Free Creole Hearts by Jane Toombs

Creoles. Even I know, Madelaine thought.
    "Don't fret over Guy, Senalda," Madelaine said. "He'll be home when it suits his fancy."
    "Josefina said something about another house in town—a cottage?"
    Josefina was a menace. "A—a cottage?" Madelaine repeated, trying to think how to parry Senalda's next question.
    "By the fortifications at the edge of the city. Why would Guy have a cottage there?"
    Madelaine wasn't fond of her sister–in-law. In truth, Senalda acted as though everyone else was of less consequence than herself. She deplored Madelaine’s manners, her demeanor, even the way she wore her hair.
    It’d been months since she’d been able to slip away to meet Philippe because once Senalda had caught her coming into the house in the evening at a time she shouldn’t have been outside. Since then Senalda had taken all too much interest in her comings and goings.
    “I really don’t think Guy has such a cottage,” Madelaine managed to say.
    Senalda’s blue eyes narrowed, grew chill. “You’re not telling me the truth, Madelaine—you constantly lie to me.”
    A spurt of anger thrust words onto Madelaine’s tongue. “If I’m lying it’s because I was trying to keep you from knowing. If you must have the truth, Guy has a placee and she lives in that cottage. It’s hers, and that’s where he is now. With her.”
    The color drained from Senalda’s face. Madelaine put a hand over her mouth, whirled and fled from the room.
    When Guy returned to La Belle that evening, Senalda was waiting, her face pale and set.
    “You’ve been with your filthy quadroon,” she burst out as he came under the parlor archway.
    Guy stooped, staring at her, then drew a deep breath. “ Madame ,” he said between clenched teeth, "this is not a matter for discussion.”
    Senalda stalked across the room and slapped him, hard. “I’ll talk about it if I choose,” she cried. “How can you do such a thing to me, to your wife?”
    “If you acted more like a wife in bed and less like a stick of wood,” he began furiously, When her shriek of rage cut him off.
    “Animal! Beast! To lie with a black woman when I carry your child!”
    Guy’s eyes glittered. Do you think you’re the only woman in the world who’s ever been pregnant?” he shouted. “I already have a son by Aimee. A boy named Denis.”
    She flew at him, beating at his chest with her fists, screaming and crying. He tried to fend her off but she struggled with him, clawing with her nails, until he finally clamped both her wrists in one hand. "Josefina!" he yelled. "Come here, Josefina!"
    The black maid appeared instantly in the archway and hurried to Senalda. "Hush," she said. "Be still, Madame ."
    Senalda was beyond hearing as she alternately sobbed and laughed, twisting her body from side to side, her hair straggling down from its chignon.
    Madelaine rushed into the parlor. "Can I help?" she asked, her voice trembling.
    "We must put Senalda to bed," Guy told her.
    As they led the resisting Senalda from the parlor, Guy saw the other house servants gathered in the foyer.
    "Tend to your duties," he ordered harshly and they dispersed.
    The three of them managed to get the hysterical woman up the curving staircase and put her to bed. Senalda curled on the far side, her body shaking with sobs.
    "Give her something to calm her," Guy ordered and Madelaine hurried to measure a draught of laudanum which Josefina finally coaxed Senalda to swallow.
    In the hall outside the bedroom, Madelaine touched her brother's sleeve. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to tell her about your placee but she kept asking and I ..."
    "It's all right. Someone else would have told her if you hadn't. In fact, I—I supposed she knew. Most wives . . ." He broke off. "This isn't fit conversation for your ears, Madelaine."
    She shrugged.
    Guy sighed and shook his head. "Senalda will get over this," he said. "She'll be... "
    " Mademoiselle Madelaine!" Josefina's voice was shrill with fear. "Please