Creole Hearts Read online

  Aboard ship, Madelaine was as silent as she'd been during the crossing to France. She brooded in the cabin she shared with Estelle, coming onto the deck only when Guy insisted. She spent hours on her knees saying her rosary, and Guy was worried about her. He hadn't yet told her that, although Cecile was Roulleaux on the parish records, he'd instructed the nuns to call her Cecile La Branche. He would have told her, but her withdrawal from life frightened him, and he didn't want to upset her any more than she had already been.

  "She'll come around," Estelle told Guy as she stood next to him at the rail the fifth day out.

  "She's grieving for her baby. I know how it is, I miss my Anton and Denis, too."

  "But you don't talk of becoming a nun, of shutting yourself away from the world."

  Estelle smiled. "Even if they'd have me, I'd make a poor nun."

  His gaze fixed on her, saw the gleam in her eyes that he'd seen before, years ago, a glow that beckoned, lured a man into strange passions. His stab of lust startled him with its intensity. He felt like throwing her to the deck and taking her in full view of the sailors and other passengers.

  As she watched him, her smile changed, grew mocking. "What makes you think I'm going to let you touch me?" she asked softly.

  "What makes you think you're not going to?" he said.

  He brought Estelle to his cabin and she came with no protest. But once the door was shut she began to fight, struggling against him as he tore off her clothes, biting and scratching him.

  He ignored her writhing, aware she was working herself into an explosive passion that would find its fulfillment in his bed. He forced her down, rammed into her violently, hearing her gasp, feeling her clutch at him, feeling her uncontrollable response.

  Whether she liked him or not, she wanted him desperately. This inflamed him, made him wild with desire for her.

  "I'll come to you in the cottage when we're home, Estelle," he said into her ear. "You'll be mine and no one else's."

  She gasped for breath, thrusting against him. "Perhaps," she moaned.

  He laughed. "You can't deny what you feel for me."

  "I hate it, hate it, hate it," she chanted, moving against him in rhythm to the words.

  He could control his need no longer and thrust into her harder and faster until her shriek of completion drove him to release.

  Chapter 20

  On his return to New Orleans in the spring of 1816, Guy threw himself into the building of Lac Belle, a new, more magnificent La Belle on the shores of the lake. He visited Estelle often in the cottage and each encounter was a repeat of those aboard ship—a violent, passionate struggle, with no love or tenderness between them.

  Madelaine spent too much of her time at the cathedral or with the Ursuline Sisters, but she seemed content and Guy was too busy to fret over her.

  Money. He needed more money. One April afternoon, reminiscing with Dominique You in Maspero's Exchange, an idea struck Guy.

  "Bigre, those were the days," Dominique said. "With the Carolina hurling shells from the river and the general's men pounding the British into the ground at Chalmette. The great Napoleon couldn't have fought better than General Jackson. We haven't heard the last of Old Hickory."

  "I agree," Guy said. "But Napoleon is another story, marooned on St. Helena."

  Dominique smiled wisely. "Ah, but will Napoleon stay there? The stronghold doesn't exist that Dominique You can't storm. Have you not heard how Mayor Girod and others raise money for a schooner? I, Dominique You, will command this rescue ship and we will bring the great Napoleon to those who will honor him—to New Orleans!"

  Guy had heard of the scheme, but he was thinking about what the Baratarian had said about buying a ship. He recalled Captain Shreve's little side wheeler, churning up and down the river, carrying supplies and ammunition to Jackson's forces.

  "What's happened to the Enterprise?" he asked. "The steamboat that helped us?”

  "No one dares move against Captain Shreve since the defeat of the British. The Americain Livingstone says the captain can't sail on the river, but he does. Fulton's built another New Orleans since the first sank, but the Enterprise sails upstream quicker and farther."

  “Why don't you captain a steamboat, Dominique?"

  "Sacre bleu, that I should have to! No, I sail the ocean, not the muddy river, on a ship with sails, as is proper."

  Soon after this, Captain Shreve steamed into New Orleans on a new side wheeler, The Washington. It was an odd looking craft with such a low, flat bottom that the engines and boiler were on the first deck. The Washington sported an upper deck and a pilot house above that. Twin smokestacks thrust high into the air and she had no sails at all.

  "She rides on the water, not in it like the New Orleans and the Enterprise," Captain Shreve explained to Guy at the Hotel Marina, where Guy had invited him for coffee. "Those boats have deep hulls, mine is flat."

  The captain sipped his cafe noir, his black coffee. "You Creoles know how to brew coffee," he said. "Strong enough to stain the cup."

  "How long is the Washington?" Guy asked. "One hundred and thirty feet?"

  "Close. One hundred and thirty six. She's twenty eight feet wide. Did I tell you that a boiler blew up below Marietta when I was sailing her down? Tossed me into the Ohio."

  Shreve shook his head. "Killed some of the crew—scalded to death. I fixed the damn boiler and everything worked fine after that. She's just right for the Mississippi, like I knew she'd be when I built her."

  "This one's your own boat, then, not French's?"

  The captain nodded.

  "If I can finance a fleet of steamboats, can you find men to captain them?" Guy asked Shreve.

  The captain hesitated only a moment. "I think so. What's your proposition?"

  "A partnership. You, myself and perhaps one other—someone with money to invest. You have the expertise, we contribute the money."

  "Fulton's monopoly?"

  "I talked to friends who are lawyers. They say the monopoly is illegal, and claim that the Supreme Court of the United States would back us up if we fought it. The legal business might take years, of course, but no one has challenged you since Jackson used the Enterprise. I'm betting they won't challenge The Washington or any other boats you build, either. Are you willing to take the risk?"

  Shreve stared at Guy for a long moment. "Why not?" he said finally.

  Guy approached Joubert Le Moyne, whose plantation, D'Argent, was on the right bank, upriver. He'd heard Joubert boast of getting all his sugar to market after the British were defeated, so he knew Joubert would have ready cash—and he knew the planter as a man who liked to risk all on the toss of the dice.

  "Steamboats?" Joubert asked. "What do I know of such things?"

  "You don't need to know how to build one or sail one," Guy assured him. "Captain Shreve is our expert. Surely you, as an intelligent observer, see the usefulness of a boat that can move almost as quickly upriver as it does down. Your money will return on these muddy waters tenfold."

  Captain Shreve took Joubert and Guy aboard The Washington and steamed up the Mississippi to Le Moyne's plantation, where he brought the side wheeler smartly to the tiny dock, blowing the whistle as they pulled up. Joubert, all smiles, prepared to disembark.

  "Wait but a moment, Captain," he said, "while I bring my daughters to see your craft. Then we'll all go up to the house for refreshment."

  Guy saw a pony trap coming down the drive from the manor house. "Joubert," he said, "I think your daughters anticipate you."

  Guy remembered Yolande and Julienne as giggling small girls, and when they dismounted from the trap he was surprised to see they'd grown into lovely young ladies. He had trouble thinking of himself as thirty one. Where had the time gone?

  Yolande, the elder, was quietly attractive. He handed her aboard the steamboat, where she examined the engines with interest, asking intelligent questions. Julienne, pert and pretty, flirted with him and Captain Shreve, showing far more interest in them tha
n in the boat.

  "Papa has asked you to the house?" she asked, looking at Guy from under her lashes. At his nod she smiled demurely.

  "Does that please you?" he asked.

  She shrugged daintily. "Why would I ever go against papa's wishes?"

  Several weeks later, the three way partnership now a fact, Guy invited Joubert, his wife and daughters to an intime dinner at his townhouse. He thought Julienne charmingly saucy and thoroughly enjoyed the dinner. Madelaine, who'd been reserved but courteous during the evening, stopped by the library to say goodnight to him after the Le Moynes had left.

  "The youngest daughter, Julienne—is she not fascinating?" he asked, smiling as he recalled her sidelong glances, her moues with pursed lips, lips begging to be kissed.

  "I like Yolande," Madelaine said. "She's a bright girl."

  He blinked. "I thought Julienne quite eclipsed her."

  "A shallow little minx. She'll bring nothing but trouble to the man who marries her." Madelaine spoke more sharply than was her wont.

  "Just because a girl likes to flirt..."

  "Julienne has nothing in her head but the thought of attracting every male in sight. Perhaps she'll grow out of it, perhaps not."

  Fabrienne came into his mind, though he'd disciplined himself not to think of her. Beside Fabrienne, Julienne paled to the silly girl Madelaine believed her to be. But Fabrienne was a lost memory, while Julienne lived only up the river. She was unmarried, and she attracted him.

  "You know I must marry," he said, "I could certainly persuade Julienne to behave as a wife should."

  Madelaine raised her eyebrows but made no further comment.

  Andre Lafreniere called on Guy the next morning. Guy hadn't seen his old friend since his return from France. Andre's hair had thinned, and his scalp shone through, but he was as vigorous as ever.

  "I hear you've convinced Joubert to go into the steamboat business," Andre said. "You, the man who harangued me about our duty to the Creoles, here you are, arranging to pile up riches while I fight the Americains in the Louisiana legislature because you shamed me into it."

  "I meant to run for representative," Guy said.

  "The opportunity is still there. Pierre Vivert isn't well, he won't be coming back next term. Your opponent will be Marc de la Harpe. No need to tell you who sponsors him."

  Guy knew Nicolas had been elected when Andre was. Obviously Nicolas wanted his good friend, Marc, in the House of Representatives with him.

  "There's been talk that the proceedings will be in English only, that French will be dropped from the legislature," Andre said. "You're a fighter, Tanguy, and you speak the Americain tongue better than any of us. We need you."

  Guy held up his hand. "I'm convinced. I'll run."

  The year passed in a blur of activity. Guy made speeches as a candidate for representative, he supervised the house going up at Lake Pontchartrain, he consulted with Joubert and Captain Shreve—and he courted Julienne Le Moyne.

  Julienne exasperated him with her coy withdrawals whenever he seemed to be assured of her attentions. He was occasionally tempted to forget about her, but then she'd allow a snatched kiss, and the fever to possess her would compel him to continue the chase.

  Every once in a while, guilt about his sister would overcome him, and he'd arrange to escort her to the theater or to visit friends—anything to try to get her to resume a social life. As far as he knew, Madelaine called only on Annette Louise. Although Annette Louise refused to set foot in Guy's home, much less see him, she was as fond of Madelaine as ever.

  "We'll be going to the St. Philip Theatre this week," Guy told Madelaine. "They're offering Une Folie by Mehul."

  "You might ask Julienne instead," Madelaine said.

  "I prefer to take you. Don't argue."

  The opera stimulated Madelaine. Her cheeks grew pink with excitement as she chattered to acquaintances at the intermission.

  "What's this I hear about you helping the Ursuline Sisters?" Annette Louise's mother, Madame Courchaine, stout and grey haired, asked her.

  "I don't do so much," Madelaine murmured.

  "Not do much! Why, don't you go to their school every day? I fail to understand how you can bear it, actually teaching those youngsters."

  "It's not so very different from when you taught your own children, Madame," Madelaine said.

  “Well! I don't see how you can compare such things." Madame Courchaine, offended, turned her back and pushed her way through the crowd.

  "What was she speaking of?" Guy asked. "I wasn't aware you went every day to some school."

  "I teach the children of the free colored," Madelaine said. "I got the idea in France when Estelle asked me to teach her to read." She smiled at him. "It was so easy. But, of course, Estelle is very bright. She learned to write, as well, and do sums."

  Guy was flabbergasted. Not only had he not known about Madelaine's teaching here in the city, but he'd had no idea that Estelle had learned to read. She'd never told him.

  Why were women so damned secretive?

  "I'm not sure I find it appropriate," he said at last.

  "Pouf."

  He frowned at her.

  "I'll continue to teach the children no matter how you feel," Madelaine said calmly. "The nuns arranged the school for me. It's most proper and I enjoy what I do."

  "But you ought to be . .."

  Her eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me what I ought to do, Tanguy La Branche. I will teach the children. The free colored must compete with Americains when they grow up, as well as with the Creoles. If I can help a little, well, that's what le bon Dieu intended for me. Not all of them have rich papas, like you, to send the boys to France for educations. And the girls—no one teaches them. Not every girl is pretty enough to be a placee." There was irony in her voice.

  "Teaching quadroon children isn't a fitting occupation for a La Branche."

  "I don't care." She crossed her arms and glared at him.

  He could forbid her to continue, but what good would it do? Madelaine might defy him, in which case he'd either have to back down or try to force her to stop. And how, in the nom de Dieu? At least she wasn't inside the cathedral, praying all day.

  It was such a waste, Guy thought, for Madelaine was a beautiful woman. Perhaps in time she'd tire of this teaching and begin to notice that men still glanced her way with admiration. A little encouragement and one of them might propose marriage. No one knew of little Cecile in the French convent, and so Madelaine had every chance to make a respectable marriage. If only she'd take an interest in a man.

  As the election neared, Nicolas Roulleaux began campaigning actively for his friend, Marc. Andre supported Guy just as fervently. Wagers were laid daily in the coffee houses with the odds favoring one, then the other.

  Guy, Joubert, and Captain Shreve received an official notice that they were violating the law with their steamboats, but no action followed, though Shreve reported, mysterious fires at the boatyard near Baton Rouge where their new side wheeler was being built.

  "Think," he said, "two years ago there were only six steamboats on the entire river, counting the Fulton Livingston boats and French's. Soon we'll have six boats of our own."

  "If someone doesn't burn them before they're built," Joubert pointed out.

  "I've set guards," Shreve said. "We won't have any more trouble. The guards I've hired are keelboaters, and not easy to get around."

  The Americans had prohibited public masked balls in New Orleans in 1805, worrying about Spanish intrigues, but the public dances were still held and Guy fell into the habit of going regularly, bringing Julienne when she'd agree to go with him. Madelaine refused to attend, despite his urging.

  Just before the election, Guy went alone to a dance, arriving rather late from a session with the dice in Tremoulet's. One of the first people he saw in the ballroom was Madame Le Moyne and he immediately looked about for Julienne. He couldn't find her, but Yolande was sitting beside her mother. Guy climbed the stairs and as
ked her to dance.

  As they took their positions for the quadrille, Guy asked after Julienne.

  "I don't know where she is," Yolande said. She was attractive enough, he supposed, if one hadn't seen Julienne.

  "But is she here? At the dance?"

  "I haven't seen her," Yolande said evasively.

  The music began and he swung her through the figures of the quadrille automatically, his mind on her sister. Could Yolande be afraid to admit Julienne was with another man? He thought her a timid rabbit of a girl, despite her intelligence.

  Julienne had made him no promises, but still his muscles tensed in anger as he thought of her with someone else. Who could the man be? One of the young sons of the upriver planters, boys that Julienne had grown up with?

  He'd stay calm if this were the case. He wouldn't offer a challenge, for the young blades would have no chance against him. After a round of dances, he escorted Yolande to her mother, who sat talking to another matron.

  ". . . will be the death of me," Madame Le Moyne was saying as they came up. She didn't see them immediately.

  "How two girls can be so different,adame Le Moyne went on, "only le bon Dieu knows. I warned Julienne. I said, 'isn't it enough you have a tres eligible man courting you?' But, no, she must smile at Nicolas Roulleaux, too, and you know what trouble . . ."

  "Maman, I'm back," Yolande said loudly.

  Guy now clearly understood why she wouldn't tell him what her sister was doing. He bowed and left the Le Moynes, Scanning the dance floor, he found Julienne was nowhere to be seen. The private rooms near the rear of the hall? He strode to the back. All four doors were closed. He took up a position where he could watch.

  He waited there, his anger building. Wasn't it enough that Nicolas had taken Roxanne from under his very nose? Aimee. Senalda. Roxanne. Julienne. With each woman, Nicolas crossed his path like an evil shadow. Was he truly interested in Julienne, or did he mean to provoke Guy into a challenge?

  "I didn't see you come in." Joubert Le Moyne was at his shoulder, smiling. An uneasy smile. "Won't you join me for a drink?"

  Guy glanced at the doors, then back at Joubert. He noticed the glances cast his way and realized many knew why he stood waiting. They'd leave him no choice but to challenge Nicolas. But wasn't that why he stood here?