Shocked, Ada stepped back. “I have a dress.”
“Yes, so noted, and worth the rag bin, for sure.” LaJoyce put the dress on the chair. “Perhaps this might help you understand. Your man is heir to one of the wealthiest families in this parish. The Fontaines have been here for nigh on a century, generation after generation. They’re Creoles, you know, meaning they’re French.”
Ada bit her tongue. She knew what a Creole was.
“You may be a northerner and think yourself all righteous, but here, to make acquaintance, you need to follow the rules. Now, the illness has only touched the edges of their lands. Mistress Fontaine is the matriarch there and she will expect her children to behave in good manner. Manners I hope were instilled upon you in your upbringing, because you’ll need it for the test God will rain on you. Now, put the dress on.”
Francois sank in his own tub, letting the heat work into tired bones and muscle, relishing in a novelty he didn’t know was one until now.
“Darlin’, need you to sit up, raise that pretty chin for me.”
He smiled, his eyes shut. “Yes, Clementine, you have my whole attention.”
The girl giggled as she lathered the shaving soap on him and he tightened his jaw as she started to shave the whiskers. He heard the door whisk open, a rustle of skirts and his Clementine was gone. He snorted. “I wondered when you’d get here, you vixen.” He reached for LaJoyce, but she stopped him.
“Tsk, tsk, let us get this gone, I tell you.” She picked up the razor knife and started at his jawline. “Talked to that missy you brought in with you. Thinkin’ of marrying her?”
“Yes,” was all he could get out while she shaved.
“Well, as much as I’d hate to lose a good stud like you, you best prepare her for your family. From what I hear, it wasn’t a pretty sight with Miss Emma when she found out.”
He cringed a bit at that memory. “Always sounds worse than it was. You know that. Say, speakin’ of Miss Emma, what is going on at Bellefountaine?”
“Ne’er you mind. Stick to what you need to do first. Or that pretty little strumpet could take that foot of yours after all, before she turns you in. Yankees still rule the roost here, if you’ll recall.”
Francois blinked hard. LaJoyce was too good at her job of reading clients, mostly men and their desires, or so he thought. But she had Ada figured well. The problem was, how to explain the Fontaine wealth, and his part in it. God help him!
Chapter 42
“There is no enthusiasm in the army for Gen. Grant, and, on the other hand, there is no prejudice against him. We are prepared to throw up our hats for him when he shows himself the great soldier here in Virginia against Lee and the best troops of the rebels.”
—Col. Seldon Conner, 19th Maine
Francois stopped the horses at the gates to his family’s home, letting the blood that raced through his veins come to a calm. He was home. After the mad dash to get away from here last November, he’d returned. But was he ready to?
“Francois?”
He grinned a lazy, lopsided smile as he turned to face his fiancé. “We are at Bellefountaine, my lady. Home to the Fontaines for the last century. A group of Frenchmen who’d wandered to this land under the French regime, got rich under the Spanish and maintained their wealth under the Americans. Welcome to the family.” He bowed his head.
“You don’t make it sound so good with that tone.”
He inhaled. She was right. “My dear, we are slave-owners, the very type of you people you scorn. Fever or not, the darkies are here. Now, keep in mind, my brother, Jacque, is a Union officer, and was stationed here for control of the state of Louisiana, since the loss of New Orleans to the Yanks. My sister, who is a bit like me, and ran away years ago, returned from her adventures towing a Union officer husband back with her. A general, if I recall correctly.” He turned to face her. “Both sides are here and learning to live together, as best as any divided family can. Please, do us all a favor and keep your abolitionist views quiet. While I love you, they may not, regardless of their views. Agreed?”
Her gaze was tense and her jawline steeled but she did nod. The last thing he needed was her ranting about the number of blacks here. Though, then again, they may not have that many, considering…
He reached across and took her gloved hand to squeeze. “You know, I’m honored you’ll marry me.”
“You saved me from a life, worrying over someone who is not worthy of that, so I thank you.”
It wasn’t the answer he’d hoped for, but it was an answer. And he knew she yearned for him like he did her, all signs their lovemaking demonstrated that. Love would come, that he kept telling himself. With a grin, he nudged his horse forward.
“Bertrand! Bertrand!” he yelled when they reached the front of the house. He scanned the building he grew up in and saw wear and tear in places he didn’t remember, like the front doors had the paint peeling away, the stairs up to them were worn and bare in areas like he’d never seen. One of the window sashes sagged and the shutter to the far left first floor window was missing a lattice. Puzzled, he dismounted, forgetting about his foot until the last second and caught himself. Where the hell was Bertrand?
The front door swung open and the head house slave ambled out at a pace that equaled Francois’s gait.
“Massa Francois! Sorry, I didn’t hear you at first,” the old man said, taking the reins for his and Ada’s horses.
Francois saw his doctor tense the moment the butler spoke but, thankfully, she kept mum. He reached for her, steadying himself on the
