Chapter III

Alchimie de la douleur

L'un t'éclaire avec son ardeur,
L'autre en toi met son deuil, Nature!
Ce qui dit à l'un: Sépulture!
Dit à l'autre: Vie et splendeur!

Hermès inconnu qui m'assistes
Et qui toujours m'intimidas,
Tu me rends l'égal de Midas,
Le plus triste des alchimistes;

Par toi je change l'or en fer
Et le paradis en enfer;
Dans le suaire des nuages

Je découvre un cadavre cher,
Et sur les célestes rivages
Je bâtis de grands sarcophages.

The Alchemy of Sorrow

One man lights you with his ardor,
Another puts you in mourning, Nature!
That which says to one: sepulcher!
Says to another: life! glory!

You have always frightened me,
Hermes the unknown, you who help me.
You make me the peer of Midas,
The saddest of all alchemists;

Through you I change gold to iron
And make of paradise a hell;
In the winding sheet of the clouds

I discover a beloved corpse,
And on the celestial shores
I build massive sarcophagi.

— Charles Baudelaire

Mattie Baptiste had seen a lot. More than most people could ever dream on seeing.

With the traditions her Haitian mother had passed on to her, with the loas, the rituals, she had inherited something else… It was both a blessing and a curse, but she accepted it with all the possible implications. Mattie Baptiste was a mambo, a keeper of secrets, the one who could face demons and still live to tell it.

But, no matter how much power one could wield, no matter how respectfully her name was spoken by the lips of the entire city of New Orleans, no matter how much fame she had, how many people she could help…there was one person she couldn't help, the one she wanted the most to rescue.

She had known Remy since he was a boy. A little too skinny to look healthy, but nevertheless an energetic child, one that would laugh out loud even in formal occasions, who would run into the bushes so he wouldn't be forced to go to church on Sundays, who would play hide and seek with the maids. The child she raised. Her little boy.

When old Jean Luc Lebeau died, Mattie wasn't a slave any longer, she had bought her own freedom long before, and was living in town, but still, Remy was her boy, all grown up as he was, he was her dear boy. She remembered the grief she saw on his face during the funeral. A face that had never been struck by grief or pain before. She remembered how he walked up to her and into her arms, just like he used to do when he was a little pup. She could still hear the muffled sobs he tried fruitlessly to hide that day, as his face was buried into her right shoulder.

As time passed he began to grow used to idea that he was alone. His mother had died at childbirth, he had no brothers or sisters, or any family to account for…His father left him the sole heir to a fortune most people couldn't even begin to imagine, he was, at twenty, the owner of lands, men, animals, houses, properties…wealth most people would take five lifetimes to gather. It was all dropped on his lap, and he was alone. No one to guide him, to give him advice, comfort…

He was the richest man in New Orleans, but he only saw himself as a fatherless child, frightened and lonely.

Mattie had done her best to be there for him. He would often come over to her humble house and spend hours talking to her, as to avoid his own house. He left the farm, his childhood home and moved into town, almost like he was running away from the memories of his youth, forcing himself to step into the role of a grown man. And he did, in less than a year, little Remy became Monsieur Lebeau, land owner, businessman, habitué at the city's richest houses; refined, witty, charming… the living incarnation of what a powerful man should be.

Mattie was relieved.

But then…He made a trip to France…Apparently he had some business to deal, something about an English company interested in buying his cotton, he would meet with their representative in Paris, where the man had a vacationing house where Remy would spend some time.

He stayed out for three months. And once he came back…Mattie couldn't put her finger on it…but he was changed…

All of the sudden he would spend like a Maharaja, go to twice as many balls and parties as he used to before, drink heavily, go out only at night, sleep throughout the day…He became moody and aggressive, ceased to go horse-ridding under the morning sun, ceased laughing, became reclusive and eccentric…

Most people deemed it to his European vacation. He was now a fashionable bohemian, a dark romantic, someone who drank absinthe, made dark remarks, and acted nonchalantly about everything.

But Mattie knew something was wrong. Remy wouldn't look for her anymore, and more than once Etienne had told her he was behaving bizarrely, going after women on the lowest parts of town, locking himself up on his room, not eating…Then there was Marie… Remy told Etienne she was sent to the farm. But when Mattie went over to visit the foreman, he denied even seeing the girl. She kept the information from Etienne…he had been working for Remy since he had moved to town and was pretty much oblivious to most changes in his master's character, the few strange things he was aware of, the young man dismissed as "rich people non-sense".

But Mattie…she couldn't help to get the shivers…especially knowing that Marie had been promptly replaced with another young woman…Mattie shook her head as the streets and people went by the carriage window, and hoped her intuition was wrong…but she could just smell something wrong in the air…

—

As soon as she realized Etienne was gone to run his daily errands, Ororo left the living room and rushed back to her room. Locking the door behind her back, and drawing in the curtains like a person who has something to hide, she opened her armoire and retrieved the small bag she had brought with her upon her arrival at the Lebeau household. It was a small satin bag, blue with embroidered white stars; she had since she was five years old. In it she had hidden over the years, away from Genevieve's ever watchful eyes, all the necklaces, earrings, bracelets had father had bought her over the years.

Thankfully Genevieve didn't know of them, so she could take the jewels with her. She had been plotting it since she received the news that she would be sold away; and last night upon seeing the true face of the man who had control over her life, her resolve was merely straightened. Those jewels would be her passage to freedom; a last gift from her beloved father. Those sapphires, emeralds and pearls, once sold, would allow her to buy her freedom.

After Remy´s outburst, however, she had changed her mind. That tyrant in gentleman's guise wouldn't be generous enough to give her freedom in exchange of money. She would have to use the money to run away, as far away as she could. An soon.

Now the only problem was how to sell those jewels with Etienne always watching her every move. For now she would simply have to wait. Putting the bag under the mattress of her bed, she walked out of her room and proceeded to continue her errands, as if nothing was wrong.

—

-Etienne? - Ororo called softly as she went into the stable. Etienne was minding Romeo, a haughty black stallion that was Remy´s favorite horse, the only one he ever used when going out alone; all the others had been left on the farm.

-Yes? -The young man answered distractedly, concentrated on the task of brushing the powerful animal.

-Do you know what happened in Canal Street?

-You mean that thing on the papers?-He asked, passing a lazy hand through his blond hair.

-Yes…

-Somebody killed a girl up there…police is investigating. Why?

-Nothing… never mind.

-You don't need to be worried…She was a…loose woman…anyone could have done it…I bet it was one of her…-he stopped the sentence before saying something rude in front of her.

-"Suitors"? -Ororo helped him with a smirk.

-Yes…you could say that.

Ororo turned on her heels and, leaving him to his job, went out in the garden. The house had a gardener come over once a month to do some maintenance, but as Ororo could clearly see it was just that: basic maintenance. There was a very well trimmed lawn, and some tiny flowers, particularly small jasmines, pretty but not numerous, not to mention a large number of climbing plants. The bench was so dusty, she guessed no one spend anytime in the garden, which explained the lack of interest for it.

She passed a finger over the fine sheet of dust covering the bench and sat down anyway, not minding her beige dress getting dirty.

Etienne emerged from the stables:

-Let's get inside, is late.-He pointed to the purple clouds gathering over the sunset.

-You go…I still want to watch the twilights…-She told him with a hint of melancholy in her eyes, her heart heavy with the knowledge that soon Remy would be coming downstairs. She didn't want to face him at all.

-As you wish…

—

-Where is she? –Was the first thing Remy asked as he came into the kitchen. He had expected, even hopped, Ororo to be in the living room knitting or reading as she usually did, but not finding her he headed the kitchen, with an unsettling feeling of urgency, hoping to find her. Instead he only saw Etienne, quietly eating his dinner.

-Outside, sir…

-You let her outside?

-She's just sitting in the garden.

Remy frowned, and walked past his valet, heading the stables.

It was night already. The light on the kitchen shed a pale glow over the bench and the woman sitting on it. Her skin, which was getting paler everyday due to her not being outside very often, looked healthier under the faint golden light, her complexion assuming a bronzed shade that made her look almost like a statue put on the garden for decoration. In fact she was so quiet and still, mistaking her for a sculpture would be actually easy. Her elbow was propped on the laced iron structure of the bench's back, her head sustained on one hand, while her other hand rested on her lap, a small white flower entangled between her slim fingers; her dress spilled around her in soft waves it's beige color made morbidly pale by the eerie light, while some curls of her white hair fell freely over the back of her neck, exposed by the hairdo. She never saw him approach; instead she looked up, where the stars were starting to appear.

-Is cold out here. -He told her, trying to not look too anxious to hear her voice.

-Is all right. -She answered neutrally, not even bothering to look at him.

-You're still upset…-He let out, hoping not to sound too pathetic.

-No, I'm not upset, sir. –She stressed the last word wit venom, something he didn't miss.

-Come on…get back inside…-He told her, already slightly annoyed by her contempt attitude

-That's fine…I like being outside…-Her eyes avoided his to look down at the jasmine flower she had in her hand.

-Is a pretty pitiful excuse for a garden I have here, I'm afraid. - he smirked.

-Is not that bad…it could use some more flowers…-she answered without even realizing her cold tone had changed to a mellow whisper.

-You like flowers?

She didn't answer, slipping into old habits once again, she denied him the privilege of knowing she loved flowers more than anything else…

-I could have some roses here, or lilies…what do you prefer?

She kept stubbornly quiet. He walked over and sat down besides her.

-I know I behaved horribly towards you but…I'm not even worthy of knowing what your favorite flower is?

Faced with nothing but silence he got up:

-Very well, then…

-Primroses…-She muttered quietly as he walked away.

-Pardon? -He turned around.

Ororo never turned her face to him, but repeated the sentence:

-Primroses. Primroses are my favorites.

-We'll have primroses then.

-We'll have to wait till spring…

-We could use a conservatory here…this way you don't have to wait till spring for your primroses.

She turned to him, not quite believing her ears:

-A…greenhouse?

-Yes…a greenhouse…so you can have your primroses all year long…-With that he quietly made his way back inside the house.

—

-Primroses? -Henry McCoy, one of the most preeminent botanists in Louisiana raised an eyebrow at his interlocutor.

-Yes. Primroses. Where could I find those at this time of the year?

The last thing Henry had expected when invited to the function at Madame Delacroix´s house was to be enquired about flowers. Being the local botanist made him somehow one of the town's oddities. Most of the scholars in Louisiana were law graduates, or doctors; a very small portion of the city's crème de la crème. Most of the elite was very well settled in the idle life of landowners, Remy Lebeau included. Being a botanist had earned him the fame of being an lab eccentric, who spent his days minding plants and studying the latest news on the biology field, instead of attending to balls like other people of his position did. And in the few times he allowed himself a social life, nobody wanted to know about his occupation at all. Not interesting enough for high society cycles, maybe.

-At this time of the year…-He mumbled, rolling the glass of brandy between his fingers, as they sat on the twin brown leather armchairs in the studio, where Remy insisted on coming to talk in private. -Hard to know. The plant is perennial, but the flower only blooms on spring. In England they cultivate it all year long in greenhouses, due to high demand…you could import…

-Out of question. It will take months…I need the flowers as soon as humanely possible.

-I guess in New England. I could see to it for you, if you want.

-I'd be very grateful. I need as many kinds of primroses they have to offer, regular ones, evening primroses, candelabra…and lilies and roses. Lilies and white roses.

-Only white?

-I don't want them to overshadow the primroses. I'm thinking of building a conservatory in my house, and the primroses are essential. I want the conservatory to be filled with them, all kinds and colors, framed by white lilies and roses. And jasmines. -He added at last, his sharp memory for smells telling him that primroses might be Ororo´s favorite flower, but jasmines were her favorite fragrance.

Henry smiled, the eagerness of the young gentleman giving him a hint of what might be going on.

-I take that…if I may be so forward as to conjecture…but, does any young woman in town has a special penchant for primroses?

Remy grimaced, disguising his discomfort. He must have been acting like an enamored fool to be that obvious the reason of his request was a woman. He tried not to become annoyed by the question and trailed off:

-Maybe…maybe mon chèr Henri…

—

That morning Ororo was awakened by sounds coming from outside. She looked out the window to see a group of men gathering in the immense garden of the Lebeau household, some of them with papers and notes, others carrying what looked like building material. Etienne looked very busy reading a bunch of papers while a grave gentleman sat on a make shift table gave out instructions and sketched things on numerous papers.

-Etienne! - Ororo called out, already a little alarmed. The young man just waved at her. - What is happening out there?

-The master commissioned a conservatory. Mr. Feldman is taking care of it. - Etienne gestured the man by the table

Mr. Feldman, noted New York engineer tipped his hat as etiquette commanded in presence of a young lady and told her:

-I hope the conservatory will be to your liking, madam.

She closed her window without even answering; tremendously shocked.