“Did you send for her?” Ulrika asked Marie.
“No.” Marie smiled, “but, her arrival is most right. She’s only brought all the more power with her grief.”
“Charles isn’t dead.” Iolanthe hissed into Barbara’s ear.
However, Iolanthe’s dubious attempts to comfort Barbara were wasted. Barbara had taken that final leap from feigned madness to actual madness. Never again would she be able to think clearly. Never again could she see without a thick veil of pain and confusion clouding each color and face.
Breaking free of Iolanthe’s grip, Barbara rushed to the fire.
“Stop her, Iolanthe,” Ulrika said with an unusual sense of urgent compassion. “Before she hurts herself.”
“It’s too late for that.” Iolanthe muttered.
Barbara reached toward Arthur’s burning body and as she felt the flames lick at her fingertips, she began to laugh as she watched Arthur’s face turn to ash.
She spat into the fire and turned toward Giovanni. “Will you throw him in, too?”
“No,” Giovanni growled. “He’s alive.”
“Girl,” Marie howled. “He’ll be fine. We jus’ gonna use his blood. I’ll give him back to you when we’re done. What you do with him is up to you.”
“I don’t want him!” Barbara screamed. “He’s tainted now! It’s all tainted! Diseased and soiled! Dirt. Dirt. Ashes and dirt! Dirt!”
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Ulrika shook her head. “Come with me, I’ll get you away from here.”
“Don’t touch me!” Barbara bellowed. “I’ll remove myself from here when I’m ready!”
“Can’t we calm her down?” Ulrika asked helplessly.
“Don’t,” Marie smiled. “Let her grieve and spit. She’ll only add fuel to the fire. Let it burn.”
Meanwhile, Gerard watched from the thick bushes on the far side of the Place Congo. He hoped he could return to Royal Street without being noticed. At first, when Robert had awakened him to send him out into the cold, Gerard had grumbled to himself that, perhaps, he wasn’t cut out for the life of a valet—not if it meant that he’d never sleep. But, now, looking at this nightmarish scene, Gerard understood why his master had awakened him. Those two men—The Duke and Robert—and their family were, truly, in danger. Gerard suddenly felt protective of all of them. Protective and thankful.
“I gotta make sure they get to that ship tomorrow.” Gerard said.
Then, he began to realize that if he told them what he saw unfolding in front of him in the light of that bonfire, the Duke and his companions would try to do whatever they could to help Barbara and Charles. That was, after all, the kind of people they were. And, if they did, they might lose their chance of escaping back to a peaceful life in England.
Gerard crept away from the Place Congo and as he walked back toward Royal Street, his resolve grew stronger. Would a lie be so bad if it would protect them? After all, he could easily say that he’d see Charles and that the man—who was none too friendly—had decided to stay in New Orleans and that they should go without him. “Then,” Gerard thought, “they’ll get away, and then, they’ll really need me. After all, with the Duke having no valet of his own, they’ll need me all the more.”
“That’s what I’ll do.” Gerard said aloud softly as he walked. “It’s for the best.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-330? If so, you can read them here.
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