Chapter 6.
The girls returned from their outing shortly before three. Rather than be indoors on such a lovely day they sat on the patio in the pleasant sunshine. Roberts saw to it that they were served cooling glasses of mint tea. They shared their impressions of the egg hunt and the pleasant neighbors that they encountered. Sarah leaned back on the chaise lounge that she was occupying. "So who was that woman last night," she asked with candor, "The one who demanded to know who we were and was so unpleasant to your aunt?"
"That would be Mrs. Blanche Abbott, the reigning matron of the Abbott clan." Kristy rolled her eyes. "That woman gives me the creeps, so condescending and uppity."
Lizzie chuckled, "I know the type," she agreed, "One of those who gauge others by her families ranking in the community, and even looks down on those above her rank."
"Oh she's worse, papa said she clawed her way up out of a alligator pit," nodding Kristy went on. "Mrs. Abbott is on every committee that matters in the Garden District, and she's head of the Ladies Sodality at Good Council. God help you if she doesn't like or approve of you. Here in the Garden District, or at least in Good Council Parish, she can make life a living hell… I know firsthand."
"Ah," Sarah sighed as she relaxed into the cushion behind her, "So does she attack every visitor?"
Uncomfortable with this conversation, Kristy shook her head. "I've never seen her go after anyone quite the way she went after us, but she was looking at you Sarah."
"I must remind her of someone she does not like," Sarah giggled.
"That could be almost anyone," Kristy admitted, she tapped her lips gently with her hand. "I wonder if she's acquainted with your mother."
Sarah laughed, "That could be possible, Linda works anywhere and everywhere she can." Not willing to give up on the subject, Sarah asked. "How is it she didn't recognize you?"
"Will of God," Kristy sighed, "I had the misfortune of having to be partnered with her middle son, Herbert, at a church social when we were both thirteen. Miserable boy, I am sure he'll be just as miserable man!" She shuddered, "Horrible family."
Lizzie stretched lazily in the sun, "Kristy," she said changing the subject. "I wonder that you ever leave here. Things here are just so gentile."
"Oh I'd have gone to school here if Tatie` Hattie had any say, and I would have stayed here in the house with her as my guardian," she disclosed peacefully. "She fought papa tooth and nail, but had to give up. Papa wanted me to have a wider experience than he felt I would receive here at Tulane University." She fidgeted and hoped her friends had not noticed.
"How on earth did your father end up way up north?" Lizzie asked making a face.
"Someone had to manage the holdings up north," Kristy teased back. "And Southern men only trust their own selves to take care of family business."
"I've never felt so relaxed." Sarah interjected her thoughts into the conversation, "Or so lazy." Her arms flopped at her sides to emphasize her state. "It's like heaven here." Her voice took on a slight southern twang. "Why I could just curl up and die of pure pleasure."
"Why, Miss Sarah," Kristy teased, "You southern belle, you!"
"Yeah, out o Nyack," teased Lizzie, however it was evident that she too was under the spell of the Southern customs. Lizzie was talking much more slowly, and with ease, not rushing to make sure she got to everything she needed to. Lizzie was use to opulence, having been brought up in the lap of luxury. However this was the first time she'd ever slowed down enough to enjoy it.
Rolling to her side, the dark haired girl looked at her roomies. "I envy your aunt," she addressed her statement to Kristy. "She's so vivacious! So full of life and cheerful."
"No argument there," Kristy said with a hint of melancholy, "Hard to believe she's had so much sorrow in her life."
Lizzie sat up at attention, "Sorrow, baby look at how she lives," she waved a hand about the well manicured yard, and the stately home. "If this is sorrow, I'll take it by the buckets full!"
Kristy looked troubled for a moment, "Come with me," she said standing up her face was now very serious; she motioned her friends to follow. "There's something you need to understand about Hattie." Solemnly she led the procession to the gallery in the foyer. She pointed to the pictures. "These are Hattie's husbands, and they are the reason she was given the cold shoulder last night when we walked to church," she pointed to the portrait closest to her. "This is her last husband; he passed two years ago…" Her hand rested gently on the frame, "This is Lance Mason married to Hattie for three years, he was a writer, dies from fall down empty elevator shaft…in New York visiting his publisher. Hattie was not with him, thank God. However the book he wrote was a scandal, and it was like tossing gasoline on a fire. Everybody here blamed Hattie for what Uncle Lance wrote, and for the money that was made off his book. It had a lot to do with a certain woman, and the men she married, and the place she lived. He more than anyone is a large part of why some neighbors are on the standoffish side to Hattie… They're afraid of a sequel," she moved to the next frame. "Todd Noel married to Hattie for two years. Gallery owner, he dies of an aneurism during a showing of Hattie's fourth husband's work. That in and of itself was a scandal, but I'll explain that later. He left her one of the most popular galleries in all N`Orleans," Her hand moved to the next frame. "This is David Devereux married to Hattie for four years, Professor at Tulane, killed in bank hold up just before he was to go to court on charges of improper conduct in his class room. I have my doubts on the charges, as did my Papa. From what I know, he was on to some corruption in his department and they wanted to get to him before he got to them. He left Hattie his fortune; he was one of the last of the Devereuxs. They were big land owners here before the civil war, and one of the few who didn't lose everything and have to rebuild. There were rumors about him belonging to some voodoo circle, and that he'd had a falling out with the high priest or some other such nonsense." Kristy shrugged and moved on to the next frame, "François Larroquette married to Hattie for four years, artist; heart-attack." She paused and frowned, "He liked to use Hattie for his model, his nakkid model and well it didn't set well with some prim and propers. There were those who actually wanted to have them banned from all the parishes. I'm sure you can guess who led the protest at Our Lady of Good Council." She tapped her fingers on the frame, "Actually he was a very gifted artist and his work was well received, everywhere but here. When Todd Noel put on a big splashy gallery show, it meant money, lots of money for the artists he showcased and for him. When he did an entire show dedicated to François Larroquette, no one expected him to have an entire collection of the Hattie Nudes in a prominent location. Todd made the Hattie nudes the focus of the show. Mrs. Abbott spread a nasty rumor that his having that aneurism during the opening of the show was God's way of punishing his wickedness." She moved on. "Morgan Mayfair married to Hattie for two years, Doctor of philology, car accident, no witnesses, no other car found… his car was obliterated, and there were strange symbols that had been imprinted, or stamped into the sheet-metal of the car. His neck was broken, but to look at him you'd never know he'd been in an accident of such magnitude. It happened out on one of the deserted roads by Lake Pontchartrain. No one could even explain what he was doing out there…" She whispered, "Papa said he was one of the most decent men he'd ever met, and I have only fleeting memories of him. He belonged to one of the founding families here, and between family money and his practice, he was extremely wealthy. But because he treated some of the men in the local prison farm; again certain folk looked down on him and Hattie for being married to him." She wiped a tear, before moving on to the last frame in the hallway gallery. "This is Rhys Halifax married to Hattie for two years; land developer, skiing accident they say. What he was doing on a slope in the dark… he told Hattie that he had business in Vermont, and Papa had to tell her that Rhys was not coming home. He left Hattie land and holdings across the United States and in some foreign countries. Some she was not even aware of, some she turned over to charity, others she sold, and she kept the ones that Papa told her would keep her very nicely," gracefully Kristy moved from the gallery to the parlor and looked up at the handsome face of her aunt's first husband. "And of course, Jolie Bodine married to Hattie for five years. The only Heir to a fortune, who died of some mysterious illness with plague like symptoms," Kristy looked at her friends.
Lizzie looked at the painting, and then at Kristy, "She had some bad luck, but …"
"She was put on trial for murder, his murder," Kristy whispered pointing at the handsome and perplexingly poignant face on the painting. "Twenty-one newly widowed and they tried to pin the death of Jolie Bodine on her." Her eyes darkened, a scowl came across her face as she glared up at the painting. "They made her life a living hell… My Uncle Robert, a lawyer defended her, and kept the state from railroading her and taking everything she had." She shuddered remembering hearing about the misfortune. "No one still knows what it was that killed Jolie, and there are those who would still point a finger at Tatie` Hattie," her voice darkened with rage that the other two never suspected existed. "Every time she thinks she's going to find happiness, some disaster befalls her loved one. Hattie is vivacious," She agreed quickly. "As long as she's not involved… It's like she was cursed…and it all goes back to him; Mrs. Abbott referrers to her as the Black Widow of Prytania Street."
A voice from the foyer caught them unaware, "Char," Hattie's tone was sympathetic and compassionate, "You must not blame Jolie for the troubles that followed," graceful as a gazelle the woman strolled unhurriedly into the parlor. "Jolie would have been the first to move heaven and earth to spare me what followed his untimely demise." She smiled gently at the girls. "Some things were out of his hands. Don't be blaming him for what others did."
Ashamed at being overheard, Kristy hung her head, "Pardon Tatie` Hattie," she whispered.
A gentle hand moved to the girls chin, "Char, I appreciate how fervent your devotion to me is," she kissed the girl. "However, there is much you have not learned. Don't be too quick to judge so harshly a man you didn't even know." She motioned the girls to be seated. "You must have questions, and I am the only one who can give you the answers." Composed and confident, Hattie took her seat, "So ask."
"No, Tatie` Hattie," Kristy said too quickly. "I should not have brought it up… You don't have to tell us anything."
"Char," Hattie admonished gently. "If you are going to air our dirty laundry, than you must be prepared to do it all." She looked at the two guests in her home. "I'm not afraid to answer questions. I have nothing to hide."
Lizzie looked embarrassed, and bit her lower lip leaving Sarah to ask the first question. "Why, why put you on trial?"
Hattie gave Sarah a wink, "Good girl, get right to the heart of the matter. Why," her voice dropped. "I have asked myself that a thousand times, and always come up with the same answer. I have no idea," she shrugged. "I really don't."
Being the daughter of a Lawyer, Sarah often tended to think like one. "Someone had to start the mess, put a bee in someone's ear. What were the exact charges?" Both Kristy and Lizzie's jaws dropped.
"I was charged with murder," Hattie said calmly.
"What was their proof?" Sarah leaned forward, fascinated by the discussion. "I know they had a dead body, but surly there had to be more to it than just that…."
"You think like a lawyer," Hattie mused.
"Her father is a lawyer," Kristy explained. "One of the best in New York State."
"ah," Hattie smiled. "Sarah, this is not New York," she cautioned.
"Law is law," Sarah argued.
"Sarah, I was twenty one, just a bit older than you are now… and my very rich and powerful husband died, leaving me a very rich and powerful woman… there were men here that didn't like that. They wanted to take everything I had away from me, and saw Jolie's mysterious death as a means to do it. They put me on trial for the murder of my husband."
"But where's the justice in that," Sarah asked boldly.
"Char," Hattie snickered, "This was and is N`Orleans, putting me on trial had nothing to do with justice."
Emboldened by Sarah's questions, Kristy leaned forward. "How did you get off, Papa said it had nothing to do with Uncle Robert's defense…"
A wisp of a smile came across Hattie's face, "I had a guardian angel looking out for me," the thought of calling the Goblin King a guardian angel appealed to her puckish side. She remembered the moment in court vividly. "Someone who asked to see the coroner's report… and the evidence gathered. An independent investigation turned up some unusual mistakes in the original report. They still had no idea of what it was that killed Jolie, but they proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had nothing to do with it." She mused. "And as the independent report was handed over to Federal officers, not local, they could not ignore it when the Attorney General of the United States demanded to review the case. Suddenly all the charges were dropped, and the railroading of the widow of Jolie Bodine ended. But not the speculations of the small minded." She sighed wistfully. "I suppose if I had just faded into obscurity they would have been happy." Pursing her lips, she became pensive. "And perhaps I would have had it not been for Rhys Halifax."
"Your second husband," questioned Lizzie, who was now hanging on every word.
"Yes," Hattie smiled again. "Rhys Halifax was a land developer who wanted to improve the area without raping the wetlands. He was not well liked, not by big developers who wanted money and didn't care about the land or the people they displaced. I have never bought the story that Rhys died in a skiing accident."
"You didn't," Kristy's eyes opened wide. "Why not?"
"For one simple reason," Hattie explained calmly. "Rhys Halifax could not ski." She took a deep breath, "But I was guy shy, and didn't wish to pursue an investigation. Too fearful of me having fingers pointed my way again… which they were anyway." Hattie sighed deeply. "I was not even twenty five when Rhys left me a widow for the second time. And I swore I would never look at another man!"
"But you did," Sarah said gently.
"Yes, I did," Hattie laughed, "Morgan Mayfair, nearly twenty years older than I, and a friend of my eldest brother Jerome," The widow smiled wistfully again. "He had been invited to a family dinner to observe me as the family felt I was wallowing in my sorrow, and feared I was falling into an abyss of depression." Standing up Hattie remembered the first meeting with the man who would be her third husband. "Morgan was the most serious man on the planet, coming to my father's house to observe the daughter gone round the bend."
"I didn't know that," Kristy said sounding left out of some secret. "Papa never said anything about Uncle Morgan having treated you for depression."
"Morgan didn't treat me," Hattie corrected. "And your papa wasn't in on the… arrangement. That was between your grandfather and your Uncle Jerome." She laughed, "And it blew up in their faces when Morgan asked me to dinner in front of the entire family."
"Uncle Jerome thought you'd lost your mind?" Kristy asked with reservations and misgivings.
"Char, you were not even out of nappies then," Hattie reminded her gently. "I was widowed twice and I thought I had a perfect right to be sad."
"Sounds reasonable to me," Sarah agreed.
"One would think," quipped the widow. "However, the concerns of my father and brother did provide me with the introduction to Morgan. He courted me for an entire year before he suggested we marry. We spent the next two years in bliss…" she blushed. "He was a tonic, and I bless the day I married him." She laughed. "Papa thought I would sell this house, and Morgan and I would either buy another or live in town… but I would never part with Mansion Rouge. Morgan understood and moved in without a complaint…well perhaps one." She mused playfully, thinking of Morgan's reaction to the strange orbs that danced at night on her lawns. "His solution to the problem was to put up that ornate iron fence. It gave him peace of mind…" she shrugged.
"Morgan gave me reasons to live happily again, and not to confine myself to shadows, but to live joyfully in the sunlight. And that is why a year after his passing I married the notorious artist François Larroquette," she growled playfully. "What a stir that caused. Between his slightly naughty artwork, and his bohemian lifestyle… and people speculating he had married me for my fortune…" she laughed. "Ou la la! All three girls laughed with her. "He was handsome, witty and very lewd at times. But he was never really indecent or immoral, just ahead of his time. And he loved me…" she nodded to herself. "He loved me." She looked at the three girls and said quietly. "He told me about his weak heart before we married, told me the doctors up north had suggested a very quiet lifestyle if he wished to live. No excitement, no stress, and no sex… he told them to go to hell." She pointed to a Trompe-l'œil of sky above the painting of Jolie. "He was extremely talented, and totally alive for the remainders of his years. When he first asked me to pose for him we were not even married. I think he was slightly surprised that he had been so bold and even more surprised when I accepted. 'Angel in repose' his first painting of me was an artistic success, even if it cost him his families pew at Good Council."
"Angel in repose is you?" Lizzie gasped, "I've seen it, at the Met!"
"So because he painted you, you were both asked to leave the parish?" Sarah frowned. "That sounds condescending."
"Some here think they were showing high morals," Hattie shrugged.
"Four years, so short years, were all we had together. But François Larroquette put more passion into the living of those four years than most men do in a lifetime. In that time he did seventy-five works of art, only twelve of which were nude studies. Pity it is they he is remembered for."
"Marrying Uncle David so soon didn't sit well with the neighbors." Kristy said compassionately.
"David Devereux was not a man who took no for an answer," mused the widow on the subject of her fifth husband. "None of the Devereux men do."
"Papa said the parish; no, the entire county was scandalized." Kristy stated.
"I would not have been most people's choice for a wife for David Devereux," Hattie acknowledged. "But most people didn't know David, or his personal outlook, and attitudes. David was a renowned authority on the History of this area. He wrote books, and did lectures, and was very into local customs. He was respected by people who were afraid of him, and what he knew." She was troubled by something she remembered about him. "His death, and the strange circumstances, and his involvement with the mystical world or N`Orleans… fired more gossip."
"Don't tell me they blamed you for his death," Lizzie gasped.
"Not directly, they had learned it was best not to say things against me out loud…" Hattie sighed. "But he was gone, and I went on to marry Todd Noel a friend of François. There are some here about who would love to say I am the one who forced him to show François Larroquette's work, and that I caused his death by the stress I put him under." Hattie tapped her chin, "The Black Widow title came about then."
"And when he died," Sarah asked quietly.
The elegant woman pursed her lips. "I was forty two, and I could have resigned myself to a life alone." She crossed her arms akimbo, her hands gripping her arms. "Lance Mason would have none of that… He was a most persuasive silver tongued devil."
"Lance Mason," Sarah repeated the name, "Why do I know that name?"
"I believe he wrote a play your mother was in a few years back," hinted the widow. "He was already a very successful playwright and author when I met him… in fact it was Morgan Mayfair who introduced us. We ran in the same social circle, and I knew he was a bit of a playboy… he had a very ruthless reputation in his public life. Directors on Broadway hated working with him, as he always retained full control of his work."
"Lance Mason, of 'Dark August' was your husband?" Sarah gasped remembering witnessing a rehearsal that the author brought to a halt when he didn't like the way it was going. "I remember him!"
Hattie nodded, "That play was one of the highlights of your mother's stage career I was told," she spoke as if it were someone else's life she was discussing, remotely. "I was surprised when he asked to interview me about my life with Jolie… and very suspicious."
"Papa said your first meeting with him after Uncle Toddy died didn't go well."
"It didn't," divulged the widow with a scoff. "I tossed him out of the house on his sorry ass when he started to suggest that I had something to do with the deaths of my husbands." A faint trace of anger passed her lovely features followed by mirth. "Damn fool went out and bought out a florist to apologize," She shrugged, "He demanded that I hear him out, said he was not suggesting that I had anything really to do with their deaths, but that he could make up a story about an innocent looking woman who did. He wrote The Black Widow mystery 'Bayou Spider', based loosely on my life. His untimely death just before it was released only made the sales soar…"
"Mama," a very male voice alerted them that they were no longer alone, "I see you are regaling your guests with your notorious past." Leaning on the frame of the entry from the foyer was a man who could have been Jolie Bodine's double. His eyes were dancing with merriment and his lips formed a roguishly handsome smirk.
Kristy's head turned almost violently toward him, "Beau," she shouted as she dashed from her seat to embrace the man.
"Char," he hugged her enthusiastically, before extricating himself to approach the widow with respect. "Maman," he breathed the word in a manner of devotion that was heartwarming.
Hattie embraced him tenderly, "Beau," her voice was softer, more tender and demonstrative. "I thought business was keeping you away." She'd forgotten Sarah and Lizzie were present for the moment.
"Business quite suddenly cleared itself up," he teased. "Besides, I could not have your Easter present delivered by some service." He stepped back, went out to the foyer and retrieved a box he'd deposited on the foyer table. "Ceci est pour vous," he said as he extended his hands to his mother. "Joyeuses Pâques." He winked over at Kristy who was now excitedly awaiting the opening of the gift.
Removing the lid from the box, she exclaimed her pleasure. "Beau, a Fabergé Easter Egg~ how like you to remember." Her fingers lifted the lovely enameled and jewel encrusted egg out of the box. It enameled in translucent strawberry red over a guillochéground and divided into four vertical panels by diamond-set borders, just as the original had been. Each panel of the hinged top applied with green gold laurel wreaths tied with red gold and diamond-set ribbons. Each panel of the lower portion of the egg applied with diamond-set arrows entwined by green gold laurel garlands tied with red gold ribbons and pinned by diamonds, the top of the egg mounted with a table diamond. It had four delicate gold clawed feet to stand upon. "A Rogue Egg," Hattie declared in a delighted tone. "Beau you shouldn't have!"
"Open it Maman," he commanded. "It's not exactly like the one the Czar gave his wife, but I think you'll like this better."
Within the enameled egg sat a pair of enameled Magnolia blossoms, one bud and one opening. Hattie giggled like a school girl. "I do like it better," she admitted before hugging her son once more. Then remembering the guests she pulled back. "Beau you have caused me to forget my guests."
Sarah and Lizzie were both smiling, as was Kristy.
"Sarah, Lizzie, this is my son, Beau Jolie Bodine." Beau bowed with courteous manners toward the two girls his cousin had brought to his mother's house. "Had I know that Maman was entertaining such lovely ladies, I'd have rushed back sooner," he flirted before turning back to his mother. "I was under the impression that only Tina-belle was spending the Easter break with you."
His mother smiled wickedly, "Oh did I leave out that I was going to entertain two other girls, my bad…." She teased. "Come, dinner must be ready. And I have to tell Roberts to set another place."
Beau held his mother's arm, "Already taken care of," he stated gently. "I called Roberts from the plane earlier this morning." He smiled broadly. "However, I'm starving, what's a man got to do in this house to get fed?"