Odyssey of Desire

CHAPTER 1

Greenwood Hall Plantation, Natchez

1816-Late September

N EWS OF HIS marriage to Susannah Bernard would fuel the flames of gossip in plantations along the Mississippi from Natchez to New Orleans. When Marguerite, his mistress, found out about his marriage, her fury would ignite a fire as hot as any in hell.

The storm abated. Dark clouds drifted beyond the horizon. Moonlight glistened on the abundant foliage surrounding Greenwood Hall. Tree frogs resumed their serenade. The air, heavy with moisture, redolent with damp earth, and perfumed with sweet olive and jasmine, enveloped Pierre Lefevre as he stood on the wide verandah and watched the two carriages rumble down the rutted drive toward town.

His fate and the fate of his child bride were forever bound on this night as they had spoken their wedding vows in front of Father LeBlanc, Miss Elsie Bernard, and the Wailes.

Pierre didn’t regret his decision to wed his young charge. Susannah’s unhappiness at the haste of the marriage to her guardian, however, was reflected in her eyes when he slipped the heavy gold band onto her slender finger.

At midnight, when the household slept, Susannah dreamt a man stood by her bed. A hand, strong yet gentle, stroked her cheek and caressed her hair. She murmured softly as the figure bent and kissed her, drawing her lips into a smile. He touched her hand then faded into the darkness.

Wake up, Miss Susannah. You got to get ready for your trip. The boat leaves at midday.

Aunt Sally pulled back the counterpane and shook Susannah’s shoulder. The young woman blinked at the bright sunlight streaming through the open windows, then remembered last night. Aunt Sally, my husband never came to bed! After she spoke, she remembered the vivid dream but decided not to mention it; she was relieved too, that her new husband, Pierre Lefevre, hadn’t filled her with his manhood, whatever that meant. Cousin Elsie hadn’t explained either, except to say it was rather like having a tooth pulled out. Susannah supposed Cousin Elsie meant Pierre would do something with her mouth and she’d have to open wide. Whatever happened, filling her with his manhood didn’t sound pleasant.

I know, child. Miss Elsie told me Monsieur Lefevre said you’re too young to be coupling. He’s sending you off to New Orleans to the convent ’till you’re older.’ When you are, he’ll bring you back and make you his proper wife.

Aunt Sally’s words shattered her relief for having survived the night unscathed. Leave Greenwood Hall and enter the convent? What do you mean? He never told me I’d have to leave! Tears sprung in her eyes as she bounded from the bed and kicked a slipper across the highly polished floor. He can’t do that. It’s not fair!

Ain’t nobody said what a man does is fair. That’s the first thing you’ve got to learn now you’re a married lady. Your husband is the master, and you’ve got to do what he says. Aunt Sally placed her hands on her hips and shook her head.

Susannah bit her thumbnail as she digested the latest bad news. First, her parents died from congestive chills; then she was informed she was going to marry her guardian—a total stranger. Despite her pleas, she got married against her will, and now this was flung in her face. Just because Pierre Lefevre wed her didn’t mean he could make her to go to the convent. Papa’s will made no reference to the convent, nor had the lawyer, Mr. Wailes, and nor had Father LeBlanc mentioned it.

Rather than waste her energy fighting with Aunt Sally, Susannah put on her gray walking dress and Spenser leather boots. She fumed as Aunt Sally dressed her auburn hair into a coil of plaits, then clenched her hands into tight fists and marched down the stairs to the dining room for breakfast.

Alone for the first time with her new husband, and seeing him in daylight, Susannah forgot her anger and caught her breath as she stared at the man who had wed her. Pierre sat at the head of the table sipping a cup of tea. His hair, thick and curly, reminded her of tree bark after a rain.

He smiled, exposing teeth as white as mistletoe berries, and stood. "Good morning, ma petite, I hope you had a restful sleep and are prepared for the journey."

One moment he looked serious, the next merry. Dimples graced his ruddy cheeks when he smiled. Pierre looked younger than Papa, yet older than her tutor, Mr. Adams. She hadn’t much experience with young gentlemen. He must be about twenty-three or four, she decided, though she wasn’t certain.

Don’t stare, it is only me, your husband. Please be seated. Pierre motioned to the chair on his right and pulled it out for her. A box tied with gold satin ribbons sat on her plate.

Susannah touched it and glanced at him shyly.

"For you, mon ami, a wedding gift. Open it."

Carefully she untied the ribbons and opened the clasp on a silver box. She pulled apart the drawstrings on the silk pouch she’d found inside and gasped when the contents tumbled out.

They’re beautiful, she whispered as she traced her fingers over the gold filigree combs encrusted with pearls and emeralds. I’ve never seen anything so exquisite, she said.

Pierre covered her hand with his. One day we’ll have a ball to celebrate our marriage and you’ll wear these combs in your glorious hair.

He squeezed her hand, then dropped it. His smile changed into a reflective gaze. I’ll place them in the safe, along with your wedding band, for you’ll not be permitted jewels in the convent.

Then he pulled a gold watch from his waistcoat. We must be at the dock in less than two hours. Aunt Sally is packing your trunk. We haven’t time to waste.

Susannah narrowed her eyes and folded her arms around her waist, the pleasure of her gift forgotten. I’m staying here. I refuse to go to the convent. I’ll never leave Greenwood Hall.

Pierre threw back his head and chortled, then lifted her chin with his strong fingers. "Mon dieu! What happened to the shy little mademoiselle I wed last night? It appears she’s quite the opposite from what I imagined—a spirited jeune fille. His dark eyes twinkled as he studied her face. And please, cherie, tell me why you won’t go."

Susannah returned his look of amusement with a glare and noticed for the first time a thin white scar drawn from the corner of his right eye to his temple. Distracted for a moment, she wondered if he’d fought in a duel.

I can’t leave Aunt Sally. And anyway, I’ve heard the convent is horrid. The nuns feed you bread and water and make you rise at four to say your prayers. You can’t laugh or play, and when you’re not praying, you’re expected to sew or learn sums.

Susannah caught her breath and glanced back into Pierre’s eyes, which gave no indication of his feelings except amusement. He drummed his fingers on the table. Yes? Continue.

Please, please, monsieur, don’t send me away. I can’t leave Molly. She’s the only friend I have. I’ll die if I have to go, she quickly added before she sank into the chair and chewed the corner of her lower lip, waiting for his response.

Pierre leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Sincere, but not convincing, my dear little wife. And I doubt if you’ll die. You’ll remain in the convent until you’re eighteen, three years hence. At that time, I’ll come for you and expect you to honor your marriage vows.

By then you’ll be ready to bear children and run Greenwood Hall, as well as be my companion and helpmate. He smiled and patted Susannah on the head, indicating the finality of the decision.

"The Washington leaves at noon. Our carriage departs Greenwood Hall for Natchez at ten-thirty. I’ll expect you to be prompt and will hear no more arguments. Pierre stood, paused at the door, and faced her. Miss Esther Wailes will accompany you as your companion. She’s visiting relatives in New Orleans."

Her gaze followed him out the door, her mouth agape. Three years? That was an eternity. She’d never leave home to enter a convent. How dare that man send her away—that stranger who called himself her husband? She pounded the table with two tight fists, rattling the crystal salt well beside her plate. While she nibbled a biscuit and sipped tea, she devised an escape plan.

No one stirred downstairs when she left the table, peered into the hall, and fled out the back door onto the wide gallery, down the stairs, and past the kitchen. Not stopping to catch her breath, she ran through the kitchen and herb garden, down the dirt lane to the quarter.

A few gray heads poked from the doors of the neat cottages, murmuring as she passed. Small children called her name and tugged on her skirt. A speckled hen clucked along the path, pecking for worms, and a black and brown dog followed her, wagging his tail. Wood smoke curled out of the chimneys.

Susannah paused in front of one of the cabins and called into the open door. Molly, are you there? Molly, help me.

A bent, old woman crept out. Miss Susannah, what you doing down here without your bonnet or gloves? I hear you done gone and married a fancy gentleman. Ain’t right for you to be here. Now go along before Aunt Sally finds you.

Miss Lottie, I can’t go. My husband wants to send me to a convent. Please, where I can find Molly?

The old woman shook her head. I don’t want to get in trouble, but I last saw Molly by the smokehouse.

Thank you, Miss Lottie. Susannah hurried down the path, past the overseer’s house, beyond the barn until she reached the small wooden building. A tall, slender girl emerged, her head tied in a kerchief, sleeves pushed above her elbows, and a white apron tied over her gingham dress. Her face lit into a smile, then turned into a frown.

Gracious, Susannah, what are you doing here? Didn’t you get married last night? Aunt Sally said your husband’s taking you to New Orleans.

He’s dreadful, Molly. He’s placing me in a convent until I’m eighteen. You’ve got to help me hide in the woods. Take me to the place where the runaway slaves go. Please, I’d rather run away than go to the convent. I’ll live in the woods and you can bring me food. Aunt Sally said there’s a hut.

Girl, you’re talking crazy. Besides, I don’t know about a secret hiding place. Molly winked and took Susannah’s arm. How do you like being a married lady? Aunt Sally said Monsieur Pierre is a mighty, fine-looking gentleman. Let’s go down by the spring house and you can tell me all about him.

Susannah pulled away from her. Nothing happened, Molly. Anyway, I told you he’s horrid. Please, you’ve got to help me.

Molly glanced over Susannah’s shoulder and shook her head. Looks like you’re in trouble now.

Before Molly could explain, Susannah turned to see Aunt Sally approaching, her finger wagged; her frown did not bode well.

Child, I don’t know what I’m a going to do with you. The carriage is ready to go, your trunk put in it, and Monsieur Pierre madder than a bull ’cause you ain’t ready. And look at you, out in the sun without your gloves or bonnet. If you weren’t a married lady, I’d give you a paddling. She grabbed Susannah by the arm and marched back to the house.

Pierre paced in front of the carriage, tapping his walking stick on the side. When Susannah emerged from the front door, properly attired in bonnet and gloves, he scowled, his brows furrowed.

If you recall, madam, I told you to be ready to depart at ten-thirty. He pulled out his watch. It’s five minutes until eleven. Get into the carriage at once, or we’ll be late.

Susannah tossed her head back, stomped her foot and placed her hands on her waist. Monsieur, I’m staying here. Nothing can make me go.

Pierre stopped tapping the stick, his eyes turned stormy black, and his jaw clenched. He didn’t raise his voice, but spoke in a low and even tone. Get into the carriage immediately or else I shall have to deal with you in a manner we’ll both regret.

Susannah shivered at the force of his command and hastened inside the coach, not wanting to discover the punishment to which he alluded.

She nursed her injured pride in a corner of the carriage and ignored her husband as they bounced over the rutted road at breakneck speed. When she touched her cheeks they were wet. With every jolt she hiccupped.

An extended hand materialized in front of her face, offering a handkerchief. Wipe your tears and calm yourself, little one. He watched while she dabbed her eyes.

"Many unwanted changes have taken place in your life during the past few days. Your parents died suddenly from the fever, you were unaware of your father’s wishes, and now you’re off to the convent.

You have my deepest sympathy, but understand I married you because I greatly loved and respected your father. True, he didn’t mention sending you to the convent, but I’m sure he would agree with my plan. You’re too young to assume the responsibilities of managing a large plantation, but the nuns will teach you the skills.

Susannah turned away from him, refusing to respond.

Ma petite, A gentle hand on her chin brought her face to his. As your guardian, I’m doing what is best for you. Believe me and trust my actions.

She pushed his hand away and returned his stare. I heard you. I hope the boat capsizes and we all drown. I’ll be in Heaven with my darling parents and won’t have to go to the convent. And I’ll be safe from you, because I’m sure you’ll be in hades.

He chuckled. To be sure, my dear, I shall, since I’ve lived no life of a saint.

They spent the rest of the journey in silence. A short time later, the carriage rumbled into Natchez and down the steep road to the dock. Susannah peered out and gasped when she saw Captain Shreve’s steamboat.

Unlike any boat she’d seen, the smoke-belching monster rose high above the water on its flat base. Twin smokestacks decorated with ornamental crowns towered over the double-deck boat. Giant wheels on either side dipped into the murky river. An air of excitement prevailed as men shouted and heaved bales of cotton from wagons up the gangplank onto the lower deck.

Esther Wailes, escorted by her brother in an open gig, waved when they approached. The minute Susannah emerged from the carriage, Esther waddled to her side.

Look straight ahead at the river, Susannah, for this is a place of evil, not fit for ladies of our standing. Women of the worst reputation live here and it wouldn’t do for you to view those fallen people. Indeed, this sinful place is a blight on our city.

Susannah had never been to this disreputable section of Natchez that lay at the foot of the high bluffs, but she’d heard whispered conversations about the inhabitants, making her exceedingly curious to see them.

So what if it did upset Esther, she was going to look around. Susannah stopped, and slowly turned a full circle taking in as many of the sights as she could.

Pigs rutted about the mud and poked at the garbage-littered road. Skinny dogs barked and nipped at one another. Laughter, shouts, and the ping of a banjo floated from the doors and open windows of the saloons and good-time houses. The place was rowdy, but she didn’t see anything especially evil.

Rough flatboat men, frontiersmen, Indians, and half-breeds dressed in blankets, cloth breeches, caps, and homespun shirts fought and jousted one another as they milled around the low, unpainted buildings.

Some of the men carried rifles, while others slung pistols or long knives from the waistbands of their ragged trousers. The fetid odor of raw sewage mingled with that of rotten vegetables, whiskey, and sweat.

In one of the buildings, a woman clad in a chemise leaned out the window on her elbows. Her hair hung in dull blond rivulets around her plump shoulders and her cheeks and lips glowed crimson with rouge. Susannah paused and stared. She’d never seen such a painted and scantily clad female. The woman responded to her stare with a crooked smile, exposing a gap in her front teeth.

Finished with her visual tour, Susannah glanced at Pierre, expecting a harsh frown. Instead, he winked.

Esther grabbed her by the elbow and marched up the gangplank, followed by Pierre. Susannah, I’m shocked at your behavior. I think we should go to our cabin until the boat leaves the dock. I’m sure your husband will agree. Esther tucked her parasol under her arm and glared at Pierre.

Er, quite so Miss Wailes, I’ll ask this gentleman to show you to your cabin. He touched his hat in Esther’s direction. "By the way, Miss Wailes, due to the design of the Washington, the cabins are not as spacious as you might expect, but I hope you’ll be comfortable."

Esther lifted her skirt in preparation to mount the stairs. Monsieur Lefevre, she said, as long as I have a bed, I shall be satisfied. She turned pink as the rose on her bonnet.

As they climbed the stairs to the second deck, a blast of heat from the firebox beneath engulfed them. A large man, dripping sweat, heaved wood into the furnace. The wood crashed into the blazing inferno, crackling and sending sparks into the air.

Feels like the breath of the devil coming from below, Esther huffed as she paused to fan herself.

They walked along the narrow deck and entered the boat at the stern. This is the sitting room for the ladies and where you’ll take your meals, said the crewman as they continued through a small area crammed with several chairs and a narrow table. The gentlemen use a room at the bow of the boat.

From the sitting room, they passed into a narrow aisle partitioned by curtains into tiny cubicles. After he indicated their allocated space, the man took their extra baggage and pointed to an area near the sitting room where it would be stored. Two cots, scarcely two feet wide, backed up against the wall head to head. Beneath one of the beds, Susannah noticed a chamber pot. Above the other bed, a porthole let in a glimpse of light.

Esther dropped her valise on the floor beside one of the bunks, removed her bonnet and gloves, and collapsed on the bed furthest from the porthole. The wooden frame groaned under her weight and her corpulent body hung over the sides.

Goodness, I feel faint from heat and the excitement of going on a voyage. Your husband wasn’t exaggerating when he warned us about the size of our cabin. Esther shifted her body and propped herself on her elbows, studying the minuscule space that would be their home for the next few days.

Traveling on this modern ship makes me uneasy since I’ve heard so many tales of misfortune. Sister Augusta said they’re prone to explosions and fire.

Susannah peered out the porthole. I hope it does explode, then I won’t have to go to the convent.

Esther gasped and bolted upright. What a dreadful thing to say! You should consider yourself fortunate, Susannah. Your husband is not only handsome, but an honorable gentleman with a considerable fortune. Many a young lady would like to be in your position, she said.

Susannah glanced at her companion; beads of perspiration dotted Esther’s forehead and upper lip; her plump hands kneaded a crumpled handkerchief. Thick brows met in an unkempt row above her nose. Despite Esther’s pious demeanor, Susannah detected a trace of jealousy in her tone.

Suddenly the ship jerked. They both jumped as the boat’s machinery clanked and groaned like a hissing monster stirred to life. Susannah bolted to her knees and peered out the porthole, the view partially obscured by a belch of steam and a cloud of black smoke.

Sparks filled the air and the crackling roar of the furnace forced the paddle wheels into motion. The boat pulled away from the muddy banks of Natchez, leaving behind churning froth and a trailing banner of steam.

She sank back onto the cot and decided that spending the next few days with Esther in the cramped space would be as miserable as staying in the convent.

Esther eased herself from the cot and knelt on the floor, her eyes squeezed shut, her fingers plied her rosary beads, and her lips moved rapidly as she mouthed the Hail Mary. Her booted feet poked from beneath the partition into the aisle.

Susannah secured her bonnet under her chin and slipped from the cubicle to the passageway and out the door from the ladies sitting room. A rush of cool air greeted her as she walked to the railing in time to see Natchez disappear around the bend.

I trust your accommodations are suitable, my dear.

Startled by his voice, Susannah turned and saw Pierre, a faint smile on his lips. It’s lovely if you’re a rat who enjoys sleeping in a pantry. She turned her gaze toward a keelboat that followed a few hundred feet away.

He ignored her comment and brushed a line of soot from his sleeve. Would you care to accompany me on a walk around the deck?

She wanted to go, but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d placated her anger. No, I’d rather be alone. Head held high, she turned away from him and pretended to straighten the bow on her bonnet.

Then, madam, I shall call for you and Miss Wailes later this evening for a stroll after supper. He clicked his heels and walked away.

Susannah watched Pierre’s retreating figure. His hint of a French accent infuriated her. The way he held his head and tapped his cane, even his dimpled smile, incensed her. She remembered the quiet authority with which he’d listened to her argument at the breakfast table, then dismissed it as though it were folly. She recalled his implacable arrogance when he’d ordered her into the carriage, treating her as though she were a child. Curse the man! Esther could have him.

*     *     *

CHAPTER 2

O N THE SECOND day of the trip, the Hamilton family boarded when the Washington docked in St. Francisville. Later in the day, Susannah and Esther joined the women in the ladies’ sitting room.

Emma, the oldest Hamilton daughter, a pale beauty of seventeen, pushed a blonde curl from her face and smiled wickedly when she saw Pierre and Captain Shreve stride past them on the deck.

She clapped her hands in delight. What good fortune, Monsieur Pierre Lefevre is on board! He’s such a handsome man and still a bachelor. Then she lowered her voice. I’ve heard he keeps company with a mulatto beauty in New Orleans, but that doesn’t discourage me, for Monsieur Lefevre could never wed her. Wait ’til he discovers my charms, then he’ll forget about his mistress. She leaned back in her chair as smug as a cat with feathers glued to his mouth.

Mrs. Hamilton patted her hand. Emma dear, now isn’t the time to discuss your interest in Monsieur Lefevre. Perhaps we could invite him to Pecan Grove for the Christmas holidays. I’ll confess I also find him a comely gentleman, but it isn’t lady-like to spread rumors. I’ll speak to your Papa tonight about issuing an invitation. Rachel, Emma’s younger sister, giggled.

Susannah blanched and bent over a book. Esther dabbed her forehead with a crumpled handkerchief. Oh goodness, she murmured, then balled her handkerchief into her hand and cleared her throat.

Miss Hamilton, last night Susannah and Monsieur Lefevre were wed by Father LeBlanc at Greenwood Hall. My dear brother, sister-in-law, and I attended the ceremony.

The four Hamilton girls gasped. Emma’s eyes widened and she blinked. Mrs. Hamilton’s mouth fell open as she fumbled with her lace handkerchief and looked questioningly at Esther.

Married? Whatever do you mean, Esther? Susannah’s a mere child. Marriage? That can’t be possible. Susannah’s the same age as Rachel. We never heard a word about the betrothal.

Emma regained her composure faster than her mother and looked knowingly at Susannah. Dearest Susannah, we didn’t hear the news. Please forgive me for repeating an ugly rumor. You are truly the luckiest girl along the Mississippi, she said with a hint of rancor.

Monsieur Lefevre is known for his charm, good looks, and wealth all the way from New Orleans to Paris. Do tell us why the hurry, for we would have loved to help you celebrate your marriage. Emma put her needlework down and leaned forward in the chair.

Susannah closed her book and glanced imploringly at Esther, who’d returned to mopping her brow. Esther’s pudgy hands fumbled at her neck for a cross she fingered as she spoke. You were probably unaware that Susannah’s beloved parents succumbed to the congestive chills and died this past week.

Another collective gasp escaped their lips and a look of shock touched the faces of the Hamilton women. Hands reached out to comfort Susannah as murmurs of condolence spilled from their lips. Several minutes later, apparently reassured that their dutiful respects had been paid, the ladies turned to Esther, their eyes bright with curiosity.

"Not many people knew Susannah’s late father, Louis, considered Monsieur Lefevre a younger brother. Louis’s parents died when he was a lad and he was sent to New Orleans to live with a distant relative, a maiden lady. She lived next door to the Lefevre family. Soon their home became like a home to Louis, for there were five boys. Pierre, the youngest, looked up to Louis, who was fifteen years his senior.

Unfortunately, four of the boys contracted the ague and died, leaving Pierre to carry on the family name. When Pierre became of age, he sailed to Paris to complete his education. Louis returned to Natchez and wed Catherine. Several years later, when Pierre returned as a young man, he visited Louis and Catherine. At that time, he agreed to be Susannah’s guardian should anything befall them.

Esther took a deep breath and waited for a servant to replenish her cup of tea before she continued. When the sorrowful day dawned that Louis and Catherine went to meet their Maker, by happenstance Monsieur Lefevre had recently returned from Paris and arrived in Natchez on business. He rushed to Greenwood Hall, and after he’d discussed Louis’s will with Father LeBlanc and my brother Edward, he agreed to marry Susannah and assume management of the plantation. Chairs creaked, skirts rustled, and stifled gasps were all that could be heard as the women assimilated the shocking news. Susannah knew the revelation of her marriage would sustain gossip well until spring.

Emma gaped at the heap of sewing on her lap. Susannah stared at the pages in her book and wanted to jump off the boat and drown.

After that dreadful encounter, Susannah spent most of the time in the cabin reading or sketching scenes from along the riverbanks. They passed grand plantations, wooded banks, barges, flatboats, and keelboats as the Washington steamed closer to New Orleans. Several times during the trip, the ship stopped to load firewood and bales of cotton onto the crowded lower deck.

The novelty of the strange two-storied, flat steam boat attracted attention whenever they passed a village. Barefoot children ran along the riverbanks and waved and shouted. Dogs barked at the noisy monster, and adults pointed and gawked as the giant paddle wheels churned the ocher water and the tall chimneys belched clouds of sooty smoke.

Every evening, Susannah and Esther joined Pierre after supper. The three strolled