Iron Lace Part 22

"Certainly." etienne went to the oak filing cabinets along the wall and withdrew a folder. He presented it to Lucien with a mock bow.

Lucien frowned, but he didn't reprimand etienne. He shuffled through the papers inside, then held them out. "I see nothing here that demands my attention. These are just our copies of the insurance papers on the Dowager. Dowager."

"Perhaps you'd better look at the signature."

Lucien dropped the papers on the desk and began to go through them again. "I still don't see a problem."

"I suppose you might not see the difficulty," etienne said. "Since you don't know George Jacelle's signature at a glance. But I can a.s.sure you that this-" he pointed at the signature at the bottom of one of the papers "-isn't it."

"What are you saying?"

"What you're holding in your hands is a forgery. George Jacelle never signed that doc.u.ment, because he was told that you had decided to let Fargrave-Crane insure the Dowager. Dowager."

Lucien still didn't seem to comprehend what etienne was saying. etienne felt a surge of power rush through him. He had moments to savor Lucien's fall, to watch it slowly unfold.

"M'sieu Lucien," he said. "May I call you that again?"

"Again?" Lucien looked momentarily dazed.

"Yes. I used to call you M'sieu Lucien. A long time ago. Don't you remember?"

"What are you talking about?" Lucien's uncertainty gave way to anger. "I don't know what you're talking about. Signatures I know nothing about, and now this gibberish!"

"You've always disliked the feeling of not being able to take hold of a situation, haven't you? There's so little that's out of your grasp. Even fate."

Lucien tried to stand, but etienne put his hand on Lucien's shoulder and pushed him back into the chair. "What's wrong, M'sieu? Have you grown so feeble I'll have to take command?"

"As of this moment, you no longer work here!"

"As of this moment, I no longer need to." etienne leaned closer. "Look at me, M'sieu. Look carefully, and tell me what you see."

"A madman," Lucien said, but his eyes betrayed fear.

"Nothing so predictable. If I were mad, you might be able to soothe me and escape. But I'm the one who'll escape and leave you here to make sense of what's left of your life."

"You're truly mad!"

"Look closer. And think of a small boy named Raphael."

Lucien's eyes widened. etienne saw denial there, then a deepening fear. "Raphael?" he whispered.

"Come back from the dead." Raphael smiled. He could be Raphael now, Raphael forever. "Not etienne. Never etienne again. Haven't you always wished you could have known me as an adult? For a time, you were like a father to me."

"I buried Raphael myself!"

"Apparently you didn't."

Lucien tried to stand once more, but this time it was his own body that betrayed him.

"I suppose you'll want to know about my mother and sister," Raphael said. "It's too bad, isn't it, that they can't be here for our reunion? But you did bury them. In a grave along with dozens of others, and you didn't even stay to erect a headstone. Marcelite Cantrelle, beloved mistress of Lucien Le Danois. And Angelle Cantrelle. Beloved daughter."

Lucien rested his head in his hands.

"There are details you're probably curious about," Raphael continued. "You've probably wondered how my mother and sister died? I'll tell you. After you cut the tow rope, our boat rushed out toward the Gulf. You saw that much yourself before you sought shelter. We were on the crest of a wave when Angelle was pulled from Maman's arms by the wind and thrown into the water. Maman dived from the skiff after her. She never reached her. They didn't even die together."

Lucien's words were barely audible. "What is it you want?"

"Nothing I don't have already." Raphael took the papers and walked to the window to look out over the river. He knew that Lucien wouldn't find the courage to leave until he had found a way to silence him. Lucien still didn't understand.

The room was very quiet. Raphael stared toward the river. He knew the time to the minute; he had checked it repeatedly on their journey here. When the room was rocked by the sound of an explosion, he didn't remain at the window to see the results. He turned.

"What was that?" Lucien asked. His head jerked away from his hands. His eyes were wild, and growing wilder.

"That was the sound of vengeance, M'sieu."

The syllables Lucien strung together had no meaning. Raphael shook his head. "She was a beautiful ship. Too beautiful to be yours."

Lucien managed to stand and find his way to the window. The river was spouting flames. He couldn't form words.

"The Dowager, Dowager," Raphael confirmed. "And now do you understand about the signature?" When Lucien moaned, he continued. "You put me in charge of the paperwork to insure the Dowager. Dowager. I was to have it prepared by Jacelle and Sons. And you took care of your obligations to Fargrave-Crane by allowing them to insure the rest of your fleet. That way you thought you could save money and save face. You even stopped attending social gatherings or business meetings where the subject might be raised again." I was to have it prepared by Jacelle and Sons. And you took care of your obligations to Fargrave-Crane by allowing them to insure the rest of your fleet. That way you thought you could save money and save face. You even stopped attending social gatherings or business meetings where the subject might be raised again."

Lucien was finally coherent. "You b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

"You signed the new doc.u.ments and dispatched me to carry them to Jacelle and Sons. Instead, I carried regrets that you had changed your mind and would continue on with Fargrave-Crane. Then I forged Jacelle's signature on our copies of the doc.u.ments. I told him that pressing his case would only antagonize you. If he hoped for Gulf Coast's patronage, he should show gentlemanly restraint and wait until I informed him another bid was welcome. George Jacelle is a gentleman."

Lucien turned, as if to run. Perhaps he had hopes of saving something of the ship that had been the culmination of his career, but Raphael's next words stopped him.

"Now the Dowager Dowager has no insurance, and neither do the goods piled at the riverfront. It will be interesting to see if there's anything left of your wharf when this is over." has no insurance, and neither do the goods piled at the riverfront. It will be interesting to see if there's anything left of your wharf when this is over."

Lucien stumbled and grasped the nearest chair.

Raphael shook his head. "I was surprised to discover how vulnerable you are. I've examined the company's books until I understand them perfectly. You insisted Gulf Coast borrow more money than it could hope to take in for some time. You believed your investments would eventually take root and flourish. You gambled, but the odds were in your favor. Until now."

Bells began to sound along the river. Flames shot several stories into the air. The watchman and his hirelings had done their job well.

Lucien covered his ears, as if the warning bells were the final horror. "I may be ruined," he said, "but I'll take you down with me! I'll tell the authorities what you've told me!"

"Proof?" Mockingly Raphael held out the papers to Lucien, then he ripped them in half, and in half once more, before he put them inside his coat pocket. Lucien still covered his ears. Raphael spoke louder. "And I don't think you'd tell the authorities everything I've told you, would you? If they question me, I'll share the rest of the story with them, the way I've shared it with you."

"Do you think something that happened sixteen years ago would matter to them?"

"I think stories persist. They can ruin a man's good name, and sometimes that's all a man has left."

"You b.a.s.t.a.r.d. You should have died in the hurricane. You were meant to! Why didn't you?"

"That's plain, isn't it? I survived to avenge my mother and sister."

The room was growing warmer. Raphael didn't expect the Gulf Coast offices to go up in flames. The wharf and the Dowager Dowager were distant enough that there was a good chance the office would be spared. But cotton bales were highly flammable, and the nearest warehouse was piled high with them. The stave yard, packed tight with creosoted lumber, was directly across from them. With the right combination of wind and mismanagement of the fire, the building could ignite. "You should know the rest." were distant enough that there was a good chance the office would be spared. But cotton bales were highly flammable, and the nearest warehouse was piled high with them. The stave yard, packed tight with creosoted lumber, was directly across from them. With the right combination of wind and mismanagement of the fire, the building could ignite. "You should know the rest."

Lucien pitched to his knees. He began to gasp for breath. Raphael folded his arms and watched; his expression never changed. "I'll tell you quickly, while you're alive to hear it all. Your daughter's pregnant, and the child is mine. We're leaving the city tonight. You've lost both your daughters, M'sieu, and ensured that your lineage will be forever mixed with mine. My only regret is that I've tainted my own bloodlines."

"You lie!" Lucien gasped out the words. "You're lying!"

"Ask yourself if I'm lying tomorrow, when you wake up and discover Aurore's gone. Better yet, ask yourself if I'm lying tonight, when you read the letter she's asked Cleo to put on your pillow. She's worth a hundred of you. And because I'm not completely heartless, I'll leave you with a little hope. I love your daughter, because there's nothing of you inside her. I'll care for her as you never have. I'll promise not to see you in any of our children. And we'll have many, M'sieu. Many, many children to carry on the Le Danois heritage."

Now the riverfront was a screaming confusion of noise. There were shouts and the sounds of running feet. Horses whinnied in confusion. Fire was as dreaded here as anywhere. It had nearly destroyed San Francisco and Chicago, and more than a hundred years ago had almost destroyed New Orleans itself. But the streets near the river received heavy abuse and were still some of the worst in the city. Despite every effort, it would take time to maneuver fire engines into place.

The flames from the Dowager Dowager leaped higher. Raphael couldn't see clearly, but he thought the flames were licking at the dock. Gulf Coast Steamship was going up in smoke before his eyes. He waited for the thrill of elation. He had done everything he'd intended. The small boy who had lain awake each night and plotted revenge had achieved it. His mother and sister could lie quietly in the arms of G.o.d. leaped higher. Raphael couldn't see clearly, but he thought the flames were licking at the dock. Gulf Coast Steamship was going up in smoke before his eyes. He waited for the thrill of elation. He had done everything he'd intended. The small boy who had lain awake each night and plotted revenge had achieved it. His mother and sister could lie quietly in the arms of G.o.d.

And Lucien could burn in the depths of a h.e.l.l on earth.

He didn't know how much time had pa.s.sed before he looked at Lucien again. He was collapsed on the floor now, the color of the ashes drifting in the air. He was breathing, his fingers digging ineffectually in the rug beneath him. But there was nothing he could do except lie there and face his own destiny.

"I'll leave you to find your way out," Raphael said. "I'd advise you to leave as quickly as you can. This building will probably be safe, but even that's not certain. Nothing's certain in this life, is it? There are always surprises in store."

He started toward the door, but he wanted one more glimpse of Lucien. He had yet to feel the thrill of victory. In the doorway, he turned and saw that Lucien was still, except for the slight rise and fall of his overcoat. He waited for joy to fill him, but he was as empty inside as he had been before he fell in love with Lucien's daughter.

Aurore. He turned away for good. No matter his feelings or lack of them, his past was behind him. He had no doubt that Lucien would rally or that Fantome would return in time to help him. Lucien had survived worse. Now Raphael had just enough time to get to the train station, where he had already deposited his bags. Aurore would see the smoke and worry, but he would rea.s.sure her. Then, when they were safely on board, he would relive his success, and at last know satisfaction.

He took the stairs three at a time and unlocked the door. As he had expected, the air was thick with ashes. He heard the clatter of a fire wagon and the shouts of men on the riverfront.

He felt a searing blast of heat as he stepped outside. He hadn't expected that. The wind, which had played softly throughout the afternoon, had picked up. Now it was fanning the flames. He didn't have time to investigate, but a part of him insisted, even if it meant that he would have to run all the way to Rampart.

The fire mesmerized him. He moved in the direction of the river, through the stave yard and along the same path where he had once led Aurore. The smoke grew thicker and more menacing with every step. Closer to the river, he saw why. The dock was on fire now, but it was the spectacle of the burning ship that held his attention. Never had he seen anything like it. Outlined in flames, the SS Danish Dowager Danish Dowager was already just a sh.e.l.l of what she had once been. The little fire tug, was already just a sh.e.l.l of what she had once been. The little fire tug, Samson, Samson, was gamely trying to relieve the was gamely trying to relieve the Dowager Dowager's agony, but the attempt was hopeless.

He had his revenge. It writhed in the water in front of him. As he stared, the sight merged in his mind with another boat, a small, frail skiff with three terrified pa.s.sengers. He felt the skiff buck beneath him, felt the rough wood of a seat against his clinging hands. He shut his eyes, but the moment became clearer. Over the roar of wind, he heard his mother scream. He squeezed his eyelids tighter, but he saw his sister's body hurtle through the air, to disappear under a wave that was taller than an oak tree. He reached for his mother, but she shook off his hands and disappeared into the water after her daughter.

He had clung to the seat for time unending. Just the way he had clung to his hatred for Lucien Le Danois. Just the way he had clung to his determination to seek revenge.

Raphael opened his eyes and realized it was not elation he felt, but despair. He had prayed and schemed for this moment, yet now that it was his, he knew his prayers had been blasphemy. In one terrible moment of panic and selfishness, Lucien had condemned his lover and his daughter to death. Raphael's moments had been many, moments calculated and h.o.a.rded, moments that had multiplied into years dedicated to destruction and hatred. And none of it could bring back his mother and sister.

"Aurore!" He turned and began to run back toward Gulf Coast and the street that would lead him to Rampart. For the first time he knew what he ran from, and what he ran toward. There was nothing he could do about the holocaust he left behind, but he could protect Lucien's daughter from what lay ahead. She must never know what had transpired here. She must never know his part in her family's destruction.

He paused for breath beside Gulf Coast. He could feel the wind at his back, strong gusts that swirled smoke and skipped burning debris along the ground. Something stung his neck, and he brushed a live cinder to the walk. Whirling, he saw a glow in the stave yard. As he watched, the glow deepened. The lumber, impregnated with flammable chemicals, would go up quickly.

The Gulf Coast building would be destroyed. Even as he heard the clatter of more engines, he knew they would be too late. He looked for Lucien's carriage, but Fantome was either late returning or had found it impossible to get through.

Lucien was upstairs, and it was only a matter of time before the building collapsed around him. There was time to rescue him, to find someone who would be certain he was taken out of the area. There was time, but was there reason?

He moved toward the door, then stopped, torn between old hatreds and new revelations. He saw Aurore's face in his mind and knew he couldn't live with her if he took this final, fatal plunge into revenge. He had flung wide the door and started inside when he heard a shout.

"etienne!" As if his thoughts had conjured her, she appeared through the smoke, coughing and choking. "etienne!"

Two people materialized behind her. He recognized Ti' Boo and Jules from Lafourche. His heart began to speed. Aurore fell into his arms. "What are you doing here?" He pushed her away and grasped her shoulders. "What are you doing?"

"I-we saw the fire. It's the Dowager, Dowager, etienne!" etienne!"

He saw that she was sobbing. Fear gripped him. "There's nothing to be done about it now!"

"And the dock. etienne, the dock! Everything my father built. Gone."

"It doesn't matter. We have to get out of here now. The office is going to go up, too. The wind's blowing this way!" As if to ill.u.s.trate his words, there was a roar from the stave yard. What had been a glow was now visible flames.

"We have to save what we can! Anything we can!"

"We can't carry anything worth saving, Aurore." He tried to push her toward Jules, but she wouldn't budge.

"We have to try!"

"No! We have to get out of here. Jules, take her. Start toward Rampart Street. I'll follow in a few minutes. I have to be sure no one is inside."

"Inside?" Aurore still refused to move.

"Aurore, you have to go. Now!" He couldn't think of anything that might start her on the way except part of the truth. "Your father was here. I told him we were leaving the city together. He was furious. I don't know if he left the building afterward. I have to see, but you can't go. He can't see you again, not if you have any hope of leaving with me!"

Her eyes widened, and he knew he would always remember her this way, face pale with shock, eyes wide with tears streaming from them. "My father?"

"Aurore, go!" He succeeded in pushing her towards Jules. "Jules, take her now, and get her out of here. If Lucien is still here, I'll be sure he's safe before I follow."

"No, I have to see for myself!" She resisted Jules's grip, and before either man could stop her, she dashed for the stairs.

Raphael followed, and he could hear footsteps behind him. He prayed that Lucien was gone, that somehow he'd rallied and left the building when Raphael was at the riverfront. But even as he prayed, he knew what they would find.

Aurore shoved the door open and flew across the room. "Papa!" Lucien was exactly where Raphael had left him. He groaned at the sound of his daughter's voice. She flung herself to the ground and grasped his shoulder to try to turn him onto his back. "Help me, etienne!"

Raphael knelt beside her and took her hands. "I'll get him out of here, Aurore. You've got to leave. You can't stay. If you want to leave with me, you must go now!"

She shook off his hands. "I can't leave him! Papa!" Jules joined her, and between them they turned Lucien to his back. His eyelids fluttered open, but he didn't speak. "Papa!"

Something knotted inside Raphael. "If you stay, he'll never allow you to marry me. Jules will get him to safety for us. But your father knows about us now. We have to leave. I'm sorry, but you've got to make a choice!"

"How can you ask me to choose?" Tears streamed down her cheeks. "He's my father. He may be dying!"

"He's not!" But even as he said the words, he saw that Lucien's face was a death mask. Every breath that wracked his body took him one step closer.

"Aurore." Lucien's voice was so soft that for a moment Raphael wasn't sure he had heard it.

"Papa." Aurore drew his head to her lap. She put her face as close to his as she could. "We'll get you out of here," she said. "I'll stay with you. You're going to be fine."

"etienne..."

She lifted her head. "He's calling you," she said.

Lucien's eyes rolled back in his head, and his hands fluttered wildly. "Aurore."

"What, Papa? etienne's here, too. What is it?"

"He's...a b.a.s.t.a.r.d."