The Countess Misbehaves

The world intruded.

Loud shouts from out on deck brought the lovers abruptly back to reality. Heads snapped around, listening intently, Armand and Madeleine learned that the sudden flurry of excitement was over a coastal steamer that had been spotted making its way toward the crippled ship.

The sea, they now realized with some surprise, had calmed dramatically in the last few minutes of their lovemaking. They were not going to die after all.

Armand gave Madeleine a quick kiss, levered himself up and drew her to her feet. In haste they dressed and hurried out on deck, hearts pumping with adrenaline.

The steamer had reached the sinking ship, but it was a small vessel. Passengers were already clamoring over the Starlight’s railing and crowding onto the steamer’s deck, endangering the vessel that offered safety.

“No more!” shouted the worried steamer captain, “we can’t take any more passengers. We’ll swamp if we do! Water’s already to the gunnels! Get back, get back!”

A cry of protest rose from the pushing, shoving mob of men. Determined to get Madeleine on the steamer and save her life, Armand swept her up into his arms and forced his way through the crowd.

“Wait!” he shouted to the captain of the City of Mobile, handing Madeleine down onto its decks, “You must take her! She’s the last woman on board. Show a little mercy, Captain!”

“Very well,” the frowning captain reluctantly agreed, “but she’s the last one I’ll take.” He drew a pistol from his waistband and shouted, “I’ll shoot the next man who tries to board this vessel!”

Amidst curses and threats from those left behind, the dangerously overloaded steamboat backed away from the sinking ocean liner. Jostled and pushed about, Lady Madeleine stood on the crowded deck and looked back at the sinking ship.

Her tear-filled eyes clung to Armand de Chevalier as he gallantly smiled, waved and threw her a kiss. The lump in her throat grew bigger as she kissed her fingertips and threw the kiss back. And when he hastily unbuttoned his soiled white shirt and whipped it off his left shoulder to reveal her blue satin garter encircling his hard brown biceps, she laughed and sobbed at the same time.

“Armand,” she said without sound, realizing that her lover was going to die. She would never see him again.

After many long, nightmarish hours spent on the badly over-crowded City of Mobile as it steamed through the Gulf and made its slow way upriver, Lady Madeleine at long last arrived in New Orleans.

It was sunset.

Wan and exhausted from the ordeal, Madeleine stood at the riverboat’s lacy railing wondering if her Uncle Colfax and Lord Enfield would be at the landing to meet her. She wondered if they had heard of the hurricane in the Gulf and the sinking of the S. S. Starlight. Would they think she had perished? Gone down with the ship? They would have no way of knowing that she had been spared.

Madeleine sighed as she shaded her eyes from the dying summer sun. She couldn’t expect them to meet every river steamer making port in hopes she would be on it. It didn’t matter. As soon as she reached the levee, she’d hire a carriage to drive her straight to her Uncle Colfax’s French Quarter mansion.

Her eyes lighted in anticipation of seeing her adored uncle. It would be so pleasant to have a little time alone with him before she had to face her fiancé, Lord Enfield. The prospect of looking the lord in the eye and pretending that she was still the high-moraled lady he thought her to be, filled Madeleine with dread and apprehension. She was eager to see him, of course, but now that reality had sunk in, she was so riddled with guilt she wasn’t sure she could conceal her anxiety.

Dear, kind, unsuspecting Desmond. If he knew what she had done, his heart would break and he would surely hate her for all eternity.

The Louisiana sun finally sank beneath the horizon as the slow-moving riverboat approached the levee. In the lingering orange afterglow Madeleine spotted, standing side-by-side on the bustling levee, her Uncle Colfax Sumner and Desmond Chilton.

Torn by conflicting emotions, she raised a hand and waved madly.

“My sweet little Madeleine!” exclaimed her beaming uncle after the riverboat captain had personally escorted her down the gangway and into the outstretched arms of the spry, sixty-seven-year-old Colfax Sumner. “We heard about the terrible storm,” he said, embracing Madeleine, but addressing the captain. “The S. S. Starlight, did she make it?”

Madeleine’s heart hurt when the captain replied, “Afraid not, sir. The last we saw of her, she was swiftly going down. Those left on board most surely perished.”

“Such a tragedy,” said Colfax, then hugged his precious niece so tightly he almost crushed her ribs, unaware of his own strength. Against her ear, he said, “I never gave up hope. Thank the Almighty you’re safe!”

He released her and Madeleine stiffened slightly when the tall, blondly handsome Lord Enfield immediately took her in his arms. He hugged her, but made no attempt to kiss her and for that she was grateful. He was a well-mannered, blue-blooded nobleman who thought it common and vulgar to demonstrate affection in public. Thank heaven. She was not yet ready to kiss him. She needed a few days, or at least a few hours, before she kissed anyone again.

Holding her in a much gentler embrace than her spirited uncle, Lord Enfield said softly, “My dear, we were so worried.” He pulled back to look down at her. “Are you unharmed?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, not feeling fine at all. Forcing a smile, she glanced at her uncle and added, “Now that I’m here with the two of you.”

The trio climbed into the waiting carriage and Colfax himself drove them directly to his Royal Street town house. The troubled Madeleine experienced a measure of well-being when the carriage passed through the mansion’s heavy iron gates and rolled through the porte cochere.

She loved this comfortable French Quarter home with its captivating gardens and private courtyard. A charming Creole town house, the structure consisted of a ground floor containing the kitchen and service rooms that opened onto the courtyard. Stairs to the living quarters were mounted outside the galleries in the courtyard. At the far back edge of the property, beyond the courtyard, were a couple of two-story garçonnières, carriage houses that had originally been built for male relatives or guests. Their only occupant was the indomitable black woman, Avalina, who single-handedly tended the Sumner house.

On the second floor of the main house were the entertaining rooms: drawing room, dining room, small ballroom, and Colfax’s book-lined study and spacious bedroom suite. On the third floor were a number of bedrooms, one of which belonged to Madeleine, even though she had stayed in it only two or three times in her life.

As she alighted from the carriage, Madeleine automatically inhaled deeply and sighed with satisfaction. The sweet scent of magnolias and azaleas and honeysuckle and japonica and Cherokee roses made her realize fully that she was back in the seductive semitropics of New Orleans.

That, and the damp, muggy heat that caused her hair to curl around her face and beads of perspiration to stand out on her forehead.

Eagerly climbing the stairs to the second floor gallery that was embellished with fancy iron lace, Madeleine hurried through the tall, fan-lighted double doors and stepped into the spacious entryway. She had taken but a few short steps before Avalina, her signature white tignon on her head, her broad black face radiating pleasure, was there to meet her.

“My stars above, Lady Madeleine, you had us all worried sick,” exclaimed the smiling woman who for the past thirty-one years had demonstrated unquestioned efficiency, style and undying loyalty to the man whose home she so capably ran.

“I know and I’m so sorry,” Madeleine replied, wrapping her arms around the stout woman.

Half embarrassed, as she always was, when the spirited young noblewoman embraced her—a mere servant—Avalina quickly pulled away, nodded to Lord Enfield and said to Colfax Sumner, “Welcoming celebrations and countless questions about her ordeal will have to wait until Lady Madeleine has fully recovered. She looks weak and pallid and she needs rest.”

Nodding, Colfax Sumner quickly agreed with the intuitive Avalina. Lord Enfield similarly demonstrated his caring and kindness, insisting, along with her concerned uncle, that she go directly up to bed and remain there for a least a week. She surely needed that long to recover from all she’d been through.

Madeleine put up no arguments. There was nothing she desired more than to escape the unsettling presence of her devoted fiancé, whom she could hardly face, so plagued was she with guilt.

“You go on now, dearest,” said Lord Enfield. “I’ll come up to say good-night once you’re settled in bed.” He glanced at Colfax Sumner. “That is, with your permission, sir.”

“Permission granted,” said Colfax, smiling.

The lord turned his attention back to Madeleine. “Dear?”

Madeleine inwardly cringed, but managed a smile as she said, “Yes, that would be nice.” She turned and hugged her uncle, then followed Avalina.

Upstairs, Madeleine released a soft sigh of relief and nodded gratefully when Avalina asked if she would like to take a nice, long bath.

Moments later Madeleine sank down into the depths of a tub filled to the brim with hot sudsy water. While Avalina gathered up her soiled clothing and laid out a clean white nightgown, Madeleine laid her head back against the tub’s rim, closed her eyes and began to unwind as she tried to fully relax.

But with her eyes closed she saw again the handsome face that had been just above her own when the Creole had made love to her during the storm. She was heartsick to think that Armand de Chevalier had drowned, but she knew that it was true. She was genuinely saddened by his death and at the same time filled with remorse for what she had done.

Madeleine opened her eyes and reached for a loofah and bar of sweet-scented soap. She began to anxiously lather her body and to scrub vigorously, determined to wash away any lingering traces of Armand de Chevalier.

As she avidly lathered every inch of her flesh with the soap and hot water, Madeleine told herself that this cleansing bath was exactly what she needed to put everything right. She would, she was determined, successfully wash away even the nagging memories of what she and Armand de Chevalier had impetuously done.

But when, fresh and clean from the bath, she lay in the big four-poster awaiting Lord Enfield, Armand de Chevalier was still very much in her thoughts. It was, she realized, going to take more than a hot bath to free her from the clutches of the Creole.

At the gentle knock on the door, Madeleine glanced at Avalina, half tempted to ask her to stay. “Please invite Desmond in,” she said to the housekeeper.

Avalina nodded, opened the door and left as Lord Enfield entered. When he quietly closed the door, Madeleine automatically stiffened. Smiling, he crossed to her, sat down on the edge of the bed facing her and held out his arms.

“Alone at last,” he said and reached for her.