Danielle Steel - Legacy (2010)

“She’s not a slave,” he said sternly. “She’s the woman I love.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” Angélique assured him. “Thank God your parents aren’t alive to hear you say a thing like that, about her.” Wachiwi was watching them battle back and forth, not entirely sure what the argument was about, except that she did not feel welcome here. And she could only assume the argument was about her. She didn’t want to cause problems with his family. But Jean stood next to her in a reassuring protective way. It was obvious how angry they all were from the harsh tone of their words. In the short time she had known him, she had never seen Jean act that way or heard him speak as fiercely before. He had always been gentle and kind, with her and everyone else. But he was clearly furious with his cousins, and they were equally so with him.

“We’ll find a place to stay in town,” he said calmly.

“I doubt you will,” Angélique said shrilly, and as she said it, they heard carriage wheels on the driveway in front of the house, and both senior de Margeracs looked panicked. “Get that woman out of my drawing room immediately,” she said tersely, and without another word, Jean took Wachiwi’s arm and led her up the stairs. They had just reached the upper landing when the first of the guests walked in. And as soon as he reached his own room with Wachiwi, he explained to her as simply as he could that they were going back to town.

“They are angry for me,” she said clearly, looking sad for him. Tobias walked into the room then, and Jean asked him politely to pack his things. Wachiwi’s trunks were all over the room, but very little had been unpacked.

“No, I am angry at them.” He didn’t want to hurt her feelings and try to explain it to her. But their reaction had been a revelation to him. Was this what they had to look forward to, if they stayed in New Orleans? He had naïvely expected a warmer reception than this, in a civilized place. And now where were they supposed to go? Where would they live, if they stayed together, which he wanted very much now. But where? In a shack at the edge of Indian territory, like Luc Ferrier, hidden away with his Indian concubine until she died, never to go into the polite world again? Were people so narrow-minded? So mean-spirited? So absurd? And where was he going to take Wachiwi now?

The only relatives he had in America were his cousins in New Orleans. He knew no one else, except travelers and explorers and surveyors and soldiers he had met on the road. And it was one thing to lead a nomadic life alone, it was entirely different doing so with Wachiwi. He had hoped that they could stay there for several months, as he had before, until he figured out their plans. That night his elder cousins had shortened that time considerably.

The Margerac carriage drove them back to town half an hour later, and it was nearly midnight when they arrived at the boardinghouse in the city where they had stopped for a few hours earlier that day. Jean had asked to be taken back there. He had had no problem before, but had said they would only be there for a few hours. This time the desk clerk looked at him strangely, went to consult the manager, although it was the middle of the night, and finally gave them a small room at the back of the house, usually reserved for slightly unsavory people. They hadn’t seen Wachiwi when they gave him the room that afternoon. But at least they had a place to stay.

“Will you be staying long, sir?” the clerk asked uncomfortably.

“I don’t know,” Jean said honestly. He had no idea where to go. And for the time being at least, he had no desire to see his cousins, nor expose Wachiwi to them again. “It may be several weeks,” he said solemnly, wondering if he should take her north. For the moment, he had no idea.

Once in the room, he took his coat off and laid it on a chair. He helped Wachiwi out of her gown, and she put it into the trunk, and gratefully took the corset off and the complicated undergarments. He had bought her several nightgowns to sleep in, but she put on the elkskin dress instead. It was more comfortable than anything else she owned, and it was familiar for her. To Wachiwi, it was like the buckskin breeches he wore to ride when he traveled, which were easiest for him.

He talked to her about his own homeland then, as they sat in the small room. He didn’t know what else to say to her to distract her. It must have been obvious that something had gone very wrong. And as he talked to her, he had an idea. He was not sure if things would be better there, but they couldn’t be much worse than here, and he was beginning to fear that Wachiwi would be treated badly everywhere in the New World, west, north, south, or east. He wanted to take her home with him.

He told her there was a great lake called the Atlantic Ocean, and he lived on the other side. It would take them two full phases of the moon to get there, which seemed like a long time. He told her of the beauty of it once they arrived, the countryside in Brittany, the people she would meet in France, his brother who lived in their family château. He said that their lodge was much bigger than the one she had seen that night. She laughed at him then and said it was called a “house,” not a lodge, and he laughed back. With her he could face anything, climb any mountain, overcome any obstacle, and he wanted to protect her from the terrible affront and humiliation she had experienced at the de Margerac plantation. He suspected now that others would be as unkind to her as his cousins, and he was convinced that things would be better for them in France. He hoped that there she would be considered a rare and exotic bird, and not someone to be punished and mistreated, and cast away. He knew what he had to do now. He would take her home to Brittany with him.

He planned to write to his brother the next morning, saying that they were coming home on the next ship. His letter would only arrive weeks or days before they did, but it would warn Tristan that they were arriving, and roughly when. Jean was going to book passage for them on the first possible ship going back to France. There was nothing for them here. It would be yet another adventure for them, and a long one, but after all they’d been through so far, being tossed around on the Atlantic Ocean for two months didn’t seem so bad. And for the first time in five years in the New World, Jean felt ready to go home. He hadn’t seen his brother nor his homeland in all that time. But he had done everything he had come here to do, discovered new places, had astonishing adventures, and now he had met the love of his life, a beautiful Sioux woman he wanted to marry and have children with. He had no idea what his older brother would think of it, but Tristan was a wise, understanding man, and no matter what anyone thought, Jean knew that Wachiwi was the woman for him. They were going home to start a new life together. As he smiled at her, he knew his boyhood days were over. And with his bride, the rest of their life would unfold.

Chapter 11

Just as Jean had decided the night before, after their disastrous visit to his cousins, and as he had told Wachiwi he would, he wrote to his brother Tristan in the morning. It was a long, careful letter that gave him the important points and left out some of the details. He didn’t tell him that he had murdered a Crow chief and absconded with the woman he intended to marry, who had been the chief’s slave. He said simply that he had met the woman of his life at last, that he was ready to come home and help his brother run their large estate. His wandering days were over now. It was time to settle down, and he had never felt that way before.

He was ten years younger than his brother, who was a widower with two young children, one of whom Jean had never met. When Jean had left Brittany, his brother Tristan had had a beautiful young wife and a year-old baby. A year later Tristan’s wife died when their second child was born. As far as Jean knew, his brother had been alone ever since. He hadn’t remarried, although Jean had no idea if he had a mistress of some sort, but Tristan was such a serious man that Jean doubted he would engage in anything but marriage and a respectable life.