When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(50)

“Elias?” Lysette questioned, glancing back and seeing the tense set of the boy’s thin frame. He was staring, not at her, but at the house, his eyes wide and nostrils flared.

“You want to go there, madame?” he asked softly.

“Yes, just for a minute or two,” she said, urging her horse a few steps. “Allons.”

The young boy did not move. “We can’t, madame. There’s ghosts in there.”

“I will not ask you to go in with me,” Lysette said soothingly. “Just wait outside until I return, d’accord?”

But as she met his eyes, she saw that he was deeply upset. A suspicious brightness had sprung in his eyes, betraying the fact that he was torn between his fear of going near the house and his reluctance to displease her. He remained silent, looking from her to the ominous structure before them.

“Elias, stay right here. I will be back very soon.”

“But madame—”

“Nothing will happen to me. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Lysette went to the dilapidated house and tethered her horse to the cankered wooden railing of the tiny porch. Absently she untied the ribbon streamers of her glazed straw hat and set it on a swaybacked step. The house was braced a foot or two from the ground in deference to the nearby bayou’s occasional wont to flood its banks. Gingerly she set her foot on one of the steps, wondering if it would hold her weight. It creaked loudly but did not break. Cautiously Lysette went to the door, which hung askew, its edges covered with slime. An air of gloom and oppression hung around the place. It was as if the crime that had occurred there had become a part of each board and beam.

She tried to imagine what the house had been like a decade earlier, when Corinne Vallerand had slipped inside for her clandestine meetings with Etienne Sagesse. How could Corinne have betrayed Maximillien in a place so close to the home they shared? It was almost as if she had wanted to be discovered.

Pushing the door to the side, Lysette crept into the house, ducking under a mass of cobwebs. It seemed like a tomb. The room was dank and foul-smelling, its walls shaded with moss. Inches of dust and yellowish matter caked the tiny-paned windows, blocking out most of the sunlight. Spiders scuttled into the corners and cracks of the walls, fleeing from her intrusion.

Driven by curiosity, Lysette picked her way through rubble to the back room. As she looked around, the hairs on her arms stood on end. Although nothing tangible set this room apart from the other, she knew somehow that this was where Corinne had been murdered. A feeling of devastation gripped her, and she froze where she stood.

She heard footsteps, the sounds of someone kicking aside a shard of broken pottery. Her heart leapt in her throat and she turned swiftly.

“Elias?”

“No.” It was her husband, coming to the doorway of the small room, his gaze riveted on her.

Max’s features seemed to be carved in granite, but his gaze was haunted. He did not ask why she was there. He seemed to find it difficult to speak, his throat working violently. His face was pale, and she saw the remnants of horror in his eyes as memories broke from the dark corners of his mind.

Making her way to him, Lysette lifted a gentle hand to his face. Her compassionate touch seemed to unlock the barricaded words. Max licked his dry lips before speaking in a rusty voice. “I found Corinne over there, in that corner, on the floor. I knew at once what had happened… the color of her skin… the bruises on her neck. Strangling is a lot of work, I’ve heard. It takes a great deal of anger, or hatred, to kill someone that way.”

Lysette stood very close to him, stroking his chest with the flats of her hands. “I know that you didn’t do it,” she said quietly.

“I could have, though,” Max whispered. “I wanted to. Corinne did and said unimaginable things…. She made me feel poisoned. It wasn’t hard to hate her. I don’t know what I would have become, had I lived with her any longer.”

“Why was she like that?” Lysette asked softly.

“I don’t know.” His eyes were those of a drowning man. “I think there was something wrong with her, inside. There were rumors of madness in her family, but the Quérands always denied it.” His gaze arrowed to the rubble-filled corner. “When I realized that Corinne was dead, I was stunned. Sorry for her. But at the same time, part of me felt… relieved. The thought that I was rid of her, that she was gone for good…” Max stopped, his face flushing, his jaw shaking. “I was so damned glad she was dead,” he said in a raw whisper. “Feeling that way made me just as guilty as her murderer, don’t you think?”

Overwhelmed with sympathy, Lysette hugged herself against his rigid body. “No, that is nonsense. Is that one of the burdens you’ve carried for so long? Feelings are not the same as actions. You didn’t harm her. You have no reason to feel guilty.” Although Max did not respond to her touch, Lysette pressed her head to his chest. “How did you know that I was here?” she asked against his pounding heart.

Max strove to steady his voice. “My meeting in town was canceled, as Claiborne had more pressing business elsewhere. When I returned to the plantation a few minutes ago, I saw Elias, riding home as fast as that sorry mule could take him. He told me where you were.”

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to distress him. Or you. I was just curious.”