Iron Lace #1

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

O n Lundi Gras, Rex, costumed as a French monarch of happier times, arrived at the riverfront on his royal yacht and paraded to Gallier Hall. Crowds lined the streets to cheer the king of carnival in his gold-and-white carriage. The city simmered with excitement as the clock ticked off the hours to Mardi Gras. By evening, when the Proteus parade was to begin, anticipation seeped through every street, from the palatial mansions of Saint Charles Avenue to the crowded shacks of Freetown in Algiers.

Up until the hour before Proteus was to appear, mothers worked on hampers of food to share with friends who lived on Tuesday’s parade route. Children designed and redesigned costumes, sewing bits of ribbon and small silver bells to cheap cambric and sateen. Then a flood of humanity spilled from houses all over the city and headed downtown to Canal Street.

Aurore pushed her way through the good-natured crowds, swimming against the tide. In the streets the shrill honk of automobile horns blended with the screeches of horses. On one corner a small boy waved a carnival bulletin and pleaded for a dime. She had no use for it, but she bought one as a defense against fellow vendors at every corner. She was halfway to the riverfront before she realized that she was carrying a last colorful souvenir of her life in New Orleans. In days to come, she might look at the beautifully rendered lithographs of each float in the Proteus parade and dream she was home again.

Except that now home would be wherever étienne planned for them to live. Afraid that her father might learn the truth before they were safely away, she hadn’t asked their destination. She was willing to turn her back on Lucien, but not to lie.

The crowds thinned. Far away she heard the music of a brass band. Then, as she neared the river, the sounds faded.

Carnival, with its relentless preoccupation with social status, its numbing regard for the most ephemeral of human values, would be easy to put behind her. She had never experienced carnival from the streets, never scrambled for a place on the parade route or worn a daring costume of her own creation. She wouldn’t miss what she had never really known.

The river was another matter. As she hurried toward it, she could smell its mysterious scent. Odors mingled into an essence as encompassing as the fog rising toward the darkening sky. The river was running faster and higher now, in anticipation of spring. Tears burned her eyes. She wasn’t sorry to be leaving New Orleans, because she was leaving with étienne. But she hoped that someday, somewhere, she would know the river again.

She walked faster, because it was growing late. She was to meet étienne that evening at the train station. They had chosen this night because her father would be occupied with the parade and the ball to follow. It would be late before Lucien realized she was not among the young women in the call-out section. By then Aurore would be gone. But first she had one last goodbye.

As she neared the water, she schooled herself not to be disappointed. She had tried to get word to Ti’ Boo that she was leaving New Orleans. She had entrusted a letter to the same captain who had taken her to C?te Boudreaux, and she had telephoned a relative of Ti’ Boo’s in Napoleonville. She had asked Ti’ Boo to meet her here, but she hadn’t gotten a response.

Aurore didn’t know if Ti’ Boo had never gotten word, or if she had been forbidden to come. She was now the mother of a two-month-old infant, a healthy girl she had named Pelichere. Travel from Bayou Lafourche could be difficult, and it wasn’t unusual for an Acadian woman to stay forever in the confines of her small village. But Ti’ Boo had come to New Orleans once, on an uncle’s oyster lugger, and Aurore had prayed she could come once more.

She turned left and headed for Picayune Pier, near the French Market, where she hoped they would meet. Luggers docked here and unloaded fish, oysters and fresh vegetables from the bayous and lakes of the south, and in the daytime a mélange of men of all colors and races sailed in and out on boats with square sails.

At twilight the pier was not as enchanting. Every shadow menaced; every stranger was a potential enemy. She hurried until she was close enough to read the names of boats. Canvas tents covered cargo and blocked her view. She knew that men lived on their luggers; some had no other homes. Gazing at the crowded decks, she wondered if she had asked Ti’ Boo for the impossible.

She was debating whether to turn back when she saw a small figure unfold aft of one of the canvas tents. “Ro-Ro!”

She covered her mouth with her hands and watched as Ti’ Boo maneuvered past the cargo on her uncle’s lugger. Then she made a leap that would have done justice to longer legs and landed on the planks beside the water. In a moment they were in each other’s arms.

“I can’t believe you came!” Aurore hugged her tighter. “How did you manage?”

“I couldn’t let you go, not without seeing you.”

Aurore buried her face in Ti’ Boo’s hair. She realized that she had needed a portion of Ti’ Boo’s courage to move forward with her life.

“Ti’ Boo!”

Aurore looked up and saw Jules on the deck of the lugger.

“Over here.” Ti’ Boo waved. “He wouldn’t let me come, not without him,” she told Aurore. “He thinks to keep me and Peli safe.”

“Is he angry?”

“Angry?” Ti’ Boo laughed. “I treat him too good.”

Jules joined them. His hair had turned grayer, but he was clearly a man who improved with age. He greeted Aurore, then went to examine the lugger’s moorings so that they could talk.

“But where’s the baby?” Aurore asked.

“Asleep on the cot beside my nonc. ” She inclined her head toward the boat. “She’ll be awake soon enough. You can see her then.”

Aurore had a thousand questions to ask, questions about marriage, childbirth and motherhood. She hadn’t told Ti’ Boo why she was leaving New Orleans, afraid to put the reason on paper. Now she couldn’t hold it inside any longer. “Ti’ Boo, I’m getting married,” she said.

If Ti’ Boo was surprised, she didn’t show it. “Does your father know?”

Aurore shook her head. “He would disapprove. You know the man. It’s étienne Terrebonne from Lafourche. He came here to work for my father.”

“étienne.” Ti’ Boo’s face was inscrutable. “But why?”

“Because I love him.”

“And that matters more than what your father will say?”

“I’ll never know what my father says. We’re leaving tonight. We’ll be married out of state.”

“Ro-Ro…” Ti’ Boo shook her head. “You can’t escape what you are. Neither you or…étienne.”

“We can try.” Aurore took her arm. “Please, let’s walk.”

“Jules will follow,” Ti’ Boo warned.

“Good. Then we’ll be safe.”

They strolled arm in arm, and Ti’ Boo questioned Aurore about her plans. “But to be married without family,” Ti’ Boo said. “How you must ache.”

“I’ve never had family.” Aurore squeezed her arm. “You know that better than anyone.”

“And your maman?”

“She doesn’t even know me anymore, and Papa forbids me to see her. Even the nuns who watch over her say she seems happiest when she’s left to herself.”

“Poor Ro-Ro.”

“No. Not anymore. Now I have someone who loves me, Ti’ Boo.” She flung out an arm, as if to encompass the whole world. “You don’t know what it’s like after all these years!”

Ti’ Boo made a comforting sound.

“I just had to see you once more before we leave. I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again,” Aurore said. “I know it was hard to come, but it means so much to me. By tomorrow my father will know.”

“He’ll try to find you.”

“I don’t think so. He’ll cut me out of his life.”

“And leave you with nothing.”

For a moment, Aurore felt a pang at that thought. Her father had never thought her capable of learning Gulf Coast’s affairs. But she had always hoped that someday she would have a place in the company, no matter how modest. There had been women in business in the city. One had inherited a daily newspaper and managed it until her death. There was even some precedent for women working on the river. Several had been noted riverboat captains, and one still worked as a pilot.

She was no less capable. She was as intelligent, as enthusiastic, as any man, and she had hoped to prove that to her father one day. Now, with the Dowager, the Le Danois tribute to the future, completed and docked at Gulf Coast’s own wharf, it was a difficult dream to abandon.

“I don’t need Gulf Coast.” She gathered courage from saying it. “étienne and I will build a life together. Maybe someday we’ll have our own shipping company.”

“How well do you know him?”

“How well did you know Jules?”

“But others knew Jules. My family has known his family always. We are distant cousins. There was nothing about Jules that was unknown.”

“And you’ve known étienne, Ti’ Boo. Is there anything about him that would cause you worry?” Aurore expected the obvious answer. When Ti’ Boo said nothing, she frowned and stopped. In the distance, she could hear a band, and what sounded like the booming of fireworks or cannonballs. The parade had begun.

“Ti’ Boo?”

“You know how he came to live with Faustin and Zelma Terrebonne. When he was ill, he was identified by a man from Chénière Caminada.” Ti’ Boo crossed herself as she said the name.

“I know.”

“It’s said the man became a hermit after the storm. Il a pas tout. ” She touched her head to indicate that the man was crazy. “There are those who wonder if he told the truth.”

“About what, Ti’ Boo? What are you trying to say?”

Ti’ Boo looked away. “There are those who wonder if étienne…if étienne was a child of mixed blood.”

Aurore stared at her.

“My maman told me the story after my wedding. She thought it wasn’t for my ears before. Faustin began to suspect after étienne had lived with him for some time. He grew bitter and silent. He began to drink. Zelma wouldn’t allow him to send étienne away to an asylum for orphans.”

“But why? What reason did he have for such a terrible suspicion?”

“Nothing more than étienne’s face.”

Aurore closed her eyes and saw the face of her beloved, the face that danced through her dreams. “No.” She opened her eyes. “No, if étienne had Negro blood, I would have seen it. I live with Negroes in a way you never have, Ti’ Boo. They surround me. I see them on the levee, I see them in my kitchen, my carriage house, my garden. I see light-skinned and dark-skinned, and some so white they could pass if they weren’t carefully watched.”

“And some who have passed, Ro-Ro.” Ti’ Boo looked away. “It’s a terrible thing when a man must pretend he is something he’s not. It could be more terrible for a woman who loved him. Especially if there were children.”

Aurore had planned to tell Ti’ Boo about the baby she carried. Now she couldn’t find the courage. “You’re wrong. I would have known. My father would have known!”

“Do you think it’s so easy to tell? We’re taught to see only what we expect. If we notice the unexpected, explanations, even the poorest ones, satisfy us. The people of the chénière came from many different places. Perhaps the lines weren’t as strictly drawn there. Perhaps étienne is the child of such a merger. You must consider this.”

Aurore drew away from her friend. “No. I refuse.”

“What do you refuse? To consider? Or to care? Because each is different, n’est-ce pas? For one, you pretend there is no question. For the other, you admit to the question and disregard the answer.”

“I thought you were my friend.”

“I think, perhaps, I’m the only real friend you have.”

Aurore couldn’t answer. Misery welled up inside her. She was angry at Ti’ Boo, but along with anger had come suspicion. She tried to thrust it away, but it remained. She could feel the coarse texture of étienne’s hair, see the spread of his cheekbones, the width of his nose, the hue of his skin. The things she had loved most about his face were now evidence against him.

“We never have to speak of this again,” Ti’ Boo said softly. “If you can say you don’t care, then I won’t care for you.”

“Ti’ Boo!” There was a burst of French behind them. Jules gestured and pointed downriver. He spoke so quickly and in such a heavy patois that at first Aurore couldn’t follow his words. Then she saw the glow in the sky. At almost the same moment, she heard the blast of horns and bells along the river.

“Fire.” She understood, and wished she hadn’t. Fire was a dreaded event. The port had Samson, a tug fireboat, always on guard. But once a fire began, it was difficult to end it without substantial loss of property. Large ships lay on the river bottom, the victim of flames less impressive than these.

She struggled to gauge where the flames might have originated. Denial made her calculate and recalculate, but when she was finished, she knew the fire was near Gulf Coast’s wharf.

She began to run. She heard Jules and Ti’ Boo calling her; then she heard their footsteps following. The Gulf Coast wharf was far away, but the air already seemed tainted with smoke. She ran faster. She forgot about étienne and Ti’ Boo’s suspicions. She could think only of Gulf Coast and her father.

Lucien allowed Fantome to place his coat over his shoulders; then he waved the old man away so that he could examine himself in the mirror. “Get the carriage.”

Fantome left as silently as he had come. Lucien continued to stare at his own reflection. He was still imposing in formal clothes, and now that the weather was better, his health had improved. Or maybe it was the impending launch of the Dowager. She sat at Gulf Coast’s own wharf, a testimonial to everything Lucien had achieved. Tonight he could almost believe the doctors were wrong.

He remained careful of his health. He had refused to ride on a Proteus float, and he had intended to find an excuse not to attend the buffet supper at the Opera House or the ball afterward. But at the last minute he had changed his mind. He wanted to scrutinize Aurore’s dancing partners.

There was a certain aura about a woman in love, a look, an essence; he believed that Aurore had succumbed at last. After careful analysis, he’d decided the young man was Baptiste Armstrong, the son of a cotton broker whose New Orleans roots went back the requisite number of generations. Lucien wouldn’t have chosen Baptiste, who lived off his father’s largess and made only occasional forays into the business world. But, with his impeccable background, he was acceptable. Lucien intended to speak to Charles Armstrong that night. Between them, he hoped, they could control and shape Baptiste until he was the son-in-law Lucien had always hoped for.

Of course, there was the possibility that Baptiste was not Aurore’s ami. Lucien had questioned Aurore and carefully watched her for the past weeks. But she was canny and secretive, and though it irritated him that she hadn’t confided her choice, he had developed a grudging admiration for her. He had deduced Baptiste’s identity from the gossip of Claire’s old friends, so there was still the possibility that Aurore might surprise him.

He found himself looking forward to the evening.

“Monsieur Le Danois?”

He turned and frowned. He hadn’t expected to see Fantome again until he stepped into the carriage.

“Monsieur Terrebonne is here. He says he must see you.”

Lucien pulled out his watch and squinted at the time. The buffet was due to be served soon. “Show him in, and hurry.”

étienne entered the room, carrying his hat. Lucien nodded curtly. His watch remained in his hand.

“My apologies,” étienne said. “But you know I wouldn’t have come if it weren’t an emergency.”

Unaccountably, Lucien grew more annoyed. He searched for the source of his feelings, and realized it was that étienne didn’t seem sorry at all. “What is it?”

“Something I think you must see.”

“I don’t have time. I’m due at the Opera House.”

“Sir, I truly think this must take precedence.”

Lucien saw a young man in his best years, a strong, handsome man with eyes that brimmed with emotion. Something besides annoyance stabbed at him. He felt the first flutter of unease, and with it the speeding of his heart. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I have to show you. We’ll have to go to the office.”

Lucien knew instinctively that étienne would not be budged. He felt some of the same admiration that in the past weeks he had felt for Aurore. He thrust his watch back into his pocket. “Very well. But you presume too much, Terrebonne.”

“I think you’ll see the reason,” étienne said.

Lucien measured étienne’s deference, and didn’t like his calculations. But he was powerless. If he went to the Opera House, he would wonder all night what disaster might be brewing. “Fantome will take us.”

“Yes, sir.” étienne politely stepped aside and waited for Lucien to precede him. Lucien walked out into the hallway. He was strangely aware that his back was to étienne. His heart began to speed faster, and even though he told himself that he had nothing to fear, his hands began to sweat.

The Gulf Coast Building was silent, musty and dark. The sudden glare of artificial light did little to warm it. étienne paid no attention to his surroundings or to his own speeding pulse as he closed and locked the front door behind them. Lucien had sent Fantome to the Opera House to give his regrets. They were truly alone.

“Suppose you show me whatever’s so important that I’m missing my supper because of it,” Lucien said.

“Everything is upstairs.” étienne stepped aside, and Lucien climbed the steps, stopping near the middle to rest. In his months at Gulf Coast, étienne had watched Lucien’s health deteriorate. Lucien thought he had hidden his lack of breath, the sweat that sometimes dotted his brow even in the coldest weather, the blue tinge of his complexion. But étienne had seen illness claim him, and he had silently rejoiced. He wanted a slow, agonizing death for the man who had killed his family.

At the office door, a panting Lucien stepped aside to let étienne turn on this light, too. Then he moved inside and took the chair closest to the doorway. His own office, one door away, was obviously too far. “Whatever it is, you can show me while I sit here.”

“Certainly.” étienne went to the oak filing cabinets along the wall and withdrew a folder. He presented it to Lucien with a mock bow.

Lucien frowned, but he didn’t reprimand étienne. He shuffled through the papers inside, then held them out. “I see nothing here that demands my attention. These are just our copies of the insurance papers on the Dowager. ”

“Perhaps you’d better look at the signature.”

Lucien dropped the papers on the desk and began to go through them again. “I still don’t see a problem.”

“I suppose you might not see the difficulty,” étienne said. “Since you don’t know George Jacelle’s signature at a glance. But I can assure you that this—” he pointed at the signature at the bottom of one of the papers “—isn’t it.”

“What are you saying?”

“What you’re holding in your hands is a forgery. George Jacelle never signed that document, because he was told that you had decided to let Fargrave-Crane insure the Dowager. ”

Lucien still didn’t seem to comprehend what étienne was saying. étienne felt a surge of power rush through him. He had moments to savor Lucien’s fall, to watch it slowly unfold.

“M’sieu Lucien,” he said. “May I call you that again?”

“Again?” Lucien looked momentarily dazed.

“Yes. I used to call you M’sieu Lucien. A long time ago. Don’t you remember?”

“What are you talking about?” Lucien’s uncertainty gave way to anger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Signatures I know nothing about, and now this gibberish!”

“You’ve always disliked the feeling of not being able to take hold of a situation, haven’t you? There’s so little that’s out of your grasp. Even fate.”

Lucien tried to stand, but étienne put his hand on Lucien’s shoulder and pushed him back into the chair. “What’s wrong, M’sieu? Have you grown so feeble I’ll have to take command?”

“As of this moment, you no longer work here!”

“As of this moment, I no longer need to.” étienne leaned closer. “Look at me, M’sieu. Look carefully, and tell me what you see.”

“A madman,” Lucien said, but his eyes betrayed fear.

“Nothing so predictable. If I were mad, you might be able to soothe me and escape. But I’m the one who’ll escape and leave you here to make sense of what’s left of your life.”

“You’re truly mad!”

“Look closer. And think of a small boy named Raphael.”

Lucien’s eyes widened. étienne saw denial there, then a deepening fear. “Raphael?” he whispered.

“Come back from the dead.” Raphael smiled. He could be Raphael now, Raphael forever. “Not étienne. Never étienne again. Haven’t you always wished you could have known me as an adult? For a time, you were like a father to me.”

“I buried Raphael myself!”

“Apparently you didn’t.”

Lucien tried to stand once more, but this time it was his own body that betrayed him.

“I suppose you’ll want to know about my mother and sister,” Raphael said. “It’s too bad, isn’t it, that they can’t be here for our reunion? But you did bury them. In a grave along with dozens of others, and you didn’t even stay to erect a headstone. Marcelite Cantrelle, beloved mistress of Lucien Le Danois. And Angelle Cantrelle. Beloved daughter.”

Lucien rested his head in his hands.

“There are details you’re probably curious about,” Raphael continued. “You’ve probably wondered how my mother and sister died? I’ll tell you. After you cut the tow rope, our boat rushed out toward the Gulf. You saw that much yourself before you sought shelter. We were on the crest of a wave when Angelle was pulled from Maman’s arms by the wind and thrown into the water. Maman dived from the skiff after her. She never reached her. They didn’t even die together.”

Lucien’s words were barely audible. “What is it you want?”

“Nothing I don’t have already.” Raphael took the papers and walked to the window to look out over the river. He knew that Lucien wouldn’t find the courage to leave until he had found a way to silence him. Lucien still didn’t understand.

The room was very quiet. Raphael stared toward the river. He knew the time to the minute; he had checked it repeatedly on their journey here. When the room was rocked by the sound of an explosion, he didn’t remain at the window to see the results. He turned.

“What was that?” Lucien asked. His head jerked away from his hands. His eyes were wild, and growing wilder.

“That was the sound of vengeance, M’sieu.”

The syllables Lucien strung together had no meaning. Raphael shook his head. “She was a beautiful ship. Too beautiful to be yours.”

Lucien managed to stand and find his way to the window. The river was spouting flames. He couldn’t form words.

“The Dowager, ” Raphael confirmed. “And now do you understand about the signature?” When Lucien moaned, he continued. “You put me in charge of the paperwork to insure the Dowager. I was to have it prepared by Jacelle and Sons. And you took care of your obligations to Fargrave-Crane by allowing them to insure the rest of your fleet. That way you thought you could save money and save face. You even stopped attending social gatherings or business meetings where the subject might be raised again.”

Lucien was finally coherent. “You bastard!”

“You signed the new documents and dispatched me to carry them to Jacelle and Sons. Instead, I carried regrets that you had changed your mind and would continue on with Fargrave-Crane. Then I forged Jacelle’s signature on our copies of the documents. I told him that pressing his case would only antagonize you. If he hoped for Gulf Coast’s patronage, he should show gentlemanly restraint and wait until I informed him another bid was welcome. George Jacelle is a gentleman.”

Lucien turned, as if to run. Perhaps he had hopes of saving something of the ship that had been the culmination of his career, but Raphael’s next words stopped him.

“Now the Dowager has no insurance, and neither do the goods piled at the riverfront. It will be interesting to see if there’s anything left of your wharf when this is over.”

Lucien stumbled and grasped the nearest chair.

Raphael shook his head. “I was surprised to discover how vulnerable you are. I’ve examined the company’s books until I understand them perfectly. You insisted Gulf Coast borrow more money than it could hope to take in for some time. You believed your investments would eventually take root and flourish. You gambled, but the odds were in your favor. Until now.”

Bells began to sound along the river. Flames shot several stories into the air. The watchman and his hirelings had done their job well.

Lucien covered his ears, as if the warning bells were the final horror. “I may be ruined,” he said, “but I’ll take you down with me! I’ll tell the authorities what you’ve told me!”

“Proof?” Mockingly Raphael held out the papers to Lucien, then he ripped them in half, and in half once more, before he put them inside his coat pocket. Lucien still covered his ears. Raphael spoke louder. “And I don’t think you’d tell the authorities everything I’ve told you, would you? If they question me, I’ll share the rest of the story with them, the way I’ve shared it with you.”

“Do you think something that happened sixteen years ago would matter to them?”

“I think stories persist. They can ruin a man’s good name, and sometimes that’s all a man has left.”

“You bastard. You should have died in the hurricane. You were meant to! Why didn’t you?”

“That’s plain, isn’t it? I survived to avenge my mother and sister.”

The room was growing warmer. Raphael didn’t expect the Gulf Coast offices to go up in flames. The wharf and the Dowager were distant enough that there was a good chance the office would be spared. But cotton bales were highly flammable, and the nearest warehouse was piled high with them. The stave yard, packed tight with creosoted lumber, was directly across from them. With the right combination of wind and mismanagement of the fire, the building could ignite. “You should know the rest.”

Lucien pitched to his knees. He began to gasp for breath. Raphael folded his arms and watched; his expression never changed. “I’ll tell you quickly, while you’re alive to hear it all. Your daughter’s pregnant, and the child is mine. We’re leaving the city tonight. You’ve lost both your daughters, M’sieu, and ensured that your lineage will be forever mixed with mine. My only regret is that I’ve tainted my own bloodlines.”

“You lie!” Lucien gasped out the words. “You’re lying!”

“Ask yourself if I’m lying tomorrow, when you wake up and discover Aurore’s gone. Better yet, ask yourself if I’m lying tonight, when you read the letter she’s asked Cleo to put on your pillow. She’s worth a hundred of you. And because I’m not completely heartless, I’ll leave you with a little hope. I love your daughter, because there’s nothing of you inside her. I’ll care for her as you never have. I’ll promise not to see you in any of our children. And we’ll have many, M’sieu. Many, many children to carry on the Le Danois heritage.”

Now the riverfront was a screaming confusion of noise. There were shouts and the sounds of running feet. Horses whinnied in confusion. Fire was as dreaded here as anywhere. It had nearly destroyed San Francisco and Chicago, and more than a hundred years ago had almost destroyed New Orleans itself. But the streets near the river received heavy abuse and were still some of the worst in the city. Despite every effort, it would take time to maneuver fire engines into place.

The flames from the Dowager leaped higher. Raphael couldn’t see clearly, but he thought the flames were licking at the dock. Gulf Coast Steamship was going up in smoke before his eyes. He waited for the thrill of elation. He had done everything he’d intended. The small boy who had lain awake each night and plotted revenge had achieved it. His mother and sister could lie quietly in the arms of God.

And Lucien could burn in the depths of a hell on earth.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he looked at Lucien again. He was collapsed on the floor now, the color of the ashes drifting in the air. He was breathing, his fingers digging ineffectually in the rug beneath him. But there was nothing he could do except lie there and face his own destiny.

“I’ll leave you to find your way out,” Raphael said. “I’d advise you to leave as quickly as you can. This building will probably be safe, but even that’s not certain. Nothing’s certain in this life, is it? There are always surprises in store.”

He started toward the door, but he wanted one more glimpse of Lucien. He had yet to feel the thrill of victory. In the doorway, he turned and saw that Lucien was still, except for the slight rise and fall of his overcoat. He waited for joy to fill him, but he was as empty inside as he had been before he fell in love with Lucien’s daughter.

Aurore. He turned away for good. No matter his feelings or lack of them, his past was behind him. He had no doubt that Lucien would rally or that Fantome would return in time to help him. Lucien had survived worse. Now Raphael had just enough time to get to the train station, where he had already deposited his bags. Aurore would see the smoke and worry, but he would reassure her. Then, when they were safely on board, he would relive his success, and at last know satisfaction.

He took the stairs three at a time and unlocked the door. As he had expected, the air was thick with ashes. He heard the clatter of a fire wagon and the shouts of men on the riverfront.

He felt a searing blast of heat as he stepped outside. He hadn’t expected that. The wind, which had played softly throughout the afternoon, had picked up. Now it was fanning the flames. He didn’t have time to investigate, but a part of him insisted, even if it meant that he would have to run all the way to Rampart.

The fire mesmerized him. He moved in the direction of the river, through the stave yard and along the same path where he had once led Aurore. The smoke grew thicker and more menacing with every step. Closer to the river, he saw why. The dock was on fire now, but it was the spectacle of the burning ship that held his attention. Never had he seen anything like it. Outlined in flames, the SS Danish Dowager was already just a shell of what she had once been. The little fire tug, Samson, was gamely trying to relieve the Dowager ’s agony, but the attempt was hopeless.

He had his revenge. It writhed in the water in front of him. As he stared, the sight merged in his mind with another boat, a small, frail skiff with three terrified passengers. He felt the skiff buck beneath him, felt the rough wood of a seat against his clinging hands. He shut his eyes, but the moment became clearer. Over the roar of wind, he heard his mother scream. He squeezed his eyelids tighter, but he saw his sister’s body hurtle through the air, to disappear under a wave that was taller than an oak tree. He reached for his mother, but she shook off his hands and disappeared into the water after her daughter.

He had clung to the seat for time unending. Just the way he had clung to his hatred for Lucien Le Danois. Just the way he had clung to his determination to seek revenge.

Raphael opened his eyes and realized it was not elation he felt, but despair. He had prayed and schemed for this moment, yet now that it was his, he knew his prayers had been blasphemy. In one terrible moment of panic and selfishness, Lucien had condemned his lover and his daughter to death. Raphael’s moments had been many, moments calculated and hoarded, moments that had multiplied into years dedicated to destruction and hatred. And none of it could bring back his mother and sister.

“Aurore!” He turned and began to run back toward Gulf Coast and the street that would lead him to Rampart. For the first time he knew what he ran from, and what he ran toward. There was nothing he could do about the holocaust he left behind, but he could protect Lucien’s daughter from what lay ahead. She must never know what had transpired here. She must never know his part in her family’s destruction.

He paused for breath beside Gulf Coast. He could feel the wind at his back, strong gusts that swirled smoke and skipped burning debris along the ground. Something stung his neck, and he brushed a live cinder to the walk. Whirling, he saw a glow in the stave yard. As he watched, the glow deepened. The lumber, impregnated with flammable chemicals, would go up quickly.

The Gulf Coast building would be destroyed. Even as he heard the clatter of more engines, he knew they would be too late. He looked for Lucien’s carriage, but Fantome was either late returning or had found it impossible to get through.

Lucien was upstairs, and it was only a matter of time before the building collapsed around him. There was time to rescue him, to find someone who would be certain he was taken out of the area. There was time, but was there reason?

He moved toward the door, then stopped, torn between old hatreds and new revelations. He saw Aurore’s face in his mind and knew he couldn’t live with her if he took this final, fatal plunge into revenge. He had flung wide the door and started inside when he heard a shout.

“étienne!” As if his thoughts had conjured her, she appeared through the smoke, coughing and choking. “étienne!”

Two people materialized behind her. He recognized Ti’ Boo and Jules from Lafourche. His heart began to speed. Aurore fell into his arms. “What are you doing here?” He pushed her away and grasped her shoulders. “What are you doing?”

“I—we saw the fire. It’s the Dowager, étienne!”

He saw that she was sobbing. Fear gripped him. “There’s nothing to be done about it now!”

“And the dock. étienne, the dock! Everything my father built. Gone.”

“It doesn’t matter. We have to get out of here now. The office is going to go up, too. The wind’s blowing this way!” As if to illustrate his words, there was a roar from the stave yard. What had been a glow was now visible flames.

“We have to save what we can! Anything we can!”

“We can’t carry anything worth saving, Aurore.” He tried to push her toward Jules, but she wouldn’t budge.

“We have to try!”

“No! We have to get out of here. Jules, take her. Start toward Rampart Street. I’ll follow in a few minutes. I have to be sure no one is inside.”

“Inside?” Aurore still refused to move.

“Aurore, you have to go. Now!” He couldn’t think of anything that might start her on the way except part of the truth. “Your father was here. I told him we were leaving the city together. He was furious. I don’t know if he left the building afterward. I have to see, but you can’t go. He can’t see you again, not if you have any hope of leaving with me!”

Her eyes widened, and he knew he would always remember her this way, face pale with shock, eyes wide with tears streaming from them. “My father?”

“Aurore, go!” He succeeded in pushing her towards Jules. “Jules, take her now, and get her out of here. If Lucien is still here, I’ll be sure he’s safe before I follow.”

“No, I have to see for myself!” She resisted Jules’s grip, and before either man could stop her, she dashed for the stairs.

Raphael followed, and he could hear footsteps behind him. He prayed that Lucien was gone, that somehow he’d rallied and left the building when Raphael was at the riverfront. But even as he prayed, he knew what they would find.

Aurore shoved the door open and flew across the room. “Papa!” Lucien was exactly where Raphael had left him. He groaned at the sound of his daughter’s voice. She flung herself to the ground and grasped his shoulder to try to turn him onto his back. “Help me, étienne!”

Raphael knelt beside her and took her hands. “I’ll get him out of here, Aurore. You’ve got to leave. You can’t stay. If you want to leave with me, you must go now!”

She shook off his hands. “I can’t leave him! Papa!” Jules joined her, and between them they turned Lucien to his back. His eyelids fluttered open, but he didn’t speak. “Papa!”

Something knotted inside Raphael. “If you stay, he’ll never allow you to marry me. Jules will get him to safety for us. But your father knows about us now. We have to leave. I’m sorry, but you’ve got to make a choice!”

“How can you ask me to choose?” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “He’s my father. He may be dying!”

“He’s not!” But even as he said the words, he saw that Lucien’s face was a death mask. Every breath that wracked his body took him one step closer.

“Aurore.” Lucien’s voice was so soft that for a moment Raphael wasn’t sure he had heard it.

“Papa.” Aurore drew his head to her lap. She put her face as close to his as she could. “We’ll get you out of here,” she said. “I’ll stay with you. You’re going to be fine.”

“étienne…”

She lifted her head. “He’s calling you,” she said.

Lucien’s eyes rolled back in his head, and his hands fluttered wildly. “Aurore.”

“What, Papa? étienne’s here, too. What is it?”

“He’s…a bastard.”

She drew in a sharp breath. “Papa, don’t worry about any of that now. We’ll have time to talk about my future later.” Her hands fluttered helplessly over his cheeks. “Papa, dear Papa, don’t worry. I’ll stay with you.”

“He’s a…bastard. His father was a…slave. Your baby…have to get rid of it. He did this to you…to get even with me…. Set fire to the Dowager. ”

She gave a sharp cry. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Papa. You don’t know!”

“I know.” Lucien struggled, as if to sit up. “You’re my child…only child.” He grabbed her hands; his clenched spasmodically. “Revenge. That’s all. A madman. If you love me, get rid of…”

Her sobs were audible now, wrenching cries that shivered through Raphael with the same intensity as Lucien’s words. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying, Aurore,” he said. “He’s sicker than I thought. And he would say anything to make you leave me.”

“Papa!” she cried. She lowered her face to his. “étienne is a good man! He loves me.”

“No. He hates…me. Wanted revenge. Told me about the baby. Was here when the Dowager exploded. Told me he’d done it. His blood…mixed, Aurore. Never loved you. He wanted to leave us with…nothing. Forged papers…in his coat. No insurance.” He struggled to sit up again, then fell back into her lap.

She was sobbing so hard she couldn’t speak. Raphael reached for her, but she shook him off.

“My daughter,” Lucien said. “Loved you. Wanted…everything for you. Don’t go…Aurore. Stay. Salvage what you can…Gulf Coast. Do what you…” His lips stopped moving, and his eyes stared straight ahead.

“No!” She shook him. “Papa! No!”

From somewhere in the shadows, Raphael heard a woman’s keening. He had forgotten Ti’ Boo’s presence. He lifted his head and saw horror reflected in Jules’s eyes. Jules knelt and edged Lucien’s body away from his daughter’s. Raphael grabbed for Aurore, to shield her.

“No!” She turned her face to his. “No! Not until you tell me what he meant!” She stared at him.

He was empty, and he couldn’t find words to answer her.

“No!” She shut her eyes and threw her head back and screamed. “No! It’s true! What he said is true!”

He found his voice on the edges of her scream. “There’s more, Aurore. More than he said. I love you. That was never a lie. And I want you and our baby!”

“Did you start the fire?”

He stared at her.

“Did you, étienne?” She pounded his chest. “Did you?”

“You can’t understand. Not unless you know it all!”

“Did you? Answer me?”

He couldn’t.

“You did!” She drew back in horror. “And the other? Your father was a slave? Your blood is—”

He waited for her to say the word. When she couldn’t even say it, he knew that all his hopes had been foolish, and all his dreams of love had been for nothing.

He stared at her, and for the first time he saw Lucien in Lucien’s daughter.

“My father was a good man,” he said. “You’ll never be able to say the same.”

“No!” She came at him again, fists bunched, but he grabbed her hands.

“Have you forgotten you carry my child?” he asked. “The grandchild of a slave.” He gave a bitter laugh. “You carry the child of a man you’ve already learned to hate! And you’ll hate the child, too, won’t you? You’ll pass on your father’s hatred and pride to another generation. You’ll teach our child to hate himself, the way you hate me now!”

“I won’t raise your child!” She spat at him. “I won’t have your child!”

He shoved her away. “You’d commit a mortal sin because your father told you to? You would kill your own baby?”

“This child shouldn’t be born!” she screamed.

“Ro-Ro!” Ti’ Boo stepped out of the shadows. “You don’t know what you’re saying! Come away now.”

Jules bent to help her up, but Aurore shook him off. “I won’t have your child, étienne! I won’t!”

“You will have it, and you’ll give it to me!” He reached for her, and when Jules tried to intervene, he hit him. Jules stumbled backward.

“I will never give you anything!” she screamed.

“The child will be mine.”

“Never.” Her voice dropped, but it shook with intensity. “If you try to claim it, I’ll go to the authorities. I’ll tell them you were responsible for destroying the Dowager. I’ll find out about the forgery my father spoke of, and I’ll see it comes to rest at your door.”

“Ro-Ro.” Ti’ Boo took her arm. “We have to get out of here. The fire’s coming closer.” She pointed to the window.

“And if you try,” Raphael said, “then I’ll tell them that Aurore Le Danois carries my child out of wedlock, and that she’s nothing more than a woman scorned and hoping for revenge. There’s not a shred of proof I had anything to do with the fire.”

“Ti’ Boo and Jules heard you admit it!”

“No. I never admitted it.”

She whirled to search their faces and saw the truth. Ti’ Boo shook her head and took Aurore in her arms. “We must go. Now, Ro-Ro. Jules will bring your father. But we must get out of here now!” She began to drag Aurore toward the door.

“No!” Aurore threw her head back and wailed. “No!”

Raphael watched Jules struggle with Lucien’s body. He stepped back as Jules stumbled; then he watched them disappear through the door to the stairs.

“No!”

He heard Aurore’s cry once more, and it echoed through the void inside him.