“I’ll be damned if I do.”
“Max needs your help,” she persisted impatiently. “Oh, be of use for once, Alexandre!”
Irénée took up the fight, helping Lysette to urge Alexandre toward the door. “Yes, you must accompany Max, mon fils.“
“I am tired,” he said with a scowl.
“Think of Justin!” Irénée commanded, pulling at his other arm. “He may be in trouble this very moment. He may be suffering!”
“If there is any justice he is,” Alex muttered, shaking off their hands as he hurried after his older brother.
They closed the door immediately, half afraid he would try to come back in.
“That Justin,” Irénée said sorrowfully, “will no doubt be the death of me.” She glanced at Philippe. “Why can’t he be more like you?”
Suddenly Philippe exploded. “Why does everyone have to ask that? I am not the good one. Justin is not the bad one.”
Irénée sighed, her face creased with exhaustion. “I am too exhausted to discuss this now. Noeline, help me upstairs.”
All were silent as the two women left and headed to the curving staircase. Philippe buried his face in his hands, digging his knuckles into his eyes. Filled with sympathy, Lysette sat beside him.
“Justin is different from me,” Philippe said in a muffled voice. “Things are too slow and dull for him here. He has always wanted to run away. Most of the time he feels as if he’s living in a cage.”
“Is it because of what happened to your mother?” Lysette asked. “Because people think that Max killed her?”
“Yes, partly,” Philippe admitted with a heavy sigh. “It’s not easy being a Vallerand. Justin and I know what people think of us. We’ve heard what they say about our mother— that she was mad, or a slut, or both. And everyone in New Orleans believes that her blood is on Father’s hands.”
“I don’t believe it,” Lysette said firmly. “And neither should you.”
“Most of the time I don’t.” His haunted gaze met hers. “But Justin does, and that makes things very hard for him.”
———
Max and Alexandre were gone all night, returning early the next afternoon without Justin. Max was more agitated than Lysette had ever seen him. His thoughts seemed to race faster than conversation would allow.
“No sign of him,” he said hoarsely, downing half a cup of coffee in one swallow. “We found a boatman who claimed to have seen a boy matching Justin’s description on the waterfront. God knows if he was lying. Justin might have signed on with a crew, but I don’t think he would be so damned foolish.”
“I’m going to bed,” Alex mumbled, his face pasty and eyes bloodshot.
Lysette came to stand behind her husband, her hands drifting soothingly over his taut shoulders. “Max, you need to rest also.”
He motioned for Noeline to pour more coffee. “I am leaving again in a few minutes. Bernard will go with me. I’m going to ask Jacques Clement and one or two others to help in the search.”
Lysette wished that she knew how to comfort him. “I don’t think Justin has run away,” she said, sitting beside him. “I think this is another bid for attention. He is staying away deliberately, waiting until he is certain of an uproar before he returns.”
Max held the coffee cup in fingers that trembled slightly. “When I get hold of him, he’ll have more attention than he ever bargained for.”
She took his free hand in both of hers, clasping it tightly. “I know that you’re angry with him, but I think that you are mostly afraid for him. Perhaps you should let Justin know that, when you find him.”
Max rested his elbows on the table and massaged his temples. “Justin is too hardheaded to listen to anything I say.”
“I believe,” she said wryly, “that he has made the same remark about you on occasion.”
Max smiled faintly. “Sometimes I see myself in him,” he admitted. “But at his age I was not half so stubborn.”
“I’ll ask Irénée about that,” Lysette said, gently teasing. “I suspect she might not agree.”
Max brought her hand to his bristled face and pressed his lips against the back of it. “If I don’t find him, Lysette…”
“You will.”
———
The search continued for another day and night. Max enjoined most of the workers on his own trade vessels to find out what they could. A few boatmen admitted that Justin, or a boy remarkably like him, had been in their company. After a few hours of drinking and gaming, they said, he had left with a waterfront prostitute and had not been seen again. “How splendid,” Bernard had commented upon hearing this bit of information. “Now it seems we must worry about him developing a case of the clap.”
“If only that were the worst to fear,” Max had replied grimly.
After questioning dozens of men and combing through every keelboat, kentucky flat, barge, and raft in sight, the searchers were forced to temporarily disband with the agreement that they would resume the next morning. For two days and nights Max had barely paused to rest his feet, and the strain was telling. Looking very much like the unkempt, unshaven boatmen he had associated with for the past forty-eight hours, he made his way into the house with overcautious movements, blinking hard to stay awake.
It was past three in the morning, but Lysette was waiting for him. It tore at her heart to see him so careworn and defeated. She tried to guide him upstairs, but Max refused to go to his bedroom, afraid that he might sleep too soundly. He had time for only a few hours of rest. Together Lysette and Philippe helped him to the parlor and removed his boots. He unfolded his long frame onto a settee, dropped his head in Lysette’s lap, and closed his eyes. Philippe left them, anxiously glancing back over his shoulder.
“He’s gone,” Max mumbled, turning his face against the soft line of Lysette’s thigh. “As if he’s vanished from the face of the earth.”
Lysette stroked his forehead gently. “Sleep now. It’s not long until daybreak.”
“I keep remembering when Justin was a baby. Sometimes I held him when he slept. I wanted to keep him safe and happy for the rest of his life. But I can’t keep him safe from anything.”
“Rest now. You’ll find him tomorrow, bien-aimé.”
As Max fell asleep, Lysette watched him for a long time. She was surprised to realize how much she had come to care for Justin and Philippe in such a short time. She shared Max’s concern for the twins, and she wanted desperately to help them find peace. How unfair life could be, laying such burdens on the shoulders of the innocent, and letting them suffer the consequences of others’ mistakes.
Curling up beside Max, Lysette dozed lightly. The sky outside changed, darkness lightening to lavender-gray. Watching the dawn arrive, Lysette rubbed her eyes, careful not to disturb her sleeping husband.
Alertness came in a flash as she heard a scraping sound in the entrance hall. It was the front door opening. Stealthily the intruder crept into the house and paused at the parlor doorway.
It was Justin, dirty and disheveled, but looking a good deal better than Max. Silently he looked at Lysette and his father’s long, sprawling form on the settee. Lysette thought of motioning him upstairs and allowing Max to sleep, but Max would want to know about his son’s return right away. He would be furious if he did not have the opportunity to confront Justin the moment he entered the house.
“Come in,” Lysette said quietly.
At the sound of her voice, Max stirred, and she bent over his dark head. “Wake up,” she whispered. “It is over now, bien-aimé. He is home.”
Blindly Max twisted and sat up, shaking his head to clear away the mist of sleep. “Justin? Where have you been?”
“With friends.”
“Are you all right?” Lysette asked. “You have not been hurt?”
“Or course I am all right. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Lysette winced, knowing that even a touch of humility or repentance on the boy’s part would have kept Max from going off the
edge. As it was, Max turned white with frustration.
“The next time you decide to leave,” he said through clenched teeth, “without letting anyone know where you’re going or when you plan to return, don’t come back.”
“I don’t have to live under your roof!” Justin exploded. “I don’t have to depend on you for anything! You want me to go? Then I will, and I’ll never look back!” He spun around and darted out the way he had come.
“Justin, no!” Lysette scrambled up from the sofa. Max did not move. She stared at him with wide eyes. “Aren’t you going to go after him?”
Clearly he was too furious to think clearly. “Let him leave.”
Lysette scowled at him. “Between the two of you I don’t know who is more stubborn!” She hurried after Justin, while Max swore violently.
Lysette winced as she stubbed her toe on the front steps. “Ouch!” Painstakingly, she hopped to the ground. “Justin, stop this very second! Stop!”
Surprisingly, he did. He stood with his back facing her, his hands clenched at his sides. Lysette hobbled partway along the drive. “Max has been desperate to find you,” she said. “He’s had people out looking for you. He hasn’t eaten. He hasn’t slept, aside from three or four hours on the settee last night.”
“If you’re trying to make me say I’m sorry, I won’t!”
“I am trying to make you understand how worried he has been. He was terrified that something had happened to you.”
Justin snorted sardonically. “He didn’t look so terrified to me.”
“You’re not fair to him.”
“He’s not fair to me! He has to have everyone and everything under his control.”
Lysette closed her eyes and breathed a quick prayer for patience. “Justin,” she said, keeping her voice even, “please turn around. I cannot talk to your back.”
The boy swiveled to face her, his blue eyes radiant with anger.
But Lysette did not retreat. “You don’t realize how much he loves you.”
“He’s not capable of loving anyone,” Justin said roughly. “Not even you.”
Even though Lysette knew that Justin didn’t mean it, the words shocked her. “That’s not true!”
“And you’re a fool for believing in someone who murdered his wife.” The boy stared at the ground, his entire body trembling.
“Justin,” she said softly. “You know in your heart that your father never could have done it.”
“I don’t know that.” Justin inhaled deeply, his gaze still fixed on the ground. “He could have. Anyone could be driven to murder.”
“No, Justin.” Cautiously she approached him. “Come inside with me.” She took hold of his wrist.
Justin wrenched his arm away. “He doesn’t want me to.”
“I suppose that is why he has exhausted himself searching for you.” She refrained from touching him again. “Justin, did you stay away because you knew it would upset him?”
“No… it was… I had to get away.”
“From what?”
“From everything. I can’t do what they want. They want me to be a good boy like Philippe, and not ask questions that make them uncomfortable, and not remind them of my mother.” Justin’s eyes glistened, and he clenched his fists, struggling to master the traitorous tears. “But I am like her. I know I am.”
Lysette had to repress the urge to put her arms around him and comfort him as she would an unhappy child. She did not argue with him, knowing that he was too tired and emotional to think clearly. “Come with me,” she murmured. “Your family has worried enough. And you need to rest.” She turned back to the house, holding her breath until she heard his slow footsteps behind her.
———
Fearing what he might say to Justin before his anger cooled, Max avoided him for the next day. Gently Lysette pressed him to have a talk with the boy, and he agreed reluctantly that he would, immediately after his meeting with Colonel Burr.
It was nearly midnight when Max welcomed Burr into his library, knowing that Burr was expecting to win yet another wealthy patron to his side. Daniel Clark, a New Orleans merchant with a large fleet of commercial ships and warehouses, had reportedly given Burr at least twenty-five thousand dollars in cash, and several others had matched that sum. Max did not intend to contribute a penny, but he was interested to hear what the ambitious colonel had to say.
Burr had charmed almost everyone in New Orleans— even the Ursuline nuns. He had been received everywhere with elaborate hospitality. The Catholic authorities and the Mexican Association, which had long agitated for the conquest of Mexico, had granted him their support. It was generally thought that Burr was planning an attack on the Spaniards, and that he had gained the secret support of Jefferson’s government. However, Max had heard enough confidential information from varying sources to know better. Burr was certainly not in league with Jefferson; he was forming a conspiracy for his own gain.
With deliberate bluntness, he asked Burr why he desired this private, highly confidential meeting, when Burr had nearly every man of importance in his pocket. “After all,” Max pointed out, “one more or less won’t make a difference to your plans— whatever they may be.”
“You are known as a most enterprising man, Monsieur Vallerand. I would value your political support. And frankly, you are so wealthy that I could not afford to overlook you.”
Max smiled, actually liking the man’s bluntness. “Perhaps you haven’t taken my rather blemished reputation into account, Colonel. That could be a great liabililty to any politician who chooses to associate with me.”
Burr shrugged negligently. “I’ve heard the rumors about you, but I do not believe they would interfere with my plans.”
“Which are?” The two words seemed to charge the air with tension. For a moment there was silence.
“I think,” Burr finally said, “that you already have an idea about that.”
“Not really,” Max lied smoothly.
Refusing a drink, Burr sat in a deep leather chair and pursued a seemingly idle line of conversation. Looking handsome and mysterious, sitting outside the direct pool of light cast by a lamp, he lazily plied Max with questions about New Orleans, his family, his politics.
Max understood Burr’s dilemma perfectly. Burr had to risk revealing enough information to gain Max’s support, but not give away enough to endanger his plans. The former vice president explained that he intended to use New Orleans as a base from which to conquer Mexico and wrest the Floridas away from the Spanish— if, of course, war happened to break out between the United States and Spain.
After Burr had finished talking, Max smiled with maddening indifference. “And this will be done for whose benefit?”
As Max had expected, Burr refrained from confessing that he planned to be the sole ruler over his new empire. “Let us say that the entire Louisiana Territory will profit.”
“And your fortunes will improve as well, n’est-cepas?”
“So will yours,” Burr replied, “if I can count you among our group.”
Max let the moment draw out to its fullest before replying. “I find it impossible to pledge support to a cause with such nebulous outlines. Unless you can provide more details…”
Burr frowned, clearly surprised at Max’s lack of enthusiasm. “I have provided all the information I can for now. In my view, you have little reason not to join me.”
Max spread his hands slightly, palms up. “I have certain loyalties, Colonel.”
“Loyalties to Claiborne?”
“To the United States as well.”
“I’m afraid, Vallerand, that I don’t understand your allegiance to a country that has refused to grant your people citizenship. You should consider the interests of the territory— and those of your family— more carefully. It is clear that your loyalties are misplaced.”
“That may be proven in time. However, for now I will keep to the course I’ve already chosen. I have enjoyed our talk, Colonel, but I think it is time
for you to leave.”
Burr replied with barely controlled fury. “There will come a day when you will regret aligning yourself with my opponents, Vallerand.”
After Burr left, Max released a slow sigh. He reflected that it was possible Burr would accomplish all he planned, and New Orleans would someday be part of a new empire separate from the United States. If Max had chosen unwisely, he could lose a large portion of his wealth and property. Burr was known to be a vindictive opponent.
“He’s not very convincing, in my opinion. He doesn’t give a damn about the territory or his so-called friends. He wants power for himself.”
Hearing Lysette’s voice, Max turned with a questioning look. She stood a few feet away, wearing a lacy white pelisse that was buttoned from the neck to the floor.
“You listened,” he said wryly.
She didn’t bother to deny it. “Voices carry very easily from this room, even with the door closed. If you desire privacy, you should try the other parlor.”
Max laughed shortly. “I’ll remember that.”
Lysette frowned. “Is it possible that the colonel will succeed? Could he actually create his own empire, and make New Orleans part of it?”
“I may be underestimating him,” Max admitted. “I don’t think anyone could have anticipated his popularity, after his journey through the West. Recently Burr was heard to say that he expects that a king will someday sit on the throne of the United States. No doubt he’s already had his head measured for a crown.”
“A king? Doesn’t he believe in democracy, then?”
“No, petite.”
“Do you, Max?” she asked, knowing that many Creoles had grave doubts about the American system of government.
Max grinned and reached for her, swinging her slight body up into his arms. “Everywhere but at home.”
She persisted in questioning him as he carried her upstairs. “Do you think you may come to regret not siding with Monsieur Burr?”
“I suppose I might, if he succeeds in taking over Louisiana.”
Lysette wondered why Max didn’t seem more concerned. “If he does, you could stand to lose a great deal, couldn’t you?”