Chapter Twenty-One: Secrets

FIRST DRAFT



Crystal wanted to scream. The night was too loud, even inside the walls of Oak Alley the crickets could be heard chirping exuberantly. She rolled over in her four-poster bed and pulled the quilt across her head, hoping the thick blanket would dull the sound of croaking frogs, hooting owls and Liza’s soft snores. And maybe the suffocating heat under the comforter would distract her from the loudest noises that only she could hear.

Her thoughts shouted at her, vying for attention, demanding to be pondered. There was Charles; he seemed afraid, but of what she had no idea. Rose was broken, no longer the prim and proper young lady, she barely left her room and ate little to nothing. Again ,Crystal had no clue to the reason. And not least of all, Joseph was still balancing between life and death. Though Liza had assured her there was nothing she could do to help him, Crystal still longed to see him. Her worries were endless from there: what would she do if Joseph wasn’t healed before the wedding? what if her parents found out she was hiding him? what if he got well and left her?

After only a moment, she couldn’t take it anymore. She threw back the cover and sucked in a breath of air. It was no use being unable to hear if she couldn’t breathe, and it was obviously not stanching the flow of troubles through her mind.

She crawled off the large bed and quietly made her way to the window seat. From there she could see past the slave’s quarters to the woods beyond that glowed in the light of the full-moon. The woods that hid Joseph. She wondered if he was awake. It had been about this time that Liza had gone to see him last night, it was possible. She could see him in her mind, his face, his vibrant green eyes. Secret eyes. Secrets that she desperately wanted to uncover.

Crystal turned her gaze away from the forest outside and regarded her sleeping maid. She was deep in slumber, exhausted from nursing Joseph and tending to her other duties as well. It was only right that Crystal should take some of the burden off of Liza’s shoulders. She would go check on Joseph tonight, and when she returned she would explain to Liza what she’d done.

Crystal dressed quickly before the thought of Liza’s wrath could change her mind. Even the light movements she made stirred the maid so it was difficult to open the large oak door without sound. When she’d finally eased it closed behind her, she carefully walked down the hall, reflecting that she’d snuck around the house entirely too much of late.

Out in the backyard a sense of freedom shot through her and with great excitement she hurried across the grounds towards the cottage.

But her excitement quickly diminished once she made it to the cover of the trees. The noise of crickets and frogs was amplified immensely, blocking out any possible warning sound of someone or something coming.

The night was cloaked in dew and smelled of rain and wet earth. The ground, slick and muddy, made it difficult for Crystal to keep her footing as she hastily scurried through the woods. Her eyes scanned the dark surrounding as she moved, her heart jumping into her throat more than once as she glimpsed mounds of earth that resembled crocodiles and branches that appeared to be snakes. She nearly leaped out of her skin when she thought she saw a man peering out from behind a tree, though on second glance she decided it was the shadows playing tricks on her yet again.

It was a great relief to see the silver light of the moon reflecting off the drenched leaves that covered the cottage roof. She hurried to it, the front steps creaked even though she avoided the broken one at the bottom. Carefully she moved the door open. Inside the cottage was darkness, penetrated only by the glow of the moon that slipped through the cracks in the roof. Along with the light, streams of water dripped from above, splattering on the floor with a rhythmic beat.

She took a step into the cottage, berating herself for not having thought to bring a lantern. Drops of water splashed on her head and she took another step forwards, causing a floorboard to whine loudly under her weight. She quickly moved back from it.

“Crys?”

Crystal gasped, the sound of his voice, though weak and rasping, was like balm to her heart. She squinted at the blackness that was slowly materializing into shapes, desperately seeking Joseph in the shadows. When her eyes finally adjusted, she realized that Joseph was no longer in front of the brick hearth, the spot now being soaked as water fell from the roof. She scanned the room hastily, her heart pounding unreasonably in her chest. There was a soft switching sound and the room was illuminated from the corner as a small flame ignited.

Joseph was holding a match to a candle wick as he rested his weight on one elbow on the makeshift bed of grimy hay. His green eyes flickered in the warm light of the fire as he set it down, his gaze never leaving her. Crystal hungrily took in the sight of him, he was shirtless, though most of his chest was concealed by bandages, and his skin had a sallow tint to it. His thick umber hair stuck out in strange angles and was noticeably dirty, dried blood clumping it together near his hairline. He looked thinner, his face haggard from the battle he was waging for his life. But for all this, Crystal was still relieved to see the clarity of his eyes no longer fogged with delirium. His gaze took in her face and slide down, his eyes devouring her with the same urgency that she searched him over. He did this thrice before he seemed satisfied, and, as if his eyes had released her, she rushed forwards, dropping to her knees beside him.

He tried to sit up fully but she pushed him back down by his shoulders; his skin was warm under her hands, no longer the fiery heat of a few days ago. The contact sent tingles through her fingers and she glanced up at him, catching his stare. Heat filled her cheeks and she quickly pulled away. A low growling moan came from Joseph’s throat and he grasped her wrist, tugging her back towards him.

“Stay close,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes fluttered closed and then open again. He released her wrist and moved his hand to her face; grasping her chin lightly, he angled her face towards the candle, his brow furrowing as he traced his thumb over her bruises. “I told you,” he said hoarsely.

Crystal had to make herself focus on his words instead of his touch. “Told me what?” she asked, her voice slightly shaking.

He dropped his hand and Crystal tried to hide her disappointment, she had no right to feel this way around him.

“I told you you’d get hurt around me,” he said.

Crystal shook her head. “But it wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes it was.”

“How?”

“Riley warned me not to see you again but I did anyway. When you came to that saloon I was so desperate to make you understand, to make you stay away. I thought if I showed you what I was really like . . .” His jaw clenched and he trailed off for a moment. “I’ve killed people, Crys,” he continued in a quiet hollow tone. “Dozens. Even if they weren’t all by my own hand; I helped plot their deaths. I sat back and watched them die.”

Silence fell between them and Joseph’s eyes flickered closed once more. Crystal watched his chest rise and fall for a moment before taking his hand and entwining it with her own. The pulse beating in his wrist reassured her that he was alive. She traced the lines of his palm absently, thinking of his words. Who was the real Joseph? How could she care so much about someone who would follow a man like Riley? A man who could kill so easily?

The questions put the first doubts she’d ever had about Joseph in her mind. When she looked up at him, he was staring at her, waiting for a response.

She only had one question: “Why?”

A weary smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “That’s a broad question. Why what exactly?”

“Why are you part of the Clan? Why haven’t you left? Why haven’t you turned Riley in?”

Joseph actually chuckled at her last question. “No one turns in Riley. It would be much less painful to kill yourself.”

Crystal found no humor in this statement, though Joseph continued to look amused. He sighed plaintively when he caught her woeful expression. He lifted the hand she was holding, keeping hold of her fingers, and brought the back of her hand to his lips. Crystal blinked back the tears that suddenly threatened to fall as he lightly brushed his mouth up and down her hand. The contact was maddeningly thrilling and Crystal couldn’t catch her breath. The effect he had on her was frightening.

“I’m glad I was shot, you know,” he said, his lips still pressed to her skin. He gestured to the bandages on his breastplate. “This pain is a whole lot more bearable then the thought of losing you.”

Crystal smiled slightly, though her lips trembled, and tugged her hand away, trying to ignore the look of disappointment that flashed in his eyes. An aching disappointment that reflected her own. “You’re changing the subject,” she said.

“It’s a gruesome subject. There are other subjects to discuss.”

“But they don’t answer my question. . . . Joseph, why?” She implored him with her eyes.

“Why did you go to Gallatin Street with Michael?” he countered.

“To help you of course,” she said sharply, too surprised at the question to realize he was diverting her.

“You could have been killed.”

“But we were not, and you most assuredly would have died had I not gone to fetch you. You resembled a dead dog up in that filthy room.”

Joseph chuckled. “I suppose I’ve improved to an alive dog after all the work you and your maid put into me.” He pushed a hand through his grimy hair and examined the flecks of blood and dirt that came out in his hand for a moment before letting his arm flop back down beside him.

Crystal smiled. “Barely.” She flattened his hair with her fingers, feeling the stiffness of the strands. “Liza was afraid wet hair would worsen the fever, but I’m sure we’ll be able to clean you up now that you’re awake.” Her brow furrowed as she continued to stroke Joseph’s head and his eyes wafted closed again. “I’m so glad you’re awake, Joseph, I couldn’t imagine losing you,” she whispered, again feeling the hot tears pooling in her eyes.

His eyes opened again at her words, searching her face, he started to speak, but seemed to think better of it; he looked away. Crystal drew her hand back, feeling his withdraw from her, even if it wasn’t physical.

“Did Michael say when he was coming back?” he asked after a moment of awkward silence. Crystal felt the question like a slap in the face. Was he that eager to get away from her?

“No, he didn’t,” she said, not bothering to hide the coldness of her words.

Joseph didn’t notice. “Damn. How am I gonna get back to Riley without a horse?” he asked, though the question was obviously rhetorical. “Riley’ll be furious if I’m gone for more than a week. He never lets me leave that long,” Joseph said bitterly.

Crystal felt her body grow hot with anger. After everything she’d risked for him would he really go back to Riley? Had he no will of his own? “I don’t believe Riley expects you back at all,” she said bitingly.

Joseph finally looked back at her and she saw a flicker of surprise cross his face at her spiteful expression. “Why not?”

“Because he thinks you’re dead,” she snapped. “Michael and Jeremy told him they were going to bury you right before the raid. That’s why they weren’t caught.”

Joseph eyes widened. “What raid?”

The fact that Joseph didn’t know what the entire city of New Orleans thought of as yesterday’s news, only served to heighten Crystal’s anger. “The raid on Margaret’s Manor of course! Riley got away somehow, but the police arrested a dozen others. The man who killed Mr. de Marginy among them. They’re all on trial for murder and robbery. I suspect they will be sentenced to hang any day.” She crossed her arms as if she’d just proven a point and waited for his reaction, but he only looked dazed.

“But Michael and Jeremy –”

“Got away,” she said firmly. “With you.”

“Who else was caught?”

Crystal listed off the names she had read in the papers, by now the whole city knew them by heart. Once she’d finished Joseph looked only mildly troubled, obviously no one he really cared for had been arrested.

“I can’t believe this. We’ve never been caught before. I wonder what went wrong?” Joseph was staring into space thoughtfully, his question directed at the ceiling. Crystal decided not to supply him with the answer, for she was in no mood to speak of her fiancé, and certainly wasn’t going to mention the strange encounter she’d had with him that morning.

“I suppose you’re stuck here then,” she said.

He glanced at her. “I don’t mind being stuck here. I just wonder . . .”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She sighed. “More secrets? Will you ever let me in?”

“It’s safer on the outside,” he said with a small smile.

Crystal refused to take it lightly. “It’s colder too.” She started to stand but he grabbed her forearm; she was surprised by the strength in his grip even in his state of ill health.

“Don’t be angry, Crys,” he said, his tired eyes were sparkling and she realized he found her reaction amusing. She wanted this to enrage her all the more, but one caress of her nickname on his lips and a glimpse into his dark green eyes and she thawed.

“I’m not angry,” she murmured. “But I’d better go. You need your rest and Liza will kill me if she finds out I’ve been here.”

“I’ll protect you from her,” he said, his eyes getting heavier as he spoke.

Crystal smiled, all resentment gone. “I think I’ll do the protecting for now,” she whispered as she bent to kiss his forehead. He was asleep before she straightened.

An hour later, as she lay in bed, it occurred to her that Joseph hadn’t answered her one question: Why?

*******

Other than Joseph’s secret presence, Oak Alley returned to normal. Though Rose rarely laughed, or even spoke, they became accustomed to the difference in her and accepted that the robbery had changed her. Mother continued with the wedding plans full steam ahead after Papa Marginy’s death, and Crystal was the only one upset by this. New Orleans was in agreement; the excitement of the bank robbery was fading and the city was impatient for the trials of the Clan that would take place next month. The coming wedding was just the distraction they needed.

Waiting for the conviction of the Clan members seemed to make Charles even more uneasy. He rarely came to visit Oak Alley anymore, and Crystal hadn’t spoken to him alone since the day in his father’s study. He still had the jumpy look of a scared rabbit and, though his appearance had somewhat improved thanks to Eleanor’s tender care, he still seemed greatly out of character. Crystal broached the subject of his declining health once, but his immediate defensive reaction stopped her from doing so again.

It was not only Charles who acted like a man being hunted; William, though fully recovered from his beating, was losing more weight with each passing day and his breath never lost the stench of brandy. Eleanor admitted that the two spent long hours in the study together, often not leaving till far into the night, and continued to visit the Cabildo. It seemed that Charles’ claim was true: he would not rest until Riley and his entire Clan was tucked safely away in a prison cell.

But that was easier said than done. It was as if Riley’d actually disappeared into thin air; not a single person came forwards, even when a high price was put on Riley’s head. Many thought that he’d left New Orleans all together. There hadn’t been a single major crime since the robbery; pick-pockets and thieves seemed to be all that was left, the only murders reported were those in brawls that had gotten out of hand. The city appeared to be sleeping. Waiting. But for how long no one knew.

Crystal was sick of hearing the speculations. Everywhere she went there was talk of it; men argued on street corners, ladies gossiped on church steps. There was no escape, even at Oak Alley Father devoured the newspapers and discussed his opinions over breakfast, whilst the slaves whispered about it in the halls. Crystal closed her ears to it all. She had other matters to worry about. The most prominent one in the overseer’s cottage.

Joseph was healing slowly. Sleeping was most of what he did that first week, and on the off times he was awake Crystal provided him with books to amuse himself. By the end of his second week at the cottage he was able to sit up, but, though he protested, for only short periods of time.

Liza seemed resigned to accept Crystal’s trips. She agreed that she would go check on Joseph before dawn so that no one would see her, and Crystal would go in the afternoon’s on her horse. Crystal’s response to those who asked what she was doing was that she wished to be alone and she wouldn’t go far. No one begrudged her this, since the robbery her family were a lot more forgiving of her odd requests.

On the surface their plan was going smoothly, but underneath Crystal’s emotions churned like the Mississippi River. Every moment she spent with Joseph was joyful and confusing. She loved the way he tilted his head to study her, the way he raised a brow at her questions, his soft chuckle when she blushed as he pushed a wayward strand of hair from her face. She relished the feeling of warmth that spread through her when she would look up and catch him staring at her with hungry eyes. She urged strands of his hair to fall into his face just so she could innocently brush her fingers through his soft waves as she pushed them back.

But she was also hurt by his withdrawal every time she prodded his past or questioned his future. It was these times that she questioned her own ideas about him; was what he wouldn’t tell her so bad? Should she even trust him? He was a self-proclaimed murder after all, and told her time and again that he was dangerous. Why was she risking so much for him if he wouldn’t even open up to her? Yet that was the point, she’d risked everything to help him, she couldn’t go back now. Even if she never understood what made him the man he was.

Each day his health progressed; his bullet wound was healing slowly but nicely, the cuts and bruises were all but gone, but it only served to remind Crystal that he would one day leave Oak Alley, and her. And that her wedding was on the horizon, looming over her every moment she spent with Joseph, filling her with guilt. How could she be engaged to one man, yet find her greatest happiness in the company of another? A criminal no less.

Day by day she fought the truth, but slowly it all became excruciatingly clear. She finally realized what Liza had seen all along: She was betrothed to Charles de Mandeville, and desperately in love with Joseph Cross.

The realization was like a stone in Crystal’s chest, and the pain of what would one day come had her irrationally irritated. Not at anyone especially, but rather everyone in general. She found herself becoming more and more infuriated with Joseph’s secrets, and after one afternoon visit that left her in tears and him exhausted, Crystal couldn’t take it anymore.

When she snapped at Liza later that night for brushing her hair too slowly, Liza set the brush down and went to her cot. “Fine, brush yo’ own hair.”

Crystal stared at Liza’s back for a moment before turning to glare at herself in the mirror. But glaring wasn’t enough, she snatched up her brush and threw it with all her might across the room. It banged loudly against the wall before clattering on the floor.

“You sho’ is crazy, child,” Liza muttered from her bed, her back still to Crystal.

Crystal glanced at her maid, then back at the brush – which hadn’t even had the decency to break or dent the wall – and stood. “I’m going for a walk,” she announced firmly.

Liza sat up at this. “The hell you is. Get yo’ self in that bed and go ta sleep . You can go for yo’ walk in the mornin’.”

Crystal regarded Liza for a moment, weighing the odds that she could win this argument. It took her less than a minute to decide she had little hope, and put out the single candle on her vanity before climbing onto her mattress and under the covers.

It wasn’t long before Liza’s soft snores filled the bedchamber, but Crystal couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, sat up, laid back down, got up and walked to the window, got back in bed. She was wide awake.

Finally she gave in and began quietly getting dressed.

*******

"Chapter Twenty-Two: Joseph's Past"