He was a tall, caramel-skinned black man with strikingly green eyes, dressed in a chauffeur's uniform with a family crest on the breast pocket. He paused at the steps and removed his cap.
"Excuse me, mademoiselle. I am looking for Mademoiselle Gabriel Landry."
"That's me," I said.
He smiled. "I have been instructed to ask you if you would be so kind as to speak with Madame Dumas in her limousine," he said, and for a moment my tongue felt as if it had been glued to the roof of my mouth. I started to swallow and stopped to look at the limousine again.
"Who?" I finally asked.
"Madame Dumas," he said softly. "She wishes only a few minutes of your time, mademoiselle."
I didn't move; I didn't speak. He stepped back and gazed at the limousine and then he looked at me, his face full of anticipation, his smile frozen. I wasn't sure what to do. Madame Dumas? Pierre's mother was dead, so this had to be his wife. Why would his wife come here to see me? Was Pierre in the limousine as well?
"Is it just Madame Dumas?" I asked.
"Oui, mademoiselle." He raised his eyebrows.
Slowly I rose from the rocking chair.
"Why doesn't she come out of the automobile?" I asked, gazing at the sleek limousine.
"She prefers to speak with you confidentially, mademoiselle. I assure you, it's very comfortable in the limousine. There is something for you to drink, if you like," he added.
I was a little frightened of the idea, but I didn't want to appear afraid, nor did I want to appear ignorant. It wasn't just that I had never sat in a limousine. I couldn't imagine what would bring Pierre's wife here, and all sorts of dark thoughts passed through my mind.
"You'll be quite safe, mademoiselle," the driver said, interpreting my hesitation. "I assure you."
"I'm sure of that," I said as bravely as I could. "All right. I'll see her," I said, and started down the stairs.
The driver waited for me and escorted me to the automobile, the rear, windows of which were tinted so that no one would be able to look inside and see the passengers. The driver reached for the door handle and opened the door, stepping back as he did so. I gazed into the dark interior and I saw her sitting on the far side.
"Entre, s'il vous plait," she said. "I just want to talk to you," she snapped when I didn't move. I looked at the driver and then I stepped cautiously into the limousine. It had a large, plush black leather seat with a table before it on which there were glasses and a bottle of sparkling water. I was immediately struck by the heavy scent of jasmine. As soon as the driver closed the door, Madame Dumas leaned over and flipped a switch to light up the cabin.
For a long moment we contemplated each other. I could see she was a tall woman, perhaps as tall as six feet, with a regal demeanor. Her pale reddish blond hair lay softly over her sable shawl. She wore a dark blue ankle-length dress with a tight waist and a high collar. There were pearl buttons along the bodice and lace on the sleeves. So beautiful did she appear to me, with her big, light blue eyes and a mouth I couldn't have drawn more perfectly, that I wondered how any man could have risked losing her love, or would even contemplate turning from her, even for a short tryst. I thought I was in the presence of a movie star. Her radiant beauty and sophisticated demeanor made me feel so inferior, I felt sick inside.
Her lips cut a hard, cold smile in her rich peach complexion. She nodded as if to confirm a thought and then shook her head.
"You're just a child yourself," she said. "But that doesn't surprise me."
She pressed a button that lowered the window on her side and then she reached down to take a cigarette from her gold cigarette case. At the same time she pushed the lighter in and then plucked the pearl cigarette holder from the table. She didn't speak until she had lit her cigarette and blown some smoke out the open window. Then she turned back to me.
"Do you know who I am?"
"Yes," I said. "You're Pierre's wife."
"Oui, Pierre's wife. Whatever that means," she added dryly.
"Does Pierre know you've come here?" I asked.
"No, but don't worry. He will. I have no fear of telling him anything."
"What is it you want?" I asked sharply. I had my hand ready to grab the door handle so I could leap out if I wanted.
"I don't know what Pierre promised you or told you, but I assure you, none of it will come true." She took another puff of her cigarette and waited to see what I would say.
"I didn't ask for anything," I said.
"That's a pity and quite foolish. You have a right to ask for something. Your father has."