Garden of the Moon (22 page)

In awe, Sara watched as Marie placed a variety of objects in the bag: pieces of colored stones, bits of what appeared to be bone, salt, and red pepper. Then she added a large pinch of dust. Sara recalled Raina telling her about a
gris gris
one of the slaves on one of the neighboring plantations had made to give her master. The addition of a dust known as
goofer dust
or
graveyard dirt
was what the slaves believed had killed the man the following day when he fell on a hay fork.

“I’m not trying to kill anyone,” Sara protested.

“On rare occasions, goofer dust also protects, Sara.” Marie said a few words over the bag that Sara didn’t understand, but that the snake, from his angry
hiss
, seemed to find irritating. Then she handed Sara the bag. “Keep this with you always. It will protect you from this Katherine woman.” Sara took it, but she must have let her skepticism show. Marie smiled knowingly. “She has already tried to kill you, has she not?”

Sara nodded.

“She will try again. The time is drawing close when she must defeat you or lose everything.”

***

As her carriage began to pull away from Marie Laveau’s cottage, Sara fingered the strange little bag, doubting how something so small could protect her from Katherine’s wrath. Nevertheless, she tucked it in her reticule. As they pulled into Dauphine St., Sara spotted a nun hurrying along the street.

The little nun reminded Sara that Katherine’s parents had sent her to live at the Ursuline Convent after Jonathan’s death. Could the nuns shed some light on this relationship between Maddy, Katherine and Jonathan? Were any of the sisters who had been in the convent when Katherine was living there still alive? It was worth a try.

“Samuel, take me to the Ursuline Convent.”

“Yas “um.”

Dutifully, Samuel turned the carriage toward Chartres St. and brought it to a halt before the doors of the convent. He tied the horse to the hitching post and then helped Sara down.

“I won’t be long,” she said, and lifting her skirts so as not to trip over them, she hurried up the front walk. At the door, she lifted the heavy knocker and let it fall. The hollow
thunk
seemed to echo through her bones.

A short time later, the heavy cypress door swung open. An unusually petite woman dressed in a black habit and veil with a white wimple framing her angelic face smiled up at her.

“May I help you?”

Now that Sara was here, words failed her to express what she wanted. She couldn’t very well say she was being haunted by a woman who used to live at the convent.

“I’m not sure,” she finally said. “I need to speak with someone who was here a while ago.”

The nun smiled. “How long ago is a while ago?”

Feeling a bit foolish, Sara returned her smile. “1820.”

The little nun thought for a moment. Sara held her breath and prayed someone who tended Katherine would still be alive.

“That would probably be Sister Agnes. She was here when the old convent was being used. Perhaps she can help you.” She stepped to the side to allow Sara entrance, and then led her to a gallery overlooking a beautiful courtyard. “She’s been quite ill, but if you’ll wait here, I’ll see if she is up to company.”

Leaving Sara, the nun hurried off down a long walkway and then disappeared inside one of the doors leading off the gallery. A long time later, that same door opened and the little nun reappeared pushing a wooden wheelchair. In the chair sat another nun. Her hands and face, which were the only parts of her body visible beneath her nun’s robes, were withered, wrinkled and deformed from advanced arthritis.

As she drew closer, Sara could see a kind twinkle in her pale blue eyes. “Sister Valerie tells me you want to speak to me.” Belying her physical condition, her voice was strong and affirmative.

Sara sat on a nearby bench to be on the same eye level. “Not you precisely, but someone who was here when Katherine Grayson was confined at the convent.”

The old nun nodded. “That would be me. I tended Katherine for most of her stay with us.” She shook her head sadly. “A very troubled young woman.” Then she waved Sister Valerie away. “Go about your duties, Sister. I’ll be fine.”

Sister Valerie patted her shoulder. “I’ll come back in a little while to see if you’re ready to go back to your room.” Then she looked at Sara with silent pleading in her eyes. “She tires easily.” Sara nodded to let her know she understood, and then followed the retreating form of the young nun as she walked away.

“Now, what is it you’d like to know about Katherine?”

“Why was she brought here?”

“Something had happened to her, something tragic. Neither she nor the black woman who came with her ever spoke of it.”

“Her fiancé was shot and killed by a jealous neighbor on the eve of their wedding.” As always, speaking about Jonathan’s death sent a pain shooting through Sara’s heart.

The shock of Sara’s astounding statement left Sister Agnes speechless for a few minutes. Then she sighed. “Well, I’m sure that would account for why she started drinking. I believe her choice of liquor was absinthe. Her father brought her here when her indulgence began to take a toll on her physical and mental health. She’d become irrational and uncontrollable.” The old nun stopped and took a deep breath that rattled in her chest. “For her first few weeks here, we kept her heavily dosed on laudanum. But I’m afraid it was too late. The absinthe had already robbed her of her sanity.

“Toward the end, she became obsessed with writing a letter to someone. Actually, it was one of her few lucid moments. She was determined to write the letter, and I couldn’t control her until I brought her pen and paper. She scribbled away constantly for days, throwing away one draft after another until she was finally satisfied. Then for weeks after the servant had delivered the letter, she kept asking over and over if it had been taken to the recipient.”

Sara’s ears had perked right after the first mention of the letter. “Did she say who the letter went to or what it contained?”

The old nun shook her head. “No, and I never asked. Right after that, she seemed to decline quickly. She talked on and on in disjointed thoughts that ranged from childhood memories to statements such as the moon being too bright. Now that you’ve told me of the tragedy, I understand why she declined so quickly. One morning, I found her in the garden, just over there.”‘ Sister Agnes pointed toward a small, gurgling fountain tucked in the corner of the courtyard. “We carried her inside, and a few days later, she died.” She crossed herself. “Lord bless her tortured soul. May God forgive me, but I think her daddy was relieved when she passed away.”

Aghast at the nun’s conclusion, Sara had to ask. “Relieved? Why in heaven’s name would a father be relieved when his daughter died?”

Sister Agnes frowned at her. “Well, isn’t it obvious, my dear? He wouldn’t have to hide her illegitimate birth anymore.”

Sara was confused. “Illegitimate birth? But she and Maddy were twins.”

The nun’s mouth fell open. “You don’t know.” Then she patted Sara’s hand. “Of course you don’t. It was a closely guarded secret.”

“Secret? What secret?”

For a moment Sara thought Sister Agnes wasn’t going to tell her. But then she shrugged. “Since everyone concerned has passed on, I don’t think they can be hurt by me telling you about it.” She looked around, and then lowered her voice. “Mrs. Grayson was not Katherine’s mother, and she and Maddy were not twins.”

Chapter 19

Now it was Sara whose mouth dropped open. “Katherine and Maddy not twins? I don’t—”

“Understand why they passed the girls off as twins?” The nun smiled, but without humor. Rather her smile looked like relief and perhaps just a touch of disdain.

Though she obviously disapproved, perhaps the Grayson’s secret had been too burdensome for her, and she was as relieved as Mr. Grayson had been to finally remove it from her mind. Or perhaps she just liked to gossip. Sara didn’t know, nor did she care. What she wanted now was the story behind this astounding bit of information.

“Society, my dear girl. Society. It seems Mr. Grayson had indulged in a brief…indiscretion that resulted in the lady becoming with child. She died in childbirth, leaving her tiny daughter without any relatives. Whether from a guilty conscience or fear that word of his liaison would leak out, Mr. Grayson took the little girl home.” She leaned back in her chair. “It just so happened that Mrs. Grayson was also pregnant and about to deliver her first child. Somehow Mr. Grayson convinced his wife to take in his mistress’ motherless babe and let the world think his wife had given birth to twins.” She tilted her head. “Have you ever seen pictures of the girls? Do they look alike?”

Sara shook her head, her mind whirling with the information that Sister Agnes had just disclosed. “I’ve only seen their portraits, and they look nothing alike. In fact I look more like Maddy than Katherine does, but I thought that—”

“It was not unusual for twins not to resemble each other? That’s true, which made it easy to pass them off to everyone as
fraternal
twin sisters.”

Sara was half listening. This explained why Maddy’s mother had doted on her and not Katherine. She obviously had resented raising her husband’s mistress’ child and had taken it out on the child. How terrible to have to face a reminder of his betrayal every day.

If Katherine was not the child of both the Grayson’s, then technically, Maddy was their first born and should have been the one betrothed to Jonathan. But if they had admitted to that, then their secret would have come out. So, they had to let Katherine pass as the oldest and the one who would marry Jonathan. One more thorn in Mrs. Grayson’s side. No wonder Mrs. Grayson fought against announcing to the Bradford’s at Maddy’s birth that their baby girl, Katherine, would wed the Bradford’s son. She knew that Jonathan and Maddy should have wed.

So many lives destroyed by one indiscretion. But worst of all was what it had done to Maddy and Jonathan. Through a horrible twist of fate, Maddy and Jonathan were cheated out of the life they should have had together. A life they deserved to have together. Sara’s insides curdled with anger. Her hands balled into impotent fists in her lap. She wanted to scream out the injustice of it all. Her heart wept for what could have been, but never was. At last, she knew the full measure of the intense frustration and pain that, without even knowing the facts, Maddy and Jonathan must have endured.

She lifted her gaze to meet Sister Agnes’. “How did you learn all this if it was kept so secret?”

“When Mr. Grayson brought Katherine here, he was so distraught that it just seemed to pour from him. I would imagine that carrying that burden for so long had been far too much for the poor soul to stand any longer. Of course none of this got out. Everyone was told Katherine had suffered from an acute case of yellow jack fever. Since that scourge plagued the city on a yearly basis, no one questioned it.”

Just then Sister Valerie stepped onto the gallery, walked to where they sat and laid her hand on the old nun’s shoulder. “Sister Agnes, are you ready to go back to your room?”

“Yes, I believe I am,” Sister Agnes said softly, the strain of the last hour showing plainly in her voice.

“Thank you,” Sara said, feeling a bit guilty when she noted the lines of fatigue showing around Sister Agnes’ eyes.

“You’re welcome.” She reached for Sara’s hand. “Don’t distress yourself over this. It’s in the past, over and done with, a wrong that can never be righted, child.”

Sara watched her being wheeled away.

In the past perhaps, but Katherine was making certain it was not nearly over and done with
.

***

“So where was it you went today?” Sara’s mother never lifted her gaze from her embroidery, which told the young woman that the question had been asked to fill the silence in the drawing room and not because Patricia Wade actually cared how her daughter had spent her day.

For a second Sara thought about being evasive. But then she reminded herself that she did not live under her mother’s thumb any longer, and she could speak the truth without fear of reprisal.

“Into the Quarter to see Marie Leveau.”

Her mother lowered her embroidery to her lap. “Silly, Marie would have come to the house to dress your hair. Ladies of refinement don’t go to her home.”

“I didn’t go for that, Mother.”

“No? Then what on earth could you possibly have gone for?”

Sara fumbled in her dress pocket and pulled out the small cotton bag Marie had given her. “For this.” She swung the bag between two fingers.

“And what may I ask is that? It looks rather…nasty.” Patricia’s nose curled in a most unladylike fashion. “I suppose it’s got something to do with the strange religion Marie practices. Voo…voo something.”

“Voodoo,” her husband put in, laying his pipe aside and showing interest in their conversation for the first time.

“Yes, that’s it.” She glanced around, and then lowered her voice. “I’ve heard Marie claims to be some kind of queen, and that at midnight they all dance naked out by Lake Ponchartrain.” Derision dripped from her voice. She shook her head, her expression haughty and repulsed. “Those Nigras have the strangest practices.” She picked up her embroidery again. “And exactly what is that…that thing she gave you, Sara?”

“It’s a
gris gris
, Mother, to protect me against the ghost haunting Harrogate.”

Patricia’s embroidery dropped to her lap and then slipped unnoticed to the floor. Her mother’s face went sheet white. “G…g…”

“Ghost, Mother. It’s quite all right to say the word. Nothing will happen to you.”

Sara’s mother laid her head back against the chair, pulled a lace handkerchief from her sleeve and began fanning herself. Sara made no move to comfort her. She’d seen her mother pull her fainting spell many times before. Ninety-nine percent of the time they were fake and used to draw attention rather than a physical thing. When no one rushed to her side and Sara noted her mother’s clandestine peek from beneath fluttering eyelids, Sara surmised that this was as fake as the rest. As soon as Patricia realized that no one was coming to her aid, she recovered by herself.