I was constantly hyperaware that I was alone and that at any second, Matilda could scream my name. I had to be ready. Had to be prepared for what she needed of me.
When I think about it, I’m surprised I didn’t sleep longer than I did.
There’s a small meow from my doorway. I begin to turn my head, but I only see a blur of orange, black and white. And then the fur ball leaps onto my bed, directly onto Alex’s lap.
“My goodness. What is that?”
Alex begins to lovingly pet the cat’s coat, while the cat purrs. “A cat.”
“I know, but who’s cat?”
“Mine.” Alex bends down and rests her cheek against the cat’s head. The cat opens its bright green eyes, looking irritated that the petting stopped. “His name is Chandler Bing.”
“Chandler Bing?”
Alex nods and continues to pet it. Once again, Chandler Bing purrs. “Momma helped me name him.”
“That make sense then.”
“I like to call him Chan-Chan. He’s so fluffy and soft.” Alex squeezes him tight and Chan-Chan’s feline eyes meet mine. The pure terror there says, “Help me. Save me from this child.”
I don’t think there’s anyone that can save him from the smothering love of Alexandra Lacroix. “How did you talk your daddy into lettin’ you have a cat?”
She rubs Chan’s-Chan’s head. “I found Chan-Chan when Momma and I took a walk. At first, she said no, but he kept meowin’ and he was dirty and hungry so Momma let him come home with us.”
“Well, who could say no to such a charmin’ cat such as Chan-Chan?” I say.
Étienne could, that’s who. At least, before Serene and the children he would have.
“Do you have any more pets?”
“No.” Alex’s shoulders sag. “I want a baby pig, though.”
At that, I quirk a brow. “A pig?”
Instantly, Alex nods. “Oh, yes. I would love a pig. Daddy says no.”
“That sounds like your daddy.”
“Momma said she might consider it if we can name the pig Chris P. Bacon.” Alex’s brows become furrowed. “I don’t know why she likes that name.”
All I can do is shake my head and smile. This is a beautiful little girl. An incredible mix of Serene and Étienne. And I have already missed so much of her life.
Sadly, I look down at the quilt. This is not how I imagined my relationship being with Alex. When she was born, I had every intention of visiting often. I wanted to watch her slowly grow. I wanted to be part of fond memories, understand family nicknames, and be someone she could depend on for advice.
I loved my Aunt Christine. She was always good to me. But we weren’t extraordinarily close. She visited infrequently, and as a little girl, I was always shy. It seemed right when I would relax around her, she would leave, and I would have to start all over again the next time I saw her.
I don’t want that for me and Alex.
I clear my throat. “What would you like for me to call you?”
“Everyone in the family calls me Nat. But my parents called me Nattie.”
Alex smiles at me. “Momma calls me Lex.” She leans in, her face solemn. “Alexandra when I’m in trouble.”
I mimic her actions. “I think I will call you Lex, if that’s all right with you?”
Alex is quiet for a moment before she sheepishly nods.
“Lex it is.”
Since the first time Lex stepped into my room, she goes silent. I pat her on the knee. “How about I get dressed and meet you downstairs for breakfast?”
Lex’s eyes light up as she rapidly nods and jumps down from my bed. “Okay! I’m goin’ to find Chan-Chan!”
In the hallway, I hear her hollering, “Chan-Chan? Chan-Chan, where are you?”
Pulling back the sheets, I place my feet on the floor and walk to the restroom. Once I’m done, I immediately pull back the curtains in my bedroom. The sunlight that floods my room momentarily makes me squint, but as I step back and look around, nerves become soothed at my surroundings.
I find my valise sitting on the chair in the corner of the room. As I search for clothes to wear, I look down at my wrinkled attire and sigh. I fell asleep before I had time to change into a nightgown, but when I left Brignac House, I was in such a rush, I don’t think I packed one.
My mind wasn’t right. All I could fixate on was Asa’s marriage to Juliet Breymas. The animosity runs deep between the Breymas and Claiborne family, but so do Southern manners. Robert and Matilda received an invitation to Juliet’s upcoming nuptials and I came across the invite while I was in the library. It was tossed on the table, as though someone had opened the envelope, took one look at the invitation, and cast it from their hands. I wanted to do far more than that.
My heart dropped to my stomach at the sight of Asa’s name directly above Juliet’s. How did he meet Juliet? When did he meet her?
And as all those thoughts ran through my mind, anger and possession rushed through me, nearly choking me. I wanted to burn the invitation. Those words needed to melt, and the invite needed to become ash at the bottom of the fireplace.
Instead, I left the invitation where it was, but the location and date remained seared into my brain. It would be in Charleston on November fifteenth, 1919.
Finding the invitation wasn’t by sheer luck. Rather, it was a realization. It was almost as though I’d been asleep and suddenly, I was awake. So much time had gone by and the man I loved was getting married in seven days. I couldn’t let that happen.
After that, I didn’t think twice. I began to make plans to return to Charleston and packed what little of my clothes would fit into my valise. My mind found me in a frazzled state. I told my maid I was going away, and I had to leave quickly. She didn’t ask questions. Simply nodded and said she would take care of the rest of my wardrobe. But if Matilda gets ahold of it, I have a feeling every beautiful design would meet its unlucky demise with a pair of scissors.
I shake my head at the thought and take the first blouse and skirt I see from my valise. The embroidered red silk blouse tucks into the high waisted, navy blue skirt. It has six white buttons lining the right side of the skirt and large pockets for me to place my hands in.
Quickly, I take out the pins in my hair, only to put it back into a low bun.
Once upon a time, this morning ritual would’ve required two maids and me sitting in front of my vanity, pondering what I would make of the day before me.
I had one maid at Brignac House, and in most cases, she was assisting Matilda’s maids during one of her “spells.” Very swiftly, I learned the life I had at Belgrave was a luxury not extended to most.
As ludicrous as it may sound, I’m better for it because that was only the first change that I had to face that would steel me toward the many challenges that awaited me.
When I walk into the hallway, I’m relieved to see no servants or Alex waiting for me. I have no doubt that if she did spot me, she would follow me all the way to the dining room, incessantly questioning me.
I turn the corner and reach the marble staircase. In the light of the day, the Baccarat chandelier that hangs in the middle of the foyer isn’t lit, but light pouring in from the windows makes the crystals glint brightly. The tall imposing columns against each doorway mimics the four fluted Corinthians columns on the portico.