Heart of Glass (6 page)

Kate hesitated. In his present state she had no wish to humiliate Colin by telling him she had paid the back taxes or that she
would happily provide all the building materials and money for the workmen.

“For the time being, I’ll pay for them, Simon,” she finally said. “There’s no need to mention that to Mr. Colin right now. He and I will settle up later, when he’s got the place up and running again.” Hopefully, being comfortably installed in the house again would inspire him to look toward the future and bring the fields back to life.

“When do you want us to start?” Simon seemed relieved.

She planted her hands on her hips and looked out over the back garden where Myra was on her hands and knees tugging at a stubborn patch of weeds.

“I’ve sent for furniture. Hopefully, it will arrive in a day or two. Have men here to unload and move it into the house. The lumber and supplies should be here within the week. Until then, there is plenty of preparation work to do.”

“Sure will be good to see the old place come to life again,” he said. “It’s been like livin’ with an open sore, starin’ at the house, seein’ it so dark and forlorn. Eugenie and me are sure glad you showed up, Miss Kate. I know in time Mr. Colin will be too.”

“Thank you, Simon. I hope you’re right.”

When he left she looked toward the
garçonnière
. Thankfully, there had been no sign of Colin all morning. Daring him to throw her out yesterday hadn’t been enough to rouse him. Eugenie said he hadn’t even mentioned her this morning when his breakfast was delivered. Obviously, he had no idea with whom he was dealing; she would never walk away without a fight.

The only way she could succeed was if she avoided him for the next few days. As long as she didn’t raise his ire before the repairs were well underway, there was every chance she just might get him to see things her way.

F
or three days Colin refused to let Kate Keene bait him. Remaining locked in self-imposed isolation in the
garçonnière
grew more difficult, however, for with each passing day the sounds of hammering and sawing at the main house intensified.

What irked him almost as much as her presence and obvious disregard for his wishes was that Miss Keene refused to let
Belle Fleuve
fall into further neglect. If the house was to be saved, he should be the one restoring the place, not her. But he hadn’t the physical strength or the funds. All he possessed was an abundance of regret.

Not a day passed when he didn’t berate himself for leaving his mother and sister alone to face the upheaval of war. As the sole surviving male, he should have put in for a discharge and returned home to run the plantation. Looking back now, he realized he might have done as much or more to fight the Union army right here on River Road. At the very least, he may have been able to keep the Yankees from commandeering the house.

Even if he had been forced to lock her up, he could have somehow stopped Amelie from running off with a no-account deserter. He would never forgive himself for not coming home to save his mother, his sister, and their home, but he had had no notion of how bad things were.

His mother’s infrequent letters reached him weeks after they were written, and by then there was little he could have done. He hadn’t even learned of Marie’s death until a letter from a Baudier cousin reached him months after his mother was already gone.

When someone knocked on the
garçonnière
door at noon Colin knew it was Eugenie. He called out to her to come in. She appeared with a covered tray, but neither the food nor her presence drew him out of his malaise.

“I want that infernal pounding stopped,” he ordered.

Eugenie shrugged and avoided eye contact. “A few things need fixed is all.”

“Who’s doing the work?”

“Simon and some of the others.”

“On whose orders? Is that woman still here?”

“You mean Miss Kate?”

“Who else?”

“She’s still here.”

“Then either you or she is ignoring my demands.”

Eugenie’s eyes widened. “I told her you wanted her gone.”

“She’s no doubt responsible for all that pounding. Am I right?”

Where was she sleeping? On what? Colin pictured her fine traveling getup and new boots again. She certainly didn’t look as if she wanted for anything. A bookish, spectacle-wearing spinster and the pampered heiress of a wealthy banker, she had probably never heard the word
no
in her life. She wouldn’t be comfortable very long in the house, not in the condition it was in the last time he’d seen it.

He hadn’t been able to manage the stairs, but he knew enough from hobbling around a few of the empty rooms on the first floor that the place had been stripped of everything of value. A few pieces of furniture, mostly broken, were amid the debris. Leaves had blown in through open doors and shattered windows. Water damage stained the plaster ceilings. He hadn’t spent five minutes inside before he walked out and gave the house up as one more loss.

Eugenie nodded toward the tray. “There’s pork and rice just the way you like it. I’ll come back to collect the tray.” When she paused, folded her hands at her waist, and turned to him without smiling, he knew he was in for a lecture.

“You know,” she began, “the roof leaks. Lots of glass is broken out of the windows. Rain water was rottin’ the sills. Miss Kate’s only having the men do what needs to be done most to keep the weather from bringing the place down.”

She’s doing what I should have done
.

“Send her over here, Eugenie.”

“Miss Kate?”

“Of course
Miss Kate
. I certainly don’t want to chat with her nanny unless that would do more good.”

“She’s busy right now. Maybe tomorrow she’ll—”

“
Now
, Eugenie. Not tomorrow. Not even later today.” Colin took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again he spoke slowly and distinctly. “I want to see that woman right now.”

“Yes, sir.”

She was irked, but she held her silence as she walked to the door.

“I mean it, Eugenie.”

The door closed behind her but not before Colin heard her mumble, “I hear you.”

Colin gritted his teeth, steeled himself against the pain, and managed to pull himself to a sitting position against a bank of pillows. He ran his palm over his beard, then shoved his hair back out of his eyes. A soup stain from last night’s dinner was on his shirtfront, but it was too late to ask Eugenie for a fresh shirt now.
What do I care what Miss Keene thinks?

Fine mess you are, Colin
.

He imagined his mother’s voice, heard the tinkle of her girlish laughter. In Marie Delany’s eyes he could do no wrong. If she were
to have seen him like this before the war she would have rolled her eyes and ordered one of the house maids to fill a tub full of lavender-scented water and bring him clean clothes.

As he waited for Kate to appear, lethargy mingled with traces of his last dose of laudanum and lulled him into a doze. He was awakened by a knock and discovered the sun was much lower. Kate Keene had taken her sweet time in answering his summons.

Another quick, impatient knock followed the first before Colin hollered, “Come in.”

Kate appeared with a rosy blush on her cheeks. Her hair was wrapped in a loose knot atop her head. She wore a pale-blue gown covered by an overly large apron.

Styles had changed since before the war, so much so that even a man could notice. Back then women wore hooped cages beneath their skirts that belled out to completely hide the female form from the waist down. Seeing Kate’s shapely figure affirmed that Colin certainly didn’t miss those contraptions.

The pockets of her apron bulged with what appeared to be papers and cards. Before he could utter a word, she went back outside and then came back in toting a bucket, rags, and a mop.

“Why are you in that getup?” he demanded.

“Getup?”

“You look like a servant.” He pinned her with his gaze, letting his eyes roam over her from head to toe, and was pleased when she blushed.

“I’ve been cleaning.” Kate set down the bucket. “Eugenie said you wanted to see me.”

He glanced at the bucket before he met her gaze again.

“She told me repairs are underway and that they’re your doing.”

Instead of answering, Kate walked over to the drop-leaf table and ran her finger over it. She stared at the dust on her fingertip, brushed it off, and shrugged.

“It’s the least I can do.”

“I don’t want your help. I thought I made that clear.”

“It’s not for you, Colin. My childhood would have been a very lonely time if not for Amelie and your parents. I’m doing this as a way of showing my gratitude for their many kindnesses.” Her voice was soft and melodic with a hint of an accent atop the slow languid cadence of Louisiana.

“Well, they aren’t here and I have no money. Your efforts are wasted.”

“The repairs are very limited. You have no need to repay me. The South may be in ruins, but thanks to my father, I am not.”

“How nice for you, but I don’t need or want your charity.” He paused, watching her wipe off the tabletop with a floppy rag. “What are you doing?”

“Dusting.”

“Well, stop it.”

“This place is a pigsty.”

“I have expressly told Eugenie to leave it alone, that’s why.”

“I’m not faulting her.” She reached up and wiped the dusty picture frame around a badly executed watercolor. “Amelie painted this one. Do you recall?”

He didn’t recall, though lately he’d spent hours staring across the room at the painting, wondering who had wasted his or her time.

“She was never very good at watercolors,” Kate said. “But she tried.” Suddenly she turned, the dusting momentarily suspended. “It would do well for you to take some pride in this place, not to mention yourself, Colin. Amelie could return anytime, and I, for one, certainly pray she will. Do you want her to see you like this?”

“Did you suffer some kind of head injury, Kate? A fall maybe?”

“No. Nor am I insane. Why wouldn’t Amelie come to visit you? When she does, things should be in order. She would expect that.”

She turned away and started dusting a cane chair. After she finished the cane bottom, she tilted the chair and wiped off the legs and rungs beneath the seat. When Colin found himself admiring her backside beneath the fall of ruffles down her skirt, he sighed
and forced himself to concentrate on the misshapen cluster of roses in Amelie’s watercolor.

“After what she’s done, do you think I’m going to welcome her home with open arms?”

“I really don’t care. At least this place will be looking better when and if Amelie ever does come home.”

He cursed under his breath and saw Kate wince before she started dusting the second chair.

“You’ve been in the company of soldiers too long,” she said.

“What do you know about where I’ve been?”

She considered him for a moment. “I heard you were out west fighting Indians. Wearing Union blue.” She finished the chair and turned to him directly, the dust rag forgotten at her side.

“Colin, there’s every chance that with a little faith and time, you’ll recover—”

He turned to stare out the window.

“It’s been months,” he said.

“Locked inside all the time, I assume.” She picked up a chair and carried it over to the French doors facing the garden. She opened the doors wide and set the chair just outside on the small stone veranda.

“You need sunlight, fresh air, and a change of view.” Suddenly she was beside the bed, touching his arm. “Let me help you up.”

“Get your hands off me!” She startled him so much his demand came out far harsher than he intended. Kate ducked her head and quickly stepped back.

Does she think I’ve sunk that far? To think that I would hit her?

“You are very irritating, Miss Keene, but I would never strike a woman.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to holler like that.” She blinked, her round eyes wide behind her spectacles. “Would you like me to help you outside?” She reached for his cane.

He didn’t want her help, and he wasn’t about to go sit outside where he’d be seen. The truth was that he couldn’t bear to see his
mother’s garden in ruins, her precious roses choked by weeds. Suddenly he heard Marie’s voice again.

Look, Colin. A box from France! My new tea roses have finally arrived. Yellow, I think. Why, it’s been so long I can’t even recall what I ordered
.

He had enough unwanted memories before Kate Keene had showed up. Now she’d awakened even more.

“I thought I made it clear I don’t want your help. Stop cleaning. And while you are at it, leave the main house alone too.”

“I wish you would go see the progress Simon and the others are making. Did you know Simon’s grandfather built the original house? Your mother’s relations paid him a fair price for his work too.”

“Do Simon and the others know they won’t be getting paid?”

She hesitated. Frown lines marred her forehead just above the bridge of her glasses. She turned so she didn’t have to face him and batted the dust rag along a chair rail.

“I’ve paid them.” Before he could respond she added, “You can pay me when you are on your feet again.”

Kate glanced at his injured ankle. She was close enough to see the angry, ruined skin and deep scars extending below the hem of his pant leg.

“You had no right to butt in here, Miss Keene. None at all.”

Their eyes met briefly before she turned away. She picked up the mop and shoved it into the bucket. She sloshed soapy water onto the floor. It dribbled over the toes of her leather shoes.

“I won’t be beholden to you or anyone,” he added. “I’ll give the place away first.”

“Who’s going to want this tumbled-down mess?”

“You, obviously.”

“It’s yours and Amelie’s. As long as you have
Belle Fleuve
, you have a home and you have land.”

“Why don’t you have a home of your own? Why aren’t you browbeating some hapless husband, drawing up house plans and
bestowing your fortune on him instead of me? Would no one have you? Is that it? Too much of an intellect are you, Miss Keene? Did you spend too many hours hunched over plans for
Belle Fleuve
to find yourself a husband and have a proper life?”