Читать книгу The Cameo Necklace - Evelyn Coleman - Страница 6

3

Uncle Henry’s Last Gift

When Cécile arrived at her home on Dumaine Street, she found her mother waiting up for her. Promising to tell Maman all about the circus in the morning, Cécile said good night, rushed upstairs to her bedroom, and closed the door.

Inside her room, alone at last, Cécile stared at herself in the mirror, touching her neck where the necklace had been only an hour before. As she watched the tears slip down her face, the true horror of losing the necklace stabbed her heart.

Tante Tay had shown Cécile the beautiful necklace a month ago, as Cécile helped her pack for her first journey back to Philadelphia to visit her in-laws since her husband, Uncle Henry, had died. In the two years since Tante Tay had been widowed, she and her little son, René, had lived with Cécile’s family, and Cécile had grown very close to her gentle young aunt.

Fingering the beautiful cameo, Cécile had nearly swooned. “Oh, Tante Tay, if you go someplace fancy on your trip, you will look so lovely in your necklace.”

“Merci, Cécile,” Tante Tay had said. “I do love wearing this necklace. One day I will let you wear it for a special occasion. Would you like that?”

“Oh, yes,” Cécile had breathed. “That would be wonderful.”

But instead of packing the necklace, Tante Tay had put it back in its velvet box and placed it in her drawer. She had explained that the necklace was the last gift Uncle Henry had given her. She would not chance taking it on the train with her for fear of losing it or having it stolen.

I should have listened to what Tante Tay said, Cécile thought now, crying harder. Instead, she had borrowed her aunt’s necklace to wear just this one time to the fancy circus on the showboat. She had not asked anyone’s permission, reasoning that if Tante Tay had been home, she would have counted the circus as a special occasion and allowed her to wear the necklace.

Finally, Cécile got into bed, but she couldn’t sleep. Tante Tay would be back from Philadelphia in just six days. She had to find the necklace before then—but how?

Unable to sleep, Cécile got up, threw on a shawl, and tiptoed out to the balcony. The moon was shining brightly, a few clouds speeding out of sight. The stars twinkled overhead. Cécile searched the sky for the Big Dipper. Somehow knowing it was in the sky always made her feel better. She did not hear a sound except a hooting owl in the distance.

Cécile tried to recall every detail about those few moments between the time she had last felt the necklace on her neck and the instant when she had discovered it was gone. As she did so, Cécile realized it was possible that no one had taken the necklace. Perhaps someone in the crowd had unknowingly stepped on it and crushed it into the dirt, and that’s why Cécile hadn’t seen it. Maybe it was still there on the wharf. Or maybe some honest person had picked it up and turned it in to the circus’s Lost and Found. That was possible, too.

Tomorrow, she decided, I must find a way to go back to the wharf and check.

On the other hand, maybe someone had taken it. Cécile remembered each person who had been standing closest to her. She recalled them clearly: the man selling orange buns, the strange old woman, the Metoyer sisters and their servant, the blonde woman in the circus costume, the two children with the cypress baskets. Perhaps one of those people had picked up the necklace. Only the Metoyer sisters would have known it belonged to her.

Cécile squared her shoulders, shivering against the chilly night air. If she couldn’t find it at the wharf, or in the circus’s Lost and Found, she would track down every one of those people again, even the two children who might be thieves, to ask them about the necklace.

She had no choice if she was to find it before Tante Tay returned.

Cécile woke up early on Sunday morning. While she dressed, she thought about how she could get back to the wharf. It wouldn’t be easy. Like any young lady, Cécile was not allowed to go out alone. What excuse could she give for asking someone to go back with her? She couldn’t bear to tell Maman or Papa what had really happened. They would be so disappointed in her for wearing the necklace without her aunt’s permission. She didn’t even want to tell Grand-père or her brother, Armand.

Cécile wished that her dear friend Marie-Grace Gardner were in New Orleans. She and Marie-Grace had solved a lot of difficult problems together. But Marie-Grace was away, visiting relatives. Cécile was on her own. She took a deep breath and started downstairs.

The house was quiet except for the occasional clanging of pots as the cook, Mathilde, prepared breakfast in the kitchen building at the back of the courtyard. Cécile went into the parlor and lifted the cover from her parrot’s cage. “Bonjour, Cochon,” she said. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Cochon ruffled his feathers and squawked, “Wake up! Wake up!”

“Cécile, what are you doing up so early?” Maman said, peering into the parlor. “Come, tell me about the circus while I water the flowers.”

Out in the courtyard, walking alongside Maman, Cécile described the evening at the circus, leaving out what had happened with the necklace. She had just thought of an excuse she might give Maman for going back today when Hannah, the new housemaid, stepped into the garden.

“Good morning, madame. May I cut some flowers for the breakfast table?” she asked.

“Yes, of course,” Maman said.

As Hannah snipped roses behind them, Cécile continued talking. “Maman, you know my knitted blue gloves? I think I dropped them last night on the wharf. Is it all right if Armand walks me back there after church today?”

“Do you mean the gloves Grand-père bought you for Christmas?”

“Yes, those.” Cécile bit her lip.

“Excuse me, madame,” Hannah said.

Oh no! Cécile suddenly remembered that Hannah had helped her dress last night. Did she know that Cécile hadn’t worn her gloves? Was she going to tell Maman?

But Hannah only said, “Madame, would you like more water in your pitcher?”

Relieved, Cécile watched Hannah carry Maman’s pitcher to the cistern. Hannah, she reflected, was so different from their previous maid, Ellen, who had died in the terrible yellow fever epidemic last year. Ellen had been lively and funny, and she had liked to tell Cécile stories about her big Irish family. Hannah was quiet, and even though she was a free person of color like the Reys, she said little about herself. Yet just like Ellen, she seemed to know, without being told, exactly when something needed to be done. Hannah had been with them for several months, and Maman seemed pleased with her.

Cécile turned back to Maman. “May I go look for my gloves?”

“I think you should,” Maman said. “They were so pretty. I hope no one has picked them up. Now you must have breakfast and get ready for church.” Then Maman said to Hannah, “You should get ready, too. Your chores can wait. You said you would come this Sunday.”

“I’m sorry, madame,” Hannah replied, barely above a whisper. “I’m not feeling so well today. Maybe next Sunday.”

At breakfast, Cécile listened to her mother tell Grand-père, Papa, and Armand that Cécile had lost her gloves.

Cécile felt terrible not telling the truth to her mother. She wished the story were true, that the gloves were all she’d lost last night! Cécile swallowed a lump in her throat. Losing her gloves wouldn’t be at all like losing the last gift from someone’s husband. Unlike the gloves, the necklace was irreplaceable.

As Cécile sat with her family in Saint Louis Cathedral later that morning, she prayed that when she went back to the Floating Palace, her necklace would be waiting safely in the Lost and Found, or even lying in the dirt. Please just let me find it, she prayed. For the rest of Mass, Cécile counted the minutes until she was free to go and search.