Ruth Boudreaux’s home was a spacious Victorian, just a couple of blocks from Alford’s office. Sabine had called several times that afternoon but had been unable to get a hold of anyone. She asked Beau to stop by the house just in case Mrs. Boudreaux was home now and would agree to speak to her.
The woman who answered the door clearly wasn’t Ruth Boudreaux. For one thing, she was at least forty years younger, and her accent was northern. “May I help you?” she asked politely.
“I hope so,” Sabine said. “My name is Sabine LeVeche. I’ve been trying to get in touch with Mrs. Boudreaux. I’ve been doing some family research and I think she might know some of my relatives.”
“My name is Anna. I’m Mrs. Boudreaux’s nurse.” She motioned them inside to a formal living room. “If you tried to reach her today, we were probably at church at the time. Mrs. Boudreaux insists on praying daily and lighting a candle for two of her brothers. She lost them in Vietnam.”
“Do you think she will speak to me?”
“Oh, certainly. Mrs. Boudreaux enjoys having visitors. It’s just that, well, her memory’s not quite what it used to be.”
“Alzheimer’s?”
“Yes. Not horribly progressed yet, but there was an incident with the stove and the family felt it best if she had someone with her full time.”
“Of course,” Sabine said, trying to hide her disappointment. “Well, I suppose it can’t hurt then. Anything she can remember is more than I know now, and there aren’t so many alive any longer who were around at that time.”
“Oh,” the nurse brightened. “You want to ask her about the past? You might be in luck, then. On a good day, her memory of years past is very vivid. It’s more recent events that she can’t seem to recall.” She motioned them down a hallway. “If you’ll come with me. She’s sitting in the sunroom. The light is good for her and she often spends evenings in there.”
Feeling a bit more hopeful, Sabine followed the nurse down the hall and into a huge sunroom at the back of the house, Beau close behind. The room was on the west side of the house and the late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the multitude of blooming plants, causing a burst of color throughout the room. A thin, silver-haired lady sat in a rocking chair at the far corner, gazing out the window at a group of birds playing in a fountain in the backyard. She looked up when they entered the room.
“Mrs. Boudreaux,” the nurse said. “This lady is doing some research on her family and would like to speak to you about them.”
Mrs. Boudreaux looked up at Sabine and squinted. “Do I know you, dear?”
“No, ma’am,” Sabine replied. “I don’t think we’ve ever met before. But I think you know my family.”
“Who’s your family?”
“The Fortescues.”
Mrs. Boudreaux’s face cleared and she smiled. “Why, of course. That’s why you seemed so familiar. You’re the spitting image of your father. Why don’t you and your husband pull up a seat, and I’ll see what I can do to help you.”
Sabine momentarily cringed at the woman’s assumption that Beau was her husband, but it wasn’t worth correcting. She and Beau pulled two wicker chairs closer to Mrs. Boudreaux and took a seat. “So you knew my father?” Sabine asked.
“Of course I did. We attended twelve years of school together, and goodness knows how many times we shared a pew in church. Why, William was almost a brother to me.”
Sabine immediately understood. Mrs. Boudreaux didn’t remember Sabine’s father, Adam. She remembered her grandfather. “That’s nice, Mrs. Boudreaux.”
The woman studied her for a couple of seconds. “Something I don’t understand…why don’t you just talk to William if you have questions?”
Sabine was prepared for this very question. “I’ve been estranged from the family for quite a while. We’ve just recently come together again and I don’t want to say anything that might upset the relationship. I understand that people of certain social status don’t like to be reminded of or discuss things that might cause embarrassment or sadness. I don’t want to inadvertently upset someone if I can prevent it.”
Mrs. Boudreaux looked pleased. “Very proper of you to remember the family status in your reconciliation. And I suppose since you are family and your purpose is honorable, God won’t consider my talking to you gossip.”
“I’m certain He wouldn’t, Mrs. Boudreaux, or I wouldn’t even have asked.”
Mrs. Boudreaux gave her a single nod of approval. “Well, I can honestly say that the only scandal I’m aware of concerning the Fortescues would have been that business during the war concerning William’s brother, Lloyd. He always was the disreputable one of the family. You would never have known those two boys were raised in the same household, much less born identical.”
“So I take it their looks were where the similarities ended?”
“Heavens, yes. William was a true gentleman, as far back as I can remember. Even in grade school he was always protecting the smaller children from bullies or helping young ladies up the steps.” She smiled. “Our skirts were much longer in those days, and sometimes a steady hand on your elbow helped when you were balancing books in one hand and clutching a large portion of your skirt in the other.”
Sabine smiled at the image of her grandfather helping a young, and likely beautiful, Mrs. Boudreaux into the schoolhouse. “But Lloyd wasn’t a gentleman?”
“Absolutely not. Lloyd was one of the bullies, always stealing lunch money from the younger children when William wasn’t looking. He’d sooner push girls down the steps than help them up, and he was always playing pranks on the teachers, many of them cruel.”
“I imagine once you were older, all the girls chased William.”
Mrs. Boudreaux blushed. “Well, of course, we weren’t so forward back then as children are now. Why sometimes I just cringe at the way they dress and behave in church, and it’s even worse at the market. I have to wonder what kind of future this country has with them as adults. But yes, William had his share of admirers.”
“Anyone special?”
“Not that I ever knew, but I always wondered. Sometimes there would be parties or other events in the school gymnasium. We were mostly chaperoned, but I’d see William sneak out sometimes and not see him again for hours.”
“So where did you think he was going?”
Mrs. Boudreaux shrugged. “I always assumed he was seeing someone the family wouldn’t have approved of. Once at church, I was certain I saw him slip a piece of paper to one of the girls in the back pews. The poorer families sat toward the back of the church then.”
“Do you remember the girl’s name?”
“Heavens, no. I’m not even certain I knew it then, but she was a good Catholic, always at Mass. Not that it would have mattered to his parents. William’s inheritance depended on his making a good marital match. The Fortescues would have insisted. And besides, they’d already picked Catherine for William. The Fortescues had political aspirations for William, and Catherine’s family had the right connections.”
“And that’s who he married, so I guess the family was happy.”
“I suppose they were.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
Mrs. Boudreaux waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh, it’s probably nothing. We were all children at the time, and I guess if one is going to be foolish, that’s the time to do it.”
“You did something foolish?”
“Not me, dear. Catherine. I had a silly fight with my best friend at a dance one night and decided to walk down the hall and regain my composure. At the end of the hall, I saw Catherine kissing someone in the stairwell. I thought it was William, but when he looked up and saw me, he winked, and I realized it wasn’t William at all, but Lloyd.”
Sabine considered this. “So Catherine fancied Lloyd, and William fancied someone unsuitable, but they still married.”
“Well, yes, dear. Wealth comes with duty, and a marriage between Catherine and William merged two of the most powerful families in southern Louisiana. The elder Fortescues died in a car crash soon after William and Lloyd left to begin their military service. William was firstborn and the estate, its staff, and the largest portion of the family’s assets became his responsibility upon his parents’ death.”
“So he did his duty and married Catherine.”
“You make it sound like such a sacrifice. William and Catherine began seeing each other before he left for the war. All that other nonsense happened in high school, and besides, there were the children to consider.”
“What children?”
“No one really spoke of such things back then, it wasn’t proper, but everyone close to her knew Catherine was pregnant when she and William married. The brothers had been home on leave just a couple of months before, which made the timing possible.”
She wrinkled her brow. “And then there was the wedding itself. A rushed affair. Just the minister in the Fortescues living room and hardly the event that a family of that status would normally have hosted. But then, William was given only a brief leave to make arrangements for his inheritance and attend his parents’ funeral, and Lloyd was already missing in Vietnam and wanted by the military police and the FBI. With his parents’ death, Catherine’s pregnancy, and all the investigation surrounding Lloyd’s disappearance, it’s no wonder the family kept the wedding so private.”
Sabine glanced over at Beau, who nodded. She pressed forward. “Then after his military service, William came home and he and Catherine raised the children. Did everything go well then?”
Mrs. Boudreaux smiled at Sabine. “You were such a beautiful little girl, Frances. Always so full of life and energy. And the questions you would ask. You wanted to know the answers to everything. Precocious is the word, I think. But then I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”
Thoughts raced through Sabine’s mind. The elderly woman was obviously confused, but would it do any harm to pretend to be Frances? It took only a moment for her to make up her mind. “Actually, Mrs. Boudreaux, I don’t remember much from my childhood. I wasn’t…well for some time.”
Mrs. Boudreaux continued, “You were just beginning your senior year of high school when I started to notice the change. Before, you’d always been so sweet, so outgoing, but over time you became more and more withdrawn. You barely spoke to people in town and when you did your voice was clipped and filled with anger. Your teachers were at their wits’ end. You were their best student, but your marks had slipped so low they were afraid you wouldn’t even graduate. Then you got meningitis and after a prolonged recovery, Catherine insisted on private tutors for the rest of your education. Why, we hardly saw you again in town after that.”
“And that’s when my parents shut themselves away, also?”
“Well, Catherine was always busy with her church charities and such, but William was never the same after Vietnam.” She frowned. “Such a shame what that kind of tragedy can do to a man. A real shame.”
“Yes, it is,” Sabine agreed.
Mrs. Boudreaux leaned forward in her rocker and patted Sabine’s leg. “I’m so glad you got well, Frances. It’s been so nice talking to you, but if you young people don’t mind, I’m going to take a nap before dinner.”
“Of course,” Sabine said and rose from her chair. “Thank you so much for taking the time to talk to me, Mrs. Boudreaux. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”
Mrs. Boudreaux nodded once, then dropped off to sleep. Sabine and Beau quietly left the room and let the nurse know they were leaving. They had no sooner turned onto the freeway when Sabine’s cell phone rang.
“Maryse,” Sabine said. “What’s up?”
“Something went wrong with the car. Mildred’s been in an accident,” Maryse said, her voice shaky. “I’m at Mudbug General.”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” Sabine said. “Call me as soon as you hear anything.” Sabine closed her phone and looked over at Beau, panic already sweeping over her. “We have to get to Mudbug General. Mildred’s been in a car accident.”
“Don’t start worrying until we know the score,” Beau said. “I’m sure she’s going to be fine. Maryse is with her, right?”
Sabine shook her head. “You don’t understand.”
“Understand what?”
“She was driving my car.”