A Reprise for Christmas (Confederate Widows, Spinsters, and Proxy Brides)

Chapter One

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October 3, 1863

“ Mademoiselle CeeCee, quoi vous doing here?” The young black girl seemingly came out of nowhere, rounding the colonial home and skipping across the veranda toward C è dez Kalstone. She spoke in the common blend of French, Creole, and English. It was a lovely variation to the French-laced southern accent CeeCee grew up with in Pointe Coupee Parish, Louisiana.

“ Oh, good day, Mireille.” CeeCee smiled at the sight of the girl. “ I came to have tea with Tante L é onie.”

“ Madame Bergeron n ’ est pas here.”

“ She ’ s not? Where is she?” CeeCee asked.

Mireille shrugged. “ I can make vous tea. ”

“ Oh… I…” CeeCee glanced around the huge yard as if she might spot her Aunt returning. “ If she ’ s not here… I don ’ t know…”

“ Mireille!” élise yanked the front door open. “ viens ici cette minute .”

“ I ’ m coming manman.” Mireille hung her head as she moved to enter the home.

é lise ’ s eyes swung toward C è dez. “ Oh, Mademoiselle Kalstone, your aunt is not here.”

“ This is what I hear.” CeeCee smiled at Mireille ’ s mother.

é lise side-eyed her daughter with pursed lips. A silent reprimand for sharing more than she should.

CeeCee asked, “ Can you tell me where Tante L é onie has gone?”

é lise glanced at her daughter, then returned her gaze to CeeCee. “ Madame Stirling sent for her. Seems their oldest boy was wounded when the Union attacked on the twenty-ninth. She ’ s got some of our boys, too, convalescing at her house. With those Union soldiers escapin ’ , Madame Stirling couldn ’ t send for the doctor.”

“ Ah.” CeeCee tipped her head back. “ I hope Auntie ’ ll be safe.”

é lise bobbed her head. “ Um-huh, moi too. ”

CeeCee smiled, but concern filled her thoughts. If Tante L é onie ’ s servant was worried about her, she felt doubly concerned. Should she go home and tell her father? Maybe if Tante L é onie ’ s brother-in-law was with her, she ’ d be safe from those Yankee soldiers.

Mireille took CeeCee ’ s hand and pulled her into the house. “ Come in, anyway, Mademoiselle CeeCee. I ’ ll make you tea and you can play the piano for me.”

CeeCee laughed. She knew Tante L é onie would not mind. As she stumbled into the foyer under the force of Mireille ’ s pull.

“ Since when vous know how to make tea, girl?” élise fussed at her daughter.

“ Could you make Mademoiselle CeeCee some tea, manman?”

“ Child, Je n'ai pas time for this—” élise started telling Mireille, but turned to CeeCee, and changed her tone. “ Of course, Mademoiselle CeeCee. Do come in. Madame won ’ t mind.”

“ Are you sure? I mean you just said you didn ’ t have time. I know you ’ re busy—”

Loud talk and laughter echoed across the plantation ’ s cane fields to the north. The two women stared at each other, silently confirming the reality of what they heard. Soldiers!

“ Get inside!” CeeCee shouted, shoving é lise and pulling Mireille further in with her. She slammed the door with a kick of her foot. Fear saturated her heart, and her chest heaved for breath. She looked around for what to do next.

“ Lock that.” CeeCee said forcefully, pointing at the large front door.

é lise moved to do as told.

CeeCee swept frantic eyes about the open foyer area where windows allowed sunlight to stream in. It would allow the soldiers to break in if they wanted. She ran to the curtains and yanked them together. At least they could not see them inside the house. Grabbing Mireille ’ s hand, she ran toward the parlor. Heavy boots stomped across the veranda, knocking over chairs and tables as they made their way across the porch. Thundering fists pounded the door.

CeeCee and é lise exchanged a look of understanding. They needed to hide. Squeezing Mireille ’ s hand a little firmer, CeeCee pulled the girl. But Mireille wouldn ’ t have it.

“ No. Manman, no!” Mireille squealed. Could the child possibly understand that her mother planned to stand against the rogue soldiers while CeeCee took her into hiding?

“ Come with me.” CeeCee demanded.

“ No! ” Mireille kicked and pulled against CeeCee ’ s firm hold on her wrist. The child cried to her mother, “ Don ’ t do this!”

é lise had communicated with CeeCee without a word being spoken. “ Protect my child!” Her eyes had screamed. CeeCee hesitated, she wanted to protect both é lise and Mireille, but as the men at the door began hammering and breaking the wooden barrier, she knew she had to choose between the two. é lise chose to protect Mireille by sending her with CeeCee to hide.

CeeCee would protect Mireille with her life if necessary. She prayed é lise ’ s choice wasn ’ t a life or death decision. Everyone on the Bergeron plantation were like family to CeeCee and she loved them dearly as such. But this was the choice CeeCee had to make. She gripped Mireille ’ s wrist with both hands and pulled her toward the ballroom where there were a lot of built-in passageways for the servants to come and go unnoticed. Guests had no idea how the sideboards remained filled with food, drink, and pastries. But CeeCee knew her Tante ’ s secret and aimed to hide herself and Mireille in one of those passages until these rogue soldiers gave up and left the plantation.

Mireille kicked and screamed, fighting against CeeCee every step of the way, like a rabid pole cat caught in a snare.

Slipping through the doors of the ballroom and closing them behind her, she did her best to ignore the harsh voices in the foyer. The soldiers had broken through and now é lise confronted them.

Mireille heard them too. She screamed all the more, begging CeeCee to let go of her. “ Manman! Manman!”

“ Mireille, come on. ” CeeCee pulled the bucking child around the lovely, polished black lacquered grand piano that she had sat at and played concertos for the Bergerons during their lavish parties before the war. Mireille grabbed hold of one leg of the piano, clinging to stop CeeCee from pulling her further away from the violent exchange in the foyer.

CeeCee pulled harder, knowing she was hurting the child ’ s wrist, but also knowing it was necessary to save her life, causing Mireille ’ s fingers to release the piano leg. Mireille pulled back on CeeCee, as they rounded the piano ’ s enamel case.

“ Wait!” Mireille pleaded. “ Play me something.”

The noise from the foyer and the child ’ s terror broke CeeCee ’ s heart, but they had to get across the room where they could hide. She understood the child thinking if she played the piano, everything would be alright. Since Uncle Louis left to fight for the south, her aunt especially loved to have CeeCee over for tea and to play the lovely pieces of music. As many of the dark servants as could be spared from their work gathered to listen, too, Mireille was often among them. Her Auntie had said many times that the music soothed her frayed nerves. Was this why Mireille wanted her to play for her now?

CeeCee couldn ’ t play nearly as wonderfully as her mother, Rosalie, but she did her best. Her mother was an accomplished and celebrated pianist who had played all over the Eastern coast.

“ Not now.” CeeCee said sternly and leapt toward the paneled wall. She knew exactly which panel was a hidden door and which was just a decorative section of the wall. Placing her fingernails alongside the molded trim, she eased the panel open. A cool breeze brushed her face as the door swung open.

é lise ’ s scream carried into the ballroom just as CeeCee pulled Mireille into the passageway and shut the door behind them.

“ What ’ s wrong with Manman?”

CeeCee ’ s knees gave out and she crumpled to the floor, pulling the eight-year-old girl with her. “ She ’ s doing what she must to save your life.”

“ What ’ s that mean?” Mireille asked, her grey-green eyes, so like her mother ’ s, widened.

CeeCee pulled the child against her chest and rocked her in her lap.

“ Hush child,” she said over and over as the muffled sounds of what the soldiers were doing to é lise seeped through the paneled wall.

Mireille cried softly against CeeCee, sounding more like a kitten mewing for its momma than a child afraid for her life. “ Tell me ‘ bout vous momma playing the piano,” Mireille pleaded weakly.

“ Before I was even a twinkle in my momma ’ s eye, she thrilled audiences in the Anthony Street Theatre, Lafayette Theatre, Bowery Theatre, Opera House, and Franklin Theatre for ten years.”

A loud thump made CeeCee jerk against the wall of the pathway where she squatted with Mireille in her lap. She swallowed and continued. “ Then she met my father. He was a handsome man and fell in love with Rosalie the minute he saw her enter the stage, but when she sat down and began to play… he knew he had to marry her. Fran?ois and Rosalie settled on the family plantation that had been divided between the two daughters. L é onie and Rosalie each married and renamed the divided lands by their husband ’ s surnames, thus making the one huge plantation into two thriving cane and tobacco farms. The Kalstone Plantation to the west, and the Bergeron Plantation to the east.

Loud stomping, then a vase crashed to the floor. CeeCee looked down at the terrified child in her lap and began humming. She pressed Mireille ’ s head against her bosom and covered the exposed ear in an attempt to protect her from the sounds that were ripping CeeCee ’ s soul from her body. The noise outside of their hiding place grew louder, so she sang in order to keep Mireille from hearing. Yet she sang quietly, so the soldiers wouldn ’ t hear her. The song was one of Mireille ’ s favorites. They often sang it together. Usually, they sang it at a lively pace and with great laughter. This time she sang it slowly, while trying not to cry.

“ Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie,

“ Kissed the girls and made them cry,

“ When the boys came out to play,

“ Georgie Porgie ran away.”

CeeCee sang the song over and over until she felt Mireille go limp in her arms. The child had fallen asleep. The noises at the foyer had quieted. Gently, she laid the girl on the ground, and stepped out of the servant ’ s hall to check on é lise.

Tiptoeing toward where she had left é lise with the soldiers breaking down the door, she found the woman lying in a heap on the floor between the grand foyer and the parlor. Broken pieces of an imported vase powdered her tear-soaked face and the stone floor. Bruises splotched her face, and her eye was swollen shut. Her skirts were torn. Blood trailed down to her stockings. CeeCee knew she had been violated. Even at the tender age of fifteen, CeeCee knew about such things that the war had brought to their once safe and quiet parish.

Running to the kitchen, CeeCee gathered a soft rag and a bucket of cool water from the crock that was brought in from the well every morning for coffee and cooking, and rushed back to her dear friend. Gently, she dipped the rag in the water and rung it out, then ever so gingerly touched é lise ’ s face, washing away the tears and blood.

é lise flinched when first CeeCee touched her, but quickly realized it was not the soldiers. It was CeeCee attending her. She moaned and rolled over onto her back. “ Where ’ s my baby?”

“ She ’ s asleep. I hid her in the servants ’ passage by the piano.” CeeCee assured her.

“ Thank you.” élise took the rag from CeeCee ’ s hand and carefully held it over her puffy eye. “ They hurt me.”

“ I know.” CeeCee gulped back her own tears. “ But, you ’ re all right now.”

“ Am I? ”

“ Oui, you ’ re alive. That ’ s what matters.”

é lise stared at CeeCee with the one opened eye for a long moment. Closing the good eye, she nodded.

“ Oui , I am alive.”