Usually, early evening marked the time to enjoy being outdoors, so Lottie had time. Her grandparents had been invited to play cards. She found Abram, asked him to take her, and told him that what she had to do was so important, she couldn’t tell him, and she needed him not to say anything either. “I’m not saying you will never be able to talk about this. Just not until the time is right.”
She checked her hair in the mirror. Her pearl studs were simple but elegant. Her gold cross fell perfectly above the top of her gown. Lottie was ready to meet her future husband’s mistress.
Once in the carriage, Lottie questioned what she was doing, but only long enough to convince herself she’d made the right decision. The closed curtains, the cool quiet, and the gentle sway of the wagon with the clipclopping of the horses’ hooves against the cobblestones almost rocked her to sleep. Some time later, the slight jolt told Lottie they’d arrived. She peeked around the curtain to see the house. The Creole cottage had been painted a celery green. Lottie congratulated herself on her gown selection.
Abram opened the door and helped her down, though by the time Lottie lifted the wrought-iron knocker, she believed she left her stomach in the carriage.
* * * * *
The home, as Lottie expected, was beautifully and elegantly furnished. To Serafina’s credit, she politely welcomed her in and asked the maid to bring tea.
At first, the two women emotionally circled one another like two contenders who were each promised, by the same person, to win the battle against one another. They discovered they had nothing to fight over if Paul was the prize, because neither one of them wanted him.
Serafina was an attractive young woman who wanted to make a life for herself and the child. It saddened Lottie that she might have to raise her child alone with precarious finances. But she was resilient.
Paul himself had told Serafina about selling the slaves, so Lottie explained the plan to her. Where they needed to be, when, and to look for the red-and-black cravat. Serafina wrote the information in an elegant script on a small sheet of paper. “I promise to burn this after my housemaid Clarisse carries the information to them. But if I neglect one detail, it could be tragic.”
“I suppose we could appreciate that our mutual dislike of the same man is ultimately going to save four lives,” said Lottie as she rose to leave.
Serafina clasped Lottie’s hand in hers. “Yes, and it will save our lives as well.”
* * * * *
Rosette and Gabriel sat across from Louis LeClerc, his expansive mahogany desk bridging the space between them. Embellished with scrolls and brass lions’ heads, fanciful flourishes even circled the leather top of the ornate desk. Gabriel conjectured the furniture might have been selected by Madame LeClerc in an effort to display sophistication and wealth to impress clients. But her genteel husband wore it like an ill-fitted suit.
Perhaps, though, Monsieur LeClerc’s shiftings in his chair and clasping and reclasping of his hands more reflected the discomfort of the impending conversation than the ostentation of his surroundings.
“Monsieur LeClerc,” said Rosette, “you probably already know why I am here.”
“Please call me Louis. And, yes, we both knew this day would come,” he replied. “I had not expected it to come this way.”
“I understand. I cannot imagine how difficult this must be for you.” Rosette’s warm voice appeared to diffuse the tension etched across Monsieur LeClerc’s features.
His solemn face cracked just the hint of a smile before it retreated into sadness again. “It is not nearly as difficult as hearing your granddaughter say that she will marry a man she does not care about, when there is one she does.” His eyes went to Gabriel. “And that she is marrying him to save us from financial ruin. Then, to turn around and have that very man attempt to blackmail me…it makes what we need to do seem easy in comparison.”
“I am sorry, sir, about what you stand to lose. But I am happy knowing what you stand to gain,” said Gabriel.
“As well as you, oui?” He looked first at Rosette, then at Gabriel.
Gabriel nodded. “I hope.”
“Another day for that discussion,” said Rosette, patting Gabriel’s hand. “I know none of us are certain how this will unfold, but I do want to be the one to give the letter to Charlotte.”
“Of course. That is as it should be,” Louis said. “The rest…” He paused, cleared his throat, and looked at Rosette. “…will be in God’s hands.”
“Yes, yes, it will,” said Rosette. “As it always has been.” She stood, reaching her hand out to Monsieur LeClerc, whose eyes seemed to be focused someplace only he could see. She held his hand between her own gloved ones. “You have raised your granddaughter well.”