Authors: Lorena Dureau
"Ah, my charming little cousins," he saluted them
pleasantly but said nothing more.
Aimee Chausson, in black silk frosted with snowy linen,
lifted her white-capped head and motioned to the girls to draw nearer.
"My dears, I'll come directly to the point," she said with
an obviously contented smile on her broad, benign countenance. "I sent
for your cousin Miguel to come to New Orleans because I want him to
take over the management of our affairs from now on, or at least until
you become of age or marry and are able to look out for yourselves."
For a moment there was silence in the sun-speckled parlor,
while the still-bright light of the lengthening spring day filtered in
cheerfully through the open shutters and the two young girls stood
there staring bewilderedly at their grandmother and their newly
discovered cousin.
Finally Monique found her voice. "But, Grandmother, we've
been managing well enough without any help until now, haven't we? Why
have you suddenly asked someone who is really a stranger to us to come
here and handle our affairs?" She turned quickly to Miguel, flushing a
little as she realized he might take offense at her words. "Please, I
mean no discredit to you," she assured him. "It's only that, despite
the fact that we're cousins, we're really not blood relatives. Why,
we'd never even met until today!"
A faint smile flickered across Vidal's face as he nodded
in agreement. "What you say is quite true. That same fact has also
occurred to me, I assure you."
"Be that as it may," continued Aimee Chausson, waving
aside their verbal exchange, "after weighing the circumstances very
carefully and consulting with your late father's attorney, I have
appointed your cousin to be your curator—that is, for all
practical purposes, your guardian. You and Celeste may not know Miguel,
but I have heard much of him over the years from your Aunt Isabelle's
letters, and, of course, the lawyers who handled your father's will
made investigations as well, so I can assure you that your cousin is a
fine, upright gentleman of impeccable reputation whom I trust
completely. If it were otherwise, I would have never turned your
guardianship over to him."
Monique was more confused than ever. "But, Grandmother,
you… you are our guardian. Don't you want to take care of
Celeste and me anymore?"
"Of course, my dear, I'll still be here—at least
for as long as the good Lord permits me to linger," the elderly woman
assured her with a tender smile. "But I need… we need the
help of a man…"
Vidal continued to stand beside the wing-back chair,
prudently silent as he fixed his dark eyes deliberately on the rim of
his wineglass. He had anticipated this moment might be difficult, and
for a moment he regretted having let himself be wheedled into such an
awkward position.
"But why… why?" Monique persisted, still
vigorously rejecting the idea. "If we have you to care for us,
Grandmother, why should we need anyone else? If it's because you're
vexed with me, I promise I'll be good. But please, don't turn us over
to someone else. We love you, Grandmother, truly we do!"
Suddenly a sob escaped Celeste's lips as a horrible
thought occurred to her. "Merciful heavens! Are you ill? Are you going
to… to…?" Panic filled the young girl's hazel
eyes, and she didn't dare put her fears into words.
Grandmother Chausson began to laugh, but tears were also
glistening in her pale blue eyes. "Ah, my dear sweet girls!" she
exclaimed. "Bless you for caring! But don't worry, little ones, I'm not
expecting to leave you for quite a while. To the contrary, with the
peace of mind that Miguel's presence will give me, I hope to live on to
a ripe old age. Now, now, my dears, stop crying. Come here and let me
give you each a hug and a kiss. There, my little ones, everything is
all right. Don't fret."
With a rustling flutter of colorful skirts, the girls ran
over to their grandmother and sank down beside her in a sea of
billowing muslin and taffeta while the elderly woman affectionately
patted their pretty young faces.
Vidal shifted uneasily behind the chair and turned aside
to drain the last drops of wine from his glass.
"Now listen to me carefully, you silly geese," Aimee
Chausson continued. "As your guardian, I have a right to delegate my
responsibilities to someone who I feel might do a better job than I can
of looking after you and your inheritance. The task is simply too much
for a poor inexperienced old woman like me. This household needs the
firm hand of a man at its helm, and I thank God we're fortunate enough
to have someone like Miguel in the family to help see us through this
difficult period."
But Monique was still having trouble digesting the
news. This stranger—and a Spaniard, besides!— was
to be Celeste's and her guardian! Curator ad bona…
tutor… judges… lawyers… yearly
accountings… Aimee Chausson was explaining some of the
official details, but Monique was too angry to hear, much less
understand, all her grandmother was saying. She was still trying to
absorb just one bare fact: Miguel Vidal was going to be controlling her
life from there on out, and she didn't like the prospect at all!
"Believe
me, my dears, I thought
all this over very carefully before I contacted your
cousin," Aimee Chausson went on. "After all, this is a big step for
Miguel to take, too—to leave his life of ease and plenty in
Madrid to come here to what must seem like a very primitive land to him
and take on the burden of a failing plantation and two mischievous
young girls. I'm sure he hesitated considerably , before deciding to
accept my pleas to come to New Orleans."
From where she still knelt beside her grandmother, Monique
cast a quizzical look up at the tall, silent figure standing beside the
large upholstered chair, and Vidal couldn't help but catch the martial
look in her eyes.
"I confess I've accepted this chore that Dona Aimee has
thrust on me with some reservations," he admitted, deciding to speak at
last. "Frankly, the idea doesn't appeal to me any more than it does to
you and your sister. But, in all conscience, I could hardly refuse,
once I knew the predicament you were in, knowing that I was the only
person in the family to whom your grandmother—our
grandmother—could turn to in her hour of need."
He came forward as he spoke and, setting his empty glass
down on the serving table, sat on the couch once more, while he
continued in a well-modulated voice, his perfect French only tinged
with the dulcet tones of his native Castilian. "I think you should know
that I really feel much more a part of your family than you might
imagine under the circumstances," he explained, his eyes softening as
he looked down at his distraught cousins, who seemed so small and
unhappy at their grandmother's knee. "You see, my mother died giving me
birth, so your Aunt Isabella really filled a very important niche in my
life. When my father remarried, I was only seven or eight years old,
and until that time my mother's family, the de la Fuentes of Cadiz, had
been rather inadequately trying to care for me. I'll never forget that
first day I arrived at my father's villa… how my stepmother
took me in her arms and welcomed me 'home'… that was the way
she put it, and that was the way she made me feel it was from that
moment on. I soon came to look on her as my real mother, for we
couldn't have been closer had she given me birth from her own womb. So
you see, although we may not be blood cousins, I assure you I feel a
true bond with my stepmother and her family and will try to fulfill my
obligations to you to the best of my ability, as I know she would have
wanted me to do, and as I myself would like to do in memory of the
woman who did so much for me."
For a moment the ring of sincerity in his voice disarmed
Monique, and some of the hostility in her eyes melted.
"But… but Le Rêve has been getting along well
enough all this time with the overseer who has been running it since
before Father died," she ventured, a little more defensively now than
belligerently. "He should know what to do, shouldn't he?"
Vidal smiled patiently from the sofa. "My dear child, no
matter how good an overseer your man might be, he is still only hired
help and needs someone to make the important decisions for him," he
reminded her. "From what I understand, your plantation, which is called
Le Rêve—The Dream, is that right?—is really more of
a nightmare for you these days, now that the place has lost its indigo
crops for two years running and is in danger of losing another one this
year."
"But what experience have you had in such matters?" asked
Monique challengingly. "I didn't know they had plantations like ours in
Madrid."
"Don't be impertinent!" scolded her grandmother, nudging
the softly rounded little arm resting on her knee.
"No, senora," interrupted Vidal. "Don't be annoyed with
her. The girl is intelligent and does well to ask questions. After all,
I have been appointed to look after her affairs. She has a right to
know the facts."
He turned again to Monique. "I confess I know very little
about plantations, little cousin, especially the sort they have in
these parts," he continued. "But after a few weeks of intense
investigation and consultation with those who
do
know, I hope I'll be able to make some reasonable decisions about what
ought to be done to try to save your property."
Celeste smiled approvingly at her new guardian. "I trust
you, Cousin Miguel," she said shyly. Then she looked at her sister
across their grandmother's knees. "I think we should give him our
support, Monique. He has a difficult job ahead of him and will need all
the help we can give him."
"Well said, little one," declared Aimee Chausson with an
approving pat on her granddaughter's honey-colored curls. "You girls
should be grateful to Miguel for taking on so thankless a task. Most of
the planters here have been having a run of bad luck lately with their
crops. We're not the only ones in difficulties these days."
"I suppose we do need a man to help us out with the
plantation," conceded Monique at last, rising agilely from the midst of
her frothy pink and white skirts and leaning lightly against the arm of
her grandmother's chair. "And you can count on our
cooperation… and gratitude, as well… if you're
successful in taking that burden off grandmother's shoulders, at least
until my sister and I become of age and are in a better position to
take such matters in hand ourselves."
"I'm happy to hear you are agreeable to my being your
curator," Vidal said with a smile. "I hope I can expect the same
cooperation from you and your sister concerning my authority over your
personal welfare as well."
Monique was taken aback. "What… what do you
mean? Is there more?" She looked down questioningly at her grandmother
sitting beside her.
"Yes, my dear," the latter replied quickly. "I thought you
understood what I was explaining to you. Your cousin Miguel is your
legal guardian now. You and Celeste should accept his authority in
all
things. I'm still in the picture, of course, and I'm sure he will
always take my wishes into consideration, but I have asked him to be
your guardian in the full sense of the word, for not only are you both
sorely in need of discipline, but you also should have more protection
than I, as a poor aging matron, can possibly give you."
Vidal had listened attentively. "Frankly, when you wrote
and explained your situation to me, Dona Aimee, I didn't realize the
two orphaned grandchildren you were talking about were quite as grown
up as they are. I pictured younger girls—not young ladies old
enough to be courted. Be that as it may, if I'm to be responsible for
them, I'll have to insist that they obey me in what I say. I'll try not
to make my guardianship weigh too heavily, but I must lay down certain
rules. I'm sure you understand."
"Rules?" interrupted Monique, a martial look creeping into
her eyes.
He turned sternly to her. "Yes, little cousin, rules. To
begin with, there will be no more leaving this house without either
your grandmother's or my permission. Under no circumstances will I ever
consent to your running around the streets without a
chaperon—a chaperon of my approval, I might add."
"
Mon Dieu
! We may as well go to a
convent!" Monique exclaimed, while Celeste stood by in tragic silence.
"I'd hardly go so far as to say that," Vidal hastily
assured them. "You can count on a reasonable amount of diversion. Since
you seem to like puppet shows so much, perhaps you would enjoy an
evening at a real theater. When I asked the governor what there was to
do for entertainment here in New Orleans, he told me there was a new
theater in the city, still in its formative stages but featuring a few
actors from the Cap-Français. Give me a week or two to get settled, and
I'll take you and your sister—and your grandmother, too, of
course—to one of their performances."
He turned quickly to Madame Chausson. "That is, if it
meets with your approval, Dona Aimee," he added politely.
The elderly woman nodded her white-capped head approvingly
but held up a detaining hand before he could continue. "I'll be glad to
see the girls going out so well protected," she replied, "and perhaps
if they have more social life they'll be less restless, but please
don't include me in such plans. It's too much trouble to climb into my
stays and bustle and get all dressed up and coiffured just for a few
hours of distraction. Young girls love taking all day to ready
themselves for such outings, but I'm beyond that point, thank you."
Vidal smiled understandingly and turned back to his two
wards. "Then I hope I'll at least have the pleasure of your company,
little ladies?" he said in his most gallant manner.
"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Celeste quickly, her hazel eyes
already aglow at the prospect.