Wronged (The Cuvier Widows Book 1) Page 12

  “As your father I want you to come home and be a part of the family operation.” He sighed. “Come see Emily and then maybe you’ll change your mind.”

  “Maybe I can get home in the next month and then you can invite Emily over for dinner. I’ll let you know.” Though Louis knew without hesitation he had no interest in Emily and doubted he would return home anytime soon, yet somehow he felt sorry for his father and tried to appease him.

  Marian stuck her head in the doorway. “Louis, have you seen last month’s financial statement?” She put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, excuse me, I didn’t know you had company.”

  “It’s all right. Come in and let me introduce you to my father,” Louis said watching with interest as his father rose to meet Marian for the first time.

  They shook hands and said the niceties while Louis remembered how it had been to feel Marian in his arms, the buggy ride home, and the way her head fit the curve of his neck, the smell of magnolias that permeated her hair.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Fournet. What brings you into town?”

  His father smiled graciously at Marian. “I had some business I needed to handle and I wanted to check on my youngest son here and see what he’s been doing, since he rarely comes home.”

  Marian nodded her head.

  “Yes, I’m afraid your son doesn’t strike me as the family type. He seems more suited for convincing businessmen they need his services and occasionally acting as a chaperone,” she said, with a mischievous laugh as she winked at Louis.

  Louis felt his father’s eye upon him as he watched the exchange between Marian and himself.

  “Well, I must run. I hope to see you again soon, sir,” said Marian.

  “Thank you,” he said, and observed her walking out the door, her skirts swishing as she departed.

  After she left his father turned to face him and raised questioning brows. “Nice and beautiful. A good combination.”

  Louis shrugged. “She’s a recent widow, Father.”

  “And you’re a widower.”

  “What time shall I meet you for dinner?” he asked trying to change the subject.

  “Eight o’clock will be fine. About your trip home. Why don’t you bring Mrs. Cuvier just in case Emily is no longer available?”

  Louis smiled at his father. “You just don’t give up, do you?”

  “Of course not, I’m your father. Only I can give you this kind of abuse.”

  Louis smiled at his father, knowing the old man had gotten ideas about Marian.

  ***

  Marian spent Saturday afternoon reading over the last quarter’s financial statement, the realization of her economic uncertainty and her responsibilities suddenly very clear and frightening. Cuvier Shipping was their livelihood and must be successful or they would quickly go broke.

  The numbers for the last month since Jean’s murder were pitiful. The fear of closing the doors of Cuvier Shipping almost overwhelmed her, making her frantic with worry.

  Upon realizing their dreadful fiscal outlook, she sent a message to Louis to visit her at home as soon as possible.

  Just when she’d given up on him stopping by, Edward, her manservant, announced his arrival. Dressed in a rose floral silk dress, she greeted him, pacing the floor in the family room.

  “Where have you been?” she asked trying to keep the sharpness out of her voice, knowing she failed miserably.

  He gazed at her with his brows raised, his blue eyes seeming to laugh at her, as she stood there a nervous wreck, the hour late. She watched his gaze slide down the simple dress, taking note of her apparel. When his look returned to her face, a smoldering shadow lingered in his eyes that reminded her of hot, muggy nights spent restless and hungry.

  She took a deep breath and reminded herself that this tuxedo-clad man, who liked to chase women even more than her dead husband had, was her business partner.

  “May I remind you it’s Saturday night. I’m a bachelor and I want to have some fun.” He paused. “I’ve been with men all week. Tonight, I want to be in the company of a woman.”

  Marian bristled. Just the sort of thing that Jean would have said.

  “I’ve been waiting for you all afternoon. Didn’t you get my message that I needed to speak with you right away?”

  “I was busy. I didn’t receive it until I returned home.”

  She continued her pacing, her arms crossed across her chest, her mind working frantically to resolve the problem she’d uncovered.

  “I’m here. What’s wrong?” Louis asked standing in the doorway twirling his hat in his hand.

  “Come in and shut the door. No one else needs to know about this,” she said with a frown.

  Louis closed the door and stood in front of it, his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the closed door. It wasn't fair, Louis was so handsome, so debonair and so much like her dead husband.

  “I’m waiting,” he said impatiently. “I have a party to attend.”

  She turned on him exasperated. “I’m terribly sorry to disturb you, but I thought you might want to consider that we have lost over a fourth of our customers since Jean’s murder was on the front page of every newspaper in Louisiana. Our profits are way down and the newspaper continues to publish articles on Jean’s immoral character. I’m so afraid we’re going to lose more business. What are we going to do?”

  “Whoa! Take it easy, before you have a case of the vapors! Slow down and let’s take these one by one.” He stepped into the room, crossing to where Marian stood. “Let’s start with the simplest. Are you referring to the article just printed a couple of days ago?”

  “Yes, I think we all agree, Jean was a bastard of the worst sort, but the man is dead and I just wish they would quit writing about him. It’s destroying Cuvier Shipping. It hurts my children.”

  Louis shook his head. “It’s not going to end until after there’s a trial for his murder. I’m sorry, Marian, there’s nothing I can do to stop the press.” He took a deep breath. “But I have a friend down at the newspaper who owes me a favor. He’s going to write an article on how Cuvier Shipping is changing with the times and about the new direction we’re taking toward the twentieth century. That should help our image and bring us more business.”

  She gazed at him stunned. “So you’ve already handled that one?”

  “Yes. It should be out sometime next week.”

  Jean had kept everything to himself. She had not been included in any of the decisions regarding the two of them, but lived with his choices. He’d never involved her or even kept her informed. And now Louis had not involved her in the newspaper article.

  “As for losing more customers, I sent a letter out just this week to all of our clients saying basically the same thing that the article will say. In the letter, I tell them how important their business is to us.”

  “Oh. That’s a good idea. How did you sign the letter?” she asked, trying not to get upset, feeling more and more like Jean’s ghost had invaded Louis’s body and continued to make all the decisions, excluding her.

  He gazed at her, his face looking quizzical. “I signed them.”

  “Did you include my name?” she asked.

  He looked sheepish. “No.”

  “Perfect,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Let’s not include the new partner.”

  He ignored her remark, but took a step back and walked across the room. “I looked at the financial statement sometime last week. I’ve since taken steps to get us new business and I feel we should recover in the next two or three months. Eventually we’ll recapture our losses.”

  For the last five hours she’d paced the floor worrying whether they were going to survive her deceased husband’s reputation, while Louis had already taken steps to ensure the continuation of the company and was out having a good time. Would including her in these decisions have been so difficult? Or just like Jean, had he deliberately kept her in the dark regarding his decisions?

  An overriding fury g
ripped her as she stared at the handsome man standing there in his evening clothes, looking like a man on the prowl.

  Just like Jean.

  “I have two other questions,” she said, her voice calm, her words precise. She glared at him, her eyes saying what she wasn’t quite ready to say. “When you and my husband were partners did you discuss the decisions you made regarding the business?”

  Louis took a deep breath. “Look, I made these evaluations before I accepted you as my partner. That’s why I came in and spoke with you about all those other matters the other day. I was trying to remember everything that’s happened and tell you, so you’d know.”

  “Well there were several important ones you missed. I’ve just spent the afternoon worrying about how I would feed my family,” she said, her voice rising.

  “Marian, I can help you. Let me buy the business from you. All you have to do is say the word and I’ll buy you out.” He stared at her. “You could put all this behind you and concentrate on your children again.”

  “No! I don’t want to sell,” she said curtly. “I want to be included. You weren’t going to tell me these things, just like you didn’t tell me about Jean’s other women!” The room grew silent. Marian stared at Louis. For several moments silence filled the room as he looked at her, shocked by her outburst.

  “I didn’t tell you about the statement because at the time I hadn’t accepted you as my partner.” He shoved his hands down in the pockets of his tuxedo. “And I didn’t know that Jean married those women. I knew he cheated on his wife, but I didn’t know you at the time and frankly his affairs were none of my business.”

  Marian felt the tears swell behind her eyes and knew she couldn’t break down and cry. Not now. Not while Louis stood there watching her.

  She turned away from him and walked to the window. “I’d like you to leave now.”

  Her request was calm and cool and perfectly under control, but she didn’t know how long she could remain this way.

  Out of the comer of her eye, she saw him take a step toward her and then stop. He stood, uncertain, and then he turned to go, but when he reached the door, he paused with his back to her.

  “I’m sorry about Jean, Marian. What he did to you and the other women wasn’t right. You deserved to be treated much better.” He opened the door and paused for a moment. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the financial statement. It didn’t occur to me. I’ll try harder.”

  She heard the door click behind him and she burst into sobs. He reminded her so much of Jean. His lack of communicating, his way with women, even the way he laughed sometimes. But thank God, he wasn’t Jean. For Jean would never have apologized.

  Yet the apology almost made it worse, because somehow it made her like him even more. And she didn’t want to be attracted to another man. Not now. Not ever. And especially not her business partner.

  Chapter Eight

  Marian stood before the townhouse door, feeling foolish. She shouldn’t have come. What if the woman wouldn’t speak with her? What if the blonde just wanted her to go away?

  Marian took a deep breath and raised her hand, forcing herself to knock on the door. The argument with Louis had forced her to realize that the questions revolving in her head since Jean’s death would not disappear until she spoke with one of the women Jean married, maybe both. She needed answers to these questions or go crazy wondering.

  A servant opened the door. “Yes?”

  “Could I speak with Mrs... could I speak with Nicole?” Marian asked. “Tell her it’s Marian Cuvier.” The servant’s face went ashen.

  “Please wait in the parlor while I see if she’s accepting visitors,” the servant said ushering Marian into the house.

  He took her into a small room off the entryway of the town house and shut the door. A few minutes later, the door slowly opened and a very pale Nicole walked in. For a moment, the two women stared at one another, their gazes locked as they took measure of each other.

  “I ... I need to talk with you,” Marian said.

  “Please sit,” she invited.

  Marian glanced around at the small sitting room where a loveseat and two chairs were placed in front of a fireplace.

  “I’ll order us coffee,” Nicole said stepping into a room off the sitting area.

  Marian sat in one of the chairs and glanced at a copy of a Rembrandt painting, which graced a wall over the small fireplace.

  Nicole stepped back into the room, her long skirt flowing gracefully behind her. Her manners were elegant and ladylike as she sat on the loveseat across from Marian.

  Her blue eyes gazed at Marian with a gentle regard. “How can I help you, Mrs...”

  “Please, Marian.”

  Nicole smiled warily. “Sorry, it just feels so awkward.”

  “I understand. I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed you by coming to your home.”

  “Oh, no. But I would suggest that when you leave, you take the back way and be cautious. There’s at least one pesky reporter who continues to hound me. There’s no need to give them any more gossip.”

  “Yes, we’re still having problems with reporters ourselves,” Marian acknowledged.

  The room grew silent with only the sounds from the street filtering through an open window that looked out onto a courtyard. A bird trilled a song celebrating the warm sunshine, an odd contrast to the chilled atmosphere in the room. Marian gazed at the young woman, noticing the dark shadows beneath her eyes, her complexion pale, and she wondered if she were ill.

  “Are you feeling any better?” she asked, hoping they would warm to one another, before she asked the personal questions she needed answered. The stilted atmosphere made it even harder to ask for the information she sought. “You haven’t fainted again, have you?”

  “I’m better,” Nicole said. “I’m going home in the next few days and I think that will help me more than anything.”

  A lengthy silence ensued as the two women sat there, Marian not knowing how to bring up the delicate subject.

  She cleared her throat. “I guess you’re wondering why I came here today.”

  Nicole looked up and nodded. “Yes.”

  “I—I need to speak with you about Jean,” she said blurting the words out, uncertain even now if she should talk with Nicole about her dead husband. But who else could understand her fears and her concerns about what Jean had done? “You seemed to care for him a great deal.”

  “I loved Jean. He made me happy,” the woman said, her gaze unwavering as she stared at Marian as if daring her to dispute the statement.

  Marian stood and began to pace the floor. “I’m sorry this is so difficult. Most people would question my sanity for asking you, a woman he married, but I thought that maybe you could help me. There’s no one else.” Marian wrung her hands as she paced the floor. “I feel so betrayed. Not because I loved Jean. My marriage to Jean had been over for a long time, but because— my life with Jean could have been better.”

  Nicole watched Marian and her eyes filled with distrust. “I too feel betrayed.”

  “My marriage didn’t turn out like I expected. It was not what I dreamed of as a young woman.” Marian sighed and walked to the window, gazing out at the beautiful courtyard, not really seeing anything. “I can’t help but wonder what went wrong. What did I do to make him seek other women?”

  “Marian, you and I both know that men don’t need a reason to seek out other women. It’s accepted for them to have a mistress,” she said. Nicole folded her hands in her lap. “Tell me, if you didn’t love Jean, why did you marry him?”

  Marian sank back down in her chair and took a deep breath. “My father knew Jean’s father and arranged my marriage. I was barely nineteen on the day we wed.”

  The maid knocked and entered carrying in a tray with a small coffeepot and two china cups, and carefully set it on the small table in the center of the room. Nicole poured Marian a cup and handed it to her. The china pattern had delicate pink roses painted on the side with the
rim outlined in gold.

  When they both settled back, Marian continued. “Shortly after we married, we moved to New Orleans where Jean took over Cuvier Shipping from his father. I soon became pregnant with Philip and while our life together held no passionate love, I assumed we were happy. Not long after our second child, Renee, was born, I noticed a change in Jean.”

  She sipped from the cup. “He lost interest in our children, in me, and remained home for only short periods of time. He stopped coming to my bed and when I tried to confront him, he avoided my questions or refused to tell me why he no longer wanted me. I begged him at least to spend some time with the children. They needed him. He never would tell me why he no longer came to my bed.” Marian took a deep breath. “I soon realized there must be another woman.”

  She glanced at Nicole. “I don’t know what I did that drove him from my bed to yours. I don’t know why he couldn’t love me, but he didn’t. You said you didn’t know he was married, but did he ever tell you anything that could help me understand what happened to our marriage?”

  Nicole sat there, her cup and saucer balanced in her hand, staring at Marian, her face showing no expression yet her eyes were brimming with tears. She took a deep breath. “Marian, he never said anything about you. I didn’t even know you existed until that morning we all met at the hotel room.”

  “I know. I came here hoping that something you could tell me could help me to comprehend what happened. I just want to know why.”

  Nicole sat her cup down, put her head in her hands, resting her elbows on her knees. A tear trickled down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. “I’m not even sure anymore that I knew the real Jean. How can I help you when my own life with Jean appears to be a lie? I thought we were happy. I thought he loved me, but he married Layla.”

  Marian resisted the urge to move to the young woman and comfort her. “I’m sorry to upset you. I’ve dwelled on this for weeks and I needed to speak with someone who could help me to understand what I did that drove him away. I thought you might know.”

  “No, he said nothing about you, Marian, to me. The worst part is he’s dead and we can never ask him why he did this. I’d simply like to know why he lied.”