, this Creolemanner of putting off adecision from day to day.She must do what wasright, no matter howpainful. If she only knewwhatwasright—

What could it hurt inthis land of democracy ifRochefort had no right tothe title he claimed? He

was a strongman, amanof means, no pauper whowould starve a wife. Hehad a good relationshipwith Amélie’s family. Hewas respected and well-likedbyherfather.Hehadabeautifulhomewhereheintended to settlepermanently; his wifewould not have to travellong distances to see herrelatives. He was notmean;hiswifewouldwant

for nothing in the way offrills and furbelows. Theonlybarwashispast,andnot such a terrible one atthat. To have been aprivateerwasnocrime,notlike being a freebootingpirate. It was no worsethanbeing,say,agambler.True, gamblers were notconsidered respectablemembers of society, but areformed gambler with afortune to commandmight

become acceptable intime. The only thing thatwasneededforalltocomeoutrightwasforRochefortto confide his past toAmélie.

How neat and tidy aconclusion. If only shecould be certain she wasright! To do that shemusthear it from the lipsof theBlackEaglehimself.

Why not? Would it notbe the most honorable

course, to confrontRochefort with herknowledge and hear whathe might say in defense?The question was, when?Itwouldhavetobesoon.

Beside her, Amélieraisedherhead.Followingher gaze, Caroline sawRochefort emerging fromthe woods oncemore. Hecarried his wide-crownedhat in one hand, while inthe other he held what

looked very much like acollectionofleaves.

Mindfuloftheconstraintof the girl beside her,Caroline forced somethinglike gaiety into her voice,calling,“Whathaveyougotthere?”

“Palmetto leaves,” hesaid,droppingdownonthecoverlet beside them. “It’sgetting hotter, and of alltheladies,Ihavenotseeneither of you two with a

fan. I know that palmetto,withabitofattentioninthewayofweavingorplaiting,can be turned into justsuchanarticle,but for thelife of me I can’t seem togetthehangofit.”

“I would be impressedwithyourthoughtfulness,ifthere weren’t leavesenough here for threefans,”Carolinetoldhim.

He smiled and, lyingback on the grass, closed

hiseyes.“ButIwasgettingwarmtoo.”

“What do you think,Amélie,” Caroline asked,tilting her head on oneside. “Shallwe plait him afan?”

“If he had not returnedto our presence, he couldhavetakenhiscoatoffandbeen cooler,” Améliepointedout.Hervoicewasquiet, but shemanaged toholditsteady.

“Oh,youplead forhim,doyou?Isupposeitistheleastwecando, since,asyousay,hedidnothavetoreturn. However, I warnyou, sir, neither of us hasany intention of plying thisfanforyou.”

“My wretched luck,” hesaid without opening hiseyes,“tofindmyselfpittingmy wits against twowomen as intelligent astheyarebeautiful.”

“We are not to becozenedbyflatteryeither,”shetoldhimseverely.

“It is impossible toflatterperfectbeauty.”

“Or barefaceduntruths!”

Such nonsense servedthe twin purpose ofbanishing thought andpassing the time until therest of the party rejoinedthem. If it also concealedthe trepidation which

assailed her at theprospect of tacklingRochefort on his sins ofomission, that was all tothegood.

Theothers straggled intwo by two. First cameFletcher and Béatrice.Hippolyte’ssisternolongerclung to his arm becausetheuncouthAméricainhadtoldher,actuallydaredsayto her face, that she wasmaking too much noise

and was frightening theducks.NextwasHippolyte,nursing a bruised fingerand a considerable senseof ill-usage. It seemedEstelle had decided shemust hold one of thenewborn ducklings, and intrying to gratify her whim,Hippolytehad incurred thewrath of their parent andbeen nipped for his pains.Estelle, rather thansympathizing with his

battlewounds,hadfounditcomical that he had beenso easily bested. Not farbehind this pair cameVictor with Bonita hanginglikeasackofwoeuponhisarm. Despite the benefitsof his escort, she hadsteppedintoamudpuddlewhich came over herslipper, had snagged herparasol on a vicious thorntree,andthenhadlostoneof the tortoiseshell combs

from her hair so that theGordian knot on top herheadwascomingundone,trailingdownherback.

All that kept thecompany from startingimmediately for the shipwas the absence of thefinal pair, Anatole andMademoiselle Roussel. Allwerecertaintheyhadbeenfollowing no more than afew steps back. Caroline,who knew that Madame

Gravier considered her aschaperone for herdaughtersandtheircousinas well as Amélie andEstelle, was just about tosuggest theywalk tomeetthemwhentheycameintosight. They ambled along,obliviousboth to theworldand to the disgruntledgroupimpatientlywaiting.

Estelle, standing withher arms akimbo and onefoot tapping the ground,

gave an unladylike snort.“Someone should tell myridiculous brother that hehas just compromised hispreciousLouise.”

“Do so by all means,”Rochefort said pleasantly,“if you don’t mind thethought of taking upresidenceon thissandbar.Who knows, you mightevenmakeitbacktoBeauRepos inaweekor two, ifyou are lucky enough to

attract the attention of apassingflatboat.”

Estelle’s eyes grewlarge. Finding Hippolytebeside her, she movedcloser.Herhandscreptouttotakehisarmand,withasigh,hecoveredthemwithhisown.

The warning was plainenough. Anatole’sapologies for his tardinesswereacceptedwithperfectaffability. The trip home

was accomplished insomber but completeharmony.

The Sunday followingthe visit to the sandbarwas passed in the usualfashionofMassandvisits.Fletcher arrived punctuallyin the middle of theafternoon, stayed hisprescribed time, and gotuptoleave.

“Mam’zelle — that is,Miss Caroline,” he said,

turninghishatinhishand,“would you do me thehonor of taking a shortdrive with me in mycurricle?”

If she had consideredlonger, Caroline mighthaverefused,butshewastaken by surprise, thecompany was thin, theafternoon was warm, andthe prospect of air waswelcome.Shesent forherbonnet and gloves, put

them on, and allowedherself to be handed intotheopencarriage.

They proceeded at asoberpacedownthedriveand swung right along theriver road. “Are youcomfortable?” Fletcherasked.

“Very,” she assuredhim.

“Not troubled by thedust?”

They were going so

slowly there was scarceanytospeakof,muchlesstroubleabout.“Notatall.”

“I hope I don’t go toofastforyou?”

Carolineglancedathimto be certain he was notmakingajoke.Hewasnot.Smiling a little, she shookherhead.

“You think I am overlyconcerned. Believe me,your well-being is of greatimportancetome.”

Not knowing how toanswer, she remainedsilent.

They jogged along ashort distance, thenabruptlyFletcherpulledup.When Caroline turnedinquiringly,hedroppedthereins and reached for herhandwhichlayinherlap.

“My dear Caroline, youmust know how it is withme. I am not a man ofprettywordsandphrases.I

think I have made myintentions plain in these,past few months. I wantyouformywife.”

Caroline raised cleargray eyes to his. “Do youloveme?”sheasked.

“Why—Irespectyou,Ihonoryou.Iwantyoutobethe mistress of my home,themother ofmy children,the companion of my oldage—”

“Butdoyouloveme?”

“If Ididnot,could Isayallthosethings?”heaskedinaharassedtone.

“You might, if youwanted a wife badlyenough. In any case, itdoesn’t matter. You see,althoughIrespectyou,andthoughI’msureyouwouldmake a commendablehusband,Idon’tloveyou.”

He released her hand.“We are two adults,” hesaid with the stiffness of

embarrassment.“Wecouldmake a life togetherwithout any suchsentimentalnotions.”

“I think not,” she saidquietly.

“Isthisyourlastword?”he asked, staring straightoutoverthehorse’shead.

“I am afraid it is,” shemurmured.“Ihavenowishtowoundyou,butitisplainwe should not suit. Yousee, I set a great deal of

store by what you arepleasedtocall‘sentimentalnotions.’”

Without a word more,hepickedupthereinsandslapped the horse into atrot.Atthefirstopportunity,he turned the curricleaboutandheadedback toBeauRepos.

Estelle lay in wait forCaroline in the hall. “Well,that must have been theshortest drive on record.

Does it mean you haverefusedyourAméricain?”

“He is not now, andnever was, my American,”Caroline answered,untying her bonnet andtakingitoff.

“Youhavethrownawaythe chance to bemistressofCypressGrove?”

“Ihave.”“Good for you!” Estelle

cried. “You hear that,everyone? Mam’zelle is

nottoleaveus!”Araggedcheergreeted

thisannouncement,thoughfrom the immediateresumption of the buzz ofconversation it wasobvious that thedemonstration was morefor Estelle’s benefit thanherown.

“You don’t mind thatyou have not lost yourduenna?” she asked thegirl.

“Howcanyouthinkso?I would have beendesolateifyouhadmarriedthat stuffy stick of a man.Such an old bore. Youwould have been dead ofennuiinaweek!”

“Heisnotold,”Carolinesaid, laughing at herdrollery. “I doubt he ismore than a year or twomore ancient than thatmatrimonial prize, theMarquisdeRochefort.”

Estelle gave an airywave of her hand. “Thatone you can have also.Me,Ipreferyoungermen.”

“Like HippolyteGravier?”

“At least he doesn’tfrighten me to death!M’sieur leMarquishastoogreat and uncertain atemperformytaste.”

“You may be right,”Carolinesaid.“Atleastitisgood you know your own

mind.”“Indeed, yes,” Estelle

said complacently andwaltzed back out onto thegallerytorejoinhercourt.

8

CAROLINESATSTARINGat the blank paper in frontof her, a frown ofconcentration between herbrows. The result of her

earlierefforts layscatteredover the top of thesecrétaire inwaddedballs.She had improved thepoint of her quill with apenknife, trimmed thecandlewick for a betterlight, diluted the ink in theinkstand,andadjustedherchair, paper, and blottingsand,alltonoavail.

Howdidoneaddressaman who saw fit to use atitle to which he had no

claim? How did onerequest a meeting withsuch a man withoutsounding either coy ormelodramatic? She coulddecide neither case.Nothingshewroteseemedquiteappropriate.Yetwriteshe must. Already he hadletmorethanaweekslidepast since her decision toconfrontRochefort.

Arustleofsilkdrewherattentiontothedoor.There

would be only one personwho still preferred thestiffness of petticoats tothe softness of muslin.TanteZizi.

The old lady stood justwithin the sitting roomdoor, both hands restingon a gold-handled cane.“MayIenter,Mam’zelle?”

Caroline at once got toher feetandwent forward.“Naturally,youmayenter.Iwould be glad of the

company.”“You have delightful

manners, my child,” TanteZizi said. “I am sure youwish me at the devil, butyou are too polite to sayso.”

Bringing a smallfootstool covered in petitpoint for the elderlywoman’s use, Carolinelaughed. “And much toopolite to agree with you,even if itwereso,which it

isnot.”Tante Zizi smiled. “Old

ladiesdon’tsleepwell,youknow, ma chére. On mymidnight ramblings I sawyourlight.Whatisayoungwoman like you doingputtingpen topaperwhenyou should be abed?Writingbillets-doux,Imakenodoubt.”

Succumbing to theteasingtoneinTanteZizi’svoice, Caroline replied,

“Not precisely, though youcould say that I am tryingtoarrangeanassignation.”

“Impudent baggage,”the old lady said withoutheat. “I understand youwhistled one perfectlygood suitor down thewind.”

“Perfectly good?”Caroline mused, returningto her chair at thesecrétaire. “Well, yes, atleast I’m sure he thought

so.”“Hah!Icollectthenthat

you want a man whosevirtues are not quite soobvious?”

“Ididnotsayso.”“I noticed.Some things

pass without saying. Tellmewhomyouareplanningtomeet.”

“Now, why should I dothat?”

“Because I am a nosyold ladywho likes toknow

what is going on aroundher. You may as well tellme,Iwillfindoutanyway.”

“WhatwouldyousayifItold you I was writing toournobleneighbor?”

“Rochefort? I’dsayyouhad more wits under yourhair than Igaveyoucreditfor.”

Carolinelookedawayindistress. The joke hadsuddenlygonesour.

“Something is troubling

you, ma petite? Have Ibeen tactless? I am soseldom in company.Sometimes I don’t thinkhowpeoplewilltakewhatIsay.”

“No, no. It isn’t that.”Shemanagedasmile.

“Thenyouaresurprisedthat I would approve aunionbetweenyouandtheMarquis? But why not,chére? You forget, I knowyour lineage. The position

you now hold may behumble, but your birth isnot. Think you I wouldprefertoseethetitlefalltomy own nieces? Ah, no.Estelle is too young forRochefort, and Amélie tootender.Theywouldnot doat all, despite all theirmother’smachinations.”

Carolinecouldnotbringherselftodisillusiontheoldlady. This example of theeffects of Rochefort’s

deception strengthenedher resolve to put an endto it, however. With acommendable try atlightness, she said, “Areyou saying I am old andtough,Madame?”

“No,indeed,”TanteZizisnapped.“Iamsayingyouare a sensible andsensitivegirlwhodeservesbetter than she has atpresent. And if there isaught I cando to see you

comfortably established, itshallbedone.”

“You are very kind,”Carolinesaidslowly,“andIdid not mean willfully tomisleadyou.Imusttellyouthere is nothing of—of aromantic nature betweenRochefortandmyself.”

“Figs!” Tante Zizi said.“It’splainasapikestaffyouare in love with him.Haven’t I seen the two ofyou with your heads

together, dancing,laughing,talking?Ifheisn’tas taken with you as youare with him, I will ownmyself an addlepated oldfool!”

“Nevertheless—”“Pride, is it? Pride is a

cold bedfellow,my girl, letmeassureyou.Shall I tellyou something I have notspoken of for more thanfiftyyears?Iwasneverthemistress of the King of

France. Never, despitewhat everyone believes.AndIshallregretituntilmydying day. Like a foolishvirgin, I caviled ataccepting the little he hadto offer. I loved him, but Itold myself I did not wantto be anotherwoman in alonglineofwomen,thathewould love me better andlonger if he did notpossessme. Ibeggedhimto send me away. At last

heagreed.Andthenwhat?People believed the worstanyway. Pride robbed meof the position filled byMadame Du Barry. Pridefilchedaway the ten yearsof happiness I might haveenjoyed before his death,tenyears.”

“Are you implying,Tante Zizi, that I shouldbecomethemistressoftheMarquis?”

The old lady grew

stern. “Do not pretend tomisunderstandme,mygirl.Iexpectbetterofyou thanthat. I am saying that youmust allow yourself to berulednotbyyourhead,butbyyourheart.”

Caroline met her wiseold eyes without flinching.“Itisgoodadvice,I’msure,but easier to give than tofollow.”

TanteZiziletoutasigh.“WellIknowit.Imustbein

my dotage to think youcould learn from mymistakes. Forgive an oldwoman for burdening youwith the story. Give meyourarmandIwillremovemyself and let you get onwith whatever it is youhavetodo.”

When Caroline hadseentheelderlywomantoher corner bedchamber,she returned to the sittingroom. She seated herself

at the secrétaire andpickedup theplume.Aftera moment, she began towrite.

The sealed note wassent off by Jim the groomdirectly after breakfast. ItstilllackedanhourofnoonwhenColossussoughtherout on the back gallerywhere she was showingMathildehernumbers.

“Mam’zelle,”he intonedwithastiffinclinationofhis

upper body. “There is agentleman to see you. Hewaitsinthesalon.”

Caroline set the girlfromherlapandgottoherfeet. “Run back to yournurse, Mathilde, there’s agood girl. We shall learnmorethisafternoon.”

“Yes, Mam’zelle,” thelittlegirlrepliedand,givingCarolineaswifthug,rantodoasshewasbidden.

Smoothing the creases

from her rose cambricgownwithfingerssuddenlynerveless, Caroline turnedintothehouse.

Rochefort stood withhis back to the room,staring out thewindow. Ather entrance, he swungaroundbutmadenomovetocometowardher.

Caroline stood as ifrooted to the spot justinsidethedoor.Therewasa grimness about him she

had not expected. His lipsweresetinatightlineandhis brows drawn togetherabove the bridge of hisnose.

“Well, MademoisellePembroke?” he raspedwhen she remained silent.“I had your summons.Whatdoyouwantofme?”

She swallowed,dismayed by hisantagonismsonear to theoutset. “Won’t you sit

down?” she managedfinally.

“Thankyou,no.Iprefertostand.”

They had parted withcordiality when last theymet,on thedayof the tripto the sandbar. She couldthink of nothing that hadhappenedinthemeantimetosethimsoat oddswithher. Not that his attitudemattered. Her task wouldhave beenmuch harder if

he had been all smilingfriendliness.

“Very well,” she said,lifting her chin. “I askedyou to come this morningbecause I havesomethingIfeelImustsaytoyou.Toput it plainly, I know whoandwhatyouare.”

He took the few stepsthat brought him to thesettee and, placing bothhands along the back,leaned toward her. “You

don’tintendtostopthere,Iimagine.”

“I can go on, ifnecessary,” she said, hergray eyes level. “Lastwinter I had occasion totravelfromthecontinentina British merchantman.The ship was seized onthehighseasandboardedby the privateer known asthe Black Eagle. It hastaken me some little timeto place the resemblance,

but Ihavedonesoat last.You, sir, are thatprivateer.”

“Youseemverycertain,Mademoiselle. How doesthatcomeabout?”

“The incident isextremelyvividinmymind.ItisnoteverydaythatIamforced to entertain in mystateroom a man littlebetterthanapirate.”

He pushed away fromthe settee and moved

around the end of it.“Forced his way into yourstateroom, did he?” hequeried,adangerousedgetothesoftnessofhisvoice.

“Yes, the stateroom Iwas sharing with Amélie,asyouwellknow.”

“You must have beenquiteclosetohim,then?”

She watched his slowadvance with misgivings,rememberingsuddenly theforfeit taken by the

privateer, something shehad tried hard to forget.“Yes,”sheanswered.

“As close as this?” heasked from no more thanarm’slengthaway.

“Y-yes,” she managed,nerves tightening themuscles of her throat astherestraintshehelduponherself snapped and sheswungawayfromhim.

A hand on her forearmstopped her. “In such

confined quarters, theremust have been a greattemptation to takeliberties,” he said, ahuskysound edging his voice.“Didhe,perhaps,dothis?”

Hisarmsenclosedher.His kiss was demanding,thorough, and yet therewas an underlyinggentleness that was oddlyat variance with the irongrip which held herimmobile.

Carolinewasconsciousof a hollow ache in herchest and the heat of asuffocating blush as hereleased her and steppedback. Fighting forcomposure, she claspedher trembling handstogether before her waist.If she had ever doubtedthat Rochefort and theBlackEaglewereoneandthe same man, she couldnolongerdoso.

His next wordsconfirmed her thought.“Yes,” he saidwith hatefulself-control, “there was acertain familiarity to that. Itseems Imust be themanofwhomyouspeak.”

“You are,” she saidtightly.

“We are agreed then.And now, havingsatisfactorily establishedmy identity, what will youdo?”

“Do?”“Surely you had some

reason for confronting mewithmyevilpast?”

There was a trace ofmockery in his voice thatCaroline could notunderstand. Surely heshould be more disturbedthat she had recognizedhim? “You are animposter,” she saidunsteadily. “I could notsimplyignorethatfact.”

“And of course theneighborhood must be ridofsuchapariah.”

“No,I—Ididn’tthinkofit like that, but — butsupposeyouweretowed?The marriage would beillegal!”

“How so?” he asked,his eyes unreadablebehind the screen of hislashes.

“Why — because youhave assumed the name

andtitleofanotherman,atleast—youmusthave,oryou would not have beenabletosatisfyTanteZizi.”

“I see. You fear I willcheat the woman I marry.There is a way you canprevent that and, at thesame time, allow me tocontinuemymasquerade.”

“I don’t understandyou,”Carolinesaid.

“You can marry meyourself, and as we stand

before the priest I willundertake to whisper myreal name into the HolyFather’sear.”

Stunned, Carolinecould only stare at him.Andthentheclevernessofhisploybegantounfold inher mind. Her gray eyesgrew dark with contempt.“Yes, that would silencemenicely,wouldn’tit?”

“Come now, don’t behasty.Haveyouforgotten?

Imposter that I am, I amstill a rich man.We couldbe most comfortabletogether.”

“Iwillnotbebribedwithyour ill-gotten gain!” shetoldhim,hervoiceshakingwithfury.

“Then I am afraid youwill have to spread yourtaleaboutasbestyoucan.I have no intention ofconfessing what youconsidertobemysins.”

Behind them the doorswung open with a crash.Madame, her face purplewith rage, stood in theopening. “It will not benecessary for you toconfess it, base-bornscoundrel! I have heard itall! You will leave myhouseatonce,andnever,ever,return!”

The man known asRochefort hesitated only amoment, surveying

Madame Delacroix whostooddramaticallypointingthewayout.Estelleandasea of curious servantsgathered behind her. Withan imperturbable hauteurwhichgavecredencetohisaristocratic claims, heinclined his head andwalked from the house. Itwasonlyafterhiscarriagehad cleared the drive thatCaroline realized he hadpassed Colossus, holding

hishatandcane,as if theenormous butler did notexist.

Carolinelookedupasaknock fell on herbedchamber door. Aroundher lay clothing— gowns,chemises, shifts,nightgowns, bonnets,shawls, stockings, andendless knick-knackery —all waiting to be put intothe trunks and boxes thatsataboutonthefloor.She

had notwanted anyone toknowthatshewaspackingjust yet. Time enough totell them when she hadsome definite plans forhow she would leave andwhere she would go. Still,itcouldnotbehelped.

“Comein,”shecalled.Estelle came tripping

throughthedoor,hereyesgleaming with excitement.Her good spirits weredimmed only momentarily

by the confusion that mether. “Going visiting? Ithought it was time youpaid your yearly visit ofduty to your uncle. Ashamethatyoumustleaveus at such an entrancingtime.”

“Entrancing?” Carolineaskedskeptically.

“Well, interesting then,”Estelleamended,droppinginto the slipper chair thatstoodbesidethebed.

“Ah,myrobe?”Carolinesaid, holding out her handfor the velvet dressinggown that had beenoccupying thechairbeforeEstelle.

With a quick apology,Estelle jumpedup,passedover the robe, and satdown again. “No, really,Mam’zelle, you shoulddelay, if only a little. YouwillneverguesswhatthingRocheforthasdonenow!”

“His name is notRochefort.”

Estelle shrugged. “Hestill calls himself so, andonemustgivehimanameof some description.Whatdoesitmatter?”

“I suspect it matters agreat deal to the trueMarquisdeRochefort.”

“Let him come andcomplain,then.Formyself,I do not care.Only letmetell you what has

happened.”“Verywell,ifyoumust,”

Caroline replied, busyingherself with folding herhandkerchiefs toauniformsize.

“Yesterdayasteamboatbringingmany guests wasseen to arrive at Felicity.Amongtheguestswasonewho is special, one withmany trunks and casesandbandboxes.”

Caroline looked up.

“Bandboxes?”“But yes, bandboxes.

The special guest is abeautifulwoman.Theysayshehaswithher twodogsof the kind favored by theEmpress Joséphine,longhairedwithsmallblackfaces, also a talking birdfrom India, and a tinywoman who comes nohigher than her waist butwhohastheshapeandthevoiceofanadult.”

“Good heavens,”Carolineexclaimed.

“Yes,” Estelle agreed,pleased with theimpressionshehadmade.“They say Rochefort triedto send the bird and thelittle woman back to NewOrleans,but the ladycriedso much he allowed themalltostay.”

“She comes from NewOrleans,” Caroline said,carefully smoothing the

creases from a vetiver-scentedhandkerchief.

“Did I not say so?Sheis the actress at the newThéâtre d’Orléans. Youmusthaveseenher—butno, that was the nightMathilde had the earache,was it not. But surely youhave at least heard ofMadame FrancineFontaine?”

“Yes, I believe I haveheard of her,” Caroline

answered. She had nevermentioned meeting theactress toanyoneatBeauRepos.Apparently,neitherhadAnatole.

“Iadoredseeingheronthestage.Shewassogay,sodrôle. She could neverplayseriousparts,butsheis perfect in what shedoes.”

A thoroughly felineremark rose to Caroline’stongue, but she

suppressed it. “It’s anintelligent person whorecognizes her ownlimitations,”shesaidinhergovernessvoice.

As was proper, Estelleignored this comment. “IwouldlovetoseeMadameFontaine and to speak toher.”

“I’m afraid it’simpossible. Your maman—”

“Oh, I know,” the girl

agreed, the corners of hermouth drooping. “But it isstillwhatIwouldlikeaboveall things. They sayMadame Fontaine likesthings to be lively abouther, which is why shebroughther friends.Theseladies and gentlemendance every night. Theyhave card parties,masquerades, musicales,and sometimes they evenhaveamateurtheatricals.”

Carolinereturnedtoherpacking.Thesilenceofthesomnolent afternoonstretched around them.Estelle stirred in her chairand sighed gustily.“Mam’zelle?”

“Hmm?”“Do you think Madame

Fontaineisthechérie-amieofRochefort?”

“Estelle!Wheredidyouhearsuchaphrase?”

“What does it matter?”

the girl asked in a sulkytone. “I know what itmeans, and I know that amanmayhaveamistress.You haven’t answered myquestion.”

“I suppose this is alsosomethingtheysay?”

Shenodded.“Ihavenoideaifsheis

or is not. It is not mybusiness to know,”Carolinesaidprimly.

“Perhaps not, but that

wouldn’t keep you fromguessing,” Estelle saidreasonably.

“I wouldn’t be anycloser to the truth,”Carolinesaid.

“Oh, well, I don’tsupposeitmatters,”Estelleshrugged.

Caroline did notanswer.

Estelle’s wanderingattention alighted onCaroline’s face. “Youdon’t

appear too happy aboutyour forthcoming visit. Infact, I don’t believe I haveeverseenyousopaleand,if I may say so, moody. Ibelieve you have gottenthinner. I do hope nothingiswrongwithyouruncle?”

“No, nothing like that,”Caroline assured her. “Ijust haven’t been sleepingwelllately.”

“It’s this thing withRochefort, is it not?” the

girl said with sympathy. “Iknowhowyoumust feel. Idon’t think I have everbeensoshockedinmylife,and I was never on boarda ship he had captured,nor have I been kissedbyhim in the salon. At first Ithought how exciting itmust have been, but nowthat I consider, I don’tbelieve I would have likeditatall!”

Hoveringbetweentears

and laughter, Carolineopted for the latter. “I’msurethatineithercase,ifithad been you, he wouldhave beenmade to regrethiswantofconduct.”

“I’m not so sure,” shesaid with a heretoforeunwonted lack ofconfidence.“TheotherdayI wouldn’t have been inyourshoesforanything!”

WhenEstellehadgone,Caroline sat before her

trunk, clutching a lawnhandkerchief in her handandstaringatnothingwithdry, burning eyes. Thetruth was, she had notmindedatallbeingkissed.Thatwashardlysurprising,since she had discoveredthat she was in love withthe privateer who calledhimself Jean Rochefort.Recite his faults as shemight, she could not alterher feelings. There was

onlyonecourselefttoher,andthatwasflight.

They were granted theopportunity late thatevening to confirm thetruthofatleastoneaspectof the rumor so rife in thecountryside. Caroline andthe two young ladies, withAnatole,Theo,andM’sieurDelacroix in attendance,were enjoying the coolafterthesettingofthesun.Suddenly a carriage came

into view. It was beingdriven at a furious pace,andthedustfoggedinlongrolls that were waftedtoward them on theeveningbreeze.

“Rochefort’s phaeton,”Theo said, but noneneeded his identification.Thatdashingvehiclecouldnotbemistaken,norcouldthe man who sat holdingthereins.Theonlythingindoubtwasthenameofthe

lady who sat up besidehim.

She wore a drivingcostume of cerulean bluewith fitted sleeves and afrogged bodice. On herhead was a cavalier’s hatcomplete with a plume solong that it swept aroundthe brim to wave inRochefort’sface.Thewindof their passagemade thehat’s perch so precariousthattheladywasforcedto

hold it on her head withone hand. The final touchwasaddedasthephaetonbowled past. A small dogwith a furry coat and ablackfacejumpeduponitsmistress’s lap to bark atthose seated on thegallery.

Anatole exchanged alookwithhisfather.

Estelle sat forward toexclaim, “It is she! It isMadameFontaine!”

“Silly widgeon, to carryadogwith her in anopencarriage,” was Theo’scomment. “And I’ll wagershe’s abominably hot inthatrig,too.”

No sooner had hespoken than there was apiercing scream from thecarriage.Thelittledoghadjumpedfromthehighbodyof the phaeton onto theroad. It rolled end overend, sat up, yelped once,

and then set off the waythe carriage had come,growlingfuriously.

Rochefortpulledup,notan easy task with high-spirited thoroughbredshitched in tandem,runningflat out.He could be seentrying to pass the ribbonsto the actress so that hemightgetdowntofetchherpet. Madame Fontainespurned them and got toher feet. She teetered on

the edge of the carriage,then jumped down,catching her skirts on thehighwheel. For an instantheraudiencewasaffordedan excellent view of thelatest fashion in Parisianclocked hose, then withone hand holding her hat,she trotted after the dog.“Fifi!” she called. “Wait forme,my little one!Oh, Fifi!Someonestopher!”

Estellegaveagurgleof

laughter.M’sieurDelacroixhid a smile. Theo, a widegrin splitting his face,started down the steps tothe aid of the lady, whileAnatole stepped to therailing,thebettertosee.

The commotion hadbroughtColossusandoneof the maids to the door.TheygavewaytoMadameas that lady, clad in herdressing sacque with herhair about her shoulders

and her maid trailingbehind, stepped outside.Shetookinthesituationataglance.

“Theo!” she called.“Come back at once! Atonce, do you hear?Estelle, Amélie, you willenter the house. Pray donot argue! I know what isbest.”

Theo hesitated, hismother’s command goingagainst the teachings of a

lifetime. In that smallamount of time, the littledog’s enthusiasm for thechastisement of thehumans who had the badmannerstostaredeparted.She sat down to wait forhermistress.

Madame Fontainescooped up her pet.Scolding in a monotone,she hurried back to thephaeton. She handed thedogupand,withtheaidof

Rochefort, climbed overthe wheel and settledherself once more. Backsstiff,thepairofthemdroveoffwithoutlookingback.

“Detestable creature,”Madame was heard tomutter.

M’sieur Delacroixlooked around in mocksurprise.“Ithoughtitwasacharminglittledog.”

With a soundsuspiciously like a snort,

Madame turned back intothehouse.

A dozen emotionswarred in Caroline’sbreast. Among them wereanger, jealousy, and pain,but prominent also weregenuineamusementandarather shockingsatisfaction that Rocheforthadsaddledhimselfwithawoman guaranteed todrive him distracted withina week. She told herself

she might have expectedhim to behave in somesuch outrageous way. Hewas not the kind to goslinking off in the night.Even stripped of hispretenses, he was still aforce to be reckonedwith.They would be luckyindeed if installing amistressatFelicitywastheonlywayhefoundinwhichto flaunt his disregard ofthe standards of the

peopleinthecommunity.It was the height of

stupidity to worry over themad starts the man mightget up to, of course. Shehad other, more importantthings to occupy hermind—suchaswhereshewasgoing and what she wasgoing to do when she leftBeau Repos. She mightreturn toheruncle’shomeinNatchez fora fewdays,just long enough to take

her bearings. Then, NewOrleans,shesupposed.Orperhaps she would gothere directly. She had alittlemoneyputby,enoughto keep her for severalweeks,ifittookthatlongtofindanewsituation.

These plans, solaboriously considered,were brought to nothingonly hours after theyweremade. The family was atthe dinner table when a

clamor was heard outsidethe front door. Colossusleft the dining salon withhis unhurried tread. A fewminutes later, with muchdistaste, he ushered in adust-covered messengerdressed in wine-coloredlivery. His brown facegrave with portent, theman made his apologiesfordisturbing themat theirevening meal, thenpresented a sealed

envelope to M’sieurDelacroix. It escaped thenotice of no one that theenvelope was edged indark gray, the color ofdemi-mourning.

“Colossus,seethatthisman has food and drink,”M’sieur Delacroixinstructed. When the pairdepartedinthedirectionofthe kitchen, he carefullybroketheblacksealofthemessage, drew a

candelabrum nearer, andunfoldedtheparchment.

“Well, sir?” Madamedemandedafteramoment.

Herhusbandfoldedthemessage and dropped iton the table before hereplied. “It is from yoursister at Cabanocey. Itseems, ma chére, thatyour great-aunt, TanteTitine,isgravelyill.”

“We must go at once,”Madame said, setting

down her demitasse as ifshe intended to leave ontheinstant.

“But Marie, you shouldnot think of it. Yourcondition—”

“My condition? If Iconsidered that, I shouldnever move out of mybed,” she said with somejustification.

“Surely there is noneed?” Her husbandfrowned.

“Thereiseveryneed.Itisamatterof family.HaveI not always made certainof every observance dueyour relations?” Madameasked with a significantnod of her head in thedirection of Tante Zizi’sbedchamber where thatelderlyladywaseatinghersolitarydinner.

“Ofcourse,machére.”“Yes, and there is

something you have

forgotten, I think. TanteTitine was a childlesswidow.WhenIwasagirl,Iwasherfavoriteniece,andshealwayssaidtomethatwhensheno longerhadausefor it. Imighthaveherruby-and-diamond brooch.The piecewas amarriagegift fromherhusband.Thesettingisgothic,ofcourse,but the stones are goodand will be handsomeoncetheyarereset.IfIdo

notgo, if I cannot seeherbefore she passes on, Ishall never get my handsonthepiece,Iknowit.Mysister, saying it is her duesince she housed TanteTitine, will beg it for herpasty-faced daughter. Andif I saw anyone elsewearing my stones, itwouldmakeme ill, I knowitwould!”

M’sieur Delacroix knewwhen he was beaten. He

argued no more, butagreed to accompany hiswife on the day-longjourney to Cabanocey.Madame arose at once,leaving her coffee to growcoldwhilesherangthebellfor her maid and set thewomantopacking.

This developmentprevented Caroline’s owndeparture, of course. Shecould not leave withM’sieur and Madame

Delacroixawayfromhomeindefinitely.

By sunrise the nextmorning, all was ready.The berlin carriage stoodupon the drive. Dressedfrom head to toe inlavender-gray, followed byhermaid carryingadozensmall items necessary forthe lady’s comfort,Madameemerged into thehall. She had askedCaroline to arise betimes

to see them off. Now asshe pulled on her graygloves,shebegantoissueher last-minuteinstructions.

“Do not let Theooverdo, if you please. Hethinks he has recoveredhis strength, but as hismother, I know better. Donot allowmy daughters toassociate in any way withthat canaille who sounfortunately occupies

Felicity. I will not havethem contaminated. Weshall be lucky if we brushthrough without somestigma being attached tousafterM’sieurDelacroix’slack of perspicuity insponsoring that — thatprivateer.”

The last word wasdelivered with a vicioussneer. How nice, Carolinethought, to be able totransfer blame so easily.

Shewasalwaysconsciousthat if she had onlyrecognized Rochefortearlier, theyallmighthavebeensparedmuch.

Madame was alsoconscious of this fact. “Ishallholdyouresponsible,personally responsible, ifanything occurs in myabsence to jeopardizefurther my daughters’chancesofmarriage.”

“Iunderstand,”Caroline

replied.“Iforeseenodifficulties.

Should there be any, youhave Anatole to dependupon,orifnecessarythereisM’sieurGravieratBonneChance. The youngerchildren are all healthy atthe moment, Heaven bepraised, but should illnessbefall,IampersuadedyouwillbeabletocopeaswellasI.Icannotsaywhenwewillreturn.Itmaybewithin

two or three days, it maystretchintoaweekoreventwo. It is as le bon Dieuwills.”

Onthatpiousnote,shemovedoffdownthesteps.M’sieur Delacroix firsthanded his wife into thecarriage, and then hermaid.With a genial wave,heclimbed inhimself.Thesteps were taken away, awhip cracked in the softmorningair,andtheywere

gone.Caroline turned back

into the house. Movingalong the hallway, shethought she heard a softsound, like a womancrying. She stopped,listening.Thesoundcamefrom the direction of thechamber usually occupiedby M’sieur and Madame.Beyond that bedchamberwas the room whereAmélie slept. Called the

Virgin’s Bedchamber, itwas traditionally used bythe eldest daughterbecauseithadnoentranceexcept through themasterbedchamber. There couldbe little doubt it wasAméliesheheardcrying.

Caroline could notignore the distress sheheard in the girl’s voice.She knocked on the dooroftheouterchamber.

Thecryingstopped,but

therewasnoanswer.Shewaited a moment, thenwent into the first room.Crossingtothedoorofthesecond, she knockedagain.

“Who is it?” Améliecalled in a voice quiteunlikeherown.

“It’s Caroline. Isanythingwrong?”

“No,I—Iwastalkingtomyself,that’sall.”

Caroline knew

differently though shehesitated to force theissue.“MayIcomein?”

“Yes, justamoment—allright.”

Caroline heard the bedropes creak. When sheopened the door, Améliewaspushingherarms intoadressinggown,sittingonthe edge of the bed. Asshe got up, a square ofwhite paper, which lookedas if it had been hastily

pushedintothepocket,fellfromthewrapper.Blushingscarlet, the girl pouncedupon it, crumpling it inherhand before putting herhandintotheslitpocket.

Forcing down herdismay,Carolinesmiled.“Iamthoroughlyawakeaftermyearlyrising.Ithoughtifyouwereno longersleepywe might share a cup ofcoffee. Colossus is upalso, and I’m sure he

would bring it to us if werang.”

Amélie nodded heragreement, though therewas a listlessness to themovementCarolinedidnotlike. As the embarrassedcolor faded from the girl’scheeks, it left her faceabnormally pale with darkshadows beneath hereyes.

“Perhapsyouwouldliketocometothesittingroom

when you are ready,then?”

That, too, wasagreeable, but though shecame,andthoughtheysatfor some time in desultoryconversation,Améliemadeno reference to what wasmaking her miserable, nordid she mention the noteshe had hidden in herpocket.

Madame and M’sieurDelacroix had not been

gone above a day beforeAnatole began to makehimselfathomeatFelicity.Since the young man hadreached the age ofconsent, Caroline had noauthorityoverhim,norhadshe been given anyinstructions. She couldspeak to him about thematter, but she had littlehopeofhisattending.Itdidseem hard that a youngman who had been

allowedtocomeandgoatthe plantation next doorprettymuchashepleasedfor so long should bedenied the privilege justwhen the goings-onguaranteed to capture hisinterest were beginning totakeplace.

His constantcompanion in these visitswas Hippolyte Gravier.That young gentlemanbegan to make himself

comfortable in thegarçonniére at BeauRepos,sendinghiscurricleand horses to BonneChance so theywould noteat their heads off in hishost’s stable. When hewas not with Anatole atFelicity,hewaspresentinghimselfontheBeauReposgallery, where he keptEstelleentertainedandtheyounger children in smileswithhisantics.Hewasso

often at meals that theybegantosendforhim,likeoneofthefamily,whenhedidnotarrive.

There was somediscussion of the pair’spaying a visit to BatonRouge. Themain purposeof such a tripwould be tosee Mademoiselle LouiseRoussel,whohadreturnedhomea fewdaysafter theouting to the hauntedsandbar.Thiscouldnotbe

admitted, of course, andsome other pretext fortraveling to that town hadto be invented. In themeantime, Felicity hadmuchtoofferinthewayofentertainment. It wasjudgedbest,finally,towaituntilM’sieurDelacroixwasin residence oncemore torelieve Anatole of theresponsibility of thehousehold. Then he couldgive his son the required

permission to pay his suittoMademoiselleRoussel.

Itwas the fifthday thatthe master and mistresshad been from home.Dinner was over, Anatoleand Hippolyte had goneout immediately afterwardto a fête given byRochefort. Estelle waslanguishing in the salondoing mayhem on thepiano-forte to a tune fromThe Beggar’s Opera.

Caroline was trying tofinish her Berlin work bythe light of a gutteringcandle while, on the otherside of it, Amélie satpatiently stitching on ahand-heldfirescreen.

Suddenly Estellebroughtherhandcrashingdown on the keys. “Howdull,dull,dulleverythingis!Ishallgomadifyoutwositthere sewing like a pair ofPenelopes a moment

longer. Let us dosomethingexciting,please,Mam’zelleCaroline?”

“Whatwouldyouliketodo?”

“Oh — let us disguiseourselvesand slip into theballroom at Felicityunnoticed! That would bebeyond anything thrilling.Or we could have themhitch up the carriage andgo for a drive, perhaps toseeBéatriceandBonitaat

Bonne Chance. They willbe glad of company, nowtheir cousin Louise is nolongerwiththem.”

“They would think usmad indeed if we camevisiting at this time ofnight,” Caroline protested.“As for the other, I thinkyouknowitisimpossible.”

“I don’t see why, if noone knows we are there,”Estelle protested, a sulkylookabouthermouth.

“Noonecanguaranteewe would not berecognized, and in anycase, that is not the onlydangerinsuchcompany.”

“I think you exaggerateto frighten us, don’t you,Amélie? But never mind.We don’t have to seeMadame Fontaine’stheatricals. We can planour own. Maman has atrunk fullof things thatareout of fashion, and Tante

Zizi is certain to havesome odds and ends wecan use. If we put ourheads together, we canmake Anatole andHippolyte Gravier regretleavingusherealonewhiletheygooffcarousing!”

It seemed harmlessenough.ButnosoonerhadCaroline agreed to theproject than difficultiesbegan to presentthemselves. Madame had

lockedthetrunkcontaininghercastoffsandhadtakenthekeyaswellasthekeysto her dressing table, herpersonal secrétaire, andherarmoire.TanteZizihadlongsincegonetobedandcould not be aroused forsuch a frivolous reason.Amélie developed aheadache and asked insuchapiteousvoicetobeexcusedthatitwouldhavebeen heartless to deny

her.There was nothing for

it, the theatricals wouldhavetobeabandoned.Ascompensation, however,Caroline led Estelle in araid on the outdoorkitchen.Theybrewedapotofhotchocolate,plunderedin the larder for a plate ofcakes,andthencarriedthebooty back to the sittingroom where they ate anddrank the whole while

playing euchre forpicayunestakes.

Caroline, never a greatone for cards, wasbeginning to yawnuncontrollably when acommotion was heardoutside.

“That will be Anatoleand Hippolyte returning,”Estelle said, frowningdarkly in the direction ofthenoise.

“Good heavens! Can it

be so late?” Carolineexclaimed.“Ihadnoidea.”

Estelle directed a lookat the pile of notes byCaroline’selbow.“No,timepasses quickly when youare winning, I make nodoubt.”

“Oh, these!” Carolineswept the slips of paperfromthetableandpressedthem into a wadded ballwithoneswiftgesture.“Somuchforyourdebts.”

“Mam’zelle,” the girlsaid, a look in her browneyessolikehermother’sitwasstartling, “it iseasy tosee you will neverprosper.”

Caroline would haveargued, but a loud thumpwasheardfromthegallery.Shegot toher feet. “Whatcan they be doing? Theycannotmean to come intothe house at this time ofnight.”

“Something may bewrong,”Estelleventured.

“Something willdefinitely be wrong if theythink to remove from thegarçonniére in yourparents’ absence. I haveaccepted much, but notthis.”

“I’msureAnatolewouldnot think of it, norHippolyte.”

“Perhaps not.We shallsee,”Carolinetoldherand

marchedfromtheroomonherway tounbolt the frontdoor. Estelle, candlestickin hand, brought up therear.

Colossus had gone tohis well-earned rest longbefore,or theymighthavelet him see to thedisturbance. As it was,they had to remove theheavy crossbar and turnthe enormous keythemselves.Takingadeep

breath,Carolineswungthepanelwide.

At the sound ofsquealing hinges badly inneed of oil, Hippolytewhirled about. He blinkedfoolishly in the suddenlight, then a smile spreadover his features asrecognition dawned. “Meshommages,Mesdemoiselles,” he said,sketching an elaboratebowthathadtobeabruptly

curtailed when he nearlylost his balance. “Anatole,old man, get up. It’s yoursister and Mam’zelleCaroline.”

Anatole was sitting onthe top step of thestaircase, his head in hishands. “Not so loud,monami, you will wakesomeone,”hewhispered.

“I am telling you theyare already awake. Standup, or they will think you

have had trop des petitscoups.”

“He is inebriated,”Estelle said in fascination.Never had she seen sucha thing.Toappear insucha condition among ladieswas to be placed beyondthepale.

“You see? What did Itellyou?”Hippolytesaid.

This had the effect ofgettingAnatole tohis feet.Bymainstrengthofwill,he

conquered a tendency toaway. “Behold me,” hesaid, his gaze fixedsomewhere just above thetop of Caroline’s head. “Iaminperfectcontrol.”

“Yes, I see,” she said.“Wherehaveyoubeen?”

“Where else butFelicity. There was unepetite la partie, youunderstand?”

A little card party,gaming for high stakes.

She understood perfectly.What she did notunderstand was why shewassurprised.

“Did you lose much?”Estelleasked.

“I did not lose— or atleastnomore thana trifle.RochefortsaidIwasmuchtoofavoredbyDameGoodFortune to be permitted toplay for the stakes theyheld at his table. Said hewould rather watch

Madame Fontaine, and—andsoshouldI.”

Rochefort was stillpossessed of some goodinstincts, itappeared, ifhehad managed to dissuadeAnatole from playing forhighstakeswithoutsettinghisbackup.

“Watch MadameFontainedowhat?”Estellequeried,comingforwardtotake her brother’s sleeveandleadhimtoachair.

“I — Hippolyte, monami, what did MadameFontainedoforus?”

“They don’t really wantto know, Anatole. Tell youwhat. We shouldn’t behere. Better for us if wetoddle back where webelong.”

“You have truth, myfriend. Still, it was a mostinteresting performance. Aclassicalscene,wasitnot?I wanted to tell my little

sisteraboutit.”“Yes, that was it. Now

canwego?Myheadfeelsmostpeculiar.”

“Oh? Are you just atrifle piqué, my friendHippolyte?Shameonyou.What will Mam’zelleCarolinathink?”

“Shewill think Iam thesoul of discretion if I takeyou away forthwith,”Hippolyte said, graspinghisarm.

Anatole made noattempt to rise. An owlishlookinhiseyes,helookedat his friend. As Hippolytemade ready to shake him,Estelle put a hand onHippolyte’s shoulder.“Wait! Let him think,” shesaid.

Hippolyte could notdisobey this injunction,buthe cast a look of suchappealatCarolinethatshestepped toward them. “Do

you think I should rouseColossus?” she askedquietly.

“No, no, there’s noneedforthat.Ifonly—”

“I have it,” Anatoleexclaimed. “Helen!MadameFontainegaveusHelen presenting herselfbeforeParis toreceivetheprize as the most fair.Rochefort was Paris, yousee? Madame Fontaineworethisshorttunicwhich

expose—?”“I doubt Mam’zelle

Caroline is interested inhow she was dressed,”Hippolyteputinhurriedly.

“But I am,” Estelledeclared. “Costumesinterest me exceedingly. Iwouldhave likedaboveallthingstohaveseenit!”

Anatole, brought to arealization of his sister’sinterest, drew himself up.“Notatallthethingforyou,

petite soeur. Besides,Rochefort put an end to itsoon enough. Refused toaward the apple. Thatspoiled the whole thing, Iassure you. MadameFontaine went off in atemper and refused tocome out of herbedchambertherestoftheevening. Nothing for it buttohaveanotherlittlegameof cards, another littledrink. Dull evening, most

dull, I swear it. Should bebetter tomorrow night.Rochefort promised amasquerade — at least Ithinkhedid.”

Secureinthebeliefthathehadrecoveredhiserrorand smoothed over theincident, Estelle’s brotherallowed himself to be ledaway.

9

BY THE NEXT DAYAmélie had recovered herspirits to the point whereshefeltabletotakeawalkalong the drive and levee.

Estelle, in a rare burst ofenergy, agreed toaccompany her. This leftCarolinefreetoattendtoalittle of the housecleaningthathadbeenneglectedintheir recent round ofmerriment.

Watching the sisterswalkawaywiththeirheadstogether, she felt an oddisolation, as if for somereason she were beingshut out. After so many

yearsitwasstrangetofeelherself an interloper oncemore. Perhaps it was justas well that she had lefther trunk packed. At thisrate, there would be fewtiesofaffectiontoholdherwhen the master andmistress of Beau Reposreturned.

Although she chidedherself for being stupidlysensitive, the feelingpersisted through the day.

Whendinnerwasover,theladiessatforawhileinthesalon,butEstelle,pleadingher late night the eveningbefore and the fatigue ofher unaccustomed walk,went early to her room.Shewassoon followedbyAmélie. The withdrawalwasnogreatlosssincethetwoofthemhadnothadadozen words betweenthem to say the wholeevening.WithAnatoleand

Theo out somewhereabout their own concernsand the younger childrenasleep,Carolinewasquitealone.

So great was herfeeling of separation fromhumankindthatshelookedupwithawelcomingsmilewhen her solitude wasinterrupted. M’sieurPhilippe stood bowing inthedoorway, the lookofaman sure of his reception

onhisfloridface.Asheadvancedtoward

her, Caroline noted withsome amusement that hehad improved hiscomplexion this eveningwith an application ofrouge over poudre à laMaréchal.Therewasevena small black patchadorning the corner of hismouth. With hismagnificent coat oflavender satin trimmed

with silver lace, and kneebreeches of pale gray, helooked a gentleman offashion, albeit the fashionoftwenty-fiveyearsbefore.

Hidingasmile,Carolineoffered him a glass ofwine.

“No, no, Mam’zelleCaroline, you must nottrouble yourself over mycomfort. I hope I knowenoughtoorderaglassofMadeira for myself.

Colossus will bring itsoon.”

Hewasbeingvery freewith his employer’s winestock, butCarolinedidnotdemur beyond the slightraising of an eyebrow.“Won’tyousitdown?”

“I trust I do not intrudeat an inconvenientmoment,” he said, flickinghiscoattailsoutofthewayas he seated himself onthesetteebesideCaroline.

“Notatall.”“I was sure you would

say so. This is amelancholy timeofdayforsomeone who is alone intheworld,isitnot?”

Caroline was mystifiedbytheratherpityingtoneinhis voice allied with hisconfident bearing. “It canalsobearestfultimewhenone has been gaddingaboutforweeks.”

“The British are so

stoical.Iadmirethisqualityin you, Mam’zelle, thisability to make a virtue ofadversity.”

“I don’t believe I takeyour meaning, sir,” shesaid,hergrayeyescool.

“A week ago you weredancing. Tonight you sitalone.”

“Very true. And I find Ilike both. Contrary of me,isn’tit?”

“No, enchanting,” he

said, and picking up herhand, he made as if toraise it to his lips. Hestoppedhalfwayashesawthe needle she still heldturned uppermost in herfingers. Carefully, hereplaced her hand uponthesewinginherlap.

“You are too kind,M’sieur,” she murmured,slantinghimaglancefromthecornerofhereye.

“No, no. It wounds me

to see you trying to keepup an appearance ofcheerfulness. This issomething Iwant tospeaktoyouabout.”

“Yes?” she saidencouragingly, though shereturned her attention toherBerlinwork.

“Mam’zelle—” hebegan, only to beinterrupted by Colossusentering the room with atray holding the Madeira

and a glass. M’sieurPhilippe tasted the wine,pronounced it excellent,thenwaiteduntil thebutlerhad taken himself offbeforecontinuing.

“Mam’zelle,ashorttimeago I said to you that ourrelationshipwouldproceedatyourpace.”

“Irecallthatincident.”Oblivious to the dry

note in her voice, hewenton. “Since that time the

situationhaschanged.”“In what way?” She

spoke more to stave offwhat she feared wascoming than because shewishedtoknow.

Tossingoffhiswine,hesettheglassaside.“Surelyyou must realize thateveryone knows of yourtrunk which sits fullypackedinyourchamber?Itis so, I assure you. FromthefaithfulColossustothe

meanest stable boy, theyallwonderwhenyoumeanto depart and where youintendtogo.”

“I see.” Certainly sheshould have realized itevenifshehadnot.

“That being so, I amcome thisevening tosaveyou from the ignominy ofleavingunderacloud.Iamcome to lay my heart atyour feet, and ask you toaccepttheprotectionofmy

name!” So saying, heslipped from the settee tobalanceonhisbonykneesatherfeet.

“Leaving under acloud?” Caroline askedwithafrown.

“Becauseofwhatsomeare pleased to call yourforwardness in passingtime alone with the manwho called himself amarquis. I, for one, havegood reason to doubt

these tales, knowing as Ido of your great and truemodesty.” M’sieur Philippewincedalittleasheshiftedonhisknees.

Her face sober,Caroline nodded. “Iappreciate your faith inme.”

“Ihavecausetoknowitis not the false Marquiswhoholdsyourinterest,doInot?Letusproveittotheothers. Say you will be

mine!”Before Caroline could

open her mouth, the doorswungopenagaintoadmitColossus. If he saw thetutor scrambling hastily tohisfeet,thebutlergavenosign.“Pardon,Mam’zelle,Ithought youwouldwish toknow. The maid ofMam’zelle Amélie has justcome from herbedchamber. She is notthere, nor is Mam’zelle

Estelle in herbedchamber.”

“Perhaps theywentoutonto one of the galleriesforabreathofair?”

“I have looked,Mam’zelle. They werenowhere to be found. Themaid believes there is aballgownmissingfromthearmoire of Mam’zelleAmélie, and also adomino.”

Adomino,she thought,

the kind of long, hoodedcloak with matching maskpreferred by the ladies ofNewOrleans for themanymasked balls held everyseason. What was itAnatole had said?Something aboutRochefort promising themthe pleasure of amasquerade. She shouldhave guessed Estellewould determine to go,especiallyaftermentioning

the possibility the eveningbefore. If she had beenless involvedwithherownemotions and concerns,she might have realizedwhatwasinthewind.

Lookingup,sheasked,“Hasavehiclebeen takenfromthestables?”

“I will inquire,Mam’zelle,” Colossusrepliedandlefttheroom.

She turned to M’sieurPhilippe. “I may have to

request your escort toFelicity.”

“With the greatestpleasure. You suspect theyoung ladies may havegoneinthatdirection?”

“Ifearso.”“Itistoobadofthemto

worry you so and to goupsetting everyone as ifweallhadnothingbettertodothanchaseafterthem.”

“I imagine they wouldjust as soonnoone came

after them,” Caroline saidwithhardlyaglance inhisdirection.

“Youhavetherightofit,of course. But Mam’zelle,before youembarkon thisquest,canyounotgivemeyouranswer?”

“My answer? Oh, toyour proposal. I am sorry,M’sieur,but Idid tell you Ihadnoaffectionforyou.”

“It cannot be true. Ihave been told you were

not indifferent to me, thatyou were, in fact, mostenamored.”

“Even if it were so,”Caroline said astringently,“itwouldbeinbadtastetothrow it in my face, don’tyou think? However, it isnot so. I am afraid youhave been the victim ofMam’zelle Estelle’s ratherunusualsenseofhumor.”

“Youmean—itwasnomorethanafoolishjest?”

“I am afraid that isaboutthesizeofit.”

He grew visibly paler.Drawing himself up, heturnedtowardthedoor.

“M’sieur Philippe?Where do you go? Wemay have to leave forFelicityontheinstant.”

“Forgive me. I find Icannotescortyou.”

“Butwhy?”“Imust think. To be so

used! It passes my

understanding. How couldIpossiblybeconsideredinsuchalight?Iamnotatallcomical! Jest indeed! Icannot, I will not, tolerateit!”

So great was hisindignation that as heshook his head his smallblack patch fell from hisface. He searchedfrantically for it among theruffles of his shirt and thesilver lace of his coat.

Then,conceding it lost,hedismissed it with a flick ofhis fingers. That actiondislodgedtheminutepatchfromhiscoatsleevewhereit drifted to the floor.Instantly he was upon it,capturing it like a dogfinding a flea. Holding itbetween two fingers, hegottohisfeet,straightenedhisshoulders,andwithhisnose in the air, mincedaway.

No animals weremissing from the stables,no vehicle from thecarriage house. HowAmélie and Estelle haddeparted the plantationremained a mystery, butthere was one thingcertain,theyweregone.

Caroline took a deepbreath.“Isupposeyouhadbetter tell them to put ahorsetothecart,”shetoldColossus.

“It is being done. Jimthe groom will have it atthe frontstepsby the timeyouareready,Mam’zelle.”

Was there sympathy inthe voice of the hugebutler? She could not tellfrom his impassivecountenance. “Very good,”she answered and wentaway to find her bonnet,shawl,andgloves.

It was a bright,moonlitnight. There was no need

ofthelanternofpiercedtinthatJimcarried tosee theroad,butithelpedtodispelthe mystery of the silver-coatedleaveswhichshooktonodiscerniblewindandthe mournful cries ofnightbirds deep in thewoods.

Compared to the cool,puremoonlight, the yellowtorchlight and candle glowthat bathed Felicity had agarish look. Adding to the

impression was the well-lighted outline of thesteamboat from Natchez,tiedupforthenightbesidethe still hulk of the Egret.The river was tootreacherous for travelafterdark; no doubt the fewpaying steamboatpassengers were availingthemselves of Rochefort’shospitality.

Thatquiteafewpeoplewere doing so was plain

from the clamor of voicesthatroseabovethestrainsof music. As Jim broughtthe horse to a standstill,Caroline stared up at thehouse, a look of quietgrimness in her eyes. Aboyranforwardtotakethereinsoftheirhorse,butJimrefusedtorelinquishthem.He got down and went tothehorse’shead,standingthere as if he intended towait forever, his eyes

puzzled but wary as hestaredat thehousewherehisanklehadbeensetandmadewholeagain.

The front door openedat Caroline’s approach.Head high, she asked tosee Rochefort, thenaccepted the offer of asmall salon in which towait.

It was a charmingroom, faintly feminine,done in pale green and

silver with touches ofChinese yellow. It had aneasternaspecttocatchthemorningsun.Carolinewasstudying a group of glassanimals set to capture thefirst rays of morning lightwhen the door openedbehindher.

Rochefort paused withhis hand on the knob.Hisgaze raked her from headto toe, then he quietlypushedthepaneltobehind

him.“TowhatdoIowethishonor?” he asked, hisdeeptonelacedwithirony.

Caroline was suddenlyaware of how dowdy shemust look in the graycambric gown she haddonned early thatmorningto supervise the cleaning.Her bonnet of chip strawwith a tartan ribbon couldnot be said to match byany stretch of theimagination. Throwing a

paisley shawl over hershoulders had donenothingmorethanpointupthe inadequacies of hertoilette. By contrastRochefort was the imageof sartorial perfection. Hisshirt points were stiff withstarch,hiscravatintricatelytied but without anunnecessary fold orwrinkle. His coat set uponhis shouldersas ifmoldedto his form, and his

evening pumps glitteredwithamirror-likeshine.

Caroline clasped herhands together to hide abetraying tremor. Sheopened her mouth toapologize for taking himaway fromhisguests,andthen the implication of hismanner of dress struckher. “I thought you werehaving a masquerade,”shesaidbluntly.

“Those of my guests

who feelso inclinedare incostume tonight. Youdisapprove?”

“It is no concern ofmine,” she answered asevenly as possible. “Whatdoes concern me is thefact that Amélie andEstellemaybeamong themaskers.”

Afrowndrewhisbrowstogether. “You have somereason for such astatement?”

Quickly she outlinedwhat had occurred. Whenshe finished speaking, heswore softly and strodefromtheroom.Aquarterofan hour passed. Carolinewas thinking seriously ofgoinginsearchofthegirlswhen the door was flungopen. Rochefort stoodback to allow Estelle in apurple domino to sweeppast him. She wasfollowedbyAméliewiththe

hood of her cloak thrownback exposing her hair,andVictorintheguiseofa“veryparfit,gentleknight.”

Estelle halted at thesight of Caroline; then,jostled by the others, shecameforwardmoreslowly.Beneath her demimaskshe chewed at her bottomlip.AmélieclungtoVictor’sarm.

“Your culprits,”Rochefort said, folding his

arms to lean against thecloseddoor.

Caroline sent him alook of extreme irritationbefore she turned to theothers. It was Victor whospokefirst.

“I realizehowthismustappear to you,Mademoiselle Pembroke,”hesaid.“Pleaseacceptmyassurances that no harmwas intended, only themost innocent of

amusementtobeaddedtothe great privilege ofseeing the woman whoholdsmyheart,myAmélie.I cannot expect you tobelieveme,but I can,andwill, make you understandthat the blame is minealone.”

“No, no!” Amélie cried.“Iwantedtocome.ItwasIwho receivedVictor’snoteand concealed it, I whoagreed to steal out of the

house to meet him. Oh,Mam’zelle, I am sorry, soterribly sorry that I had todeceiveyou,buttherewasno other way! It wasunreasonableofMaman toforbid us to meet, and Ilove Victor so. I wouldnever have dreamed ofdisobeying if it wereotherwise.”

Thatwasnodoubttrue.Caroline could not featurethe gentle girl defying her

parent’s command, andsociety’s dictates, plus theterrors of the night, foranything less than agenuine attachment. Shehad thought the girlcaptivated by Rochefort,and he, perhaps, just asinfatuated.Acovertglancerevealed nothing of whatmight be passing throughthat gentleman’s mind,however. His sardonicgaze rested on Estelle,

whostoodtwistingafoldofherdominoinherhands.

The girl looked fromRochefort to Caroline.“Coming here was myidea,” she said in a rush.“Victor and Amélie wouldhave been content to donomorethanstareateachother while I playedgooseberry. It wasridiculous, taking a sisteralong for a clandestinemeeting, as if there were

suchathingasproprietytobe observed at arendezvous. It was muchmore sensible to arrangetogowhere theycouldbecomfortable and where Icould see MadameFontaine.”

Caroline looked fromone to the other. Whatcould she say to them?Where was her sense ofoutrage and indignation?The answer was that she

could say nothing, for shedid not feel at all as sheknew she should. Giventhe choice and a hint ofwelcome, she woulddoubtless have preferredto attend the masqueradealso.

“Were yourecognized?” she askedAmélie.

Amélie glanced at hersisterasifforconfirmation.“No,”shesaid,shakingher

head,“Idon’tthinkso.”“Then perhaps there is

no harm done. Come, letus go home beforeanything can happen tochangethatsituation.”

Rochefortheldthedoorastheothersfiledthrough.Caroline had just steppedover the thresholdwhen aloud cry echoed from thestaircase that swept up totheballroom.

“Jean! Jean, my love,

they told me youdisappeared with Victorand a pair of ladybirds. Isee now that it is worsethanIthought.Three,moncher! How many does ittaketocontentyou?”

CarolineheardAmélie’ssmallgasp,butshedidnottake her eyes from theactress descending tomeet them. MadameFontaine wore a gown offlesh-coloredmuslinedged

at the low neckline andaboutthesleeveswithgoldembroidery. A goldengirdle clasped her slenderwaist, fastening with long,gold cords that fell belowherknees.Thegown itselfwas modest enough; theadditionofa longchemisewould have made itunexceptional though atrifle gaudy. But theactress wore no chemise.Beneath the transparent

muslin gauze she worenothing. She had evengone so far as to dampenthe material so that itstransparency wasincreased, and it clung toeverylineandcurveofherbody. Her black hair wasunbound, held only by agold fillet onher forehead.Kid sandals, strappedabout her ankles and upthe calves of her legs,adorned her feet. In the

face of such a blatantdisplay of her charms, thedemimask she woreseemed a coy affectation.And yet, there wassomethingso jauntyabouther, so engagingly joyousas she moved down thestairs, that Caroline couldnot own herself shocked.Watching her step toRochefort’s side and tuckher hand into his arm, thefeeling uppermost in her

mind was a paralyzingjealousy.

“Why, it’s the littlegoverness, isn’t it?MademoisellePembroke, Ibelieve? I have beenwonderingwhatbecameofyou. I have a few things Iwould like to tell youregarding Jean’s pastwhich you find sohorrifying.”

“Not now,” Rochefortinterrupted. “The ladies

werejustleaving.”“Were they?” the

actress asked, her mouthgrowing harder beneathher mask. “How sad, justwhen we were having somuchfun.”

“You must forgive us,”Caroline said, her voicestiff as her face in hereffort to hide her distress.“Mesdemoiselles, shall we—”

Estelle glanced at

Caroline apologeticallybeforeshesteppedtowardthe actress. “Before I go,MadameFontaine, Iwouldlike to tellyouhowmuch Iadmireyou,andhowmuchI enjoyed yourperformanceslastwinterinNewOrleans.”

“Howniceofyoutosayso,”theactressexclaimed,extending her handimpulsively to graspEstelle’s. “Youmust come

backstage the next timeyou seemeperform. I amalways glad to see anadmirer.”

“Do you mean that?”Estelleaskedinwonder.

“ButofcourseImeanit,mapetite.Iwouldnothavesaiditelse.”

“Iwouldbesothrilled,Icannot tell you what itwouldmeantome.”

The sound of footstepson the stairs brought

Caroline’s head up. Thelively fear that Estelle andAmélie might still bediscovered here amongwhat could only bedescribed as thedemimonde sent alarmcoursing along her veins.Instinctively, she turned toRochefort.

“There,Itoldyouitwasyoursister’svoiceIheard,”Hippolyte said to Anatoleas they came into view

aroundthelanding.“IknewIcouldnotbemistaken.”

Anatole paid noattention as he hurrieddown the last few steps.“Mam’zelle Caroline,” hesaid in a low tone, “whatcan you be thinking of tobring my sisters here? Itwillnotdo, itwillnotdoatall.”

Caroline wasted notime in defending herself.“What I am doing at the

moment is trying to getthem away,” she said. “Iwould appreciate yourescortand theuseofyourcurricle, if you have noobjections. Itwas going tobe a bit crowded in thecart.”

“Came in the cart, didyou?” Hippolyte said,castingashrewdeyeoverEstelle, who had gonesuddenly pale and silent.“Wouldn’t surprise me to

learn you came on arescue mission. Thought Isaw that purple dominopeeping out of one of theretiringroomsearlier,butitpopped back in before Icouldgetagoodlookatit.”

“Youneedn’t talkasif Ihad done somethingcriminal!” Estelle said, hereyes sparkling with wrathat this uncomplimentarydescriptionofherconduct.“After all, you have been

making yourself at homehere anytime this pastweek!”

“Not the same at all,kitten, and you know it.There’s noneed to fire upat me because you knowyoudidwrong.”

“I know no such thing!And just who gave youleave to criticize myconduct?”

“You did when youdecided to behave like a

hoyden.”“A hoyden! How dare

you?” Estelle cried. ShewouldhavesaidmorehadRochefortnotintervened.

“I would advise you tocontinue this quarrelelsewhere,” he drawled,“or MademoisellePembroke’s efforts will beinvain.MayIsendforyourcurricle,Anatole?”

CarolinetookAmélieupwithherselfandJim in the

cart, leaving Estelle tocomewithherbrotherandHippolyte. It was not themost diplomaticarrangement, but it couldnot be helped sinceEstelle, while Amélie wasmaking her tearfulfarewells to Victor,clambered up over thewheel of the curricle andsat there huddled into herdomino.

The curricle, being a

much swifter vehicle,reached Beau Repos wellaheadofthecart.Thattheoccupants of the firstcarriage had quarreled allthe way home becameobvious the momentCaroline and Améliesteppeddownonthedrive.Estelle’s slippers werefound on the front steps,lying there as if she hadlost them while hurryinginsideorhadflungthemat

someone. The purpledomino lay in a crumpledheap in the hall, and thecontents of Estelle’sreticule were scatteredaboutasifshehadventedher rageupon it.Fromthedirection of herbedchamber came thesound of an armoire doorslamming.

Amélie, venturing toapproach her bedchamberdoor to inquire if Estelle

wasallright,hadherheadbitten off for her pains. Itwas decided after someconsultation to let Estellecalmdownalone.

At the door of her ownbedchamber Améliepaused. “I suppose I oweyousome—someattemptat an explanation,” shesaid with difficulty. “I —quiteseewhatEstelleandI did tonight will inevitablyaffect you. I mean — if

Maman should find out,shewillbefuriousanditisyoushewillblame.Ihadn’tthought until we were onour way home just now,but you could lose yourposition.”

“That doesn’t matter,”Caroline told her. “Whatmatters is your goodname. It is no pleasantmattertoberuined,evenifitisforlove.”

“No, I’m sure you are

right.”Caroline hesitated.

“You are certain, quitecertain,thatitisVictoryoulove?”

“Oh, yes, Mam’zelleCaroline.”

“Not—notRochefort?”Amélieshookherhead.

“He has been extremelykind to me. In spite ofeverything — that hashappened, I still admirehim. But love him? I

couldn’t,notwhen there isVictor.”

“I see,” Caroline said,smiling a little at hervehemence. “I must havemisunderstood. Nevermind.”

“Buttheexplanation—”“Let it go for tonight,”

Caroline told herdismissingly as she notedwith pity the girl’sexhaustion, the darkcirclesunderhereyes,and

the faint tremor that couldbeheardinhervoice.“Wewill talk in themorning.Bythen everything will lookbetter.”

She was wrong. Shediscovered the extent ofhererrorwiththearrivalofhermorningcoffee.

“Forgive me,Mam’zelle,” said the littlemaidwhostoodbesideherbed, tray inhand. “Iwouldnotwakeyousoearlyafter

a late night, but it is mostimportant.”

Caroline struggled to asitting position beforereaching to take the petitnoir,thesmallblackcupofcoffee, which she hadcome to like in place ofchocolate as a morningreviver. Beyond thewindow curtain, the daywas gray-green with thepromiseof rain. Itwasnotearly at all, closer to

midmorning. “What is it?”she asked in tones stillhuskywithsleep.

“It isMam’zelleAmélie.Sheisgone.”

Herhandjerkedsoshenearly spilled the hotcoffee. “Gone? What doyoumean,gone?”

“Sheisnotinherroom.Oneofthegardener’sboyssaid that a carriage camejust after daybreak. Thedriver met Mam’zelle

Amélie on the drive. Theytalked,andthenMam’zelleAmélie went back into thehouse. When she cameoutshehadonherbonnetand shawl and carried abandbox. She got into thecarriage and they droveawayatagreatpacedowntheRiverRoad.”

“A bandbox?” Carolinesaidfaintly.No,itcouldnotbe. And yet, why elsewould a young lady get

intoacarriagewithaman,carrying what mustassuredlybeprovisionsforachangeofclothing,ifnotforarunawaymarriage?

“Did the boy recognizethedriverofthecarriage?”

“Hewas thegentlemanwho used to come oftenwith the man they calledthe Marquis. A tallgentleman,soft-spoken.”

Itcouldbenooneelse.Amélie was eloping with

Victor Rochefort. Settingher coffee aside, Carolineflungbackthecoverletandslid from the bed. As acouple, Victor and Améliemightbebeautifullysuited,butthiswasnotthewaytotheir happiness. Améliewasnotthekindtosurvivebeing ostracized, cut offfrom family and friends.Whileshemightbewilling,even glad, to give upeverythingforthemanshe

loved,shewouldfindintheend that thepricewas toodear. There was anadditional objection, thequestion of what name hewould bestow upon hisbride. If Rochefort wasnameless, then his cousinmustbealso.

Dressing hastily,Caroline went along thehall to Estelle’sbedchamber. That youngladymighthavesomething

toaddtowhatwasalreadyknown. There was thepossibility that she evenknew the exact route thecoupleintendedtotake,orperhaps where theyintended to stay on theroad.

Tapping on the dooryielded nothing. Carolineknocked again, this timeusing her knuckles. Therewas still no answer. Hermouth set in a grim line,

shepushedintotheroom.The scene which met

her eyes was one of totalconfusion. Clothing tornfrom the armoire wasspreadovereverysurface.Bonnetsspilledfromboxesontothefloor,shawlswereballed up and thrown intothe corners. Trinkets werescatteredoverthedressingtable inatangleofneckletchains, broken feathers,toothless hair combs, and

snapped fan sticks. It waspossible to see, under thedisarray, that the bed hadbeen slept in. Estelle hadbeen gone some time,however, for the candleshe had used had burnedtothesocketanddrownedin its own myrtle wax. Itseemedabsurdtosupposeshe had gone with theeloping couple, but stillCaroline prayed thatEstellewaswithhersister.

It needed only onethingmoretofillCaroline’scup to overflowing. Thatwas supplied by Colossuswhen she went in searchof him to bid him wakeAnatole andHippolyte.Hehandedheramissive,fromthe tutor. It seemed theirnumberwasthinnerbyyetone more. M’sieurPhilippe, grasping at theopportunity offered by theearly-morning passing of

the steamboat on itsNatchez-to-New Orleansrun, had also decamped.In a brief note to Carolinehe declared that thehumiliationofthediscoveryhe had made the eveningbefore was more than hecould bear, coming as itdid upon the pain of hercruel refusal of his suit. Itwas time he sought alarger field for his talents,time he left the stagnated

backwaters for the swiftrapids of the city. Therewas much more in a likevein, but Caroline did nottrouble to read it. ShedirectedColossus towakeAnatole, inform him ofwhat had happened, andtellhimtomakereadyforalongdrive.That done, sheretired to the sitting room.Casting M’sieur Philippe’snotetooneside,shedrewupachairtothesecrétaire

andpreparedtowrite.Butwhat tosay?While

it seemed obvious thatsome message needed tobe sent to Rochefort, shecould not think how itshouldbeworded.Shedidnot want him to think sheblamed him for what hadhappened, nor did shewant it to seem she wasbegging for his help,thoughinthissituationshewas not certain his aid

would not be the mostvaluable she could have.Theonlythingtodowastotell him plainly what hadgoneforthatBeauRepos,inquire as to thewhereaboutsofhiscousin,and make certain beforeshe went hazing off in alldirections that Amélie andEstellewerenottuckedupcomfortably at Felicityenjoyingtheirbreakfast.

Caroline sealed the

page covered with herwriting and handed it to awaitingmaid.Thegirlwentquickly from the room togive it to the groomstanding beside hissaddled horse at the frontsteps. As she passed outthe door, Tante Zizientered.

“A good day to you,Caroline. You are upbetimes this morning —but so is everyone else.

Thereissuchastir,suchacommotion and a runninghither and yon of theservants, that no oneansweredmybell.IknowIam the last to hearanything, tucked away inmyroom,butItoldmyselfIreally had to findoutwhatistakingplace.”

“Youmayaswellknow.Doubtless the entirecommunity will be privy tothe factsbefore theday is

through.Estelleismissing,andapparentlyAméliehaseloped with VictorRochefort.”

Theoldladycockedherhead on one side. “Whatareyougoingtodo?”

“WhatcanIdo?Améliecannot be allowed to ruinherself by indulging in arunaway marriage with anameless nobody. Isuppose as soon asAnatole is ready, and as

soon as I can ascertainpositively that they are ontheir way to the IndianMission, that Iwill have togoafterthem.”

“I for one, cannotunderstandtheobjectiontoVictor Rochefort. Heseemsanunexceptionableyoung man to me, with atemperament one mightexpect to match ideallywith that of my grand-niece.True,hehasnotitle,

but you cannot preciselycall him nameless. Hecomes from a very goodfamily.”

Caroline stared at herin surprise. “Surelysomeone must have toldyou that the Marquis deRochefort is the nameassumed by the notoriousprivateer, the man I,myself, recognized as theBlackEagle?”

“Oh, yes. Most

enterprising of the youngman to mend his fortunesin such a manner, Ithought in my day weappreciatedabitofdashina man, a hint of daringdeeds. I cannot see thatsucha triflemakeshimorhis cousin ineligible,especially if he hasmended his ways andintends to remain athome.”

Was theold ladybeing

deliberately obtuse?Carolinecouldnottell.“ButTante Zizi, the man, bothmen, are imposters.Heavens alone knowswhattheirrealnamesmaybe.”

“Mydearchild!” theoldlady exclaimed. “Whatevergave you such an oddnotion? A privateer theman may have been, thatisasmaybe;thenobilityofFrancehasturneditshand

to stranger things in theselast years. But he is alsoindisputably Jean CharlesHenri, the Marquis deRochefort. I could notmistake the look of theRocheforts,afamilyIknewwell when at Court. Thepresent Marquis hasexactly the look of hisgrandfather. Moreover, hegave tome details of thatgentleman and of hisgrandmother,agoodfriend

of mine, that none but ablood relative could haveknown. His knowledge ofthefamilyseatintheLoirevalley was exact, hismemory of relations, oldermen and women I hadknown, could not havebeengatheredbyanythingother than personalexperience. No, no. Theowner of Felicity is mostdefinitely the Marquis deRochefort!”

A feeling of sicknessmoved over Caroline. Onthestrengthofherword,aman had been shunned,branded an imposter, andheld up to scorn andridicule. She alone hadturned him into an outcastin the society where hehad hoped to findacceptance.

“Why?” she whisperedover the tightness in herchest. “Why didn’t he

defendhimself?Whydidn’the tell me I was wrongwhen I flung the chargeintohisface?”

“Ataguess,pride.Theywere always proud, theRochefortmen.”

“But to let himself befalselyaccused—”

“To be falsely accusedwas nothing compared tobeingaccusedat all. ToaRochefort, what he is andwhoheismustbeobvious

tothosewhohaveeyestosee.”

Caroline suddenlyraised her hands to herface as she rememberedthe arrested look that hadcome intohiseyesasshetold him she hadrecognized him, the bitterirony with which he hadasked her to be his wife.Why had he done that?What had caused him totreatherrevelationinsuch

a manner? He hadpromised to whisper hisreal name into the ear ofthepriestwhowouldmarrythem. Was that to havebeen her punishment, todiscover his true identityafter they were wed? Orwould he have repudiatedher at the altar? Worse,could he have reallythought she had somesuchploy topersuadehimintomarriageinmindwhen

shedenouncedhim?“Why — why?” she

whispered almost toherself.

“Why the proposalwhich was so rudelyinterrupted? I cannot say,thoughIrefusetothinkhismotives are anything buthonorable. Perhaps nexttime you will considerlonger before refusingsuchaprize.”

“There will never be a

nexttime,andeveniftherewere I could not accept.Howcould I,when itmustseem the title is moreimportant to me than theman?”

“Suchathingisdifficult,I agree, but it can beexplained.”

With a wan smile,Carolineshookherhead.

Such considerationshad to be thrust to oneside as Anatole and

Hippolyte erupted into theroom. “What?You are notready, Mam’zelle? Send amaidafteryourbonnetandglovesatonceandlet’sbeoff. There’s no time towasteifwearetocatchuptothem.”

“A moment,gentlemen,” she said asAnatole tookherarm.“Wedon’t even know wheretheyhavegone.”

“Butitisasplainasthe

nose on your face. TheIndian Mission, of course.Why anyone would takeEstelle with them on anelopement is more than Icansee.SillyofAmélie tothink such a poor excusefor a duenna would makeeverything all right, but Iexpect shewasn’t thinkingstraight — fact is, shecouldn’t have been or shewouldn’t have gone in thefirstplace!”

“I tell you what I think,mon ami,” Hippolyte said.“I think she took thatmiserable tutor with her.Shewas enragedwithmefor daring to criticize herbehavior, even threw herslipperatme,didshenot?She said to my face shewould rather marry thedevil than me. What Imeantosayis,maybeshedid. There was thisPhilippe moaning about

the place becauseMam’zelle Caroline hadrefused him. Maybe shedecided to run away withhim to this Indian Missionshe was in such rapturesover.”

“And you think M’sieurPhilippe would take her?”Anatole asked, hisskepticismplain.

“Why not? I would,”Hippolyte answeredsimply.

“Then you should havetold her so and saved usallalotoftrouble!”

“I didn’t say I wantedthat kind of helter-skelterwedding,” Hippolyteprotested, “only that Iwould have settled for itabovenothing.”

Caroline hastilyinterrupted a scene thathad themakings of a finequarrel. “I amglad to say,M’sieur Gravier, that you

are wrong in yourconjecture. M’sieurPhilippe did not go withEstelle, or she with him.He leftuson theboat thatpassedthenightatFelicityand steamed by here justafterdawn.”

“Iwouldthinkafripperyfellow likehimwouldhavea difficult time getting upso early,” Anatolecommented.Thenhewenton, “Still, it doesn’tmatter.

Regardless of who Estellewasgoingwithorwhatsheis going for, she andAméliemust be stopped. Ihave been thinking,Mam’zelle, that we couldputthestoryaboutthatmysisters have gone to bewith my parents at thedeathbedofmygreat-aunt.Hippolyte and I, when wecomeuptothem,cansendVictor Rochefort about hisbusiness, then escort you

and the girls along to thehouse of my mother’sbrother. That shouldsilencebusytongues,don’tyouthink?”

“An excellentsuggestion, if you shouldhappen to be right, and ifyou can overcome theobjections M’sieurRochefort is certain to putforth.Hewillnotthankyoufor disarranging hisweddingplansforhim.”

“Perhaps not.We shallhave to take care of thateventualitywhen itarises,”Anatole said, a grim lookabouthismouth.

“Youdon’tmeantouseforce?” Caroline asked inconcern.

“If it becomesnecessary — and shouldthegentlemanobjecttomymethods, I suppose I willhave togivehimwhateversatisfaction he may

demand.”“Anatole,notaduel—”“Pray don’t upset

yourself,Mam’zelle.Affairsof this sort sometimescometo that. I’mnotatallsure that I should not callthe fellowout fordaring tospirit my sister away insuch an irresponsiblemanner.”

“I believe it is yourfatherwhohas the right todemandanexplanation.”

“Myfatherisabsent.”There was no arguing

that fact, but as she rangfor her bonnet and glovesCaroline vowed therewould be no duel if shecouldpossiblypreventit.

There were a fewthings to be attended to,especially if they were tobe gone for any length oftime.WhileAnatole strodeup and down the hall withhis timepiece in his hand,

Caroline gave instructionsconcerning the childrenand made certain TanteZiziunderstoodwheretheyweregoingandwhy.

She was tying thestrings of her bonnetbefore the mirror ofpolished steel in the hallwhenthesoundofcarriagewheels penetrated thehouse. Anatole’s curriclealreadystoodwaitinguponthe drive. This could only

beanewarrival.It was Rochefort.

Impeccablycladinacapeddriving coat and curly-brimmed beaver, hetossed the reins of hismatchedblackstoastablehand and strode up thesteps. Therewas no needfor Colossus. Anatolestoodwaitinginthedoor.

Carolinefumbledalittleas she pulled her gloveson.Settlingthefingersand

smoothing away thewrinkles gave her anexcellent reason for notlooking up as heapproached.

“Rochefort,” Anatolesaid with a businesslikeeconomy of words. “I amglad you came before weset out. You can tell us ifAmélie and your cousinareatFelicity.”

“They are not,”Rochefort replied in the

sameclippedtones.“Victorwas disturbed in mindabout the effect of lastnight upon MademoiselleAmélie. He set out earlythismorningtotrytoobtaina word with her and hasnot returned. That is all Iknow.”

“Then it is the IndianMission. Mam’zelle, if youare ready?” Anatole heldouthisarmtoCaroline.

“The Indian Mission?”

Rochefort asked, a frownbetween his brows. “Areyou seriously suggestingVictor is takingMademoiselleAmélietheretobemarried?”

“It seems so,” Anatolereplied. “We can no moreconceiveofAméliedoingitthan you can your cousin,but the facts speak forthemselves. In any case,there is no time to standhere talkingof it. Ifweare

tohavetheleastchanceofcatching upwith them,wemustbegone.”

They were halfwaydown the steps whenRochefort called out“Wait!”

Anatole turnedimpatiently,“Yes?”

“When you catch up toVictorandyoursister,andif Mademoiselle Estellehappens to be with them,whatwill youdo?Youare

already overcrowded withthree of you in yourcurricle.”

“We thought to dropHippolyte at BonneChance. He will have tohave his horses put to hisown vehicle and comealongassoonashecan.”

“That will beunnecessaryif I followyounow. It is even possiblethat my blacks and mylighter carriage can make

better time. You mustadmit,Idohaveaninterestinthisouting.”

“Yes,certainly.Thatwilldomarvelously,sir.”

“I think Mam’zellewould also find myphaeton has a smootherride. Not only will she be,perhaps, morecomfortable, she canspeed the time while weare traveling by filling mein on a number of details

whichwerenot inthenoteIreceived.”

“Mam’zelle?” Anatoleinquired.

To refuse would bechurlish.Itmightevengiverise to questionsconcerning her motivesthat were better leftunanswered. “I—yes, itmightbebest.”

Anatole nodded andthen cast an appraisingeye over the blacks

standing in their harness.“Itmightalsobebestifwelet you lead the way.Mam’zelle will not like tobreatheourdust,andthereiseverypossibilitythatyouwill be able to outdistanceus to the point where wewill not have to eat yours.It will have settled beforewereachit.”

“As you wish,”Rochefort agreed as hedescended the steps,

casting a weather eye attheovercastsky.“Thereisan even greater possibilitythat itwill notbedust thatwilltroubleus,butmud.”

They rolled sedatelydown the drive, but onceupon the open roadRochefort gathered hishorses in hand and sentthem flying along. AsCaroline felt her bonnetpushedbackonherhairbythe wind of their passage,

she was reminded ofMadame Fontaine, whoonlyafewdaysbeforehadsat in the seat of thephaeton holding herridiculoushatonherhead.She would not copy thewoman, not if her bonnetburst its strings and tookflight.Norwouldsheclutchat the man who wasdriving or hold onto theseat for dear life. Withdetermination, she sat

upright, her bodyabsorbing the minorbounce and sway of thewell-sprung vehicle. Shewas not in the least afraidof their breakneck speed.She felt completely safewithRochefortincontrolofthe ribbons, safe enoughto admit to an underlyingenjoyment whichamounted almost toexhilaration.

Leaning towardher, he

asked,“Areyouallright?”“Perfectly,” she

answered, unable toprevent a smile fromcurving her mouth. Shethought she saw a gleamin the depths of his eyesbefore he turned hisattentionbacktotheroad.

“How long has it beensince you realized theyoung ladies were gone?”heaskedafteramoment.

“Perhapsanhouranda

half. I sat downandwroteyoualmostimmediately.”

“I am grateful that youdid. Have you any ideahow long it was from thetime they left the houseuntil their departure wasdiscovered?”

“A half hour, an hour,I’m not sure. They wereseen leaving by agardener’sboy,butittakesa little time for somethinglike that to sift through the

servants, fromgardener tokitchen maid to butler toladies’maidtome.”

He nodded hiscomprehension. “Then wecan be certain we are atleast two hours, possiblythree,behindthem?”

“Somethinglikethat.”“With luck we can

overcome that amount.Theymaynotexpecttobefollowed closely and willnot push the horses. If

Mademoiselle Estelle iswith them they will becarrying more weight,meaning more frequentreststops.Too,sincebothsets of horses aremine, Ihave reason to know thatthe grays Victor is driving,though superior to most,arenomatch for theoneswearebehind.”

“Yes, that relieves mymindsomewhat.”

“AsmuchasIdisliketo

distress you, I find I can’tbe easy about this entirechase. I find it extremelydifficult to believe Victorwould go hieing off on anelopementwith,sofarasIcan discover, no planningor preparations whatever,and taking with him hisproposed wife’s youngersister, a volatile chit justout of the schoolroom! Inthe first place I don’t thinkhe would have so little

consideration for thewoman he loved, but,saying he feltcircumstances made itnecessary, I take leave todoubthewouldgoaboutitinsuchawayasalmosttoguaranteeitwouldturnintoadebacle.”

“Yes, I will have toadmit it seems most ill-managed tome also. Still,iftheywereinahurry—”

“MydearMademoiselle

Caroline, thewildernessofLouisiana is not the GreatNorth Road of England,and this Indian Mission isnot GretnaGreen. I doubtthere is so much as ariverboatman’s hostel,muchlessapostinghouseor an inn, anywhere alongthe route they must take.To the best of myunderstanding they willhave to abandon thecarriage for the

discomforts of a canoe,andthatwhilesurrenderingthemselves to thedoubtfulcompetence of an Indianguidetotakethemthroughthe wilderness. If they arenot relieved of theirvaluables and abandonedin thewoods, theywill dieof exposure or be eatenalivebymosquitoes.Whatthe—!”

His exclamation wascausedby theappearance

aroundacurveofahorse-drawn cart squarely in themiddle of the road. Theyswerved,brushingpastthecart with no more than ahair’sbreadthbetweenthewheelsofthetwovehicles.Thegroomdrivingthecartstared at them inopenmouthed surprise asthey swept past.Rochefort, recovering withprecision, would havedriven on without looking

back if Caroline had notcalledout,“Stop!”

“What is it?” Rochefortasked as he obeyed hercommand.

“The cart from BeauRepos, I’m almost sure ofit.”Turninginherseat,shebeckoned to the groomwhowasdriving.

He climbed down, andholding his hat of wovenstraw against his chest,approached the phaeton.

“M’sieur, Mam’zelle?” hesaid, ducking his head ingreeting.

“The cart you aredriving, whom does itbelong to?” Carolineinquired.

“To Beau Repos,Mam’zelle. My maître, hesayImustreturnit.”

“Yourmasteris—?”“M’sieur Gravier of

Bonne Chance,Mam’zelle.”

“Do you know how thecart came to be at BonneChance?”

“Maisoui,Mam’zelle. Itwas driven ventre á terreby the man who teacheslesenfantsatBeauRepos.Hewasinthesobighurrybecause he wanted tocatchthesteamboat.”

“I see,” Caroline said.Anatole had been right.The boat had been tooearly for M’sieur Philippe.

“Sinceyouhavethecart, Iassume the gentlemancaughtthesteamboat?”

“Indeedyes,Mam’zelle,though hewould not haveiftheCaptainhadnotbeenwaitingthesolongtimeforMadame Gravier to finishher letter to her sister inNouvelle Orléans. Eventhen he might have beenleft behind if the youngladywhowaswithhimhadnotscreeched for theboat

to stop with a noise fit toraisethedead.”

“The young lady?”Rochefort said quickly.“Wassheknowntoyou?”

“But yes, M’sieur,” theman said, enjoying theclose attention being paidhim. “It wasMademoiselleEstelle Delacroix of BeauRepos.”

“And therewasnooneelsewiththosetwo?”

“Noone,M’sieur.”

Her disappointmentplainonher face,Carolinewatched as Rochefortflippedthemanacoinandmotionedwith hiswhip forhim tostepaway from thehorses.

“A moment, M’sieur,”themansaid, lookingfromCaroline to the shine ofsilver in his hand. “Youseek, maybe, the eldersister of Mademoiselle?She too came to Bonne

Chance. With my owneyes I see her with agentleman in a carriagefinelikethisone.”

Rochefort took anothercoinfromhiswatchpocket,weighing it in his hand.“Yousawthedirectiontheytook,perhaps?”

“But yes,M’sieur.Theyinquire after the youngersister, and learning she ison the boat, drive awayvery fast after it, but very

fast,M’sieur—”“Yes, I know,”

Rochefortsaid,tossingthecoin.‘Ventreàterre.’”

“Mais oui, M’sieur.Thank you, M’sieur,” themansaid,steppingback.

“Beware of anothercarriagecomingbehindus.It will also be travelingfast,” Rochefort called ashe gave his horses theofficetostart.

“But yes, M’sieur.

Ventre à terre!” the manshouted, grinning as hewatched them on theirway.

“Well?” Rochefort saidas she sat frowningat theearsofthehorses.

“I cannot imagine whyEstelle would take thesteamboat with M’sieurPhilippe. She is not at allattached to him, quite theopposite, in fact. She wasalways mocking him

behind his back andscarcelyeverhad twocivilwords tosay tohimat thesame time. As for anyromanticfeeling,I findthatalmost laughable. I seemto remember sheconsidered you ancient;him she must thinkhovering on the brink ofthegrave.”

“Pray don’t think of myvanity,”heinstructed.

“No, but it is Hippolyte

Gravier Estelle cares for,andheseemstothinkshemight be running awaybecause she was angrywith him for scolding her.Becauseofherconduct incoming to your house lastnight in disguise, youunderstand.”

“And you think thatunlikely,” he said with ahelpfulair.

“Very.”“Sodo I.Asmuchas I

dislike to introduce hernameintotheconversationwhenweweregoingalongso well, I fear I must tellyouthatMadameFontainewas also on thatsteamboat. There wassome discussion amongherentouragelasteveningof leaving when thesteamboatsoconvenientlypresenteditself,discussionwhich Estelle may haveoverheard. A —

conversation I had withFrancine — MadameFontaine, after you hadgone, made her departurethismorningacertainty.”

Itwasnoneofheraffairwhat manner ofconversation he had heldwith Madame Fontaine,Carolinetoldherselffirmly.“If Estelle chanced to seeMadame Fontaine as theboat passed this morning,shemay have decided on

the spur of themoment to—totakeadvantageoftheinvitation extended her.She has had a fascinationwith the stage for sometimenow.”

“So I understood fromoneortwohintsletdropinmycompany.”

“It was most improperofVictor to attempt to seeAmélie so early thismorning — but supposeAméliehaddiscoveredher

sister’s absence or evenchanced to see herleaving. IfVictor hadbeento hand with his curricle,might she not havefollowedafterinanefforttopreventEstelle fromfallinginto another scrape suchaslastnight’s?”

“She might,” Rochefortagreed. “I find that mucheasier to swallow than theideaofherandVictor, themost circumspect of

couples,strikingoutfortheIndian Mission, bravingscornandtheterrorsofthewildernesstobetogether.”

“How cynical yousound!”

“No, no, merelypractical. What will do forsome will not do at all forothers.”

She did not like theglance he sent her frombeneath the brim of hisbeaver but saw noway to

object to it. “If they aretrying to overtake thesteamboat, do you thinkthey have a chance ofsuccess?”

Hegaveashakeofhishead. “Only if somethinguntoward happens. Theboathas theadvantageofthe current on thedownriverrun.Upstream,ateam of horses couldoutdistance it, providingtheroadwerepassablydry

and firm; downstream it’snotworththewager.”

Caroline took a deepbreath. “If we are correct,thereislittleneedtogoon.Victor and Amélie mustturnaboutandcomehomeeventually.”

“Yes, but we may notbe correct— and there isalways that untowardsomething that mayhappen.”

He smiled down at her

with such warmth thatCaroline felt a faint flushrise to her cheeks. It wasextraordinary how secureand optimistic she felt inhispresence.Therewasapeculiaracheintheregionofherheart,andsheknowan unwary hope that thisdrivewouldneverend.

Without warning, thelightgrewdimmerandrainbegantofall.ThrustingthereinsintoCaroline’shands,

Rochefort stripped off hisdriving coat and draped itaroundhershoulders.Shetriedtoprotest,butheonlyshook his head, the touchof his hands firm andlingering as he settled thefolds of the caped coatunderherchin.Pulling thebrim of his hat lower, heretrieved the reins andtheyspedon.

As the miles passed,the thought of the great

wrong she had doneRochefort grew heavier inher mind. If for no otherreasonthansimplejustice,she knew shewould haveto tell him she knew thetruth and make herapologies. But how tophrase it? Her newlyacquired knowledge ofherself where this manwas concerned made herwary of revealing morethansheintended.Itwould

not do for him to suspectthat her interest waspersonal. That she knewherself to be in love withhimhadnothingtodowiththe matter — well, verylittle. It was as a humanbeing whom she hadunjustly accused that shewished to approach him,not as a man whom sheloved and who had, ontheir lastdiscussionof thissubject,askedhertomarry

him. His reasons for thatwerestillobscure,buttheyneed make no differenceto the simple fact that sheowed him someacknowledgement of hererror.

“My lord,” she beganself-consciously, “there issomething I must say toyou—”

Her words weredrowned by Rochefort’ssudden exclamation.

Ahead of them, barelyvisible in the driving rain,was a carriage lyingdrunkenlyintheditch.Oneofitswheelswasshatteredand an axle was broken.The horses had beenunharnessed and tetheredto a sapling. Thepassengers sat beneaththe shelter of a large live-oak tree which overhungthe road. As they drewnearer, theman rose from

beside the young lady,who, draped in theprotective covering of hisfrock coat, remainedseated. Snatching off hishat, the gentleman wavedat them to stop. It wasVictor.

10

“IWASNEVERsoglad tosee anyone in my life,”Victor said, pumpingRochefort’shand.

“Are you hurt, you or

theyounglady?”“No, no. We managed

to jump free withoutdamage to either of us,unless you count the blowtomyego.Youhaveeveryright to call me a cow-handed fool. I waswatching the river, yousee, instead of where Iwasgoing.”

“Looking for some signof the steamboat, Icollect?” Rochefort said,

bowing to Amélie, whocoloredprettilyandtriedtowipetherainfromherfacewith thebackofherhand.Caroline, hurrying to herside, gave the girl animpulsivehug.

“So you know?” Victorasked. “I might haveguessed. If you did not,youwouldnotbeherewithMademoiselle Caroline —thatis,whatImeanttosay—”

“We know what youmean,Victor.Kindly spareour blushes by refrainingfrom any attempt toexplain.Onesupposesyouwere,indeed,tryingtostopthe boat, not catch it toarrange passage foryourselfandMademoiselleDelacroix?”

Victor drew himself up,his face flushing a darkred. “I must ask you toretract that suggestion,

Jean. It is unworthy ofMademoiselle Amélie, ofyou,orofmyself.”

“Idosogladly,butyouwill have to admit thattaking a young lady,unchaperoned, from herhouseintheearlymorninghours,withoutsomuchasaby-your-leave,doeshaveapeculiarlookaboutit.”

“I suppose it must.Wedid not intend to be goneso long or range so far.

Youmaylaugh,butIneverrealized how swiftly thesesteamboats can travel. Iwascertainwecouldcatchup to it, especially if itshould be delayed by astop or two along its way.And we might have donetoo,haditnotbeenforthisaccursedrainstorm!”

“Yes, well, there’s notime to redrive the courseat the moment. We mustsee about getting the

ladiesbacktoBeauRepos—”

HereCarolinebroke in.“Inmy opinion, that wouldbe unwise after thismorning’s work. Estellemust still be recovered,even if someone has tofollow her all the way toNew Orleans. All in all, Ibelieve the coursesuggestedbyAnatolemaybe best; to continue on tothe house of Madame

Delacroix’s brother. WhenEstelle is found, she canjoinherfamilythere.”

“Oh, Mam’zelle, mustwe?”Améliesaidfearfully.

“It is the only way. Ithinknothing less than therequest from a great-auntfor a last sight of her twoniecescanaccount for theundue haste with whichyou and your sister leftBeau Repos. Even thatmaynotsuffice,butifthere

isenoughblackandgloominevidenceinthenextfewmonths, it should lendcredencetothestory.”

“Mamangoesintoblackfor the most distantrelatives,evento themostdistant cousin and thatcousin’s cat. You may becertain she will stop theclocksandturnthemirrorsto the wall for her favoriteaunt. What I dread ishaving to tellMaman and

Papa why we had tocome.”

Caroline couldsympathize with thatreason for apprehension.She did not have time todwell on it, however. Atthat moment the curriclecarrying Anatole andHippolyte came splashingtoward them through therain.

“Amélie!” Anatole said,springing down from the

carriage and going to hissister. “You look terrible.What has this brute donetoyou?”

“He has done nothingat all!” Amélie said, flaringup in a manner more likeEstelle than her quiet self.“He has behaved like aperfectgentleman.Heonlycame on this chase at allbecause I particularlyasked to come, and I willnot have him insulted and

badgeredandcalledhorridnames!”With that, thegirl,completely composed untilthis moment, turned herface into Caroline’sshoulder and gave way toheremotions.

Anatole stared at hissister with a look ofmingled surprise anddiscomfiture. Then, with amanful squaring of theshoulders, he turned andgave his hand to Victor.

His apologies wereinterrupted by Hippolyte.He had been walkingaround the wreck of thecurricle in a distractedmanner,andnowcameupto ask with somebelligerencewhattheyhaddone with MademoiselleEstelle.

The answer to this setoff another round ofexclamations andrecriminations punctuated

by suggestions as towhatshould be done with chitswho had delusions aboutlife upon the boards.Hippolyte was objectingvehemently to the idea ofsuch cavalier treatment ofhis beloved whenRochefort cut across thehubbub with the cleanknifeofirony.

“Excuse me,gentlemen, but while youdiscuss the matter, the

steamboat increases itsdistanceandladiesareleftstanding in the rain. If Imightmakeasuggestion?”

What that suggestionmight have been no onewas destined to learn. Atthe mention of the boat,their attention turnednaturallytotheriver.

“Look!;”Hippolytecried.“It’sthesteamboat!”

IthadtobetheGeneralJackson. Only that boat

hadaquasi-regularrunonthe river, and the othercraft sighted in the pasthalfyearcouldbecountedonthefingersofonehand.

On this section of theMississippi there were noclose plantations and onlythe poorest excuse for alevee. With a bound,Anatole was astride thelow earthen dike, wavinghis hat over his head.Hippolyte,snatchingoffhis

beaver,followedsuit.Theywererewardedby

the sight of the steamboatswinging its top-heavyprowintheirdirection.Asitneared, they could seeEstelleundertheoverhangon the forward deck,jumping up and down inexcitement as sherecognized them. Besideher was a raven-hairedfigure in a billowing gownof sweet-pea pink over an

underdress of rose red. Aparasol tipped over oneshoulder, MadameFontaine chatted withEstellewhileclingingtothearm of the gentlemanbeside her, M’sieurPhilippeHautrive.

The gangway was letdown, and Estelle, inobviouslyborrowedoilskin,came trippingashore.Shewas followed by a brawnystevedore with a

hidebound trunk on hisshoulder. He set it downwithathump,acceptedthepourboire Anatole offered,and swaggered back onboard. The two who hadbeen standing beside her,the only passengers toventure out into theweather, waved her whathadeveryappearanceofafond but relieved farewellbefore turning inside. Thecaptain of the steamboat

salutedherfromtheTexasdeck. Then, with aresounding blast of itswhistle, the GeneralJacksonbacked itsengineandheadeddownstream.

Estelle stood flutteringher handkerchief after thedeparting vessel. When itwas hidden by a mist-likecurtainofrain,shepivotedslowly to face the silentgroup behind her. Shescanned their faces

uneasily, then blanched alittle as she saw theoverturnedcarriage.

“Was — was anyonehurt?”shecroaked.

“No!” Anatole said inaccents of strongestcondemnation, “no thanksto you! Would you like totell us what maggot gotinto your brain to causeyou to go racing off likethat?”

Estelle glanced at

Hippolyte, then lookedawayagain.“Idon’tknow,”shesaidinasmallvoice.“Iwas angry, and whenM’sieurPhilippetoldmehewasgoingtoNewOrleans,it seemed like a lark.”Hereyes lighted on thebandbox at Amélie’s feet.“You found the box withmy best bonnet! Howcleverofyoutobringit!”

“Itwas lying in thehall,an instant giveaway if

anyone else had seen it.”Amélie saiddistractedly. “Iwas in such a rush I justbroughtitwithme.”

Anatole sent them alook of exasperation.“Didn’tyouknowwewouldall be worried sick aboutyou?”hedemanded.

“I didn’t consider,”Estellesaid.“I—Ithoughtit would be the mostfamous thing possible if Icould go with Madame

Fontaine. I thought shewould helpme to becomeagreatactress.Iwouldbefamous and have jewelsand carriages and a bighouseandgowhereIlikedwhen I liked,and—and Iwould not have to worryabout propriety, or properbehavior, only aboutamusement. Then— thenMadameFontaine toldmeshe would help me if shecould,butitwasjustasthe

Marquis had tried to tellme.ItwouldbealongtimebeforeIcouldbefamous.Iwould have to work hardand stay in dirty lodgingsandnothavemuch toeat,and I could not do what Iwanted because I mustspendallmywakinghourseitheratthetheaterorelsestudying formypart. Itdidnotsoundatallamusing.Itsoundedmuchworse thanbeing in the schoolroom

with Mam’zelle Caroline,and I will soon escapefromthere!”

“Oh, but Estelle, youcan’t just come back nowas if nothing hadhappened,”Améliepointedout in distress. “What willpeoplesay?Itwillsoonbeknown to all that you setout alone on thesteamboat.”

“Oh,thatisnoproblem.I told the Captain I was

going to visit my grand-père and grand-mère inNew Orleans, but mygoverness, who had amatter of business todiscuss with M’sieur leMarquis,was supposed tohave boarded thesteamboatatFelicity.”

“Surely they didn’tbelievesuchafaradiddle?”Anatoledemanded.

“Not perhaps at first,but Madame Fontaine

kindlyupheldmebysayingthat she knew it to be afact, and no doubtMam’zelle was toooccupied with theMarquisto realize the boat wasleaving. Then of course Imade a to-do about howimproper it was for me totravel alone, and howafraid I was and howgrateful I would be if theCaptain would only turnback. He calledme a silly

little goose, but he agreedat last because he saidPapa had promised tofreight his raw sugar toNew Orleans bysteamboat,anditwaspartof his job to keep thegoodwill of the plantationownersalongtheriver.”

Caroline felt as if shehad been dealt a blow tothe heart. Beside her, shecould sense the tensionthatheldRochefortrigid.

“Estelle—” Améliebreathedindisbelief.

“You, my dear sister,deserve a beating,”Anatole told her, taking astep forward as if heintended to carry out thesentence he had justpassed.

Bewilderment cloudedEstelle’s sherry-browneyes. “What — what doyoumean?”

Her pale face earnest,

Amélie caught Caroline’sarm, communicating bytouch her sincere regretand sympathy. “Don’t yousee, Estelle?” she said.“You have blackenedMam’zelle Caroline’s goodname for the sake of yourown.”

~~~ITWASAGRIMcavalcadethat returned to the road

whentherain fadedaway.Their number wasshortened by one. Victor,despite his ardent wish tocontinue with Amélie,mountedoneofthehorsesof the wrecked carriageand, leading the other,turnedbackinthedirectionof Felicity. He carriedwithhim a letter for Tante Ziziwhich would set her mindat rest, insure that a trunkwas packed and sent on

for both Amélie andCaroline, and guaranteethat the proper taleconcerning the morning’sactivities was givencirculation. With any luck,they should be able tosqueeze by with no onethe wiser. In a few daystheDelacroix familywouldreturn homeand all wouldgoonasbefore,oralmostall.

The sun came out to

make the trees and grasssparkle and to dry theirclothing. There was somediscussion of stoppingalong the way; hospitalitycould have been theirs forthe asking at any of thenumerous plantations thatfronted the river. It wasdecided,however, that thefewer who had firsthandknowledgeof their journeythe better, and so theyrested in the shade of a

wood outside a smallGerman settlement whileAnatole and Hippolytewent in search ofsomething to stave off thepangsofhunger.

Rochefortwalkedalittleway apart from the ladiesto lean with his shoulderagainst a tree. EstelleseizedthechancetomoveclosertoCaroline.

“Oh,Mam’zelle,Iamsosorry,” she said for the

dozenth time. “I could cutout my tongue. I just didnotthink;atleast,Ithoughtof no one except myself,selfishbeastthatIam.”

“A perfectly naturalreaction under thecircumstances,” Carolinetold her with a wearygesture. In truth, she didnotblameEstelle.Shehadpossiblybroughtthewholething on her own head bybehaving with so little

ceremony. True, she hadnevervisitedFelicityalone,but she had gone theremore than once with aminimum of chaperonage.She had had excellentreasonsfordoingso,orsoshe told herself, but thatdidnotmatter.

“It’s just that I neverthoughtofyouinthatway,as someone who mustobserve the conventions.One doesn’t consider that

a duenna could need aduenna, or that she mustbeware the company ofcertainmen.”

There was suchemphasis on Estelle’s lastwords that Caroline wasrecalledtothefactthatthetwo girls were still notaware thatRochefortwas,in fact, who he said hewas.Thatwasonemistakeshe could rectify, and shedid so without delay. As

Estelle and Amélieexclaimed, she looked upto find Rochefort watchingher, a speculative glint inhis green eyes and a halfsmiletuggingatthecornerofhismouth.

Since MadameDelacroix had to beinformed of what hadtranspired in her absence,the home of her brotherproved an excellent placetoputherinpossessionof

the story. The closequarters, hushed withimminent death, and thelikelihood of beingoverheard prevented herfromgiving full vent toherrage. She was forced toconfine her strictures andrebukes to a sibilantwhisper. It was debatablewhich was greater: herhorror and indignation atthechancesherdaughtershad taken with their

precious reputations, orher angry chagrin athaving ordered a realmarquis to quit her house.She had no troubledeciding where the blamelay. She unhesitatinglyplaced it on Caroline’sshoulders.Onlythelackofareasonshecouldgivetoherbrotherandher sister-in-law precluded her fromsending Caroline packingon the instant. The same

restraint prevented herfrom commanding herfamily to take to thecarriages and return toBeau Repos where shecould relieve hersuppressed feelings.Quieter reflectionconvincedherthatitwouldlook odd indeed if shedeparted after her manyprotestationsofdevotiontothe dying woman. Moreimportant,theprospectstill

dangled of gainingpossession of her aunt’sdiamonds. For thesereasons they were forcedto stay on in theovercrowded house, tryingforthemostpartnottogetin each other’s way and,when they met, behavingwith exquisite anduncomfortable politenesswhich masked a host ofotheremotions.

In theend thedisputed

gems went to Amélie, theonly one of her relatives,the elderly patient said,whohadthegoodsensetoremainquietinasickroom.

Ladies were notexpected to attendfunerals. Immediately afterM’sieur Delacroix’s returnfrom that sad ceremony,theboxesandtrunkswerepacked, the carriagescalled for, and the familyset out for Beau Repos.

The tedium of the journeywas relieved by Madame,who lost no time inloosening the rein held onher ire. She raked Amélieand Estelle mercilesslyover the coals, in onebreathcalling themwitlesslittle idiots who could notgo on without theirmother’s guidance, and inthe next excusing them inorder to lay the fault oftheiractionsat thedoorof

their scheming vixen of agoverness. She plottedwaysofregainingthefavorof the Marquis, givinginstructions toward thatend to her daughters,whichcausedthemtolookat each other in despair.The loss of the diamondsmadeherwildandshedidnot hesitate to informAmélie that she feltcheated by her owndaughter whom she

suspectedoflearningguileand treachery at the kneeof the woman who hadwormed her way into thehouseholdatBeauRepos.She, Marie Delacroix,would not be shocked tolearn of other lessharmless debaucheriesbeing conducted beneathher root, perhaps amongthe male members of herfamily!

Itwasat this point that

M’sieur Delacroix, feigningsleep in a corner of thecoach, opened his eyes.“Thatwilldo,Madame,”hesaidinavoiceofsuchcolddistaste that his wifestared.

“But — but Bernard,”she stuttered. “Surely yourealize what this womanhascostus?”

“I realizenothingof thekind, and I do not wish tohear anotherword on that

head. I understand fromAnatole that I may shortlyexpect visits fromHippolyte Gravier andVictor Rochefort. If thesetwo gentlemen are stillinclined to offer for myfoolish and headstrongdaughters, then I aminclined to relinquish tothem the responsibility ofkeeping two such minxesundercontrol.”

“Oh, Papa,” Amélie

said, her eyes shining,while Estelle launchedherself across the rockingcoach and flung her armsabouthisneck.

“There, kitten,” M’sieurDelacroix said as hehelped his youngestdaughterregainherseat.“Ithink we will allow yoursister tobewed firstwhileyou have your customaryseason, but if at the endyou and the Gravier boy

are still of the samemind,thenwewillcallitsettled.”

Estelle subsided,looking satisfied, but therewasalsoa rather shyanddifferent look about herthat boded well for thefuture.

“As for Mam’zelleCaroline,” M’sieurcontinued, regarding thecameo-likeprofilethatladypresented as she staredout thewindow, “I imagine

it is too much to expectthatshewillremainwithusafterwhathasbeensaid.Ican only offer her mydeepest regrets and askthat she will acceptwhateverassistanceitmaybeinmypowertogive.”

“Bernard, are youapologizing for me?” hiswife demanded inscandalizedtones.

“Unfortunately,Madame, yes,” her

husbandreplied.“Oh, how could you?”

Madame moaned, sinkingback into her seat in aflood of hurt tears. “Mycondition—”

“Estelle,” M’sieurDelacroix said bleakly,“hand your mother hervinaigrette.”

The day after theirreturn to Beau ReposM’sieur Delacroix dressedhimself in his finest, took

up his Malacca cane, anddrove away for a morningvisittoFelicity.Hereturnedsome hours later with theintelligence that theirdistinguished neighborintended to leave them.The estate had beentransferred to his cousin,Victor, as a wedding gift,subject, of course, to theapproval of the chosenlady’s father. The Marquiswould give himself the

pleasure of paying themafarewell call the next day.He had expressed aparticularwishforaprivateinterview withMademoiselleCaroline.

Madame’s demeanorbecame alarmingly stiff atthislastpieceofnews,butunder her husband’squestioning gaze sheremainedsilent.

To make up for thecavalier treatment the

Marquis had received athislastformalvisit,hewasreceivedwith all thepompdue royalty. Colossusaccepted his hat andgloves with reverence, hewas plied with wine andsumptuousviands,andhisevery word was given thehushed attention usuallyreserved for the finalbenediction of high Mass.When he no more thanhinted at his request to

speak to Mam’zelleCaroline alone, the salonwas vacated with suchalacrity that he was takenbysurprise.

Watching theexpression on his face,Caroline had to smile. Heturned in time tocatch thetwitch of her lips and hisown curved in a wryresponse.

“ItseemsIampersonagrata again,” he

commented.Instantly her features

resumed their graveexpression. “Yes. I fearthat I am responsible foryour lossofthatposition.I— I must ask you toforgive the error that —thatcaused it,andbelievethat I never intended it tohappeninthatway.”

“Oh, I absolve you ofblame. How could I not,when I could have

corrected the wrongimpression with a fewwords?”

“Why didn’t you?” sheasked, her gray eyesmirroring the combinedrelief and bewildermentshefelt.

Indecision touched hisface as he considered thequestion, then he swungaway with a small shrug.“Does it matter? At themoment that is not as

importantasthereasonwearehere.”

Caroline,almostcertainshe knew what he wasreferring to, made anattempt to avoid thesubject. “I don’t believe Iever told you howmuch Iappreciated your aid inrescuing Amélie andEstelle. I don’t know whatwe would have donewithoutyourassistance.”

“I was glad of the

opportunity to be ofservice,” he said over hisshoulderinabrusquetonethat did not permit anyelaborationonthematter.

“Wearemostgrateful,”shesaid indefianceoftheunspoken edict, “and wewill be sorry to see youleave us. I believe youreturntoFrance?”

He agreed. “Since thedefeat of Napoleon lastmonth in Belgium, I have

had information that theBourbons will almostcertainlyreturntopower.IfI am in France at thecorrect time, with thecorrectformofpersuasion,it is probable that theconfiscated estates of myfamilywillbereturned.Thewars of the past yearshave greatly depleted thecoffers ofmy country, andthey must be replenishedinsomefashion.”

“You must be anxioustoreturn.”

“In some ways, yes. Itwill be a challenge, torebuild France and theRochefort estates usingthe best of the old wayswith thebestof thenew. Ishall need a great deal ofhelp. I shall need you,Caroline.”

Caroline clasped herhands in her lap, staringdown at them. He had

been too clever for her,manipulating theconversationtoachievehisendinspiteofherattemptstothwarthim.

“Have you nothing tosay?” he asked morequietly as he came tostand beside her. “I amaskingyoutobemywife.”

She lifted her head tomeethiseyes,thenlookedaway again. “I — there isno need of this, I assure

youthereisnot.”“I don’t understand

you.”“It isn’t difficult. I mean

that I hold you in no wayresponsible for the taleEstelle concocted to saveherself.Youdonothavetooffer for me to save mygoodname.Inafewdays,as soon as some form oftransportation is arranged,Iamgoing to return tomyuncle’s house in Natchez.

Itwillbeafarewellvisit,forIintendtobookpassagetoEnglandassoonasitmaybearranged.”

“I believe I begin tocomprehend.”

“Soyousee,”shewenton bravely, “there is noneed for you to sacrificeyourself for a tale whichwill doubtless be left onthissideoftheAtlantic.”

“AndifIweretotellyouthatIwouldnotconsider it

asacrifice?”She managed a small

smile. “Iwould not believeyou.Icanseeaseasilyasanyone that the last thingyou need as you return tothe full enjoyment of yourformer title and estates istheencumbranceofawifewho isof thenationalityofthose who were sorecently at war with yourcountry.”

“The nationality of the

people who gave meshelter in my exile,” hecorrected.

“I think that when youreturn to France, you willfind that makes littledifference.”

“ThenthereisnowayIcan persuade you?” hequeried, his voice holdingan odd note of passionwhichshetranslatedinhermind as gratitude for herrefusal.

“No, I think not,” sheanswered.

“Then permit me tosalve my conscience byaccepting the use of theEgret for your journeyupriver to Natchez. Sheshall be at your completedisposal for as long asneeded. If you so desire,thecrewwillwaitupontheend of your visit and takeyou downriver to NewOrleans to meet a ship

boundforEngland.”“Youareverykind,butI

couldn’taccept—”“I insist. The Egret will

call for you— say, in themorning?”

Havingwon the largestpoint,shehadnowilllefttoarguetheselesserones.“Icanbereadybythen,”sheagreed.

Satisfied, he took herhandandpressed it tohislips.With a quiet farewell,

helefther.Making her way to her

bedchamber, Caroline satdown upon the end of herbed. She pressed thefingers he had kissed tohercheek,thenleanedherhead against the tall postofthebedandletthetearsrun slowly, one by one,downhercheeks.

The Egret was lyingready at the landing ofBeau Repos when the

household awoke. Thechildren, rising early asusual, discovered it andcame running to tellCaroline before she hadeven had her morningcoffee. Feeling someurgency to be away,Caroline roseanddressedherself inagownofgreencambric banded in gray.That done, she gatheredup the lastoddsandendsto be packed, then sent

word to Colossus to havesomeone carry her thingsontotheship.

Shehadsaidhergood-byesthenightbeforetoallexcept one. That onewasTanteZizi.Withherbonnetdangling from her hand,she now went along theback gallery to the elderlylady’scornerbedchamber.

TanteZiziwassittinginbeddrinkinghot chocolatefromanelegantandfragile

china cup. “Ah, my dear,”she said as CarolinetappedontheFrenchdoorstanding open to themorning freshness, “Iwondered if you weregoing to come bid meadieu.”

Caroline took the frailhand held out to her.“Certainly,” she said. “Youshould have known Iwould.”

“So I should.Youhave

beautiful manners, unlikesome of the presentgeneration I could name.Never mind that. Let mewish you a safe, swiftjourneyand,whenyougetto where you are going,everyhappiness.”

“Thank you,” Carolinemurmured.

“Perhaps I should tellyou, I took the liberty ofsaying a few words toRochefort about the little

misunderstandingIclearedupinregardstohispropertitle.Ihopeyoudon’tmindan old woman’sinterference.”

“Not at all. I may notsee him again, but I amglad to know that he willnotthinksoharshlyofme.”

“I don’t believe his is apetty nature,” Tante Ziziobserved, then settingaside her cup, pattedCaroline’s hand. “You will

endeavor to let me knowhow things turn out foryou?”

“I shall certainly try,”Carolineagreed.

“Good. ThenGodspeed.”

On the frontgallery thechildren were waiting towave good-bye. Carolinehugged them every one,then set her bonnet inplace and tied the ribbonstightly under her chin.

M’sieurDelacroixwaitedtoescort her to the levee.Picking up her skirts, shetook his arm anddescended the stairs, achildish chorus of aurevoirsringinginhercars.

At the gangplank shegaveM’sieurDelacroixherhand.

“Mam’zelle,” he began,then stopped, his kindlyeyes holding a worriedfrown. When he spoke

again it was to ask if shehad everything for hercomfort, including aluncheon basket from thekitchen and the sum ofmoney he had pressedupon her in the name ofsalary. Receiving heraffirmative answer, hebowed and stepped backto let the gangplank beraised. Though sherealized he would haveliked to say more, she

respected him for hisreticence. In spite ofeverything, his loyaltyremainedwithhiswife.

Gripping the ship’srailing as orders weregiven and the ship beganto glide out into thechannel of the river,Caroline waved to thechildren lining the gallery.Above her the sailssnapped and billowed,filling with wind, and lines

were hauled tight andsecured.Throughabluroftears she saw the white-columnedcomfort ofBeauRepos dropping awaybehindthem.

“Don’tcry,”saidavoicein her ear. “You canalways come backsomeday.”

“Rochefort!” She nearlystrangled on an indrawnbreath. Fumbling for herhandkerchief, she said,

“I’mnotcrying,it’sonlythewind in my eyes. I — Ididn’tknowyouweregoingtobeonboard.”

“If you had you wouldnot have come?” hequeried.

“Ididn’tsaythat.”“You did not have to. I

knowverywellthatthelastthing you want is aprolonged sojourn in mycompany.”

“How — how can you

say thatwhen not so longago I spent an entire dayas a passenger in yourphaeton?”

“Of necessity, notchoice. I learned mylessononceandforallthatday.”

Putting away a ratherdamp handkerchief,Caroline considered himas he lounged beside herattherailing.Indeference,she supposed, to the

summer heat alreadybeginningtobuild,heworeno coat, only a shirt opento the waist without studsor cravat. The sleeveswere rolledwell above hiselbows and he washatless, allowing the windtorufflehisfinedarkhairatwill. He wore no sash,carried no pistol, but withhis breeches tucked intohigh-toppedboots,hewasmuch as he had been

whenshefirstsawhim.“Reverted to being a

privateer, have you?” shesaid in an effort to dispeltheconstraintshefelt.

“In more ways thanone,” he agreed withouttaking his eyes from herface.

“I thought you wereleaving forFranceand thelifeofatitledgentleman?”

“That was myintention.”

“Then — you are alsoon your way home, afteryouleavemeinNatchez?”

“Notprecisely.”Caroline looked away,

disturbed by hisnoncommittal answer plussomethingmoreshecouldnot quite define. Her gazerested on the shorelineslipping past them.Abruptly she straightened.“Oh, but we are going thewrong way. We are going

downstream!”“Yes,Iknow.”“ButNatchez is—”She

trailed away as sherealized how ridiculous itwas topoint out directionsto him. “You — you didknowthatIamgoingtomyuncleatNatchez?”

“Iknowthatwaswhereyou said you wished togo.”

“Then why aren’t youtakingmethere?”shesaid,

holding to a reasonabletonewithaneffort.

“I have no businessthere,andneitherdoyou,”heansweredpolitely.

“Would you like to tellme where we are going?”shedemanded.

“To New Orleans, ofcourse, and then onwardaboard the Black Eagle,out into the open sea,wherever you wish toroam.”

“Itbeingafinedayforasail,Ipresume?”

“No indeed. What Ihave in mind will takeweeks,monthseven.”

She stared at himincredulously. “You mustbemad!”

“MustI?IthoughtIwasshowinggreatpresenceofmind.”

“I can’t just — just goaway with you on thisship!” she said in tones of

strongestindignation.“Well it’s not what I

wouldprefermyself—youwill recall, perhaps, that Ihave asked you on twoseparate occasions to bemy wife. However, youinformedmeyourselftherewas no need for me tomake the offer or tosacrificemyfreedom.”

“That was not what Imeant at all, andwell youknowit!”

“You mean, my love,thatyoudowant tobemywife?” he asked, smilingdown at her in a mannerdesigned to destroy hercomposure.

“No,Ididnotmeanthateither.”

“Don’t you know whatyoumean? In that case, Ibelieve I must claim therighttoknowwhatisbest;Iwill marry you in NewOrleans,andthenwemay

becomfortabletogether.”“Youcannotknowwhat

is best for me!” shedeclared.

“Perhaps not, but Iknow fullwellwhat isbestforme.”

Her eyes wide, shesearched his face. “Would— would it be best foryou?”

“Without doubt, as Ihave known any time thispast nine months and

more,sincethedayIfacedyou in the cabin of thatBritish merchantman. MyfirstimpulsewastoabductyouthenandthereandsailawaywithyouintheBlackEagle. Who knows, if youhad not protected yourselfsoably Imight havedonejust that. It is certain tohave been an easier wayof making you mine thantheoneIchose.”

“Youmean—?”

“I mean it was nocoincidence that theMarquis de Rochefort,changedsomewhatinstyleand appearance, came tobeyournearneighbor.”

“You cannot be sayingyou went to so muchtrouble and expense formysake,”shewhispered.

“For none other, myheart.”

“And then I betrayedyou, accused you falsely

—”He smiled down at her

with affection. “I was wellserved, was I not? But Iwasalsogladthatyouhadpenetrated my disguise. Itwasanexcellentindicationthat you remembered theprivateer.”

“Butwhydidyouletmedefame your name? Whycouldyounothavetoldmeyou were in truth theMarquisdeRochefort?”

“I thought themasquerade was at anend, that you could never—?” He looked away, forthe first time at a loss forwords. “I grasped at thefirst thing that occurred tome to hold you. In sodoing,Imisjudgedyoutoagreater extent than youhad misjudged me. Youwere right to call mysuggestionabribe.That isexactly what it was. By

offering it toyou I forfeitedthe right to explain andexpect yourunderstanding.”

“You allowed everyoneto think the worst of youwithout making the leasteffort to prevent it. Youeven—”

“I even thumbed mynose in their faces, did Inot? Voyons, my heart, ifyou believedme to be animposter, what did I care

whatothersthought?Isentfor Madame Fontaine andher friends, a matter thatneedssomeexplanation.”

“Not for my sake,”Caroline began, but hestoppedherwithagesture.

“Thenformine,”hesaidwith a smile and a slightinclination of his head.“The lady has been wellknown to me for someyears. Of mediocre talentand a vast distaste for

what might be calledproperbehavior,shehasawarm heart quick torespondtothosewhoneedher. It was she who, withthehelpofmyman,sawtoit that I survived thegunshot wound you gaveme. It was also she whohelped me trace youthrough the Delacroixfamily to Beau Repos.WhenshecametoFelicity,it was with the

understanding that Ineeded companionship,nothingmore.Attimesheraffection forme led her toresentanyonewhodidnotappreciate my charms asthey should, and Iapologize foranythingshemay have said to offendyou. But she was a goodfriend to me. When shesaw her presence wasdoingmemore harm thangood,shedecidedtoleave

— over my protests, Imightadd.”

Caroline bit her lip. “Idon’tquiteseewhy—”

“Why I am telling youthis?BecauseIwish thereto be no chance of moremisunderstandingsbetweenus.”

“How can you say thatwhen you are abductingme?”shecried.

“Not at all, my darlinglove. For this to be an

abduction youwould haveto be unwilling. This is anelopement.”

“I cannot remembersayinganythingthatwouldgive you the impressionthatIamwilling,”shesaid,stubbornly refusing to lookathim.

“No,” he agreedcheerfully. “It was TanteZiziwhodid that.She toldme how you came todiscover who I am and

how upset you were. Sheseemed to think you hadrevealed yourself as notindifferent tome. She toldme also of your ridiculousidea that I would notbelieve you loved me formyself.Did I not offer youmarriage for money andtitleonceonly tohaveyouthrowitinmyface?WhenIbroached the idea of anabduction to her, shethought it an inspired

suggestion, though shewas not at all certain youwould object, except as amatterofform—”

“A matter of form?”Caroline echoed.“Insufferable!”

He paid no attention.“Andofcourse,ifyoudon’tobject this becomes anelopement,asIsaid.”

“AndifIdoobject,whatthen? Must I go?” shedemanded.

He straightened, hisface suddenly serious. “Ifyou do, Caroline, if youcan look me in the faceand tell me you are, intruth, unwilling, then I giveyoumywordthatIwilltakeyou wherever you wish togo, and I will leave youthere in peace, never totroubleyouagain.Onlytellmenow,for this isthelastchancetherewillbe.”

It was shocking how

unwelcome was theprospect of freedom. Sheraisedherwideeyestohisand what she foundmirrored therestoppedthebreathinherthroat.

“Could we notcompromise, my lord, andcall itawillingabduction?”she asked, a smilebeginning to tilt the lovelycurvesofhermouth.

He caught her to him,holding her close. “We

could,”hesaidagainstherhair, “ifyoucanrememberto callme Jean instead ofmy lord.” His lips camedownonhers inaburningkiss that left her mouthbruised,her ribssore,andher limbs weak. Raisinghis head a fraction, hesaid,“Well?”

“Iwill try,my lord,” shepromised, her gray eyessparkling, “if you willengage to remind me

occasionally.”“I will engage never to

allow you to forget.” Helowered his head oncemore.

“My lord, the ship’screw is watching! My lord—Jean!”

AbouttheAuthor

Since publishing her firstbookatage twenty-seven,New York Timesbestselling and award-winning author JenniferBlakehasgoneontowriteover sixty-five historicaland contemporary novelsin multiple genres. Shebrings the story-telling

power and seductivepassionoftheSouthtoherstories, reflecting hereighth-generationLouisiana heritage.Jennifer lives with herhusband in northernLouisiana.

~~~To find out more aboutJennifer’s books, see theSteel Magnolia Press

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~~~If you enjoyed this work,please leave a review tohelp other readers decideifit’sastorytheytoowouldlike to read. A couple ofsentencesareallyouneedtowrite.Thankyou!

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~~~

CONTEMPORARYROMANCE

THEITALIANBILLIONAIRESCOLLECTION

Book1inJennifer’snewcontemporaryromanceseries,first

publishedin2012,isanAmazonTop100

bestseller.

CONTEMPORARYROMANCECOLLECTION

SWEETLYCONTEMPORARYCOLLECTION

HISTORICALROMANCE

THELOVEANDADVENTURECOLLECTION

TheLOUISIANAPLANTATIONCOLLECTION

TheLOUISIANA

HISTORYCOLLECTION

THEROYALPRINCESOFRUTHENIA

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AbouttheAuthor