The Seven Sapphires of Mardi Gras (40 page)

I could feel the heat from the approaching fire burning my cheek as I leaned as close as I could to the cracked windowpane. Choking upon thick, suffocating smoke, I cried out to him, desperately trying to attract his attention. “Nicholas! Help us.” But he made no response to my frantic plea. Like a figure etched in stone, he remained staring up at the flaming wood.

“Nicholas!” I cried again, tapping on the broken glass, but still he did not move a muscle. It was then that I realized that though I could see him in clear detail, he could not see me! The position of the cellar window was such that he could not possibly see inside unless he looked down. I had to somehow attract his attention! But how could I, when the roar of the fire obliterated the sound of my voice?

“Nicholas!” I cried again, my voice cracking from the strain. Again, I tapped desperately upon the glass. “Nicholas!” This time I saw him incline his head slightly toward the window. Was it possible that he had heard me? “The cellar. We’re trapped in here! Help us!” I pleaded. But my voice was drowned out by the crackle of falling wood as the top portion of the weakened balcony slowly began to tumble.

Angry new flames burst from the toppled wood, leaping toward the bushes outside the cellar window. I knew that once the bushes caught on fire, there would be no way for Nicholas to reach us. I held my breath, whispering a silent prayer that he had heard my last cry for help. He stood for a moment, silent and tense, as if listening for the sound of my voice. Then he began to move away.

“No!” I cried. In sudden desperation, I grabbed up the china doll which still lay sprawled at my feet. Aiming the doll like a missile, I tossed it outside of the window. I saw
Nicholas turn back, startled, as the tiny figure flew toward him, rolling to a stop near his feet.

He began to move curiously toward the doll, which had landed just a few steps beyond the cellar window. From the tiny square of glass, I saw the edges of his black boots as he approached the shattered little figure. I breathed a sigh of relief. He was so close now, he was certain to hear me!

As Nicholas bent to pick up the broken china doll, I opened my mouth to call out to him. But the words hung frozen, suspended in midair. For now, through my imprisoning window, I caught sight of another pair of boots, then the restless wings of a dark cloak fluttering just behind Nicholas’s prone form.

“Behind you! Nicholas, look behind you!” I burst out in dismay, but my warning was lost in the roar of the surrounding fire. Helplessly, I watched through the cracked glass of the tiny window as the dark-cloaked figure leaped upon Nicholas’s back, throwing him off balance. I saw Nicholas sink down under the weight of his attacker. Then both of them fell out of view.

Time stood still. I could hear the panting, grunting sounds of their struggle. For what seemed an eternity, the two of them fought. For a moment, they came back into view, locked in a death’s grip, the roaring fire surrounding them on either side. Then, once again, they disappeared from my sight.

I closed my eyes, whispering a frightened prayer as an agonizing scream suddenly pierced the night. Nicholas or the madman? Now, a dreadful silence came from the outside. And I knew that one of them had fallen into those all-consuming flames.

Beads of sweat poured down my face as I waited, pacing beside that restrictive window, searching for some sign of Nicholas. But no one appeared. The horrible silence continued, broken only by the crackle of burning wood. My soul felt heavy, leaden. Deep in my heart I knew that Nicholas had never had a chance. Racine had overpowered him. The blood-curdling scream had been his death cry.

I imagined Racine laughing, triumphant, a mad Nero
watching his empire burn. The final details of his diabolical plan began to unfold in my mind. The fire would soon draw a crowd toward the house. There, they would discover Nicholas’s charred body lying in the darkness outside. Since no one even knew of Racine’s existence; since he was presumed to be dead, people would believe that Nicholas had started the fire.

And as for us, by the time that the burning house drew attention, by the time that help arrived, it would be too late! When our bodies were finally discovered in the cellar, Nicholas would be blamed for our deaths!

Now that Nicholas was gone, now that our last hope for rescue was lost, my numbness gave way to panic. Angrily, I pounded upon that solid oak door. I screamed until my throat was hoarse and aching. The smoke was so thick now that I could barely see Christine. There was a roaring sound, a popping hiss, as the broken windowpane cracked and fell. With mounting terror, I looked outside of the window. Long, reddish-white fingers tapped at the empty wooden pane. Beyond was a solid wall of fire. The bushes outside had burst into flames!

“Louise, I’m frightened,” Christine cried out, and this time I could offer no words of hope or encouragement.

The fire was in the room now, licking at the windowpane. I reached for a tattered blanket and began to beat at the intruding blaze. It was no use. Orange arms reached out like the tentacles of some angry sea monster, eating away past stone to feast upon rotted wood. Still wearily beating at the ever-expanding trails of red and orange, I crouched near the door with Christine in a room that was rapidly growing smaller and smaller.

And then I heard the sound. Directly above us came a faint tapping like a mouse trapped behind a wall. The slightest beginnings of hope again fluttered in my heart. Could it have been Racine, not Nicholas, who had fallen into the fire? Was Nicholas at this very moment searching the house for some way to get to us?

Coughing weakly against the thick smoke, I pounded upon the door with all of my remaining strength. “Nicholas!
Nicholas!” I called, tears streaming down my face. I cried out until my throat was dry and parched and my legs threatened to buckle underneath me.

But there was no answering response. Faith crumbled into bleak despair as I admitted to myself that I had been mistaken. The faint sound must have been only the falling of chunks of burning wood from the house’s high ceiling. Weakness was rapidly settling in. Suffocating smoke filled my lungs and nostrils now with each gasping, painful breath as I continued to beat at the orange trails of fire. Beside me, Christine’s breathing was ragged and wheezing. Dizziness threatened to overwhelm me as I whipped at the new threads of fire that inched relentlessly toward us, working at the border of Elica’s damp dress, which I had spread out near our feet to break the fire.

It was too late. Even if Nicholas was up above, he would never reach us in time now. I felt myself growing dizzy, light-headed, faint. My knees suddenly gave way beneath me and I sank to the floor near Christine. Weakly, I groped for her hand. And then darkness closed in all around me.

At first, I was aware of a faint sound, as if someone might be calling my name. Then a terrible pounding. Through the haze of semi-consciousness, I struggled to open my heavy lids.

The room seemed to dance crazily before me, and it was too bright. The brightness hurt my eyes. I opened my mouth to cry out, but the smoke had closed up my throat and I could only make hoarse, choking sounds. The giddy, light-headed feeling grew stronger as I swayed unsteadily to a sitting position.

The voice—Had I only imagined someone calling my name? For a moment I struggled with blurred reality. And then I remembered Christine. I looked down and saw her lying in a crumpled heap upon the floor beside me. Mesmerized, I watched the spider-legs of orange and crimson inch steadily toward her, hungrily reaching for the edges of her tattered blanket. The smell of scorched wool filled my nostrils. In another moment, the blanket would burst into flames!

Fear propelled me into action. With a cry of alarm, I tore the smoking blanket away from her and began to beat at the exploring fingers of crimson. Reluctantly, the fiery tendrils retreated. Exhausted, I brushed damp, tangled hair from my forehead. We were out of immediate danger. But for how long?

I cast a frightened glance about a room that was rapidly shrinking. Already, new trails of fire were branching out from the window, spreading across the wooden floor toward us. It was only a matter of time—

“For the love of God, Louise!” The voice again. Tears of relief filled my eyes. Nicholas’s voice. Violently, he pounded against the panel door. “Answer me!”

“Nicholas?” Blindly, I groped for the door.

The wood rattled angrily as Nicholas worked the latch. Then I heard his storming oath. “Louise, listen to me. The catch is free. But the door is still jammed. I can’t get it open!”

“What do you want me to do?”

“There must be a piece of wood holding it back on your side of the room. You must find it!”

I knew that our very lives depended upon my success. With shaking fingers, I explored the track of the door until I located the obstruction. My hands trembled uncontrollably as I tore at the splintered piece of wood which had jammed the door. With one final, frantic motion, I tore it free. “I—I think I’ve got it,” I cried, ignoring the spasms of pain that rippled through my bleeding fingers.

“Now!” Following his urgent instructions, I began to help him push against the solid oak wall. Slowly, inch by inch, the wood began to give away. Then the door burst open and he entered in a gust of flames. His clothes were singed, his face blackened with soot and ashes. An angry bruise darkened one eye, discoloring his forehead where Racine must have struck him with some heavy object.

For a moment, he glanced wildly about the burning room. Then, hastily, he scooped Christine up in his arms and flung her over his shoulder. Then he grasped my hand.

Blindly, I clung to him as we groped our way up the cellar stairs toward the ballroom. The twisted staircase that led up to Elica’s room had caught fire. Bursts of crimson danced with the gold of the burning walls. Once again, Evangeline was going up in flames! Fire roared and crackled all around us as we ran through the smoky corridor that led out into the sweet night air.

Nicholas’s carriage was waiting. Black horses reared and stamped their feet, frightened by the smell of fire. Gently, Nicholas lifted Christine up into the carriage and Nathan’s anxious arms. Then he turned back to me.

“My love.” Black eyes looked down at me, filled with such emotion that I felt my knees grow weak and shaky. My eyes searched fondly for the dark fleck, which some had called a devil’s mark. The mark had proved to me beyond a doubt that the face behind the mask was not Nicholas’s. This knowledge had allowed me to guess Racine’s identity, to delay him. It had saved our lives.

Nicholas’s lips met mine in a tender, savage kiss. Weary and soot-stained, we clung to each other, aware only of being alive and together. Behind us, fire still blazed and dark wood toppled to the ground, but neither of us looked back at the shattered ruin of Evangeline.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Edward’s garden was warm and peaceful in the soft rays of the morning sun as I walked out to meet Nicholas. So much had happened last night that I could still barely grasp it all. The events of Mardi Gras night were beginning to seem more and more like some ghastly nightmare.

My thoughts went back to that swift carriage ride home. Nathan had bundled Christine into the backseat, cradling the revived girl in his arms. He was sober now; the streaks of red paint had worn off his face. Love was shining in his dark eyes as he held her close. Christine sighed a little as she snuggled against him, at last warm and safe after our terrible ordeal.

From my seat beside Nicholas, I could hear Nathan speaking to her in his broken Cajun tone. “We get married, yes? Very soon. Me, I’ll never touch the spirits again. I love you, Christine. Tonight, when I thought I’d lost you-”

She had gazed up at him, her own eyes betraying the love that she had so often denied. Then, her face suddenly clouded.

“What is wrong,
ma chère?”
he asked.

“You will change your mind when you discover who I truly am,” she confessed sadly. “My mother—”

He covered her hand with his lips gently. “Nicholas, he explain all that.” He shrugged with the nonchalance of a
young man who had grown up on the bayou, indifferent to the social codes that were so important to the great Dereux family. “So our children may be
cafe au lait.
Who’s to care? Not my family, that’s for sure,” he added with a wry grin. He patted his curly hair. “For all I know, a streak of tar may also run through my veins!”

I glanced up at Nicholas, admiring the handsome profile unspoiled by the dark bruise upon his cheek, the jagged cut across his forehead. One hand still upon the reins, he pulled me closer against the warmth of his strong body. For a long while, we rode in silence. But the dark, haunted look in his eyes told me that for him it still was not over.

“Nicholas, will you tell me what happened?”

His gaze momentarily shifted from the horses down to me. At first, I thought that he would deny his own need to talk. Then, with a heavy sigh, he began. “When I first saw that figure in blue velvet standing in the shadows at the masquerade, I was shaken,” he confessed, staring at the uneven road ahead of us. “I thought that I was seeing ghosts. And so I followed her.”

He shook back his dark, windswept hair. “When I came upon her in the woods with Nathan a short while later, I recognized her true identity immediately.” I could see his heavy brows come together in the darkness. “Though I had noticed a disturbing similarity before, it was then that I fully realized Christine’s uncanny resemblance to my late wife. But I still wasn’t sure what it all meant.

“Since the fire last year, I’ve known that someone has been snooping about the old house. I suspected that my nocturnal visitor must have had something to do with Elica’s death and the missing sapphire necklace. But I didn’t know who that person was.”

So that was the reason he insisted on remaining in the ruined house. Not to wait for a dead woman to return from the grave, but to trap her killer!

“When I visited Dominique’s in New Orleans and learned that Elica had once been Racine’s mistress, I began to put the pieces together. I realized that it must have been Racine who had stolen the family jewels in the first place, and that the sapphire necklace Elica had worn the evening of our wedding was part of the missing Dereux fortune. I suspect that Elica must have double-crossed him long ago, that she, in turn, had taken the jewels from him. It was then that I began to suspect that Racine might not be dead and that he had come back all these years later to seek his revenge upon her.”