Mistress of Greenbrier: The Greenbrier Trilogy, Book Two

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

“Master Addams?” The gentle call and knock on his office door drew Beau out of his daze. Three hours had passed. “Master Addams?” The knock and voice called again. “It’s Dinah, sir.”

“Come in.” she looked frightened. “What is it?” His hands strayed over the letters and other papers he had been working on, almost spilling the pot of ink in the process.

“Sir, if I may say something about Miss Lucy.” Beau nodded. “I went by her room a bit ago, like you said, to check on her. She was crying, sir. Crying so much I don’t think she even knew I was there.” His jaw worked, but he still said nothing. “Sir,” her eyes looked down at the floor, “I touched her to try to get her attention, but it was like I wasn’t even there. She looked right through me and she was in a fever.”

He remained motionless. “Go sit with her. I’ll be up directly.” Beau still did not move. He looked at the papers. Some he had written himself, others were letters and documents addressed to him. None of it was good. “I have no choice in the matter, my dear. You must understand.” His fist slammed down on the desk in a sudden blind rage. “I have no choice!”

When Beau entered Lucy’s room some five minutes later he had tamed his anger and touched her brow with a gentle hand. The tears were gone but their telling marks still lay across her face even in her sleep. She flinched, as if dreaming, her lips moving in whispers. This was not the Lucy he had expected to return to hours ago. Never had he seen her to be as ill as this. The history he knew of her before they met seemed to have returned. Too much excitement, too many worries and too many things to consider had taken her back to those former days. It was easy to treat his patients, but he hesitated now. This was his Lucy, his love, his future wife. “Leave us. I’ll ring if I need you.”

“Yes, Master Beau.”

The layers of blankets that covered her were pulled back. She murmured through the fog. It was so cold. But colder still were the gentle hands that began to touch her. Over her breasts they moved. A voice whispered of love. The trembling touch passed down her body to her shaven womanhood. Limbs that should have pushed those hands away refused to obey. “No,” she whimpered. The words, like her arms, were useless. When the fingers parted the soft folds between her legs all that came from her was a moan. When those same fingers did more and coaxed her slowly and gently to the edge, Lucy was helpless to stop them. There was no way to prevent the pleasure that suddenly surged into every fiber of her body. Every muscle seemed to cramp and twitch. Her breathing ceased for a moment. The icy cold hands explored her more insistently until the pleasure possessed her again, sucking her down into total darkness. The darkness warmed her, but then spat her back out into the freezing cold moments later. A third wave of the madness gripped her. Her hands suddenly came to life and struck the first thing they came in contact with. She heard her own scream, felt her hips lift and her back arch. She controlled neither. Lucy went limp, exhausted and spent and sank back into the oblivion of sleep.

A tiny stream of blood ran down Beau’s cheek where he had been struck and scratched in her delirium. He collapsed into a chair and covered his face with his hands before slowly drawing his fingers through his dark hair in a gesture of hopelessness.

The morning sun streamed through the sheers that covered Lucy’s window. Another set of logs had been set into place on the hearth, keeping the chill out of the room. Beau woke, his gaze instantly going to where Lucy lay in bed, motionless and pale. In the sunlight, she seemed even whiter still. Her loosened hair lay tossed about her pillow and the blankets were rumpled. In the night he had heard her movements and sounds, knowing there was little he could do. The doctor approached the bed and touched her brow. The fever had not yet broken. Her pulse was still strong and her breathing regular. This was an issue of her mental health, he decided. Her fever could be nothing but the result of too much nervous excitement. The depths of his guilt for being the cause were abysmal.

Sitting on the edge of the bed he took her hand, burning hot to his touch, “Lucy.” Her head turned but nothing more. The words he wanted to say and the confessions he longed to make to her would not come. A knock came to the door. It was Cassy, his life-long Creole slave. She carried a single cup of coffee in her pale, brown hands.

He took the coffee, still looking at Lucy’s face. “Get some mint water and towels. We’ll try that.” Rising from the bed, Beau went to the window and looked out. The sides of the coffee cup warmed his hands but that was about the only part of him that felt anything right now.

“Wouldn’t it be better to do it down stairs, sir, in the …”

“Do as I’ve told you,” he snapped.

She left the room to retrieve the needed supplies. In the twenty minutes she was gone, the doctor had not moved from his spot in front of the window. Cassy pulled back all the blankets, revealing her Mistress’ naked body. The flesh was pink and hot to the touch. One after another, the Creole saturated a towel in the water bath, rung it out and draped them over Lucy. At first there was little reaction, but then Beau began to notice the trembles that moved through Lucy as she shivered. He drew closer to the bed and took her hand a second time, “Lucy?”

The hazel eyes fluttered open briefly then fell closed again. “Beau, why?”

“Why what?”

Her whole body shook as the cold from the water and mint seemed to take hold, “Why are you leaving me?”

His face was one of utter shock, “I’m not leaving you. We are to be married in two weeks, remember? Then…”

Lucy’s fingers gripped his hand tighter and her eyes opened again. “I know.” Her eyes sank shut.

“Lucy?” She lay so still he thought she had spoken her final words to him, but then her chest rose and fell and her lips parted in a sigh. With his free hand he touched her forehead. “How can you know?” he asked her in her sleep.

“Maybe you should rest. I can tend to Miss Lucy,” Cassy offered.

Looking at his future bride he stroked her hand, “I will have ten minutes alone with her then I will go out for a while.”

Left alone, Beau could do little but look at Lucy. “How can you know anything about what I am going through?” He clung to her hand, “Lucy, oh my beloved, Lucy. I am sorry. Forgive me for what I must do. I would spare you all the pain if I could.”

There was a light tap on the door. Beau snapped out of his despair instantly, “Who is it?”

“It’s Dinah, Massa Addams. Mistress Vivianne is just arrived downstairs, sir.”

“Vivianne!?” He jumped to his feet, “So soon? I’ll be right down. Show her to the front parlor. Offer her some tea.” Beau went to the wash-basin and splashed some of the cold, mint-infused water on his own face. He kissed Lucy’s forehead and cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand before hurriedly leaving the room.

She was about to mount the bottom step of the grand staircase when Beau appeared at the top one. “Darling! What can I do?” she gushed, taking several more hurried steps upward, bright green eyes infused with concern.

“You can go to the front parlor as I requested you do,” he was brisk and cold with her.

A scowl puckered her flawless face, “I think not. I shall see her. She is ill.”

Already to the bottom of the stairs, Beau took Vivianne by the arm and turned her back down, “She is resting. Knowing you are here will further the problem.”

“Then she is ill?”

“Quite ill, yes. Please, Vi, for a change, do as I ask. Go to the parlor a moment.”

With a fleeting glance up the stairs she agreed, “As you wish this time, Beauregard, but I shall see her before the day is done.” she turned to the small group of attendants that waited by the doorway. “Don’t just stand there, go about your duties. We’ve only been here a hundred times before. You know where my rooms are and how I like them arranged.” She returned her attentions to the doctor, “Slaves, honestly, sometimes they are worse than having children about me all the time.” Beau directed her into the front parlor. “I’d love a cup of tea after that horrible trip from the train station,” Vivianne hinted. Her red hair had already begun to tumble out from under her bonnet. This she now untied and set aside with her shawl. “Don’t just sit there looking all puckered, darling. What is the matter with Lucy? And, for heaven’s sake, don’t pace. I have a headache as it is.”

“A fever caused by too much nervous excitement. She needs some rest and to get her mind off the wedding for a while.” He sat but fidgeted.

“Oh, what a pity, the poor girl. Well, never fear, darling. I am here now and shall take care of everything for her. Has she a notebook I can refer to?”

“Yes, somewhere.”

When the tea arrived, Vivianne poured them each a cup. “Has a menu been set? What about the dress? When she last wrote her little girl, Dinah, was sewing at a fevered pitch on it.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Vivianne’s green eyes widened. “You don’t know? Aren’t you helping her?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, Vi. We could be married by the Justice in his chamber for all I care. I just want her to be my wife.”

Vivianne practically leaped from her chair, “But it matters to Lucy!” She studied him carefully. “Tell me what is really going on here, darling.”

His body tensed, “A wedding is what is going on, Vi, a wedding. That is all.”

“Oh, please, you take me for a fool? I can see with my own eyes and hear with my own ears that you will join your bride-to-be in a sick bed yourself if you don’t come out with it and I am just the one to talk to, am I not?”

“No,” he said plainly. “No, you are not.” He rose and moved about the room. “She’ll be right as rain in a few days. I do appreciate you coming, Vi. It will set my mind at ease to know she has better help than God knows I have been. She hasn’t any lady friends but you. She went to see her mother yesterday. And her father, I’m afraid her father hasn’t long to live. When I returned from my ride, she was already back and in a dreadful state. I sent her to bed then and there.”

“Then something must have happened while she was out. Who went with her?”

“Cassy.” The thought of some tragic event having passed without his knowledge had not entered his mind before.

“Talk to Cassy. It’s as simple as that.” Vivianne sat back, all marks of concern vanished from her porcelain complexion. She sipped her tea, “Did you try the tonic?”

“I dare say it made her worse.” Beau relayed to Vivianne all the events of the previous night.

“Quite appalling, darling. I should think you would know better. You left her alone after that and failed to return? How cruel, even for you, knowing her state of mind.”

His anger suddenly flared, “Vivianne, I have greater things on my mind than what sort of petticoat she should be wearing or what size truffles to prepare. I cannot be expected to sit at her side and hold her hand every moment of every day until the wedding. I have business to attend to.”

“And what business is that?” Tiny dimples appeared on either side of Vivianne’s mouth when she smiled as she did now, like a cat with a canary between its teeth.

“Business that is of no concern to you,” he snapped. But it did concern her and more to the point, it concerned Lucretia.

Her eyelids drooped a little as she looked at him over her teacup. “I will find out, Beauregard.”

“Do as you wish, Vivianne. You will anyway.” He snatched a cigar from his vest pocket and he retreated from the parlor. What troubled him most was that he knew she was right. She would find out. He must warn Max of her intentions.

With him gone from the house, Vivianne knew now was the best time to see Lucy. The drapes in the bedroom had been pulled back, casting a sunny glow over the room. Cassy sat nearby, stitching a row of beads onto a sheer veil. As Vivianne entered, Cassy looked up. “Mistress Daniels, it’s good that you’re here early,” she whispered.

Going directly to Lucy’s bedside Vivianne frowned. She removed the cloth that Cassy had set into place on Lucy’s brow, dipped it into the nearby basin and replaced it. “We’ll take care of everything for you, my dear. You will marry my Beauregard.” She then turned to Cassy, “What happened while you two were out yesterday?”

“Nothing unusual, ma’am. We went to her Father’s and talked about the menu. Her mother gave her a recipe book. Lucy mentioned writing to her Aunt up North. She went to speak to her father before we left then we returned to town to do some shopping.”

“And she said nothing during the day about feeling ill?”

“No, ma’am. She did complain of a headache on the way home but said it wasn’t serious.”

“And when you got back? What then?”

“We took the packages upstairs and Miss Lucy had me unpack them while she went to look for Master Beau.”

“Where did she find him?”

“She didn’t, ma’am. He was out riding.”

“With Max?”

“No, ma’am. He went alone.”

Vivianne sat down. “Oh,” her lips pursed in thought. “Go on.”

“Then Miss Lucy came back upstairs and went to her room. I didn’t see either until this morning. They took dinner alone and Dinah cleaned away everything later.”

“And this morning she was as you found her?”

“Yes, ma’am. Dinah had told me the night before that Miss Lucy was sick. Master Beau was with her and had asked for no help. I left him to tend to things knowing he would call me if he needed me.” Looking a little guilty, Cassy continued, “I must confess, ma’am, I did slip into the room in the night. I was worried about them both. Master Beau was asleep in that chair and Miss Lucy had her wrists bound together. He had a cut on his cheek, ma’am, like he’d been scratched.”

She had noticed the cut but it had seemed unimportant at the time. “So now we narrow down the time a little more.” She thought back to Beauregard again and his cold, curt treatment of her when normally he was warm and cordial. Maybe they had argued. Her eyes then fell on the box that contained Beau’s surprise to Lucy, the chastity belt. Vivianne rose and opened it, “Do you know anything about this?”

“No, ma’am. It’s the first I’ve seen it.”

From his letters she knew Beauregard had insisted on complete abstinence for Lucy for a fortnight already, going so far as to keep them in separate beds. He had given her a tonic then simply left. That was not like him at all. Like Lucy, Vivianne knew that Beau went riding to clear his head. That he had ridden out alone troubled her greatly, as it must have Lucy. No wonder the girl had collapsed as she had. Part of the mystery was solved. Beauregard’s diagnosis was correct. Her mind turned back to the doctor. He would not explain himself. That was clear. Who could, she wondered? Max. “I need to tend to some other matters. Any changes, please come get me.”