The Grand Masquerade (The Bold Women Series Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

in straight lines. Eucalyptus trees shaded these tiny enclosures. When Sydnee came closer, she saw statues of angels and lambs adorning the doors with tiny marble crosses on the roofs.
    She realized suddenly that this was a cemetery. Margarite had spoken of these Cities of the Dead, where they buried their deceased above ground in vaults.
    Panic flooded her. She had to get out of this place. She did not want to be here. She did not want to think about death. She started to run but stopped abruptly, doubling over in agony. Pain shot through her belly again and began to wrap around to her back. She could not endure it. She dropped to her knees in a faint.
    When she woke up she heard a baby crying, and Margarite was near. She cooed, “My leetle girl has a leetle girl.”
    When Sydnee opened her eyes again, she was back under the sheltering arms of the oak tree. She was tired, but she felt safe. She leaned back against the trunk of the tree and rested.
    Somewhere down by the swamp she heard a baby crying. Sydnee listened. The crying continued. She walked down to the marsh and waded into the water, parting the swamp grass, looking for the child. Her skirt plumed out around her in the water as she searched. Wading through the reeds, she remembered a story Margarite told her long ago, about a babe found in the bull rushes who grew up to become a great leader.
    At last she found the baby in a basket floating among the cattails. The child stopped crying the moment she saw Sydnee. She was a beautiful little girl, with eyes the color of robin’s eggs. A thrill of wonder shot through Sydnee. Smiling, she reached down carefully and picked the baby up. She took her up the hill to the bird bath where she unwound the swaddling clothes and slipped the child into the basin to bathe her. As she scooped water over the child, they stared at each other in wonder.
    “Give it to me goddamn it!” a voice roared.
    Startled, Sydnee clutched the child to her breast. Dripping with water, the baby started to howl again. Sydnee scanned the woods desperately. All was quiet. With a sigh, she calmed the baby and lowered her again for her bath. Suddenly her jaw dropped. The bird bath changed into a font for divination and there before her eyes, in the water, a scene was unfolding.
    Sydnee’s father was arguing with Margarite and shaking his fist at her. They were in the shed, and it was dark. “You stupid nigger!” he roared.
    “Non!” Margarite screamed, backing up with a baby in her arms. “Not again!”
    Victor Sauveterre scowled and with one swift movement, he covered Margarite’s face with his hand and sent her toppling backward into the wall of the shed. She stumbled and tried to remain standing but fell into the corner. In spite of the fall, she did not let go of the child.
    Sauveterre reached down.
    Margarite screamed “Non,” rolling away from him, holding fast to the baby.
    Straddling the old woman, he jerked the child away from her and thrust the screaming infant under his arm. Throwing open the door of the shed, he strode out into the night.
    *                      *                  *
    Sydnee’s eyelids fluttered. She felt sick to her stomach and confused. Where am I? What happened? She recognized the shed at last, but something was banging. When she raised her head, she saw that the wind was slamming the shed door open and closed. She rubbed her eyes. Where is Margarite?
    With great effort she raised herself up on one elbow. Except for a cup of grease guttering on the altar, it was dark. The blankets of her bed were soaked, and she pushed them off, sitting up gingerly. She was sore all over but particularly between her legs. Then she remembered that she had just delivered a baby.
    Pulling her dirty shift over her head to cover herself, Sydnee carefully stood up. Shuffling over to the altar, she lit some tapers and looked around. The bed was rumpled and soaked with blood. The wind continued to