Underground Captive (61 page)

    
             
"Aye, lassie.  Ye need more rest.  But I willa noot leave ye.  Master Jared dinna want me tae," Mary Douglas answered, sitting in the chair by the window, watching Nicollette drift off into a fitful sleep.

    
             
When Nicki awakened fully twelve hours later, she felt much better.  She glanced around the room and saw that she was still not alone.  Only this time, the person in the chair was Elizabeth.

    
             
Nicollette fluttered her eyelashes and fixed a lazy gaze on her.  Elizabeth's head drooped to her bosom in sleep and Nicki's eyes traveled to the window with the opened drapes.  A reddish sun was breaking through the cold, gray dawn.

    
             
Shivering slightly, Nicki drew the thick, woolen blanket up to her chin.  The wood in the fireplace that once blazed so brightly was now just dying embers.

             
"Good morning, Elizabeth," Nicki said softly.

    
             
Elizabeth's head jerked up and her eyes flew opened.  She jumped up out of her seat.  "G'mornin', lass," she said a little embarrassed.  "I must 'ave fallen asleep.  I willa put more wood on the fire.  Then I willa go down and fix yer breakfast."

    
             
"More wood in the fireplace would be fine, Elizabeth, but I couldn't eat a thing this early," Nicollette said, rubbing her belly.  "I would appreciate it if you would make a fire in the room I've been occupying across the hall.  I want to move back there, so Jared can have his own chamber back."

    
             
"Lass, Master Jared willa be back tomorrow," Elizabeth said, stoking the fire.  "I dinna want tae change bedchambers wi'oot his permission."

  
             
Nicki drew in a breath.  "But my clothes are in there, Elizabeth," she protested.  "Being in there makes everything much easier."

    
             
Elizabeth looked thoughtfully at Nicollette.  "Well," she began, "ye do 'ave an argument there, lass.  I willa take full responsibility.  If ye're feelin' well enough I'll 'elp ye cross o'er tae yer bedchamber and I willa light the brazier in the bathin' room in case ye feel the need fer a bath."

43

             
Jared sat in the receiving room of Madam Jacques' Designer Shoppe, impatiently drumming his fingers on the table next to him.  When he'd left Highland Acres yesterday, it had only been to leave Nicollette and temper his anger.  He had planned to go to Fleming Carriage Company this morning, spend most of the day there, and return to the horse farm some time later tonight.  But during the ride to the city, his thoughts had settled on what he'd long denied could be possible--marriage to Nicollette.  With that in mind, instead of going to his carriage company, he had made this unplanned excursion to the dressmaker, whom he hadn't gone to since before Patricia's death.

             
Mignon Jacques entered the room, smiling good-naturedly. "Ahh,
Monsieur
Fleming.  I see your lack of patience hasn't improved with the passage of time."

             
Jared rose and bowed stiffly.  "Hello, Mignon.  I fear that's a fault I'll carry with me all my life."

             
"It is such a pleasure to see you again,
monsieur
."  After imploring Jared to reseat himself and she, herself, had taken a seat across from him, Mignon scanned the room.  At the moment only she and Jared were there.  Meeting Jared's gaze, she looked in question at him.  "Are you expecting the lady to meet you here,
Monsieur
Fleming?"

             
Jared laughed brittlely.  "Nay."

             
Mignon cleared her throat.  "How may I help you,
monsieur
?"

             
"I have need of your services exclusively for the next several days, Mignon."

             
"But,
monsieur
, my other customers are important to me too.  I can always make room for you; however I cannot just push the others aside."

             
Standing, Jared nodded.  "Nay, Mignon, ye can't.  Perhaps I made a mistake in coming here.  'Tis unlikely that ye can handle the large order I had in mind.  I'll go to Rue Chartres to the Couturier Orleans.  Good day, madam."  He started for the door.

             
"
Non
,
Monsieur
Fleming, wait!  Let us talk further.  I'm sure something can be arranged.  Tell me what you need."

             
Turning back toward her, Jared's lips curled into a half-smile.  "And your other customers?"

             
"I realize I do have my staff to assist me, which would leave me free to accommodate you."

             
This time Jared laughed.  "Did ye happen to hear the sound of money jingle in my pockets, Mignon?  Ye're notoriously larcenous.  But I must concede ye're the best dressmaker around."

             
Mignon chuckled.  "You and I,
Monsieur
Fleming, share the same sentiment.  Now, if you'll describe the lady to me, we can get started."

             
Walking back to his chair and sitting down, Jared thought about Nicollette and his heart skipped a beat as her features settled into his mind's eye.  "The lady is an exquisite beauty with a petite form and a flawless complexion.  It's as smooth as porcelain.  I can span her uncorseted waist with my fingers from both hands intertwined.  Her eyes are violet...I think."  It was as close as he could come in describing the gorgeous color of Nicki's eyes.  He had never decided the exact color.  "Her hair is black, ebony black and as shiny as diamonds.  She is quite a beauty, Mignon.  I expect you to do her justice."

             
Mignon drew in a breath.  "I shall do my best.  Oh,
Monsieur
Fleming, anyone can tell how much you love the lady.  She is so lucky to have you."

             
"That is debatable, madam.  One other thing, Mignon.  The lady is expecting.  Her state isn't noticeable, but I'd like several of her gowns--and I'll be specific as to which ones--designed for her to wear throughout her
accouchement
."  Jared ignored Mignon's look of shock and went on to order nightrails, matching wraps, chemises, petticoats, dressing gowns, morning dresses, afternoon gowns, evening gowns, simple skirts and blouses to match, winter capes and wraps, riding habits, and whatever else he could think of. 
             

             
Jared and Mignon sat for three-quarters of the day as he carefully looked over every single sketch and fashion plate the woman owned.  He viewed her bolts of materials with a critical eye.  When there was a particular design he liked but didn't see a color he thought would add to the gown's beauty, he would inquire if the couturier could get the exact color he wanted.  The variety of tasteful and fashionable garments he ordered was a menagerie of muslins, taffetas, laces, organdies, velvets, satins, cottons, crinolines, silks, poplins, and every other kind of material known to man.

    
             
After ordering Nicollette’s wedding gown, Jared stood.  "This took more time than I had anticipated, Mignon.  I still have other shops to visit for her accessories."

             
"Please allow me to handle it for you,
Monsieur
Fleming.  Just tell me what you want."

             
"Very well.  She'll need shoes, hats, parasols, handkerchiefs, stockings, scarves, and riding boots to match each of her riding habits.  I want matching accessories for each of her gowns and make sure that everything is only the best.  Money is no object."

             
"But of course, Monsieur Fleming.  This will get my immediate attention," Mignon promised.  She stood from her seat.  "
Merci
,
monsieur
.  Where can I get word to you?"

             
"I'll be back here in a couple of days, Mignon.  I'll expect to see some results."

             
"And so you will.  The lady is indeed lucky.  Is she Spanish?"

             
"Spanish?  Why would ye think that?"

             
"Your description of her, although there are a few Creole girls that fit that description.  A couple of them comes immediately to mind--the Leblanc girl, the Letellier girl...."

             
"Are ye trying to guess the name of my lucky Spanish lady?"

             
Mignon laughed.  "
Non
,
Monsieur
Fleming.  The mystery makes it so much more romantic."

             
"Aye it does," Jared agreed.  With that he departed.  Walking to the jeweler's, he was grateful that Mignon's recollections hadn't included Nicollette.  After all, her looks were quite distinct.  It surprised him that anyone could even remotely resemble his exquisite Nicollette.

             
A few minutes later, Jared walked into the little shop, which was tucked away in a niche on Rue Royal.  Hearing the sound of the bell as Jared pushed open the door, the proprietor bustled from the back. 

             
Seeing who it was, he rushed up to him.  "
Monsieur
Fleming, welcome!  Welcome!  Will you be purchasing something today?  We have just received a shipment of gold watches with matching gold chains.  We will engrave it for no extra charge."

             
"Yer offer is tempting, Marcel, but I won't be making any purchases for myself this afternoon.  I would like to see some feminine jewelry, including wedding bands."

             
"
Monsieur
is contemplating marriage?" Marcel asked, elated. 

             
Jared looked at him, his expression masked.  "The jewels, Marcel."

             
"But of course,
monsieur
.  Please follow me."  Marcel led Jared to a desk and offered him a seat in the chair in front of it.  Once Jared was comfortable, Marcel left the room, returning a few minutes later with several leather cases.

             
He sat in the chair behind the desk, facing Jared's.  Laying the cases on the desk, he opened them.

             
"
Monsieur
Fleming, is there anything here that appeals to you?"

             
Jared lifted a gold band from its place in the velvet lined case and tried to slide it on his little finger.  It went just past his fingernail.
             

             
"Is that the lady's size,
monsieur
?"

             
"Nay," Jared answered.  "This one is too big."

             
"Really,
monsieur
?  The lady has tiny fingers, indeed."

             
"Aye, quite small.  Can ye show me something in her size?"

             
Marcel handed him another ring for inspection.  He examined the simple gold band for a moment, then nodded.

             
Marcel set it aside and asked, "Will there be anything else,
monsieur
?"

             
"Aye," Jared replied.  "I need a tiara that a wedding veil can be attached to."  He explained what he wanted then proceeded to purchase several sets of jewels for Nicki.  He specified that each set, necklace, earrings, and matching bracelet be designed differently.

    
             
Leaving Marcel and walking to retrieve King George from the stables, Jared groaned.  He'd gone as overboard in his shopping for Nicollette as any man could.  To think he still was not finished.  Before he left for Highland Acres, he would go to the  Bourbon-French Perfume Company and or
der the scent that she liked so well.

    
             
She was to be his countess and he would dress her to look like one.  Hell, she'd looked like one since the day he'd first laid eyes upon her.  To him, she'd look like one wearing a feed sack.

    *  *  *

             
Jared laid restlessly in bed at the house by the ramparts.  Fleming Carriage Company was doing well.  He'd been commissioned for two barouches and two cabriolets.  He made it clear to two of his customers that theirs would not be finished until early in '60.  The gentlemen hadn't seen a problem with that.

             
However, Fleming Carriage Company was the least of his worries.  He'd been away from Highland Acres for three days now and his anger and hurt over Nicki's callousness hadn't diminished.  The bloody, vengeful, little bitch!  How dare she keep it from him that he was to become a father?  Whatever he'd done to her, he didn't deserve this.  He had no idea how long he'd be here.  Tomorrow, he was having lunch with Morgan Turner.  Morgan was the only person in the entire world whom he could trust completely.  Maybe, Morgan could help him make some sense of the state his life was in.  Tomorrow, he would also check on Mignon's progress.