[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
she could see that. The police had been all too happy to forget a poor
little hunchback like Bertrand, but a pretty young Frenchwoman
that was a different matter. Claire s death would have to look like an
accident.
Her mother had raised her to be a good girl, Lizette reminded her-
self, and if the poor woman had known the kind of things her daugh-
ter was doing, she wouldn t have liked it. But then her mother had
never heard the thrilling stories of revolution, of liberation, of how
the slaves her people had risen up and driven the rich, white
landowners out of Haiti and set up their own kingdom . . . of how
Pedro Prestan, born a slave himself, had sacked and burned the
Lafrenière mansion, and how the same things were going to happen
in Panama. Lizette sighed as her lover s voice droned on in the shad-
ows beside her. One day, she sighed, she would be the most impor-
tant woman in the country. She would buy her mother a new dress
for every day of the week and build her a house as grand as the
Jarnac home. Lizette and her man would live in the de Lesseps
palace. That was what he had told her. Oh, but it was so hard to keep
it all a secret!
You ll remember it all? he said, the moonlight gleaming on his
dark hair.
I ll remember. Come on!
Come on? Where, you little minx?
She sprang up and kissed his mouth. The stable!
She ll see us!
177
Elizabeth Lane
No! We ll circle around! I ve looked out that window enough to
know where you can see and where you can t come on! She
tugged at his hand and he followed her as she slipped like a phantom
along the edge of the house, giggling softly.
The small side door of the stable, where Bertrand s room had
been, was unlocked. Lizette opened it and pulled him inside after
her. Then she stood in the beam of moonlight that came through
the one high window, unbuttoned her high-necked nightgown
with impatient fingers, and let it fall in a circle around her feet. She
was proud of her body, especially her firm, pointed breasts, and
she was careful to stand where the moonlight would cast them into
silhouette.
He was unfastening his trousers. Hurry! she whispered.
He came to her then, still wearing his shirt and his shoes, and
wrapped her in his arms. Oh, yes . . . she moaned. Hurry . . .
hurry . . .
The next morning, after debating the wisdom of it, Claire decid-
ed to ask Lizette whether she had seen or heard the man in the
yard. Her reasoning was simple enough. Lizette was the only mem-
ber of the household who had a room on the ground floor. If any-
one besides herself had seen or heard him, it would probably have
been Lizette.
Mam selle! She went rigid at Claire s question and her eyes
opened wide. One hand reached up to touch the little bump that the
vodun charm made under her dress.
What s the matter, Lizette?
She opened her mouth and at first no sound would come out. B-
Bertrand . . . ! she whispered hoarsely. I told you . . . !
Oh, horsefeathers! Claire snapped, completely out of patience
with her. I saw him, Lizette! He was tall! With no hump on his back!
She shook her head adamantly. Bertrand. Simone could make his
body straight!
Simone? Don t be
Yes, Mam selle! She clutched Claire s arm so tightly that it hurt.
Simone can do anything!
Claire gave up on Lizette after that. Either she was lying, or she was
the flightiest, most superstitious ninny she had ever met.
178
Drums of Darkness
She told one other person about the man in the yard: André. They
were in his studio and she was posing for her portrait, the green drape
wrapped around her shoulders.
You re sure you saw someone, Claire? He was dabbing cautious-
ly at a spot on the canvas with an umber-tipped brush.
She nodded. He was tall and dark, and he was wearing a white
shirt, and white trousers, too, I think.
Sounds like it might have been Philippe. Maybe he couldn t sleep.
Have you asked him?
No. It had already occurred to her that she might have seen
Philippe, and that was one of the reasons she had not asked him. Yet
she was not at all sure. The man in the yard had not walked with
Philippe s determined, somewhat ponderous stride. He moved like
a cat.
Want me to ask him for you?
I don t know, André, she hedged. Lately he s seemed so well,
strange. Worried.
It s Angélique. I told you. He doesn t want her to get well.
André paused to listen as the strains of Revolutionary Étude rumbled
up from the study below. The arpeggios rippled from under
Angélique s fingers with dazzling smoothness and velocity. She was
a brilliant musician. Claire had heard world-renowned pianists per-
form in France. Angélique already surpassed many of them in tech-
nique and expressiveness.
She no longer hummed. Now, when she sat in her rocker with the
pink-bundled doll, her eyes were alive, darting about the room, fol-
lowing sound and unexpected motion. She still did not speak, but at
times she looked as if she could.
Claire had expected Philippe to be elated with her progress. Instead
he looked like a man under torture. He was increasingly silent at din-
ner, increasingly absent from the house.
He doesn t want her to get well, André repeated.
I thought he loved her. Claire shifted the weight of her hips on the
settee. She d been posing for an hour and she was getting tired.
Oh, he did in his way did and does, I suppose. André stood
back from the canvas with a critical cock of his head. But he can cope
with her now. He never really could before the accident. Angélique
had such a splendid spirit a mind of her own! Poor Philippe just
179
Elizabeth Lane
couldn t manage her. And he didn t like that. He likes to manage
everyone.
Then why did he encourage me to play, knowing that she might
react to it? Why has he stopped sedating her?
My dear, said André a little impatiently, I really don t know.
Come here. How does this look?
She got up quickly. So quickly, in fact, that she experienced the brief
visual blackout that often comes when one does not rise gradually. She
swayed a little and brushed a hand across her eyes.
Claire! André was at her side, supporting her with his arms.
You re ill?
Silly, I just stood up too fast. That s all.
He was standing behind her, and he kept his hands around her
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]