Tender Fury (18 page)

“Are you certain, Doctor?” Philippe asked worriedly. “My wife is still a child herself. Will there be any danger to her?”

“Believe me, Monsieur St. Cyr, all will go well. ‘Tis true she is young and not quite as robust as our island-bred girls tend to be but my advice is to take her to Bellefontaine where Tante Louise can pamper her and fill her with some of her famous tsannes. Her health is good, and given her youth, I foresee no problems. The nausea should disappear in a few weeks. When her labor starts summon me if Tante Louise cannot handle it or expects some difficulty.”

“And when is the delivery to take place?” queried Philippe, still in a state of shock.

“In about six months I should think.”

“A baby,” Philippe repeated. “You must pardon me, Doctor, though I had hoped for an heir I had not expected one so soon.” His chest seemed to expand with pride before the doctor’s eyes.

“Bah! It is always the same with you new husbands,” announced Dr. Renaud with an exasperated shrug of his shoulders. “You impale your brides nightly like a mighty stallion put to stud and then act surprised when the natural culmination of your ruttings comes to fruition. But if I am any judge, an heir will not displease you.”

“An heir will be most welcome,” Philippe averred heartily. “It is just that my wife is still so young.”

“Eh? Did you think to spare her the ordeal of losing her maidenhead?” guffawed the doctor, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Philippe’s reddened face caused Dr. Renaud a moment of merriment before he went on. “I thought not. Well, do not worry,
mon ami,
your wife will survive motherhood several times over, no doubt; for a lusty fellow like yourself will likely sire many children.”

Philippe had but one question to ask. “Will it harm her if I… that is… if we…?”

“Do not worry,
mon ami,
” laughed the doctor, “you and your beautiful bride may indulge yourselves as you wish as long as you keep your lovemaking within reasonable limits. But only until six weeks before the expected birth,” he warned, suddenly turning serious, “for after that the danger to mother and child increases.”

After Dr. Renaud’s departure, Philippe hesitantly entered the bedroom, unsure of Gabby’s reaction to a pregnancy coming so close upon the heels of her wedding. But his fears were groundless. The dreamy smile on her face told him volumes about her state of mind.

“Philippe!” she cried when she spied him balancing his large frame nervously in the doorway. Her arms stretched out invitingly, happiness clearly etched on her face. “Have you spoken with Dr. Renaud?” she asked shyly.

“Oui, mon amour,
I have,” Philippe replied tenderly as he approached the bed.

“And are you happy?”

He shot her a piercing glance before answering her question with one of his own. “Docs it make you happy, Gabby? You are so young.”

“If I am old enough to respond to you as a woman I certainly am old enough to bear your child,” Gabby replied with surprising maturity. “As to your question, having a child makes me extremely happy.”

“As it does me,
ma petite,
as it does me,” whispered Philippe, strangely moved.

The next day preparations commenced for their departure. Although Gabby had grown to love St. Pierre and the townhouse, she nevertheless looked forward eagerly to seeing the much heralded Bellefontaine and the beloved Tante Louise and her husband Gerard about whom Philippe had spoken so glowingly.

“I thought Tante Louise was a slave,” Gabby had asked Philippe, still confused about the relationship between slave and master.

“She is a slave, yet not a slave. How can I explain? She has been with our family since before I was born and suckled me along with her own children. She raised me as much as my own mother has. She rules the household with an iron hand and she orders me around shamelessly,” Philippe explained with good humor. “I realize it must be hard for you to understand unless you were born here on the island as I was.”

Gabby was eager for any information concerning her new home, listening intently to Philippe, thinking that she had never heard him mention either of his parents before. It seemed to her that he was unusually reticent about bringing up any aspect of his childhood. He had told her once that his grandfather built Bellefontaine for his grandmother before they were married. He also mentioned that he had no living relative. More than that he would not divulge.

In less than a week they were in a carriage on the road to Bellefontaine. All their baggage, including trunks full of beautiful new clothes, had been sent ahead two days earlier along with a message informing Tante Louise of their imminent arrival.

Their passage to Bellefontaine took most of the day on a narrow road winding over steep mountain crests. The road etched its way along the top of ravines so sheer Gabby hung on to Philippe for dear life. It seemed the peaks should have been snowcapped instead of dense, scrubby growths of vegetation and palms. Some of the hairpin turns doubled back upon themselves so many times that Gabby was sure they traveled twice the distance to Bellefontaine before they finally arrived. The scenery along the way was breathtakingly beautiful. The color and variety of growth were endless. The gorges and ravines were overrun with ferns, bamboo plumes, and wild bananas, and breadfruit trees hung with vines.

Then slowly, coconut palms, bananas, and bamboo gave way to cane fields, ringed with the omnipotent jungle whose tall trees were like sentinels standing guard. An eerie feeling came over Gabby, for now she understood just how isolated life would be on the plantation.

Bellefontaine sat high on a cliff above the sea, the surf beating on the grayish sand below visible from the long driveway leading to the house. As they turned into the gates, Gabby saw a long avenue bordered by palms and a low growing hedge abloom with bright colored flowers. She drew in her breath sharply at her first glimpse of the house, an Indian style mansion rising majestically two stories into the air. It was constructed of thick stone with rows of windows whose shutters were flung open to catch the faintest whisper of a breeze. A pillared veranda ran the length of the building, shielding the rooms within from the sun.

“It… it’s magnificent,” stammered Gabby, finally finding just the right word to describe the imposing structure.

“It may be imposing,” laughed Philippe, “but it is also cool and comfortable.”

When they halted before the house, Gabby exclaimed in delight over the expanse of grassy lawn and the formal garden displaying every plant imaginable in every color of the rainbow. Shrubs and bushes were laid out in a geometric design that must take at least five men to maintain adequately. A low stone wall held back the jungle. In the distance she could see stables and outbuildings.

Philippe had just handed her down from the carriage when suddenly a slim, golden-skinned figure dashed from the house and flung herself headlong into his arms, purposefully ignoring Gabby who fought against waves of vertigo that had assailed her the moment her feet touched the ground. As if from a long distance, she watched the warm welcome tendered by the girl, their voices receding farther and farther into the background; the girl’s shapely, bare legs flashing alluringly in the dying rays of the sun as Philippe placed his hands about her tiny waist and whirled her around, jupe skirts flying, full, ripe breasts bouncing, evidently delighted to see her.

The girl squealed in delight, tiny, pearl-like teeth bared, full, red lips parted. “But why have you stayed away from your Amalie so long,
mon amour?”
she asked breathlessly.

“If I had but known what an exuberant welcome awaited me I would have hurried back sooner,” Philippe teased, giving her pert nose an affectionate tweak. Then, as if suddenly remembering he had a wife, he reluctantly released the lithe body pressed close to his muscular form and turned to Gabby who by now was clutching desperately to the side of the carriage, intuitively aware that her happiness and the welfare of her unborn child depended upon the capricious whims of a man who evidently expected her to share his affections with his mistress!

“Ma petite,”
said Philippe, pushing the golden girl forward, “this is Amalie, the daughter of Tante Louise and Gerard.”

Amalie’s name was on her lips as everything around her dimmed and she pitched forward, her crumpling body caught up by Philippe only moments before she hit the ground.

Gabby slowly surfaced into consciousness aware of a humming in her ears. After a few moments she realized that the humming was nothing but low pitched voices speaking in quiet tones. She recognized Philippe’s voice immediately but not that of the female speaking to him. Because her eyes remained closed the couple talked freely, thinking her still asleep,

“The long, hot trip was tiring for the
petite fille
, especially in view of her condition. But she will be fine, Monsieur Philippe, as soon as Tante Louise gets one of her tsannes into her stomach.” It was difficult for Gabby to follow
the patois.

“I hope you are right, Tante,” said Philippe worriedly.

“Dr. Renaud assured me she was in good health and should encounter no problems with her pregnancy.”

“She is so young,” added Tante Louise thoughtfully.

Philippe shot her a sharp look. “I admit that Gabby is young and has much to learn,” he said brusquely. “I did not think she would conceive so soon but we both welcome this child.”

Tante Louise’s knowing black eyes studied Philippe until he became restive under her scrutiny. She knew him better than he knew himself. “May I speak frankly, Monsieur Philippe?” she asked, intending to speak her mind no matter what.

“When have you hesitated to do otherwise?” Philippe answered tartly.

“Surely you must realize that Amalie will not take kindly to your wife. It would have been best for everyone if she were to remain in St. Pierre. Or else send Amalie away. She is my own daughter and I know her well,” she muttered ominously.

“Amalie appeared to take my marriage well,” replied Philippe with typical male conceit.

“You do not know my daughter if you think she accepted your wife,” Tante Louise warned.

“You worry unnecessarily,” Philippe chided, more upset by his housekeeper’s words than he cared to admit.

“You must think of your petite wife and your child.”

“What makes you think I do not?” Philippe scowled, annoyed by the turn the conversation was taking.

Tante Louise wagged her turbaned head from side to side in apparent disgust. “Do not be taken in by Amalie’s wiles. She will never reconcile herself to the idea that you have a wife. What will Madame Gabby’s reaction be to Amalie? How will it affect your child?”

“Madame Gabby is my concern, as is my child,” Philippe asserted with a hint of underlying anger in his voice.

“Forgive my boldness, Monsieur Philippe, but it is your bride I think of now, not my daughter.” The strong-featured black woman looked at her master with bold eyes, holding no hint of subservience. Her next words stunned Philippe. “What place will Amalie have in your household now that you have a wife? Will she continue to warm your bed?”

“You go too far!” Philippe exploded angrily, unaware that Gabby was listening intently to the exchange.

“Forgive me. Monsieur, but I think only of your wife; Amalie can take care of herself but your
petite fille
seems unprepared to face the harsh realities of life. Perhaps it would be better for all concerned to send Amalie away.”

“This is Amalie’s home! This is where she belongs!” retorted Philippe unreasonably. “I will not send her away, but you can rest assured that I have no plans to take her into my bed again. I no longer have need of a mistress, even one as tempting and bewitching as your Amalie.” Tante Louise clearly remained skeptical despite Philippe’s declaration.

Gabby’s gasp of surprise at Philippe’s announcement immediately alerted the speakers. Almost instantly Philippe was beside her, followed by a tall, handsome black woman whose commanding presence seemed to fill the room. She was large without being fat and her wrinkleless face was a well-oiled ebony. It was difficult for Gabby to believe that the petite, golden-skinned Amalie was this woman’s daughter. She stood a majestic six feet tall with her multicolored turban adding at least another six inches. Her ponderous breasts were like ripe melons and her hands were as large as Philippe’s. She pushed Philippe aside with ease as she bent over Gabby, studying her from large, velvet eyes as black as Hades.

“Ah,
ma petite,
you are awake,” she crooned in a gentle, sing-song voice using the
patois
Gabby was just beginning to understand. “You are home where you belong and Tante Louise will take good care of you and the babe.”

Gabby made to get out of bed but one of the big woman’s hands held her captive to the mattress. “No, no, you must rest,” she insisted firmly. Then she turned to Philippe and ordered brusquely, “You, Monsieur Philippe, shall see that your
petite fille
remains in bed.” Gabby watched in awe as the woman strode majestically from the room.

Gabby studied her surroundings and what she could see in the dim light pleased her, though the room seemed somewhat masculine with its massive pieces of furniture. A gentle breeze from opened windows lining the opposite ends of the room cooled her feverish skin. Her eyes finally alit on Philippe hovering over her.

“How do you feel,
cherie?”
he asked solicitously. “You gave us all quite a fright.”

“Well enough, Philippe,” she responded weakly. “But Tante Louise is right, it would be best if I remained in bed for a day or two. I hadn’t realized the trip to the plantation would be so arduous. I wouldn’t want to do anything to harm the babe.”

“Certainly you must rest,
ma petite,
” Philippe readily agreed, relieved that she wasn’t about to protest the enforced bed rest he was going to insist upon. Placing a chaste kiss on Gabby’s forehead he tiptoed from the room anxious to confer with his overseer whom he had not yet spoken with. Sugar cane harvest was in full swing and the field hands were working around the clock. Soon they would begin distilling rum in the big cauldrons in a building adjacent to the cane fields, and he knew his days as well as many nights would be taken up with duties.