Free Moontide Embrace (Historical Romance) by Constance O'Banyon

many of the other plantations that had been built along the Missis sippi, the house was set half a mile from the river. Twenty acres of manicured lawns, pasture, and woodland surrounded the great house, and the roof of the red brick structure was graced by twelve chimneys. It was a three- story dwelling that boasted fifty-nine rooms.
    Indeed, the mansion seemed to dwarf everything around it —even the tall stately magnolia trees that lined the drive leading to the front door. Iron latticework ran the length of the veranda as well as the second-story balcony.
    As the keelboat pulled in at the wooden pier that jutted out into the water, the captain tossed a rope to a young boy, who jumped ashore to secure it to a post. There were several slaves standing on the dock. One, a tall man with stooped shoulders, white hair, and wide-set black eyes, seemed to be in charge, and ordered the others to unload the supplies. He watched closely when Judah and his mother disembarked, noting from their mode of dress that they were obviously of great import.
    He looked at Judah for direction. "I was not told to expect visitors, M'sieu, or I would not have brought the mule-drawn wagon. Would you be so kind as to wait until I can send back to the house for the buggy?"
    Judah noticed that the man spoke a broken kind of French that lent a certain charm and elegance to his speech. Before he could reply, however, Gabrielle stepped forward and startled the old man when she placed her hand on his arm. "Do you not know me, Biff?"
    The man stepped back a pace, his dark eyes moving over her face. Suddenly there was recognition in his eyes, and a smile lit his face. "Mon dieu!" he cried, shaking his head, his eyes bright with genuine joy. "Can it be Ma’dame Gabrielle? I thought these tired old eyes would never behold your pretty face again."
    "I am home, Biff. At least for a while. Were you not told that I was coming?"
    "No, but I am glad to see you all the same." The old man raised his voice and yelled down the dock. "Make quick and bring the buggy down, Ma'dame Gabrielle's come home!"
     
    When the buggy pulled up at the front of the house, Biff jumped down to assist Gabrielle to the ground. His wrinkled face was creased in a smile as he piled the baggage on the front steps, knowing he could go no farther. There were strict codes to be observed. He was the foreman of the plantation, and outside the white overseer, Biffs word was law when it came to the field hands and the fishermen. But here at the big house, the house servants jealously guarded their domain; he was not allowed to intrude.
    A tall slender black man with a regal bearing, dressed in red and white livery, opened the door and haughtily glanced down his nose at Biff. Seeing Gabrielle and Judah, he looked taken aback for a moment, but he quickly recovered. The snap of his fingers brought three other liveried servants. He ordered them to carry the baggage inside. Then he turned to Gabrielle and Judah.
    "Whom shall I say is calling, Ma'dame?" the man asked with a crisp French accent.
    Biff, still grinning, spoke up. "You may want to tell Cora to get her fancy cook pot going, cause there going to be a good time—"
    The liveried servant cut Biff off. "Be so kind as to tend to your own affairs and leave others to tend to theirs. Move along." He shooed him away with the wave of a white glove.
    "Just a moment," Gabrielle said, stopping Biffs hasty departure by the touch of her hand. "Who is this man, Biff? I do not recall ever seeing him."
    Biff turned back, with a look of superiority, at the still unbending butler. "His name is Noal, Ma'dame. He is someone Ma'dame Alicia brought in from New Orleans. She say we need more— She say we needed him to make more nice the manners of the house servants."
    "I told you to be gone," the butler said loftily. Turning to Judah, who had watched the whole proceeding with bored indifference, he asked. "Who shall I say is calling?"
    Gabrielle pushed past the man