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clasp them finally on the hour of twelve, the
/> bewitching hour.
Would it burst my bubble of happiness and turn
my carriage into a pumpkin?
Or would it tick on and on, making my claim to
a fairy-tale existence that much more secure with each
pass-ing minute?
Oh, Grandmere, I thought as my heavy eyelids
began to shut, I'm here. I hope you're resting more
comfortably because of it.
12
Blue-Blood Welcome
.
I awoke to the sweet singing of blue jays and
mockingbirds and for the first few moments, forgot where I was. My trip to New Orleans and all that had subsequently followed now seemed more like a dream. It must have rained for a while during the night for although the sun was beaming brightly through my windows, the breeze still smelled of rain and wet leaves as well as the redolent scents of the myriad of flowers and trees that surrounded the great house.
I sat up slowly, drinking in my beautiful new room in the light of day. If anything, it looked even more wonderful. Although the furniture, the fixtures, and everything down to a jewelry box on the vanity table were antique, it all looked brand-new, too. It was almost as if this room had been recently prepared, everything polished and cleaned in anticipation of my arrival. Or that I had gone to sleep for years when all these things were brand-new and woken up without realizing time had stood still.
I rose from bed and went to the windows. The sky was a patchwork quilt of soft vanilla clouds and light blue. Below the grounds people were vigorously at work clipping hedges, weeding flower beds, and mowing lawns. Someone was on the tennis court sweeping off the myrtle leaves and tiny branches that had probably been torn and blown in the rain, and another man was scooping the oak and banana tree leaves out of the pool.
It was a wonderful day to start a new life, I decided. With my heart full of joy, I went to the bathroom, brushed my hair, and got dressed in a gray skirt and blouse I had brought in my little bag. I put all my precious possessions in the nightstand drawer and then slipped on my moccasins and left my room to go down to breakfast.
It was very quiet in the house. All the other bedroom doors were shut tight, but as soon as I reached the top of the stairway, I heard the front door thrust open and slammed closed and saw Gisselle come charging into the house, unconcerned about how much noise she was making or whom she might waken.
She threw off her cloak and a headdress of bright feathers, dropping it all on the table in the entryway, and then started for the stairway. I watched her walk halfway up with her head down. When she lifted it and saw me gazing down at her, she stopped.
"Are you just coming in from the Mardi Gras Ball?" I asked, astounded.
"Oh, I forgot all about you," she said, and
followed it with a silly, thin laugh. There was
something about the way she wobbled that led me to
believe she had been drinking. "That's how good a
time I had," she added with a flare. "And Beau was
good enough not to mention your shocking
appearance all night." Her expression turned sour,
indignant as my question to her sunk in. "Of course
I'm just coming home. Mardi Gras goes until dawn.
