Page 137 of Frankly, My Dear

For the next five days, Selene avoided James, who had enough problems without a confrontation over their personal relationship. The only words they exchanged were in the company of others, usually involving the plantation work.

Part of the south field had been saved, but three cows and one of the mules had died from poisoned oats. Reba reported that many of the slaves ate only fresh fruit and vegetables from their own gardens for fear of being poisoned themselves.

Dreadful had chased an intruder near the house one night and been sliced with a knife. As a result, he hobbled about with a big bandage on his hind leg proclaiming his bravery. James muttered something about never being able to get rid of the mangy mutt now. And Etienne beamed, proud of his “guard dog.”

James had decreed that Selene’s lessons continue with Etienne and the Negro children, much to Giselle’s fury. But since then, Giselle had had many more reasons to hate James. He had posted a guard at the hall and gallery doors of his wife’s bedchamber, giving strict orders that the man was to follow her everywhere.

As days went by under this close surveillance, Giselle grew wild-eyed and impossible to control. And everyone realized that she was addicted to some drug, probably laudanum—a diluted form of opium. Being prevented from going out at night to the summons of the voodoo drums apparently translated into a cutoff of her drug supply, and she suffered deep withdrawal pains.

After sustaining slaps, slashes from her riding crop, broken pottery, tongue lashings, threats, and curses, none of the servants would go to Giselle’s room, and they scurried away whenever she came downstairs. Selene was the only one willing to approach her, and even she was a bit frightened.

She carried a breakfast tray up to Giselle now, no longer able to put off the task. The guard—a black man of about twenty—rolled his eyes at the smashing noises inside Giselle’s room when Selene knocked on the door. “She be wilder than usual today, mam’zelle. Best you be careful.”

“I will,” Selene said, inhaling deeply to brace herself. Opening the door, she stepped inside and almost staggered back at the chaotic scene. Selene closed the door behind her and laid the tray on a side table.

Practically nude, Giselle wore only a thin camisole-style garment. In her frantic search for drugs, she had strewn every item of clothing she owned about the room—on the bed, the floor, over chairs.

Giselle’s glazed eyes turned on Selene, unfocused. “I need my medicine,” she said in a thready, childlike voice. “Can you find my medicine?”

Suddenly Selene noticed the old bruises and scars that covered Giselle’s too-thin body. “Did Victor do this to you?” Selene asked, touching a yellow spot on her shoulder with sympathy. Selene understood codependency too well to remain unmoved. Although Devon had never struck her physically, he had wielded emotional blows right and left.

Giselle waved her hand dismissively. “They’re nothing. Victor and I have always liked a rough edge to our lovemaking. He carries as many bruises as I do.” She flashed a look of disdain at Selene, as if she were incapable of understanding “real” lovemaking.

Selene’s mouth dropped open in astonishment.

Giselle laughed with a trill of hysteria. “Victor is a wonderful lover, not a milksop like James.”

James a milksop? Never! “Do you love Victor?”

“Oui.” She frowned. “I think I do…I used to…oh, I don’t know.” Tunneling her fingers in her hair, which hadn’t been washed in days, Giselle pulled at the lank strands in frustration.

“Why didn’t you marry Victor? Why did you marry his brother?”

“Victor’s father forbade our marriage. He threatened to cut Victor off without a penny.” She narrowed her eyes craftily. “So we came up with a plan. I would marry James, and when he was gone, I would have not only Bayou Noir to sell, along with its slaves, but I would have the will to half of Jean-Paul’s estate.”

Selene tilted her head in puzzlement. “But wouldn’t James’s estate go to Etienne?”

Giselle’s lips twisted with disgust. “I had not planned to have a baby. Actually, I rid myself of two of James’s other unborn children without his knowledge.”

Selene cringed inwardly in horror, but she wanted to get as much information from Giselle as she could. “I still don’t understand. Why did you go away for a year?”

“Oh, you are so stupid. All of you are. That stubborn woman…James’s mother…tried to kill me. She refused to give me the will….”

Giselle was pacing the room, her body movements jerky in the throes of her withdrawal. She seemed to have lost her train of thought.

“And?” Selene prodded.

“I was ill for a long time, I think. I don’t remember. I stayed in a room in New Orleans, and Victor gave me my medicine…do you know where my medicine is?…and Fleur was there…where’s Fleur?…oh, my head hurts so, and my heart is beating so fast…please, please, can’t you get me some medicine?” Giselle rambled on, almost delirious with the craving for her addictive drug.

She needed help desperately, but first Selene sought more answers. “Why did you come back now? Why didn’t you stay with Victor?”

“You…you are the reason I came back.”

“Me?”

Giselle blinked at her with confusion. “I told you. We need the plantation and the will. James was going to marry you. We could not allow that to happen. One more person obstructing our dream.”

What a dream! Selene thought, but found it hard not to pity this wretched woman. “Oh, Giselle. Do you really think killing James and gaining this plantation would satisfy Victor? Can’t you see that you’re just a means to his evil ends?”