Dead With The Wind

CHAPTER 3

Even seated beside her cousin, An’gel barely heard Mireille’s last three words. Evidently Mireille was deeply embarrassed to admit that her great-grandchild was born out of wedlock. An’gel was rather taken aback by the news herself, but Mireille’s shame over her great-grandchild’s illegitimacy probably explained why there had been no birth announcement.

“How old is Tippy?” Dickce asked brightly.

“Three,” Jacqueline said. “I’m sorry, Tante An’gel, Tante Dickce. I know we should have told you before now, but, well . . .” Her voice trailed off as she gestured toward her mother.

An’gel nodded. She understood Mireille’s outraged sensibilities—if indeed she felt that strongly about it—but what was done was done. An’gel firmly believed that the sins of the father—or in this case, the mother—should not be visited upon the child. She was about to express these thoughts, but Dickce spoke first.

“I know this is indelicate of me to ask,” she said with a brief smile. “But after all, we are family. I suppose Lance is the father, since he and Sondra have been sweethearts for several years?”

Jacqueline shook her head. “No, Lance is not Tippy’s father.” She paused for a deep breath. “In fact, we don’t know who her father is. Sondra refuses to say.”

“The groom isn’t bothered by this?” An’gel asked, trying to mask her astonishment with a bland tone. “Especially since it must have happened during the time he and Sondra were dating.”

“Evidently not,” Mireille said a trifle snappishly. “At the time Sondra told us all she was going to have a child, he uttered not one word of complaint or recrimination. At least not in my hearing.” She glanced at her daughter.

Jacqueline nodded. “It’s just as Maman says. Lance doesn’t seem at all bothered by the situation. Of course, he may not actually understand just how children are conceived.” She giggled.

“It is not in the least amusing.” Mireille dropped her teacup on the silver tray with a loud clatter.

An’gel thought for a moment the delicate porcelain might have broken, but the cup seemed intact. Not so her cousin, however. One glance told her Mireille’s face was flushed again—whether with anger or embarrassment, or a combination of both, she wasn’t sure.

Mireille stood. “I’m sorry, but you must excuse me. I have to talk with Estelle. I will see you again at dinnertime.” She walked out of the room, her shoulders slumped.

Jacqueline waited until her mother was clear of the doorway before she spoke. “I’m so sorry about all this. I would have told you before now, but Maman is so distressed over the whole situation. She adores Tippy, of course. She’s a sweet child, and no one could help but love her, but Maman has never forgiven Sondra for causing such a scandal.”

Dickce spoke in a mild tone. “Surely, my dear, these days having a child out of wedlock isn’t so scandalous. It happens in many families.”

Jacqueline’s response was tart. “Not in the Champlain family, it doesn’t.” She threw up her hands. “You both know what Maman is like. You’ve known her longer than I have, for goodness’ sake. All my life she’s been the epitome of rectitude—and a pillar of the community. But since Tippy was born, she hardly sets foot out of the house or off the grounds, except to go to mass on Sundays. She’s convinced that she’s the laughingstock of St. Ignatiusville.”

“There are probably those in town who do find the situation amusing because of the family’s long history in the area,” An’gel said. “There are always people who love to see others embarrassed, and I’m sorry that Mireille has been hurt by it.”

“She’s noblessing her oblige a little too much, if you ask me.” Jacqueline shook her head. “Just because the Champlains settled here first. I’ve tried talking to her about it, but you know how stubborn she can be. Just like Sondra.”

“Just like Sondra what?” A petulant voice from the doorway drew An’gel’s attention.

Jacqueline turned in her chair to face her daughter. “Don’t stand there, darling, come in.”

“I don’t want any more water dumped on my head.” Sondra scowled at them as she took a couple of steps into the room.

“If you behave properly, no one will do that.” An’gel decided, after that gruff statement, she perhaps ought to offer an olive branch. “That’s a lovely dress you’re wearing. The color is perfect for your complexion.” She meant what she said. Sondra’s dress, a sheath of iridescent blue, set off her creamy skin and golden hair beautifully.

“Thank you.” Sondra preened for them. “Lance picked it out for me. He has wonderful taste, doesn’t he?”

“My goodness, yes,” Dickce said. “He obviously has an eye for color.”

“I’m going to wear it for the wedding,” Sondra said. “White is so old-fashioned, and I won’t have to wear that old dress that Grandmother is so crazy about.” She shuddered. “Dead people’s clothes. Yuck.”

An’gel caught Jacqueline’s horrified expression and wondered how her goddaughter would deal with Sondra’s odd notion.

Jacqueline took a deep breath. “Well, darling, what you’re wearing is beautiful. We’ll talk about it later with your grandmother, okay?”

Sondra shot her mother a mutinous glance as she advanced farther into the room until she stood by her mother’s chair. When she spoke, she ignored Jacqueline’s question.

“Mama, what are you going to wear to dinner tonight? I hope it’s not going to be that awful black thing. It makes you look like an old crow.”

An’gel noticed her goddaughter wince under Sondra’s critical gaze.

“No, darling, I’m not. I thought I might wear the green.” Jacqueline appeared anxious, An’gel thought.

“Well, it’s better anyway.” Sondra grimaced, then glared at An’gel and Dickce. “Are you two going to be there?”

The sisters nodded.

“I hope you brought some decent clothes.” Sondra eyed their casual Vera Wang dresses uncertainly. “Lance will be here, and I know he won’t be able to enjoy his food if he sees ugly clothes.”

“We’ll do our best to avoid that.” Dickce’s prim tone didn’t fool her sister. An’gel marveled that Dickce kept a straight face. Sondra evidently knew little about designer clothing, or she would have recognized what the sisters wore. Just as well we brought along those Worth dresses of Mother’s, she thought. If Lance can’t eat in the presence of true haute couture, he deserved to go hungry.

An’gel glanced at her watch. She nodded at Dickce, and they rose in unison. “Time for us to get back to our rooms,” she said. “We both need a little time to rest before dinner.”

“Of course.” Jacqueline stood to give each of the sisters a quick peck on the cheek. “If there’s anything you need, just let Estelle know.”

“We will, dear,” An’gel said. “Now, you do remember that we are bringing our ward, Benjy Stephens, with us for dinner?”

“Yes, I remember.” Jacqueline smiled. “And as soon as we have some time, I want to hear all about how the two of you came to have a ward. Your e-mails have been skimpy on details.”

An’gel suppressed the urge to comment that the same could be said about the news of Tippy’s birth. “Of course, dear. We’ll see ourselves out.”

An’gel and Dickce nodded to Sondra, who moved warily aside as the sisters walked past her. An’gel, as she walked through the doorway into the front hall, heard Sondra ask her mother what a ward was. “Is it some man they picked up?”

An’gel didn’t linger to hear Jacqueline’s response. Really, the child was not only vulgar, she was also rather stupid.

On the veranda, the door shut carefully behind them, An’gel paused with Dickce and enjoyed the beautiful view for a moment.

“I shudder to think what will happen to all of this when Mireille and Jacqueline are gone and Sondra is responsible for it.” Dickce sighed. “We’ll be long gone by then, so I guess I shouldn’t even think about it, but it’s hard not to.”

An’gel patted her sister’s shoulder, and Dickce caught the hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

Dickce’s words held a deeper meaning for both of them, because their own beloved Riverhill would have to pass to someone who might not care for it as devotedly as they and the generations of Ducotes before them had. The fate of Riverhill was never far from An’gel’s thoughts, though she hoped to have more than a few years left to oversee its care, along with her sister.

The sisters made their way down the steps, across the lawn, and around the edge of the ornamental pond. To An’gel’s relief, they reached the block of bed-and-breakfast cottages without spotting anything slithering past their feet.

“Wonder who that can be?” Dickce pointed to a strange car, a worn-looking sedan, parked beside their Lexus. “I didn’t think any other out-of-town guests would arrive until tomorrow or the next day.”

An’gel moved closer to inspect the license plate. “Louisiana, so perhaps it’s someone local. Where could they be?” She glanced around but didn’t see anyone on the grounds near them.

“I didn’t think about locking the door,” Dickce said. “Did you?”

“Not that I can remember.” An’gel frowned as she moved quickly toward their door.

Before she even touched the knob, the door of Benjy’s room opened. Instead of Benjy, however, a strange young man stepped out and closed the door behind him.

An’gel’s eyes widened in surprise. She had never seen such a beautiful young man in her life. Tall, well-proportioned, with a head of golden ringlets and eyes of a brilliant green, he was a vision of perfection straight from the glossy pages of a magazine.

He smiled sweetly at An’gel. “Have you ever been to New York?”

At first An’gel thought she had misheard him. “New York? Yes, I have been there several times.”

“I’m going there right after the wedding. It’s my first time, and I can’t wait.” He beamed at her and wandered past her and Dickce, apparently headed toward Willowbank.

“That has to be Lance,” Dickce said in an undertone once the young man was about fifty feet away.

“There can’t be two of them in St. Ignatiusville,” An’gel said tartly. “Of course it’s Lance. Jacqueline certainly wasn’t exaggerating about his looks.”

“Almost too perfectly beautiful.” Dickce snickered. “I suppose the Lord didn’t think a man that pretty needed to be weighed down with much of a brain.”

“I wonder what he was doing here,” An’gel muttered as she moved to knock on Benjy’s door.

“Come in,” Benjy called. “It’s not locked.”

When An’gel stepped in the room, she was immediately greeted by Peanut, who acted like she had been gone for two days, instead of an hour. An’gel patted his head and spoke to him before he transferred his attentions to Dickce. The cat, Endora, regarded them languidly from the center of Benjy’s bed.

“We ran into your visitor,” Dickce said. “We were pretty surprised to see him. Did he want something in particular?”

Benjy laughed. “Yeah, he was looking for the main house. I thought he’d never been here before, but when I pointed out that it was right next door, he just shook his head and said something about taking the wrong driveway.” He laughed again. “He definitely seemed a little confused. Do you know who he is?”

“Yes, we do. He’s Lance Perigord, the groom,” An’gel said in a dour tone.

Benjy hooted with laughter. “You gotta be kidding me. He’s really the groom? Does the bride know he’s gay?”