Louis Collins: A Post-American Odyssey

The rooms given to Louis were on the second floor. He stood before the mirror with his shirt half-buttoned and his injured leg braced against the wall. He had not been left alone. Wells and a younger guard waited in the sitting room beyond. The bedroom door had been left open. Wells could see him from the sitting room.

Louis watched himself in the mirror. The cuts on his face had darkened, and the skin beneath his eyes looked drawn. Then Wells appeared in the frame. Behind him, another man entered carrying clothes on hangers and a long box. Wells gestured to the chair beside the small writing table.

“Mr. Collins.”

Louis went to the chair and sat.

“I need to speak to Miss Bourbon,” he said.

“That will not be possible at present.”

“What does that mean?” Louis asked. “She is my fiancée.”

“Even so,” Wells said. “The bride is under the care of Mrs. Harlan and the women assigned to her.”

“I’m the groom, apparently.” The word still sounded ridiculous in his own mouth. “You’re telling me I can’t see the bride?”

“You will see her at the ceremony.”

Louis sat back in the chair. “That’s convenient.”

Wells stepped aside as the other man brought the hangers forward. The tailor laid a dark blue suit on the bed, then placed a black one beside it. Louis did not touch either.

“We’ll need to measure the collar and sleeve,” the tailor said.

Louis tested his right leg before pushing himself upright. He pulled on the dark blue jacket. The tailor circled him with the tape, checking the shoulders, sleeves, and waist. The cloth was heavier than Louis was used to. He looked down at the dark blue wool.

“Looks like a funeral,” Louis said.

The tailor stepped back and studied him. “Stand straight.”

Louis did.

The man adjusted the collar. “Again.”

Louis straightened more.

Someone knocked at the half-open door. Wells went to it. Jennifer Hargrove stood there with a slim envelope in one hand and a black ribbon looped around her other wrist. Her hair was pulled back tighter than it had been at breakfast. She glanced at Louis, then lowered her eyes.

“For the ceremony,” she said.

Wells took the envelope from her, opened it, and removed a folded card. The order of service was printed on the front in neat black script. Jennifer remained at the threshold with one foot in the hall.

“Miss Hargrove,” Louis said.

Jennifer raised her head.

He kept his voice level. “Can you come here?”

She hesitated. Wells did not stop her. She stepped into the room. The tailor continued pinning the sleeve.

When she was near enough to be heard without raising her voice, Louis said, “Can you do me a favor? Tell Miss Bourbon something for me.”

Neither man interrupted. Jennifer said, “I shouldn’t.”

“Please.” Louis kept his attention on her. “Just tell her one sentence.”

Jennifer hesitated again.

“Alright,” she whispered.

He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Tell her a call went out.”

Jennifer’s fingers closed around the ribbon. Her lips parted, but she did not ask what it meant. Instead, she looked down.

“I can’t promise anything,” she said.

“Thank you,” Louis said.

She nodded, turned, and left without another word. The door closed behind her. Wells held the service card and studied Louis. Then he handed him the folded program.

“Read that,” he said. “You’ll be expected to know when to stand.”

Louis took it. The paper was thick and expensive. At the top, beneath a small printed cross, it read: Service of Covenant Matrimony. He nearly laughed. Then he scanned the lines: opening prayer, charge, vows, scripture reading, exchange of rings, pronouncement. Everything was arranged.

“Do I get a choice of suit?” he asked.

The tailor said, “You get what is provided.”

Louis rolled his eyes and said nothing.

When the fitting was finished, Louis took up the cane and followed Wells into the corridor. More doors stood open now, and servants moved between the rooms. Near the central hall, women came toward them from the opposite corridor.

Wells stepped in front of Louis and motioned toward another passage. Before he could turn Louis away, Gladice came around the corner with two women beside her and Mrs. Harlan behind them. She saw Louis and slowed. The women beside her slowed with her.

“What’s happening? They moving the ceremony up?”

Louis said, low and fast, “Yes. Seven tonight. And I made a call. It went out.”

“Good.” Gladice resumed her pace. She passed Louis, glanced at Mrs. Harlan, and kept walking with her chin raised.

Wells turned him down a narrower corridor toward the rear stair. Louis’s pulse quickened. At least Gladice knew the call had gone out. Then a maid came around the far corner and almost collided with the younger guard. She stopped short and looked down.

“Mr. Wells, they’re asking for another man on the south lawn. The tents—”

“Go.” Wells gestured to the young guard. “See to it.”

The guard left. Wells motioned Louis forward. The corridor turned twice, leaving the central rooms behind. The bedrooms along this wing had been converted into dressing rooms and private offices.

Louis stopped at the second turn. His knee had begun to hurt again, which made the pause easy to sell. He put one hand to the wall and lowered his head.

Wells turned. “What is it?”

“I’m going to be sick.” Louis bent over with one hand on his stomach and the other braced on his knee.

“This way,” Wells said.

He took Louis through a side door into a small suite. The door opened into a sitting room. A narrow walk-in service closet occupied one corner, stocked with towels, soap, basins, and cleaning supplies. A brass slide bolt was fixed to the outside of its door. Another door led to a tiled bathroom with a porcelain basin and claw-foot tub.

Louis went straight to the basin and braced both hands on the marble. He did not have to fake the retching much. The coffee, pain tablets, train ride, and several nights of broken sleep had already turned his stomach. He retched and brought up a little bitter water into the basin. His throat burned, and his eyes watered.

He heard Wells say behind him. “Damn it.”

Louis stayed bent over, breathing through his mouth. “I need a towel.”

Wells swore under his breath and crossed back into the sitting room. Louis heard the closet door open and towels shift on the shelf. He left the cane against the basin and hopped toward the closet on his left foot. Wells had stepped into the closet and was reaching for a folded towel on the upper shelf.

Louis shoved the closet door shut with both hands and slid the brass bolt into place.

“Mr. Collins?” Wells called from inside.

Louis did not answer. He dragged the armchair from beside the round table and wedged its back beneath the knob. One chair leg slid across the runner before catching on the floorboards. He shoved until the chair was fixed firmly between the knob and the floor. The knob rattled harder.

“Open this door.”

Louis dragged a second chair from the corner and braced it behind the first. The door shook when Wells struck it from inside. The chairs held. Louis tipped the round table onto its side and pushed it against them. It was not a perfect wall. But it would last long enough.

He went back for the cane, opened the suite door, and checked the corridor. It was empty. He eased the door shut behind him and headed toward the central rooms. Servants moved between open doors carrying boxes, linens, and flowers. Louis kept a steady pace and tried not to look around more than necessary. A pair of women in gray passed carrying hat boxes stacked one atop the other. Neither looked at him twice. Louis nodded and kept moving.

He lost his way at the first junction. A maid came around the corner with folded linen in both arms, saw him lingering, and slowed.

“Sir?”

“Where is Miss Bourbon?”

The maid blinked. “The east dressing room this floor, sir. Last door on the left.”

Louis nodded and moved on. He took the next right, passed a sitting room being rearranged, and found the last door on the left. He entered without knocking. Angelique stood by the window in an ivory dress with long sleeves and a high collar. She turned at the sound of the door and took a step toward him before stopping.

“Louis.”

He shut the door behind him.

Her eyes widened. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you get my message?”

“From Jennifer?” She nodded. “Yes. Did you really call someone?”

“Yes.” He crossed the room to her with the cane. “The Council Office. That’s why they moved up the ceremony.”

Angelique drew in a breath. “So we have until seven.”

Footsteps sounded in the gallery outside. Louis lowered his voice.

“Listen to me. We need to do something during the ceremony.”

“Like what?” Angelique glanced at the door, then back at him.

“I will say that I am under duress during the order of service and you will say that you do not consent. If it’s recorded, if witnesses hear it, it gives us something.”

She stared at him. “You think that’s enough?”

Before he could answer, the door opened. Gladice came in, shut it behind her with one hand, and leaned against it, breathing hard.

“Well,” she said. “You two look cozy.”

Louis breathed out through his nose. “How did you—”

“I drugged Mrs. Harlan’s coffee with laxative.” Gladice smiled. “She’ll be a little busy for the next hour. You’re welcome.”

“You’re insane.” Angelique held back a laugh.

“Yes.” Gladice smiled. “But I’m also clever. Now, what the hell is the plan?”

Louis repeated the plan quickly. Gladice listened without interrupting.

When he finished, she nodded. “It’s a start.”

“But not enough,” Angelique said.

“No.” Gladice pushed away from the door and paced between it and the window. “But if we cause enough trouble during the vows, if we turn it into a public incident, it makes it harder for Hargrove to spin it the way he wants. It buys us time.”

“Time for what?” Angelique folded her arms.

“Time for people to start asking the wrong questions,” Gladice said. “A forced marriage looks bad. A forced marriage that ends with the bride and groom making a public scene looks like a regime in crisis.”

“And that’s all?” Angelique asked.

Gladice turned to face her. “Unless you have a grenade hidden in that dress, yes, that’s all.”

Angelique looked down. “I wish I did.”

Louis said, “We do what we can with this. Then we stay alive after.”

Gladice breathed out. “Alright. Let’s make it count.”

She looked from Angelique to Louis. “Angel, when you go out there, you will be watched. You need to look afraid. Don’t hold it together too well. Let it show.”

Angelique nodded.

“Louis,” Gladice continued, “you need to look as much like a man who is being compelled as possible. Don’t hide the anger. Let them see you don’t want it.”

“Fine,” Louis said. “And you?”

She grinned. “I will be the one they don’t expect. If I get the chance to make a mess, I’ll make one they’ll remember.”

Someone knocked softly at the door. All three turned toward it.

Gladice whispered to Louis. “Get under the bed.”

Louis propped the cane against the bed, lowered himself onto his good knee, and rolled beneath the frame. His injured knee hurt badly when he pulled the braced leg after him. Angelique went to the window and turned her back to the room.

Someone knocked again.

“Miss Bourbon?” Jennifer called from the hall. “Mrs. Harlan sent me with the gloves.”

Gladice looked to Angelique. Angelique nodded and crossed to the door.

Jennifer stood there with a flat white box in one hand and a pair of long ivory gloves over her arm. She began, “Mrs. Harlan said the seamstress—”

Louis shifted farther beneath the bed and struck his head against the iron frame. Jennifer stopped. Her shoes turned toward the bed. Louis looked down and saw the toe of his shoe protruding beneath the coverlet.

Gladice grabbed Jennifer by the arm, pulled her into the room, and shut the door. Jennifer gasped once, and for a moment Louis thought she might shout. From beneath the bed, Louis saw her back against the door.

“You can’t—” she whispered.

“Quiet,” Gladice hissed.

Louis rolled out from under the bed, used the frame to push himself upright, and reached for the cane. He kept most of his weight on his good leg. Then he raised one hand toward Jennifer.

“It’s alright,” he said. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

Jennifer gripped the white box against her chest.

“If anyone finds out—” she whispered.

“Then you better make sure no one does,” Gladice said. She still held Jennifer’s arm. “We are not leaving this room yet. And you are not going to tell anyone. Understood?”

Jennifer stopped pulling against her grip. Then she nodded. Gladice let go of her arm and locked the door.

“Good,” she said. “Now take the gloves to Miss Bourbon and help her with them. Then sit down and look normal.”

Jennifer paused, then turned toward Angelique. Angelique held out her hands but watched her closely. Jennifer opened the box and fitted the gloves over Angelique’s hands, working each finger into place. When she had finished, she stepped back.

“There,” she said. “They’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Angelique said.

Jennifer turned to Gladice. “What do I do?”

“Sit,” Gladice said. “We are all going to sit and look like a bridal party having a last moment of privacy before the procession. If anyone asks, you were called in to help. You don’t know Louis is here. You don’t care. You are a good girl who does what she’s told.”

Jennifer went to the window seat and sat. She folded her hands in her lap and stared at the floor.

“How’s your head?” Gladice asked Louis.

“Fine.”

“Good. Don’t hit it again.” She turned to Jennifer. “Do you have a phone?”

“No, it’s illegal.” Jennifer shook her head.

“Figures.” Gladice rolled her eyes.

“What do you want?” Jennifer looked from Gladice to Angelique, then to Louis.

Gladice folded her arms. “Information.”

Jennifer tightened her grip on the white box. “About what?”

“About the wedding,” Louis said. “And what happens next.”

Jennifer lowered her head. “I only know what I heard.”

“That’s enough,” Gladice said. “Start talking.”

Jennifer swallowed and began in a low voice.

“They said the ceremony would finish before dark if Father keeps it moving. Then there’s a blessing in the hall. A short one. Only the inner household and the armed witnesses.” She paused before continuing. “After that, Mr. and Mrs. Collins will be escorted to the west bridal suite.”

Angelique’s fingers curled against her skirt.

Louis asked, “And after that?”

“The door will be locked from the outside until morning. Mrs. Harlan will wait outside to ensure the completion of—”

Color rose in Jennifer’s face, and she stopped.

“Sex,” Gladice finished for her. “Thank you, Jenny.”

Jennifer looked down again. Her fingers were trembling now. “Yes.”

Louis felt the nausea return.

Angelique asked quietly, “And Gladice?”

Jennifer looked at her, then away. “Miss Simington is not to remain with you.”

“Where do they take me?” Gladice asked.

“To a guest room. Under guard.” Jennifer’s voice had gone thin. “Mrs. Harlan said there was no reason for the three of you to continue as a... as a pattern.”

Gladice laughed under her breath. “How thoughtful of her.”

Louis said, “Is that all?”

Jennifer flinched at his tone.

“No.” She looked down at her own hands. “Father said,” she began, but stopped. When she continued, her voice was flat. “If the marriage is not consummated... if it is not... true, he said... that Miss Bourbon would be transferred to the Covenant Rehabilitation School for Girls.” She faced Angelique. “For correction.”

Louis looked at her sharply. Angelique did not flinch, but her eyes changed. “Correction,” she said softly. “That’s a nice word for it.”

Jennifer’s face was white now. She seemed to realize suddenly what she had just said and to whom. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be,” Gladice said. “You didn’t make the rules.”

Louis asked Jennifer, “Do you know where the school is?”

She shook her head. “Not exactly. North of Montgomery. Some miles out. I heard Father mention it once, when he was talking to Mrs. Harlan.” She hesitated, then added, “It’s not a place anyone comes back from easily.”

The words had barely finished settling when the latch was tried from outside. The handle jerked down. They all looked at once toward the door. Jennifer clutched the white box to her chest.

Wells shouted through the panel.

“Open the damn door!”

No one moved. Jennifer half rose from the window seat.

“I should—”

“Sit,” Gladice said.

Jennifer froze. Then Louis heard keys rattle outside.

Gladice glanced at Louis. “Damn.”

A key scraped into the lock. The lock clicked, and the door swung inward. Wells entered first. Two guards followed him inside and spread out behind him, one facing Louis and the other Gladice.

Wells stopped just inside the threshold.

“Miss Hargrove,” he said, “you will leave this room and return to your mother at once.”

Jennifer sprang up. The white box slid from her lap and struck the carpet with a muffled thud. She bent to retrieve it, caught it against her knees, and gathered it into both hands. No one helped her. She held the box against her chest and kept her head down.

Wells stepped aside without looking at her. “Now.”

Jennifer hurried past him, clutching the box.

Wells’s attention returned to the three who remained. His gaze settled on Louis first.

“You have made this day more difficult than it needed to be.”

Louis turned his face away.

Wells turned to Gladice. “And you.”

Gladice’s mouth curved faintly. “I like making things difficult.”

Wells did not answer that. He only looked once at the room as a whole and made his decision.

“Mr. Collins goes back to his room. Miss Simington to hers. Now.”

The two guards moved at once. One crossed to Louis and took him by the arm. The other went to Gladice.

Gladice did not resist, but she spoke before he could touch her. “I’ll walk.”

The guard paused, then gestured toward the door. Gladice walked out before he could take her arm. Louis did not fight. He let the guard lead him toward the door. The ceremony was still their only chance.

In the hall, Louis heard Wells say behind him, “You will stay here until I return. If you leave this room, you will not like the consequences.”

Louis looked back at Angelique before the guard pulled him around the corner. By the time the guard returned him to his room and locked the door, only a few hours remained before seven.

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