Chapter Thirty: Murder

TWO MONTHS LATER

November 27th, 1846







Eleanor de Marginy was dead.

She’d been strangled in her bed one week after the newly wed de Mandevilles’ had set sail for Paris– the same day twelve members of the Clan were tried and sentenced to death by hanging, which would take place on December 21st– There was no sign of a struggle and the de Marginy house had not been broken into, which led police to believe one of the slaves were behind it. Yet the people of New Orleans were not fooled. The murder of a woman so well loved could not have been carried out by a servant, and no one saw it as a coincidence that her death occurred mere months after her husband’s. Why, it was a blessing that young de Mandeville was not around, for what would become of the de Marginy fortune if the last son was taken? Oh, but poor Charles, robbed of both his parents in so short a time! Thank the heavens for his sweet wife who could see him through these hard times.

Two months later Charles and Crystal arrived in New Orleans on a crisp, sunny afternoon and barely recovered from the shock of the Eleanor’s death before Crystal’s sisters arrived to welcome them home. Charles, however, was not interested in visitors and left his wife to oversee the unpacking of their belonging while he locked himself in his refurbished study with McNally, the only one of his bodyguards that had accompanied him to Paris. The rest he’d left behind to protect his property, though obviously they hadn’t realized what all that included. They would be reprimanded later, right now he had business to attend to.

William had been waiting in the study for sometime now, after he’d greeted Crystal and Charles at the dock with the grievous news that had been lost on its way to France, he had followed them home to discuss the matter with Charles. Though by the cautious glances he threw McNally, whom he’d never been completely comfortable with, William was evidently rethinking his decision.

Settled behind his new mahogany desk, Charles served himself a glass of brandy, but didn’t offer one to William, who sat nervously cleaning his glasses on the other side of the table; the lack of welcome did not go unnoticed by the smaller man.

“William,” Charles sighed, thrumming the glossy desk with his fingertips. “William, William. . . .”

William replaced his glasses and pressed himself back in his seat, his knuckles turning white as they clutched the armrests. “Charles, forgive me. I’ve no idea how it happened. Mack and McGuire were here all night. All the doors were locked. I don’t know how the man got in.”

“Forgive you, William? Forgive you?” Charles voice was like honey, soft and controlled, but there was an underlying bite that had William shaking. “Are you aware of what you let happen? Riley is winning.” Charles slammed his glass down. “I never should have taken that trip to Paris!”

William flinched and pushed his chair back from the table a few feet. “It– it wasn’t your fault, Charles. Clarkson only told you Riley was after Miss– I mean Mrs. de Mandeville. You were only trying to get her away from him, and it was a well deserved honeymoon. How were you to know he would go after your mother instead?”

Charles had barely been listening. “Yes, yes, Clarkson! What of him? Was he able to establish his friend in Riley’s inner circle?”

William’s head dropped and he mumbled a reply that escaped Charles’ hearing.

“Come again?”

William lifted his head. “There was a slight difficulty with that.”

Charles leaned forwards. “What sort of difficulty?”

“Well, Clarkson was being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable?”

“He refused to speak with anyone but you, even when I informed him that you had left me in charge– ”

“My fatal mistake,” Charles mused.

“– and said to contact him as soon as you returned. I have not heard from him since.”

Charles nodded and plucked a cigar from a silver box at the corner of his desk. “Then you best get in contact with him.” He sat back in his chair and ran the cigar under his nose. “We don’t have time for anymore games, William. I’ll not let a filthy Irishman destroy everything I’ve worked for. Because of that vagrant my mother is dead! Killed in my own house while others slept. I’m quite certain he had a hearty laugh over the entire mess, but it’ll end there. I’m going to find that bastard’s hideout, and then I’m going to kill him and his Clan.”

William adjusted his cravat around his thick neck and swallowed. “Yes– yes, of course, Charles, certainly we will.”

“I need more men, William.” Charles lit a match and held it to his cigar. “From the Irish Channel. McNally will assist you in finding those worth having.” Both men shot glances to McNally but the Irishman only watched. “When I find Riley I want to be ready, and for that I need men.”

William’s eyes flickered again to McNally, obviously dreading the idea of being alone with him, but one glance at Charles narrowed gaze and he nodded. “More men, certainly, Charles.”

“That’s all,” Charles said shortly and William scrambled to his feet. He was half way out the door when he paused and pulled a folded piece of parchment from his pocket; he set it on Charles’ desk.

“This was found on your mother’s pillow,” William muttered before quickly exiting the room. McNally stepped out behind him, firmly shutting the door.

Charles listened to William’s scurrying footsteps as they faded down the hall. He could hear Crystal’s sisters’ irritatingly mirthful chatter drifting down the hall, maids darting around the house, and footmen lugging trunks upstairs. All of this he could hear, yet he stared at the note as if it alone existed.

Finally he reached for it.

The bold script curved across the page in strong strokes and there was not a single bloch of ink on the creamy paper. It read:

Since you left this behind, I thought I’d get rid of it for you. Consider it a late wedding present. I’ll be sending your wife’s gift shortly. Sincerely, Riley

With a roar of fury, Charles swept his desk of its belongings. Bottles of ink exploded on the hardwood floor, shattering with the brandy and covering the books and cigars that followed. In that moment not a drop of grief for his mother touched his heart, only a murderous, black rage.



*******



“‘. . . Mrs. Eleanor de Marginy de Mandeville– widow of the late Pierre de Marginy de Mandeville– was found strangled to death in her bed on October 2nd, 1846. Though no evidence was found, authorities believe the murder may be linked to infamous, Theodore Riley, leader of the notorious gang known as ‘The Clan’; sneveral of whose members are accused of murdering Pierre de Marginy, and his business partner, Antoine Medina, as well as various others in the bank robbery last summer. . . .’” Elizabeth lowered the old copy of the Picayune newspaper with a sigh and set it on the table beside her armchair. “It goes on to tell about Riley and the reward for his capture.”

Crystal nodded slowly but didn’t speak, her sisters had shown up two hours before to comfort her, but she was too busy for comfort. There was so much to unpack and store way, furniture had to be uncovered, rooms aired out and, as mistress of the de Marginy– now de Mandeville– mansion, it was her job to see that everything got done. She hadn’t expected all responsibilities to fall to her immediately after her honeymoon, supposing that Mrs. de Marginy would slowly hand over the reins, but her mother-in-law was gone; the house had been closed up with no one there but the servants. It was stuffy and cold, the faint scent of Mrs. de Marginy lingered in the still air bringing tears to Crystal’s eyes more than once in the past few hours.

It was nearing dark now and there was much more to do; furniture needed to be taken out to make room for the new pieces Charles bought in Paris; linens needed airing; a list needed to be written for the market; supper was needed for the evening; worst of all, Eleanor’s belongings needed to be sorted through and discarded if necessary. Crystal couldn’t do it, any of it. Even with the seventeen years of training to be a wife and run a household she wasn’t prepared for this. She couldn’t even think of facing Charles right now, he had shut himself in his study the first few hours they were home and then stormed out with his bodyguard without a word. She was glad; there was too much going on in her own head for her to deal with a grieving husband as well.

Once Charles was gone, Elizabeth managed to make Crystal relax, firmly guiding her to the parlor and having tea made, assuring her that Liza could direct the other maids in the many tasks that needed completing. Crystal agreed and was able to calm done a bit, until Elizabeth pulled out the newspaper from the day after Eleanor’s murder.

Crystal shivered, though flames roared in the hearth the room was still drafty from the fresh autumn air they had allowed in. The quiet of the room grew loud. Dawn fidgeted with her sleeve, shooting her concerned looks every so often. Next to her, Christy was curled up with her cheek resting against the arm of the couch. No one bothered to correct her unladylike position, no one really noticed. Rose’s noted absence told Crystal more than anyone could explain; her little sister still hadn’t forgiven her for what she’d done and probably never would.

Crystal took a small sip from the cup of tea in her hand and glanced at the fire that lit up the parlor, wondering why none of its heat warmed her.

Dawn finally broke the silence. “Are you scared?”

Crystal looked up. “Scared? Why would I be?”

Dawn’s eyes widened slightly. “Because you’re Charles’ wife of course. Anyone connected to Charles is obviously unsafe, they could be planning to kill– ”

“Dawn de la Chaise!” Elizabeth cut in sharply. “Have you no sense? Of course Crystal realizes the danger, she does not need to be reminded and I’m sure Mother would be quite appalled at your bringing it up.”

“She asked me to explain,” Dawn snapped back. Their bickering was lost on Crystal for she really hadn’t seen the danger.

She was so wrapped up in blocking out thoughts of Charles’ mother that she’d missed it. The news of Mrs. de Marginy’s death was more than she could handle. Suddenly images of her mother-in-law’s last moments flashed through her mind; she could see her struggling against her attacker as he tightened the cord around her throat, her frightened eyes and attempts to scream. The thoughts horrified her, and she couldn’t shake them away. Another person was dead because of the Clan and when Crystal pictured the killer only Joseph’s face flashed in her mind.

She knew somehow that he was with them and she hated him for that, for leaving her and going back to those murderers. Had he known they were going to kill Mrs. de Marginy? Had he tried to stop them? Was he the one who killed her?

The idea scared her. She wondered if she had been wrong the whole time. Maybe he never loved her so he took what he wanted and left her the first chance he got. She no longer knew the truth, she only knew that her mangled heart would never recover from what he’d done to it. A taste of freedom was so much worse than never knowing the feeling in the first place.

“Are you all right, Crystal?” Elizabeth asked, done arguing with Dawn and noticing the pained expression on her sister’s face. She vacated her chair and sat down beside Crystal, putting a comforting arm around her. “We know this is hard for you, what with your honeymoon barely over and trying to get the house in order, this tragedy on top of all that is hard to deal with. You just need to get your mind off of it for a while.”

With a sigh Crystal lay her head on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Why don’t you tell us about Paris?” Dawn suggested, her face brightening.

“Oh yes, do tell,” Christy chirped in, speaking for the second time all evening.

Crystal bit her lip and studied her clasped hands to avoid her sisters’ gaze. Paris was another thing she wanted to forget. The weeks of seasickness she experienced simply foreshadowed the long days of her honeymoon. For two months, ravaged by guilt, she did everything possible to appease her new husband but he was always too distracted to notice. Often he sent her out with Liza to buy a new bonnet or order a new dress made while he ‘attended to some business matters’; by the time the trip ended Crystal had to pack a second trunk to contain her wardrobe.

Though he seemed so unawares, Crystal still tried to please him; she laughed when he wanted, said what he wanted, looked how he wanted. Every evening she dazzled his friends and relatives with her smile, charmed his business associates with flawless French and every night she welcomed Charles’ need for her. Not because she enjoyed it– she still cringed when he touched her– but because she wanted to fill a need of her own; a need to forget.

She never did.

For the second time in her life she was haunted by dreams, only this time it was worse. She was torn between loving and hating the nightmares that came to her. Seeing Joseph’s face and hearing his voice was like twisting the knife jammed in her chest, yet she couldn’t stop longing for it. She hated that he still had a hold on her, hated that she could never stop missing him.

“You’ve lived in Paris before,” Crystal said trying to smile. “There’s nothing new to tell.”

“But this was your honeymoon,” Dawn persisted. “With Charles no less. Tell us what it was like. Please?”

The familiar eager looks on her sisters’ faces brought long ago whispered conversations to Crystal’s mind; secrets shared under covers, promises to always tell each other everything and never let their husbands pull them apart. She had broken both promises and she felt shame wash over her. She’d strayed so far from that quiet girl who always went along with the plan because she was afraid of being left out. Without the mask she always wore her sisters wouldn’t even recognize her. The thought made her sad.

She closed her eyes and pushed back sudden tears, then told them about her honeymoon. Though she couldn’t tell them everything, she could never tell everything.

*******