Читать книгу The Countess Misbehaves - Nan Ryan, Nan Ryan - Страница 13

It was nearing ten the next morning when Lady Madeleine awakened to the sound of a feminine voice with a pronounced southern drawl excitedly calling her name. Madeleine struggled to open her eyes as a young, pretty woman with coal-black hair and pale-white skin stepped close to the bed and yanked up the mosquito baire.

“Lady Madeleine Cavendish!” the young woman happily exclaimed as she sank down onto the bed facing Madeleine.

“Melissa Ann Ledette!” replied Madeleine, lunging up, smiling broadly.

The two young women threw their arms around each other and hugged like long-lost sisters. Madeleine was genuinely delighted to see this raven-haired Creole belle with whom she had become close friends on her last visit to New Orleans. Full of vim, always animated and ready to gossip and laugh, Melissa was the pampered only daughter of prominent New Orleans physician, Dr. Jean Paul Ledette.

“Oh, Maddie, I couldn’t wait one second longer to see you,” exclaimed Melissa, finally releasing her friend.

“Well, I expected you last night,” Madeleine responded.

Melissa’s pale, pretty face immediately screwed up into a frown. “But I didn’t know you were here last night!”

“I know you didn’t,” Madeleine said. “I was teasing you.”

“Oh, of course.” The bright smile was back on Melissa’s face. Then, the questions began. Taking Madeleine’s hand in both of her own, Melissa said, “Now you must tell me all about the terrible sea disaster. Weren’t you absolutely terrified? Did you think you were going to die? Did you actually see people drown? Were there women and children who…who…” Melissa abruptly interrupted herself to say, with a sudden look of sorrow, “Oh, Maddie, the saddest thing…a New Orleans native was on that ill-fated vessel and he didn’t make it. He went down with the ship. He drowned.”

“I—I’m sorry to hear that,” said Madeleine, feeling suddenly as if a band had tightened around her chest.

“I just can’t believe he’s really gone. He was so handsome and charming and half the women in this city were hopelessly in love with him, including me.” Melissa bowed her head and tears welled up in her large, dark eyes. “New Orleans will never be the same without Armand de Chevalier.” She immediately raised her head and asked, “Maybe you met Armand on the ship and…”

“I don’t think so,” said Madeleine, “the name doesn’t ring a bell.”

Melissa nodded. “If you’d met Armand, you would remember him.”

Madeleine gave no reply.

“Forgive me for being so maudlin,” said Melissa. “From now on I’ll speak of only pleasant things. Want to hear all that’s happened in the year since you were here?”

Madeleine finally relaxed a little. “You know I do.”

“All right. Let’s see, oh yes, you remember Prudence Picard? That prissy girl with the frizzy blond hair and the high-pitched voice? Well, she up and married old Louis Jaubert. It’s scandalous, if you ask me. Prudence is barely eighteen and Jaubert is well into his seventies.” Melissa immediately burst into laughter and added, “He can’t hear and he can’t see too well, but apparently one part him still functions. Prudence is pregnant!”

“Oh, no!”

“Oh, yes!” Melissa bobbed her head for emphasis. “Let me see, what else? The youngest Le Blanc boy got killed in a duel last Thanksgiving. No one was surprised. He swaggered around asking for trouble all the time. Pierre Lemonnier’s widow ran off with a cabinetmaker from Mobile before her dear-departed was cold in the ground. Abigail Stuart called off her wedding at the last minute and…”

Melissa continued to talk, to inform her friend of all that had happened in the river city since they had last seen each other. Finally she paused, took a breath, and said, “I declare, what gets into me? Momma says I just never shut my mouth. Forgive me, Maddie. I really do want to hear about the shipwreck and all.”

Madeleine relayed, in the briefest terms, the events of the disaster, concluding with, “And then a small steamer appeared, took me onboard and saved my life. I’m sure the ocean liner went down less than an hour later.”

“What a terrible nightmare,” Melissa commented. Then patted Madeleine’s hand and said, “But it’s over and now you must put it behind you.”

“Yes, I know.”

“It’s so great to have you here and…and…oh, did I tell you? This year we’re planning a big holiday bazaar in December to aid Florence Nightingale and her brave nurses in the Crimea. You’ll help out, won’t you?”

“Certainly,” Madeleine said.

“It’ll be great fun. Then, after the holidays we’ll have to start planning your wedding! I will be maid of honor, won’t I?” Not giving Madeleine a chance to respond, she gushed, “You are so lucky. Lord Enfield will make the perfect husband. He is handsome and distinguished and respected and…and he’s rich. Isn’t he? I mean, I assume he is, everyone says he is.”

Madeleine smiled. “Desmond has, for years now, worked very hard and has made a great deal of money in the cotton and sugar markets. The profits were wisely invested in various other enterprises, such as real estate. Yes, he is a wealthy man.”

Melissa sighed. “Well, I’m green with envy. He’s so madly in love with you. You’ll be pleased to know that I have attended numerous social functions where beautiful women openly flirted with your blond nobleman, but to absolutely no avail. Lord Enfield’s heart belongs solely to you.” She gazed dreamily at Madeleine.

Feeling as if she had to comment, Madeleine said, “And mine belongs to him.”

“Oh, it’s all so romantic,” said Melissa, clasping her hands together beneath her chin.

The two young woman continued to talk and laugh until Avalina, knocking softly on the door, entered and said, “Miss Melissa, you have been here for over two hours. Time for you go so Lady Madeleine can rest.”

“Avalina’s right,” Melissa said to Madeleine and rose from the bed. She leaned down, pressed her cheek to Madeleine’s, and promised, “I’ll be back to see you real soon.”

Lord Enfield’s many business interests required all of his time and attention during the daylight hours. But he visited the Royal Street town house and his cherished fiancée each evening. Taking care not to overstay his welcome and tire his bride-to-be, he would ascend the stairs to her bedroom every evening, bringing with him a bouquet of fresh-cut flowers, or a book, or a box of bonbons. He would pull up a chair and visit with Madeleine, gently holding her hand and smiling at her as they talked quietly together.

Concern for her welfare always uppermost in his mind, the lord never stayed longer than an hour or two. And when it was time for him to depart, he would lean down and brush a brief kiss to her forehead or her cheek.

“I love you so much it hurts to leave you,” he’d whisper. “But I want you to get plenty of rest, so I’ll go now.”

Madeleine was touched by his thoughtfulness. Most men would have already been pressing her for intimate kisses and caresses, but the blond nobleman was chivalrous. He realized fully that she was not yet well enough to be receptive to displays of passion.

His unfailing kindness and astute understanding caused Madeleine to suffer even greater bouts of guilt. It would have been easier if he had behaved the impatient male and attempted to make love to her. Then she could have blamed him for being so unfeeling and intolerant.

As it was, she could blame him for nothing. He was consistently the empathetic, compassionate fiancé who cared only for her well-being. She was, she knew, a most fortunate woman to have such discerning gentleman eager to make her his wife.

Nonetheless, when Lord Enfield was not there with her, when Madeleine was alone, her thoughts unfailingly returned to the darkly handsome Creole who had gone down with the sinking ship. Armand de Chevalier was, she knew, dead. She knew, as well, that she would never completely forget him.

Fortunately, Madeleine was seldom left alone to brood. Overjoyed to have her in his home, her uncle Colfax spent long hours with her, talking, reminiscing, enthusiastically discussing her upcoming marriage to Lord Enfield.

On a hot, sunny day in early September after spending a full week in bed, Madeleine awakened feeling rested and eager to get up. She reached out and pulled the bell cord that would summon Avalina.

When the woman appeared, Madeleine said, “I can stand this bed no longer. I want to get up. I am feeling well enough to join Uncle Colfax downstairs for breakfast.”

Indulgent, Avalina smiled. “The master will be delighted and I will fix something special for the momentous occasion.”

Shortly before 9:00 a.m., Madeleine, aided by the stalwart Avalina, descended the stairs. Colfax waited at the base. When the two women reached him, Avalina turned and hurried downstairs to her kitchen, while Colfax ushered his niece into his paneled, book-lined study.

“Are you sure you feel like being up?” he asked, noting that she was still quite pale.

“I’m fine, Uncle Colfax, really I am.”

“Well, then we’ve a few minutes before Avalina calls us to breakfast and there’s something I want to show you.”

He led her across the carpeted study to where a portrait of LaFayette hung directly behind his mahogany desk. While she watched, curious, he slid the heavy portrait aside to reveal a hidden wall safe. A small round safe with a heavy bronze door.

“I keep my most valuable documents here,” he explained, then beckoned her forward. “I will tell you the combination and I want you to open the safe.”

When she had opened the safe, Madeleine stepped back. Colfax reached inside and withdrew a legal-looking vellum document. He handed it to her.

“My last will and testament,” he explained. As Madeleine unfolded and skimmed the document, he said, “Upon my death everything I own will belong to you, and as you surely know, I have accumulated a vast fortune over the years.” He smiled then and added, “Fortunately, we live in Louisiana, the only state in America where a woman can own property. Much of my fortune in is real estate holdings.”

Madeleine looked up and handed the will back without reading further. With a smile she said, “Uncle, let’s not talk about wills and dying. You are going to be around for at least another twenty or thirty years!”

“Perhaps,” he said, but with little conviction.

Madeleine noticed and asked, “Uncle Colfax, you’re not…you’re not ill, are you?” Worriedly, she studied his face.

“No, no, child,” he quickly assured her. “I’m in excellent health.”

He returned the will to the wall safe, but withdrew a second document. He began to smile as he told her that it was a provisional will that he had had drawn up some eight or nine years ago.

“You were,” he explained, “a rather flighty young woman then, as I fondly recall, and I wanted to make certain that you would be protected.” Madeleine stared at him, her eyes questioning. He continued, “As you well know, Lord Enfield has been a loyal, trusted friend almost from the minute our cousin arrived in New Orleans. I realized back then—well before the two of you discovered each other and became engaged—that he was an honorable, trustworthy man who would, I felt confident, look after your best interests.”

She nodded her agreement.

“So I wrote up a provisional will making Chilton coexecutor along with a couple of other old friends, giving the three of them total control over my estate, on your behalf.” Colfax frowned then and added, “Unfortunately, the other two gentlemen have since passed away.” He shook his graying head, then continued, “But I digress. The provisional will remained in effect for seven years. Then, a few months before you and Lord Enfield fell in love and decided to marry, I drafted my last will and testament making you the sole heir.”

She smiled at him and said, “As usual, you left no stone unturned. My inheritance had been protected all these years.”

“Indeed it has,” he replied. “Now I want you to memorize the safe’s combination.”

“I already have,” she said and then proved it by flawlessly reciting it.

He beamed with pride and said, “You always were a very clever girl.”

She slid her hand around his arm and said, “Well, of course, I am. I take after my brilliant uncle.”