Mistress of Greenbrier: The Greenbrier Trilogy, Book Two

Chapter Four-1

Chapter Four

Vivianne went downstairs and inquired with one of the servants the whereabouts of the Master of the house. He had returned from the stable, but that was all the girl could tell her. Vivianne made her way to the back of the house where the doctor housed his medical practice. She paused at the doorway. The smell of these back rooms had never pleased her. Taking a deep breath, Vivianne plunged forward all the same. Finding his office door closed and locked, she moved down the hallway trying one door after another until finally she came to the room she loathed the most to set foot in, the embalming room. Unfortunately from the sounds of it, this was the room where her search would end. Her fist was just about to knock when she heard footsteps behind her in the hall.

“Can I help you with something, Mistress?” Max, thank God. A full year of living with the doctor had seen the man mature in body as well as character. He carried himself much differently now. His pale green eyes were steadier.

“I need to ask Beauregard a favor,” she looked at the door with reservation. “I would prefer to be spared entering this particular room, but if you could pass along my wishes to obtain your services for the evening?”

Max nodded, “I can tell him of your wishes.” His hand rested on the door latch and he seemed eager to be done with the conversation. “Something else, Ma’am?”

“Just that if someone could let me know as soon as possible, that’s all.”

Opening the door allowed the sickly-sweet smell to drift into the hallway. Vivianne backed away, “If you care to wait a moment, I can ask him now.”

“Oh, no, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll wait upstairs.”

“As you wish, Mistress. Good morning.” With a cordial nod, Max entered the room. Before the door could be closed, Vivianne caught a glimpse of the doctor standing beside a table on which was laid a corpse.

“Good morning, Max.” The door shut and she was left alone in the hallway again. She could not flee the corridor quickly enough and retreated to the sanctuary of her own rooms.

As soon as the door was shut, Max and the doctor let out a breath. “We’ll have some privacy now,” Beau set the scalpel down and inserted a needle into the cut he had just made on the body’s neck. To this needle was fitted a length of India rubber tubing.

This was not Max’s favorite occupation, but they would be left alone here, “Any more news, sir?”

“No, but I have a feeling Vivianne will try to get whatever she can from you.”

Max frowned, “I don’t know anything, sir.”

“You know enough to tip her off before it’s time. All I can do is pray it’s after the wedding.” Beau went to the dead man’s leg, made another clean slit into the inside of the groin and slid a second needle into place. Max winced but said nothing. “I am going to trust you to keep things hidden from Vivianne. Can you do that for two more weeks?”

“I can do my best, sir.”

“That’s all I ask. I’ve seen her work. I do not envy you in the least. Lie to her if you feel you must but reveal nothing.” With the needles in place, Beau opened the valve on the tubing of the gravity bottle hanging over the head of the corpse, “Very good.” He dipped his hands into a basin of water to wash off the blood that stained his fingers before rolling his shirtsleeves back down. “I should check on Lucy. Find Vivianne and do whatever you have to do to keep her busy and her mind off my private affairs.”

Before heading upstairs, Beau checked his watch. As Lucy was being looked after by capable hands, he decided now was a good time to inspect the box Mr. Borgia had given him. Several minutes of prying did nothing. He turned to the back and decided to remove the hinges. The box contained papers, all of which looked to be important, legal documents. On the top of them all rested an envelope addressed to Beauregard.

“My Dear Dr. Addams,” the note began. “If you are reading this it means that you have endeavored to marry my daughter. I could not have asked for a more noble and honest son-in-law and husband for her. I am pleased. However, it also means that what I have been told for several months by our family physician now is coming to a head. You are the only one I trust with the enclosed information. You will find enclosed a copy of my Last Will. My wife is to leave Virginia as soon as possible. See that she is sent North to her family. Not because I do not love Virginia or the South or because I feel shame for being part of what is about to happen, but because that is where she will be the safest.” Beau looked up, thought deeply on this and then looked down at the page again. A certain sense of brotherhood began to creep into him for Edward. “I urge you to do the same for Lucy. Send her North or send her to Europe, but see that she is safely removed soon. If you have never trusted me or my word before this day, trust me now. E.B.

Beau set the letter aside. This was too familiar to him. He slid off his reading glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose and tried to think. Could the first thoughts that came to his mind be true? The odds seemed incomprehensible. There was more in the box than papers. In one corner was tucked what looked like a wad of paper. Lifting it revealed it was wrapped around a small object. Beau’s heart skipped a second time. The paper peeled away, leaving any doubts left to him in the grave.

The room was dark when she opened her eyes. The steady drip of another spring rain added an air of dreariness to the room. In a corner, draped with a quilted counterpane, Melissa slept soundly. The lantern by the young woman’s head had been turned down so low it barely emitted any light at all. Lucy slipped from bed, put on her slippers and dressing gown and stepped from the room. Down the dark flight of stairs she traveled, neither needing nor wanting the aid of a candle or lamp. Had anyone seen her in that moment they might have thought her a troubled ghost, so white was her gown and pale her skin. Deeper still she went into the dark, to the back hallway that held no windows and only a series of shut doors. With one hand touching the papered wall and the other holding the hem of her garment, Lucy moved without hesitating. The smells that so bothered Vivianne did not touch Lucy in the least. She had to find him. She had to know the truth.

Her cold fingers gripped the door latch to his private office and found it locked. Her countenance became perplexed, certain that light shown beneath the door, certain that he was inside. She tried again but the latch refused to budge. Knocking was answered only with silence. Stepping away until her back was against the opposite wall, Lucy stared at the closed and locked door as if she could really see it in the dark. He must be playing a trick on her, her mind told her. Lucy turned and retreated back the way she had come before slipping into another dark room. Moments later, her dressing gown tumbled to the floor. The slippers came off her feet. Lucy went to the wall, found what she looked for and waited.

No sooner was she in place than the door clicked open. She knew his step, his smell, the way he breathed and his hands as they touched her. “Master,” she whispered as his lips kissed her throat. “Please don’t make we wait so long.” He answered by dipping his fingers deep between her legs and covering her mouth with his.

Melissa snapped awake. She knew before her eyes even told her that she was alone in the room. She darted out to the hallway with the lantern, its wick now turned up high, casting long shadows up and down the walls. Frantic, she went to Master Beau’s bedroom door and knocked. His answer was immediate as if he had been waiting for her.

Beau opened the door in his nightshirt. Plainly he had not yet slept though it was nearing two o’clock in the morning, “What is it? Is something wrong?” He darted across the hall and found Lucy’s empty bed. “Where is she?” The girl shook her head. “Go to Mistress Vivianne’s room. You will find her and Max there. Wake them. Show them the empty bed. I’ll start looking.” He hurried past her, a man devoid of all his senses taking with him his own lamp.

Her eyes rolled back, hands gripping a bar overhead, feet apart and legs spread as he ravished her body. Every inch of her skin was awake. Every part of her was open, hungry for him to take her. Lips suckled her rose bud breasts. Fingers milked her s*x. His hand squeezed her thigh. He was the only man she had ever known or loved or would know and love. Everything that was hers, belonged now to him. As long as this feeling did not end he could have her. Her head swooned as the pleasure made her limbs twitch and ache.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs he finally stopped. The rain fell harder outside the windows. He must search the house first. Already he could hear Vivianne’s shrill voice followed by Max’s deeper tones as they stumbled from their rooms. Beau ran from one room to another, not caring who he woke in the process. The dining room and kitchen were void of her. The front parlor, the den, the back parlor, the sewing room, all empty. “Lucy!” he called. Into the back hall he went, all the doors were shut just as he had left them not three hours ago. A startled cry froze him in his tracks. He waited until he heard it again, knew without a doubt it was her and yanked open the door to the small dungeon. Her naked body heaved against the rack. Her eyes were shut and her mouth parted in gasps of pleasure. “Lucy?” There was no response except another cry of her pleasure being released. Her posture was as if she were bound to the wooden frame, arms overhead, ankles open all the way to the sides yet no ropes or straps held her there. “Dreaming,” he realized aloud. “Dreaming and walking in her sleep.” Max and Vivianne were in the hallway now. Setting the lamp aside, Beau moved forward and took Lucy into his arms. She collapsed without resistance with one last moan. Then she was still. The fever that had held her was gone.

“Beauregard?” Vivianne appeared in the doorframe.

Beau touched his lips with his finger, “She was walking in her sleep.” He lifted Lucy into his arms. Her head cradled against his shoulder and a look of utter peace fell on her face. “Get her gown and slippers. We’ll put her back to bed.”

“Is she alright?” Vivianne clucked behind him.

“Perfectly alright. Her fever is gone.” Years seemed to have slid from his face as he looked at Lucy. “I’ll stay with her.”

“As if I can get back to sleep after this, honestly darling. If anyone needs their rest it is you. Look at you! Let me sit with her, you go back to bed.” To prove her point, Vivianne snatched up the cover that had been over Melissa minutes ago and plopped herself down in the chair with it. “Go to bed, Beauregard. I told you I would take care of this and I shall.”

Beau was not one to take orders, especially from a woman. But he was too tired to argue with her. “We will both sit with her. Take the chaise, Vi. You’ll be more comfortable there. I’ll take the chair.” While Vivianne still clucked over the bedding, Beau casually approached Max. “We will talk tomorrow afternoon in the prep room, three o’clock,” he whispered.

“It’s a fortunate thing for you I came early, darling.” Vivianne arranged herself and her blankets and lay back. “How would you ever manage all this alone, I ask? How?”

“I am certain it would have been impossible, Vi,” he turned his back on her. Lucy was still and quiet. Her sleep was deep and restful. “I love you, my pet,” he whispered and kissed her cool forehead. The rest of the night passed peacefully. For the time being Beau’s mind was at rest and he slept.

Lucy opened her eyes to the last of the previous night’s rain and by the time breakfast was to be served, the sun began to shine through the haze. She had no memory of the previous two days and was delighted that Vivianne was there.

“I would like to go out today if I may, sir?”

The doctor frowned, “Tomorrow would be better, I think. As long as the weather holds and you use the closed carriage.”

She still pouted but knew he was right. There were other things she could do while she grew stronger. “I wanted to write to Nora and Aunt Sarah. I suppose I could do that instead.”

“And then ride into town tomorrow to post them,” Vivianne offered.

Beauregard was reminded of the instructions he had received from Edward the day before. “I need to talk to you about Nora and your aunt, my dear.” He might as well mention as much as he could about the contents of the box before she got too curious and decided to find out things for herself. “That box your father sent home with you the other day. I got it opened. Mostly important papers he wanted me to keep for him and a copy of his Last Will. But there was a more personal letter. He’s quite concerned about your mother and wished me to send her North to her family as soon as possible.”

“I just told Mother the same thing!” Lucy laughed. “She won’t go, you know. Not until he is better.”

Beau’s countenance shifted. “You do understand he won’t get better?”

“Yes.” she met his eyes with a steadiness that surprised him.

“Then I fully approve of you writing to your relations. I should pay a visit to your father myself before too long.” There were things that needed explaining and he feared that Edward’s death would leave him too many unanswered questions. “Tomorrow while you are out should do. As Vivianne had the misfortune of witnessing, I have other things that need completing today.” There was no mistaking the shudder that went through his guest’s body. “I am sure you ladies have a lot of catching up to do. At noon I should like to hear all about the wedding plans and what is on the menu, if I may?”

Lucy beamed her approval. “That would be wonderful.”

Beau put his napkin aside and rose. He kissed Lucy on the cheek, “I am afraid I must leave you two for a few hours. Don’t let her overdo it, Vi. She can be as stubborn as you sometimes.”

“I’m not stubborn, I merely expect things to be done my way,” Vivianne corrected him.

“Exactly what I said. A good morning, ladies.”

With a sigh that could express nothing else but pure love, Lucy watched the doctor leave them. “What should I ever do without him?”

“I should hope that will not happen for a long time to come.” she watched Lucy twist her napkin in her lap, “What is it, darling? What has got you so upset?”

“Just a feeling. A terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.”

Vivianne laughed, “Oh, pooh, what rubbish you talk. You’ve been alone with Cassandra far too much. I can only imagine what Voodoo nonsense she’s put into your head.”

“It isn’t nonsense at all.” Lucy began but Vivianne rolled her eyes before the words were even completely past her lips. “You were there the night of the Tarot reading. You know what she said.”

“That was well over a year ago. Beauregard still has all his money and all his things. The country has not been destroyed by a foolish war…”

“It isn’t foolish, I tell you! We saw them going the other day, the men! We saw them marching off to Harper’s Ferry. And I read the paper that day when we got to town. I’m not as ignorant as some would have me be.” Lucy’s body grew tight with rage and what color had returned to her cheeks vanished.

“Cassy has filled your head with trash. Beau has been busy with other things. You have been working hard on your wedding plans. Plus, Beau has set into place certain restrictions. You are feeling terribly ignored so to get some attention you pitch one of your little conniptions and make him feel guilty so he’ll pay you some mind.”

“I did not pitch a fit!” her lips grew white.

Vivianne bit into her biscuit, chewed slowly and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “If you say so, Lucy. So, we are then to believe that some silly parlor game we did over a year ago and some men going to Harper’s Ferry and something you read in the paper that you don’t understand anything about has caused all your troubles?”

“Beauregard believes what Cassy said.”

“Beauregard believes a lot of things.”

“And you think it’s nonsense.”

“Yes. I love Beauregard and, darling, you know you are like a sister to me, but the two of you have some rather obscure ideas at times, I must say.” She turned her attention to the countryside.

“Her grandmother was a real Voodoo priestess, you know?” Vivianne continued to look out the window. “She’s the one who taught Cassy the Tarot and all about scrying and how to talk with the dead.” The excitement in Lucy’s voice grew, “I thought maybe we could do a real séance this All Hallow’s Eve instead of the Tarot. Did Beau ever tell you that my grandmother was a Spiritualist? He must have. Wouldn’t it be thrilling to talk to her again, my grandmother?” Her eyes shined almost as if she were in her fever again. Lucy looked around the room, “And this house, I wonder who is here. How many dead souls roam around after Beau embalms them?”

“Enough!” Vivianne glared at her suddenly. “I am trying to digest my breakfast and you sit there talking about corpses!”

Lucy swallowed hard, “I’m sorry.” she looked down at her own plate and pushed it away. “I should go write my letters.”

“One moment more,” Vivianne said, her tone returned to normal. “I do not handle the trappings of death well. Has Beauregard ever explained that to you?” Lucy shook her head no. “You know I am an only child. It was not from my parent’s want of having babies. Babies die. We all know that. It’s common enough. I was my mother’s third child. I was the only one that lived. She was in bed ill from childbirth more times that I care to recall. When she died I was still a little girl myself.” Vivianne looked out the window again. “Daddy wouldn’t let them take Mother away for the longest time. It was like he still reckoned her alive in there, resting. You know how hot it gets in Richmond in the summer, Lucy? It didn’t take long for nature to take its course on things. You couldn’t walk by the door without smelling the death behind it. Eventually, the doctors brought some men and told Daddy that Mother had to be taken to the hospital. She was real sick, they said. They took her and I saw them take her. That bloated, mottle colored body they carried away had been my mother. I’ve never been able to stomach the smell of death since or the sight of a corpse.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucy stammered. “I didn’t know. I should go write my letters.”