Underground Captive (3 page)

Underground Captive
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
9

    
             
The more she thought of her father the more Nicki knew Charles would be scandalized if he ever found out that she walked about the boat unchaperoned.  Being slightly opinionated, she opined that in this modern day and age, rules for women were too stiff.  She did not want an attitude foisted upon her; she wanted to evolve naturally into whatever she would become.

             
Besides, it would not be the first time her father had suffered from her impetuosity.  Concluding there was nothing to lose if she went to the house for a night or two, Nicki decided to stop in New Orleans.  She went to her cabin to collect her things and made ready for the Creole Belle's arrival.

    
             
Half an hour later, the boiling foam of the water stopped as the boat was slipped swiftly beside the dock.  The muddy water gave off a reddish hue from the waning sun's reflection.

    
             
Assured that the boat had come to a complete halt, two strong blacks bent, the muscles in their backs bulging as they put the gangplank in place, so the passengers could begin disembarking.

Underground Captive
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
9

    
             
Nicki breathed in the scent of her city.  Before she went off to boarding school, the rancid odor of the river and the fetid smell of unwashed bodies were sometimes more than she could stand.  The scents’ dominance revolted and sickened her.  But she was home!  Now the odors and other shortcomings mattered not.  She felt like kissing the ground beneath her feet.

    
             
Smiling to herself, she regarded the busy docks.  How long had it been since she'd last seen this industrious restlessness!

             
This steamer landing had always been a busy place.  A place for loafers, beggars, and thieves to pilfer the unattended bales of cotton and anything else that was easily accessible.  Had she not known to be careful there,
she
could have become a victim of robbery.  But she remained close to other disembarking passengers on the dangerous docks and watched as slaves loaded and unloaded hogsheads of sugar, barrels of rum, sacks of coffee, and hundreds of bales of cotton.

             
King Cotton!  Surely, this was stored cotton that had been graded at the beginning of the year, since this year's grinding season hadn't come yet.  The cotton was probably on its way up North or to Europe.  She wondered if any of it was from Crescent Wood, but didn’t notice any with the plantation’s marking.  Neither did she see her father or his factor and decided Crescent Wood’s cotton must have already gone through.

Hundreds of laborers, roustabouts and  rough riverboat men swarmed the area.  Slave women and mulatto Negresses with their heads wrapped in brightly colorful tignons sold hot rice cakes, calas, or creamy, sugary pecan confections called pralines.  Their aromas wafted through the air, titillating her senses.  She sighed.  It had been four long years. 
Merci le bon Dieu
that she was home!    

Nicollette looked around for the golden-haired man.  She was surprised to see him standing amidst the bustling confusion of the crowded dock.

Stopping, she spied one available carriage for hire.  Not quick enough to reach the small carriage first,
Monsieur
Fleming hailed it before she moved a muscle.  Tired from her long journey, she cursed her impertinence of coming home before her planned date.  Now there was no one waiting for her.

Underground Captive
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
9

Glancing absently at a dark-haired, bearded young man who had stopped nearby her, Nicki glided up to Jared and smiled.  "
Monsieur
, there are no more cabriolets about.  Would you be adverse to sharing this one?"

Jared stared at her in stunned surprise. "Not at all,
mademoiselle
.  A

cabriolet, however, is the least of things I'd like to share with ye."

    
             
A glint of mischief crept in his hauntingly sad, hazel eyes.  His jade waistcoat enhanced the green specks in his eyes.  A wicked grin started across his face as her gaze clashed with his.

    
             
"Your audacity is offensive,
Monsieur
Fleming.  Please note that this cabriolet is the
only
thing I intend to share with you," Nicollette scoffed. His insolence rankled her.  But she was acutely aware of his masculine beauty.

    
             
"Ye know my name,
mademoiselle
?" Jared asked, surprised.

             
"
Oui
, I do,
Monsieur
.  I must confess I overheard your introduction to
Monsieur
Aupre.  If I am to share your cabriolet, I suppose courtesy dictates that I should introduce myself.  I am Nicollette Duplantier," she said, less annoyed.

    
             
The hint of light that had shone in his eyes vanished without a trace.  Jared's jaw tightened. His finely chiseled features turned hard and cold.

Underground Captive
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
9

    
             
Icy fear clutched Nicollette's heart, but she refused to let him know that his sudden change frightened her.  However, she lost some of the steam she'd worked up in her anger.

"Did I say something wrong,
Monsieur
Fleming?" she asked, her calm belying her true feelings.  "Your reaction has me believing my name evoked something in you that you don't like."

    
             
Jared smiled, but kept his eyes reticent. "I didn't mean to convey such an impression,
mademoiselle
," he said with easy grace.  “There's nothing wrong with yer name.  In fact, it becomes rather poetic when Nicollette is placed in front of it."

    
             
Nicollette’s insides relaxed slightly.  His air of magnetism unsettled her.  Unable to fathom the scope of the unfamiliar feelings he stirred inside her, she gazed into the depths of his eyes, narrowing her own at him.  His eyes registered nothing but an unexplainable hurt.  The look of recognition at the mention of her name and the coldness and hatred that had crept into his eyes made her suspicious of him.  Still, she flashed him a reluctant smile.  "You do have a way with words,
Monsieur
Fleming."

    
             
He scrutinized her, assessed her, his gaze moving over her face and down her body.  "My name is Jared,
Mademoiselle
Duplantier.  Ye'll do me honor by calling me that."

    
             
Nicollette swallowed, an unwanted rush of excitement flowing through her.  "I don't wish to appear so forward,
Monsieur
." 

   
             
He grinned broadly, revealing even, white teeth.  "Nonsense,
mademoiselle
.  With my permission the name is Jared."

Underground Captive
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
9

    
             
She smiled.  "All right, Jared.  And with my permission you may call me Nicollette."

    
             
"Nicollette it is.  May I help ye up?   I think we should be getting on." 

Nicollette agreed, but first paid a young slave to watch her belongings, which were too much for the small carriage to hold.  She'd send for them once she arrived at home.  Jared then took her hand and helped her into the cabriolet.

The carriage driver commanded the horses to move and their hooves made a loud, clopping sound on the cobblestoned street.

    
             
"I live several blocks away from the Pontalbas, on Rue Dauphine," Nicollette informed him.  "Do you live anywhere near?"

Underground Captive
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
9

    
             
"I'm afraid not, Nicollette.  I live by the ramparts in the American sector."

    
             
Distaste registered in her voice and flashed in her amethyst eyes.  "Oh, so you are 'Mericain."  

    
             
Jared didn't like the feelings of desire this outspoken young woman stirred inside him, nor did he appreciate her reproach because she thought he was an American.  "I did live in Philadelphia," he answered caustically, his gaze holding

her glance.   "Do ye have a problem with that?"

    
             
"There may be some things I have problems with,
Monsieur
Fleming, but the location of your place of residence, present or former, is of no consequence to me."

"Ye have an acid tongue in that pretty head of yers,
mademoiselle
," he said evenly.  "With a name like Duplantier, I assumed ye were in some way connected to the Duplantiers of Crescent Wood.  But I'm most likely mistaken.  Those Duplantiers have a son.  One Ricard Duplantier."

    
             
"You're impertinent and you assume too much," Nicollette snapped,  "but your assumption is correct in this case.  My father is Charles Duplantier, master of Crescent Wood Plantation in Destrehan, and Ricard is my older brother.  And the status of my behavior is of no importance to you.  Just get me home."

    
             
"No sooner said than done,
mademoiselle
," Jared sneered as the liveryman reined his horse to a stop in front of the Duplantier house.

Underground Captive
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
15

    
             
Jared grasped her arm in an effort to assist her from the carriage and she flinched.  His touch was a branding iron, sending hot shivers through her body, exhilarating her, confusing her, vexing her.

    
             
Damn him! What was this attraction she felt for this arrogant barbarian?  She shrugged off Jared's hold on her arm and silently cursed him for placing his American hands on her.

    
             
"I can manage.  I'm not helpless."  She regally descended from the carriage and turned.  Frowning up at him, she met eyes that had once again turned as cold and hard as the cobblestone beneath her feet.  Her eyes widened.

"I...
merci
,
Monsieur
Fleming, for sharing your carriage," she ground out, holding her shoulders high, her back rigid and her chin lifted.

"Good day,
mademoiselle
," Jared said coldly.

    
             
Seems he was meeting all the wrong Duplantiers, he thought as he scanned the high brick wall that surrounded the Duplantier house.  His elusive quarry was the brother of that beautiful, haughty, little bitch, eh?  The fact that he already knew Charles Duplantier added to his annoyance.  A plan formed in his mind to hasten his day of reckoning with the
right
Duplantier.  Of course, that meant he'd have to use the prime target of his present aggravation--Nicollette.  He turned and got back into the carriage, instructing the liveryman to cross the street to the American sector and the ramparts.

2

Manor, looking over the canefields as the Negroes cut the tall stalks, thinking of the past few weeks.

             
The two days she had intended to spend on Rue Dauphine, when she arrived home, stretched into an entire week.  Just as Nicki predicted, her father had been furious at her improprieties and restricted her from leaving the plantation for an indefinite period of time.  For a week, she had abided Charles’ ridiculous punishment, then promptly cut it short.  She then went to the city and purchased a new wardrobe.  Exasperated, Charles ignored her disobedience.

             
Drumming the railing, Nicki sighed.  Much to her vexation, her nights were spent dreaming of Jared Fleming and wondering if she would ever see him again.  On the first of August, her eighteenth birthday quietly passed, but throughout the month, that
bete noir
,
Monsieur le Black Rider
, relieved several area plantations, including Crescent Wood, of a few of their slaves.  When the first few days of September came and went quietly, Nicki feel comfortable into the routine of the manor.  Rising early in the morning, she had seen to the making of candles, the preparation of garments for the slaves, and caring for the ill.  She directed the house servants, acted as hospitable hostess when her father’s friends visited and charitable guest when she went calling at nearby plantations.

             
Then, in mid-September, the brigand began to wreak havoc in the lives of the planters once more.  As autumn approached, the activity at Crescent Wood gained further momentum because grinding season was at hand. 

             
Now, today, Nicki was preoccupied with more than just the running of the household and the Negroes in the distance. Two nights ago, that accursed

Black Rider had stolen thirty slaves from the plantation.  For the
bete noir's

activities to come to an end, it was necessary to take matters into what Nicki

considered her own very capable hands.  She had given her father his chance to do

something.
             

She would have to find the renegade herself.  She gave no regards to the impossibility of the task facing her, or the fact that she would be a woman alone searching for this person.

    
             
But not only would she find the Black Rider, she'd see him swing from the tallest tree, she vowed as a light breeze blew on the peaceful autumn morning.

Beyond the fields, the sun was rising in the clear, blue sky and an urge to ride over the plantation’s grounds seized Nicki.  She walked into her bedchamber and pulled the bellcord to summon her maid, Sophie.

    
             
As she waited for the old woman to appear, Nicki pondered how her father proposed to find that clever blackguard,
Monsieur le
Black Rider.  Her PaPa couldn't find his own son, and Charles had a vague idea of Ricard's whereabouts.  But no one ever knew the Black Rider's next move.

    
             
Feeling alone without her brother there, she promised herself she'd get Ricard home as soon as possible--even if she had to go to France and drag him back herself.

    
             
Sophie ambled into the bedchamber.  "Yas'm, mam'zelle?"

    
             
Nicki sat at her duchesse, the dressing table made by Francois Seignouret himself.  "Good morning, Sophie.  I feel the urge to ride Nur today.  After you help me dress, tell Zeke to have him saddled and waiting for me.  Sophie?” she began abruptly as Sophie began styling Nicki’s hair, “why would our slaves want to leave Crescent Wood?  PaPa treats all of you with the utmost kindness.  Even respect.  But whenever that damned black beast strikes, scores of slaves leave.  I just don't understand it."

    
             
"Mam'zelle, you done told me yo'self that you couldn't be a slave.  You haven't been here long from that boardin' school, so don't go git yo'self into trouble," Sophie told her as if reading her mind.  "Leave it to yo' Pa an' them other gentlemans."