“
Adieu,
Philippe,” she whispered into the emptiness of the coach, her heart strangely heavy with a grief she wished she did not feel.
Gabby hesitated before Marcel’s front door, her hand poised on the knocker, her mind in a turmoil. She realized that once she entered Marcel’s house all hope of reconciling with Philippe was lost forever. But then, hadn’t he already refused to claim his own babe? No, thought Gabby, resolutely firming her chin, Philippe did not deserve the son or daughter she would bear him. Her decision made, she grasped the knocker firmly, preparing to make her presence known. But before she could raise the heavy, brass object, a voice from behind startled her.
“Gabby,
cherie!
Is it really you? I have been out of my mind with worry since St. Cyr spirited you out of New Orleans!”
Gabby turned just as Marcel bounded through the front gate, a look of pure joy lighting his handsome features.
“Marcel!” sobbed Gabby, suddenly aware of how glad she was to see him.
“Where have you been,
cherie?
” Marcel asked, searching her pale face. What he saw made him gasp in shock and outrage as he drew Gabby into the protective circle of his arms. “What has he done to you, Gabby?
Mon dieu
, look at you, you are ill! If he has harmed you in any way I shall kill him!” Marcel announced with cold fury. The dark smudges beneath Gabby’s eyes accentuated their violet hue and brought into focus her pale features. Her skin had the transparency of fine porcelain. All this Marcel noted with growing alarm.
Suddenly it all became too much for Gabby as Marcel’s face faded into the distance and she felt herself begin a slow descent to the ground. Then she knew no more.
Marcel, his face a mask of concern and love, had his arms around Gabby even as she began to crumple and lifted her weightless form, making his way into the house where he placed her gently on the sofa at the same time calling to his housekeeper to bring cool water and clean clothes. Then he began to unbutton Gabby’s tight dress, starting at the high neckline and continuing to her waist where his fingers paused, noticing for the first time her thickened waistline and gently swelling stomach. He grit his teeth in barely suppressed anger but continued with his ministrations when his housekeeper, Tildy, arrived with the water and cloths.
Dismissing Tildy, Marcel tenderly bathed Gabby’s flushed face and neck until her eyes began to flutter. “Gabby,
cherie,
” he crooned softly, “what has he done to you?”
Gabby’s eyes blinked upon and she was momentarily stunned to find Marcel bending over her. She tried to answer but Marcel put a finger to her lips.
“Don’t speak until your strength returns,
ma chere
. I shall send immediately for the doctor.”
“No, Marcel!” Gabby replied, straining to rise. “I have just come from Dr. Renaud’s office!”
“You have already seen a doctor?”
“
Oui,
Phillipe insisted on accompanying me there the moment we docked. Because… because of my… condition,” Gabby stammered shyly. The pink staining her cheeks was the first sign of any color Marcel had seen on her pale face since he had found her standing on his doorstep.
“Philippe knows you are to bear his child?” Marcel was astounded. Why was Gabby here? Surely St. Cyr would not let her out of his sight now that she was carrying his heir, he reasoned.
“Philippe is well aware that I am pregnant,” Gabby whispered in a voice so low Marcel had to bend to hear. “Only… only… Oh, Marcel,” Gabby sobbed, clutching at his shirt and hiding her head against his shoulder. “He refuses to believe the child is his!”
“
Mon dieu,
what a jackass! Who does he suppose the father to be?”
Gabby lifted her misty eyes and Marcel was shocked and angered at the pain and suffering mirrored in those violet depths. Even without being told he knew the answer. Gabby’s words only confirmed it.
“He believes that we were lovers and that you sired the child before I left Martinique aboard the
Southern Star.
”
“If that were true I would be the happiest man alive,
cherie,
” Marcel said tenderly. And he was never more serious in his life. He would cherish a child by Gabby conceived from his own loins. Suddenly his jaw hardened, his fists clenched and his eyes became cold green emeralds.
“What did that fool do to you after he decided that child you carry was not his? Did he beat you? Starve you? From the looks of you it is obvious that you have been abused. Did he force you? Tell me, Gabby, tell me everything,” insisted Marcel through clenched teeth. “The sooner I know the truth the sooner I can call him out and kill him. Once I make you a widow we will be wed.”
“Marcel, please listen,” begged Gabby. For some unexplained reason she did not want Philippe dead. “As soon as I learned I was with child I told Philippe, thinking he would be pleased. His reaction stunned me. He refused to believe I had remained faithful to him.”
“The damn fool!” cursed Marcel bitterly. “Is that when he began abusing you?”
Gabby thought back to Norfolk and shuddered. “Just the opposite,” she admitted slowly, still puzzling over Philippe’s strange behavior after he found her at Daisy Wilson’s. “Before that I was little more than his prisoner aboard the
Windward.
Philippe took away my clothes and forced me to submit to him. I think he was determined to either bend me to his will, or… or kill me.”
“Now I know I cannot allow him to live!” snarled Marcel. “What suffering you must have endured! But you said he changed after Norfolk. In what way?”
“
Oui
, he did change. But not before I tried once again to run away. There was no way I could remain with him and allow his own child to be treated as a bastard. So I left the ship while Philippe was ashore. Only… only…”
“What is it,
cherie?
” Then seeing Gabby’s distressed face, Marcel was prompted to add, “Tell me only if you wish.”
“Everything that happened in Norfolk is still fuzzy, distorted in my mind. I would rather not speak of it now.”
“Of course,
cherie
, I will not press you.”
Reassured by Marcel’s gentle understanding, Gabby continued. “Needless to say Philippe found me and brought me back to the ship. For some unexplained reason I was ill and have not fully recovered.”
“Are you certain St. Cyr did nothing to harm you? He did not neglect you while you lay ill?” asked Marcel sharply, the picture of Gabby sick and helpless before Philippe’s anger vivid in his mind.
“No!” denied Gabby, recalling the bruises inflicted upon her defenseless body while she lay unconscious, but loath to reveal to Marcel the full extent of Philippe’s cruelty. “Philippe was gentle and caring during my illness.”
“Ha! I find that hard to believe!” sneered Marcel.
“It’s true, Marcel, although I found it difficult to believe myself at that time. That’s when he told me he would not stand in my way if I still wished to leave him.”
“Philippe said that?” Marcel’s face was a mask of disbelief. “Did he indicate that he might divorce you?”
“No! He made it clear that he would never consent to a divorce, that if I chose to… to live with you, it would be without benefit of divorce.”
“And you still chose me under those circumstances,
ma chere?
” cried Marcel, tears springing to his eyes as he gathered her in his arms. “You shall never regret your decision, I promise. I shall always love and protect you.”
“Wait, Marcel!” exclaimed Gabby, slipping from his embrace. “There is something you must understand. I cannot think beyond the birth of my child, I make no promises as to our future together.”
“Your child is now my child by right of abandonment,” stated Marcel firmly. “And once our child is born I shall take you to France and personally petition the courts for a divorce.”
“You would do that for me?”
“For us,
cherie,
for us. Don’t you know? Can’t you guess?
Je t’aime, je t’aime
. I have loved you since the day I first saw you aboard the
Windward
, a young bride, unhappy in her marriage. Even then I hoped to have you one day for my own. Soon, it will become a reality.”
Then, overcome by culmination of his wildest dreams, and by the hot flush of desire, Marcel buried his head between Gabby’s breasts, planting moist kisses on her smooth flesh. His hand slipped to her stomach where he lovingly caressed the growing child he would love and cherish as his own.
“I believe you really mean it, Marcel,” said Gabby wonderingly. “I believe you would love Philippe’s child as your own.”
“Our child,
cherie,
” he corrected. “For I already accept responsibility. I would not hesitate to protect you both with my dying breath!”
“I believe you, Marcel,” Gabby said wearily. “But I am in no way able to consider the future at this time. I am confused, hurt, and exhausted. Right now I need your friendship.”
“My home is yours,
cherie.
I ask nothing of you, expect no payment but to be able to enjoy your company and share your child. Now,” he said brusquely, concerned by the lines of weariness marring her features, “up to bed with you.” He lifted her easily in his brawny arms and carried her to the guest room, depositing her gently on the bed. “I will send Tildy up to help you.”
Not until that moment did Gabby realize that she was bared to the waist. But now, as she followed Marcel’s hot gaze, her face turned scarlet at his wistful look and her hands flew to pull the material of her bodice together.
“Forgive me,
cherie,
” Marcel apologized sheepishly, “but I had to loosen your dress when you fainted.”
“I understand, Marcel,” murmured Gabby, blushing furiously, “there is no need to apologize. I… I am grateful to you.”
“I want you to know that I will never take advantage of you or do anything to destroy whatever feelings you have for me. No matter how badly I want you I would never force myself on you as Philippe has done in the past.”
Gabby relaxed visibly at his words and sighed wearily. “
Merci,
Marcel. You are so good to me. I only wish I… I could love you as you love me.”
“It will come,
cherie
, it will come,” he smiled confidently.
After Marcel left Gabby in Tildy’s capable hands he let himself out of the house and strode with grim determination the short distance to the docks and entered a large building sporting a sign proclaiming it to be the offices of St. Cyr Enterprises. He looked neither right nor left but walked directly to a door emblazoned with the name of Philippe St. Cyr. Noting the intense look on Marcel’s face, the clerk sitting at the desk in the outer office did nothing to stop him as he burst into Philippe’s private office, slamming the door behind him.
Startled, Philippe looked up, but his hooded eyes effectively concealed his feelings when he saw Marcel, anger darkening his countenance.
“I thought I’d find you here, St. Cyr,” Marcel said with deadly calm.
Philippe’s first thought was of Gabby. “What is it, Duvall? Has something happened to my wife?” Marcel could not help but note the way Philippe Stressed the word “wife.”
“My question exactly, St. Cyr. What has happened to her? Any fool can see she is unwell. If you won’t tell me what is wrong with her I shall be forced to go to Dr. Renaud for an answer. If I find that you have harmed either Gabby or her child I shall kill you,” Marcel said with cold fury, surprised at the depth of his own emotion.
A tremendously long silence loomed up while Philippe searched Marcel’s face. Then, as if satisfied by what he saw, he said, “I don’t blame you for being concerned about the welfare of your child, Duvall.” Here he paused dramatically and when Marcel made no move to deny his words, Philippe’s face hardened. “But that doesn’t lessen my hatred for you. Twice in the past Gabrielle has left me, but this time I let her go because she carried your child. And after her terrifying experience in Norfolk I lacked the will to force her to return to Bellefontaine with me.”
“Just what did happen in Norfolk?” Marcel insisted. “Gabby could not tell me about it without becoming distressed. I believe something so horrible happened to her there that her mind refuses to accept it. And I hold you responsible!”
Marcel was puzzled by the fleeting look of pain that crossed Philippe’s face. “Because it concerns the welfare of your unborn child I will tell you exactly what took place in Norfolk when Gabby left the
Windward
on her own,” sighed Philippe, his voice tinged with sadness. “I cannot tell you I am blameless because when I learned Gabby had been living as your mistress after I left Martinique I was livid with rage and determined to make her suffer for the indignity she heaped upon me. I admit freely that I dealt harshly with her but I would not have done her bodily harm. I meant only to break her spirit until she became a loving, amenable wife to me. Then came the worst indignity of all… she discovered she was pregnant with your child. Oh,
oui
, she tried to convince me that the child was mine,” laughed Philippe bitterly. “When I refused to believe her lies she left the ship at Norfolk deliberately thrusting herself into a situation that nearly cost her her own life as well as the life of her child.”
Marcel’s slitted eyes blazed hated at Philippe. Shock glazed his face as the sordid details of Gabby’s ordeal in Daisy Wilson’s house of prostitution came to light. At one point in the telling. Marcel sank into a chair and buried his head in his hands.
“
Mon dieu,
the memories of such foul treatment at unscrupulous hands must be eating away at her soul like some dread sickness! The depravities she engaged in while under the drug! I cannot bear the thought of that poor child’s suffering!”
“Gabby does not remember what took place at Daisy Wilson’s and if she means anything at all to you you must never reveal to her what I have told you this day.”
“I love Gabby!” Marcel insisted vehemently. “I would never hurt her as you have done!”
“Oui,”
said Philippe wearily, readily accepting the blame heaped upon him by Marcel. “I believe you do love her.”
“Then divorce her!”
“Never!”
“I fail to understand you, Philippe. You accuse your wife of adultery, even allow her to leave you for another man, yet refuse to divorce her. What manner of man are you?”