Diane T. Ashley (24 page)

“I think so.” Jonah turned the carriage onto their private drive. “We need to make sure Uncle Phillip didn’t find her hiding out somewhere on the grounds first. But if she really is missing, we can send a telegram to David the first thing in the morning.”

Uncle Phillip stood at the front door as they pulled up, his face drawn. One glance told the story. The last vestige of hope drained from Camellia. Feeling older than her aunt and uncle, she dragged herself out of the carriage.

“Mommy, Mommy.” Amaryllis ran onto the porch, her sweet face puckered with worry.

“It’s okay, Amaryllis. Mommy’s here.” Camellia held out her hands to her daughter, gathering her close and burying her face against Amaryllis’s soft neck. Even though she felt unworthy of the love flowing from the little girl, it buoyed her spirits a little.

She felt Jonah’s arms encircling both of them. “We’ll get through this, Camellia.” His whispered words were another pinprick of light piercing the darkness of her fear. “God is watching out for Jasmine tonight even though we cannot.”

She prayed he was right.

D
avid held out his left hand to the young constable who’d been such a help in his search for leads. “It’s been a pleasure working with you, Constable Longineaux.”

Longineaux grabbed his hand and pumped it once. “I’m sorry the leads didn’t pan out, but I know you’ll catch the thieves soon. I only wish I could be there when you do.”

“If you get any response from those advertisements—”

“You’ll be the first to know.” The constable scraped his foot on the floor. “Who knows, maybe one of these days I’ll come up to Chicago and see your Pinkerton operation.”

“I’d like that.” David left the busy police office, squinting at the sunlight as he considered what to do next. He could rent a horse from the nearby livery stable, but it wasn’t that far to the docks. A walk might clear his head.

The sights around him faded as David once again went through the events at Jackson Square. What had Petrie been trying to tell him? He shook his head in frustration. He had run into an impenetrable wall here. It was time to leave.

The New Orleans Police Department had shelved their case when no new robberies occurred. As Lieutenant Moreau had told him earlier that morning, they didn’t have time or the manpower to chase all over the country looking for a needle in a haystack.

It didn’t take David long to find a riverboat heading north. After purchasing a ticket, he walked to the Cartiers’ home. Packing his belongings, he descended the staircase that was his private entrance and walked across the porch to the main entrance of the house. The Cartiers’ butler answered his knock and led him to the parlor.

Sarah had been reading a novel but put it down to greet him. “I’m so glad to see you, David. How is your work progressing?”

He sat in a dainty whitewashed chair and shook his head. “I’ve exhausted every avenue I can think of. It’s time to admit defeat. I came by to thank you and Dr. Cartier for your hospitality. You’ve been very gracious hosts, never complaining about my odd hours or the amount of time I dedicate to my work.”

“That reminds me.” She snapped her fingers and jumped up from the sofa. “You received two telegrams this morning.”

David stood when she did and waited while she went through a stack of invitations on the Queen Anne desk in one corner of the parlor.

“Here they are.” Sarah turned with a triumphant smile and handed him the envelopes.

He opened the top one and read the message inside.

The information galvanized him. “It’s from my headquarters. There’s been another robbery, this time in Vicksburg.” He would have to make sure the riverboat captain was planning to make a stop in that city. “Maybe I’ll catch them there.”

Sarah’s head nodded, but her concerned gaze studied him. “You’re so brave, David. I cannot imagine facing such danger. But open the other telegram. Maybe it says that the thieves were already arrested.”

Even though he doubted such an eventuality, David nodded. His eyes widened as he saw the name on the envelope. “It’s from Camellia and Jonah.”

As he read the note, irritation and disbelief filled him. “Jasmine has done it now. It seems she’s run away from home. Your brother and Camellia want me to help find her.”

“That poor child.” Sarah grabbed his arm. “You must help look for her.”

“She’s not a child.” He looked down at Sarah’s troubled expression. What did they think he could do? And what about his job? What about the people who suffered loss and hardship because their money had been stolen? Was he supposed to ignore their needs to go running after a spoiled brat? “Besides, I have no idea where she would go.”

“But you know Jasmine better than anyone.” Sarah loosened her grip and stepped back as though she could read his thoughts. “You cannot ignore her family’s plea.”

She had hit on the real problem. He owed a debt to Lily and both of her sisters. “If the boat I’m on stops over in Natchez, I’ll make a quick trip to the plantation and find out exactly what’s happened. Maybe I can suggest another detective they can hire to look for her.”

Even though Sarah didn’t say it, he could tell she wasn’t happy with his answer. David didn’t know what else to do, though. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—ignore his employer’s instructions.

Besides, he’d already wasted enough time trying to curb Jasmine’s headstrong personality. Perhaps if she found out what life was really like away from the protection of her family, Jasmine would grow up. Maybe she would finally learn to listen to others who knew more about the world. It wasn’t all kittens and compliments. After a week or two of battling greed and disinterest, she would probably be eager to return to her family.

He bowed to Sarah. “Thank you again for your hospitality, Mrs. Cartier. I’ll mention to Jonah your concern over Jasmine’s welfare and ask him to send you a note once she returns to Les Fleurs.”

“Thank you.” She pulled herself to her full height and nodded regally. “I hope we’ll see you again soon.”

David left her standing in the center of the parlor, her chin high and her eyes moist with unshed tears. He could strangle Jasmine himself for causing so much worry. The girl never thought of anyone but herself.

He passed the music room and remembered the way she’d made sheep eyes at that self-absorbed actor. Jasmine had less sense than the sheep she imitated. She had no business leaving the shelter of her home and family.

But then he imagined her scared and alone, adrift in a sea of cruelty and violence. A fierce protectiveness smothered his irritation. Where could she be? Had she gone to Chicago or New York or somewhere else in her search for fame and glory? She needed a keeper, someone who would control her wild tendencies. He wished he had the time to expend on finding her. He would make sure Jasmine was okay. Then he would drag her back home and dare her to ever leave again.

Working aboard the showboat was not as glamorous as Jasmine had imagined. Clem was sweet, and it was exciting to watch from the wings as Vance and the other actors performed
Romeo and Juliet
the night before. Talking to the male lead was another matter entirely. With two performances daily, the whole crew was busy with their various chores.

“Aren’t you done polishing those sconces?”

Miss Barlow’s querulous voice startled her, and Jasmine nearly fell from the ladder she was perched on.

“Be careful.” The actress stepped back, entangled her shoe in the hem of her dress, and cried out. Before she could fall, however, Vance rushed forward and caught her.

“I’m sorry.” Jasmine gritted her teeth as jealousy washed through her. Miss Barlow seemed to command all of Vance’s time.

Standing with an arm around his co-star, Vance sent her a wink. “Leave the girl alone, Tabitha. She’ll finish the sconces as soon as she can.”

“Well, I don’t know how we’re supposed to practice when I can hardly see my hand in front of my face.”

Jasmine had to agree with her that it was difficult to see without the candlelight. That must be why Miss Barlow’s titian-colored hair seemed to be a different shade than she remembered.

The outer door opened, and sunlight spilled into the room. Angelica Fenwick, the second female lead and understudy for Miss Barlow, strolled in.

The older actress rounded on her. “I’m glad you found time to join us this morning. Your portrayal of Juliet’s nurse was lackluster yesterday evening.”

Miss Fenwick was as blond as Camellia but much more rounded. Her dimpled elbows and generous chest almost made her seem plump. Jasmine knew from talking to Clem that Miss Fenwick played the secondary parts, the parts that often had the better lines. She’d also warned Jasmine about the constant tension between the two actresses.

“That’s not what Rafe said.” Miss Fenwick’s New England accent was evident in her clipped syllables. “And the audience didn’t seem to mind.”

“Rafe’s opinion doesn’t count for anything. Everybody knows he’s in love with you.” Miss Barlow pouted at Vance. “I don’t know why I put up with this trumpery, two-bit operation.”

Vance chuckled and released Miss Barlow. “Our generous salaries might be one of the reasons.”

She swept down the central aisle, her irritation evident in the swish of her skirts.

“I don’t know what you’re looking at.” Miss Fenwick sniffed as she looked toward Jasmine. “You may be new here, but that’s no excuse for inefficiency.”

Jasmine returned to her task with renewed energy. Miss Fenwick and Miss Barlow were still squabbling as she removed the last nub and replaced it with a fresh candle. Taking the tinderbox, she started lighting the central candle in each sconce as the manager had instructed.

Rafe Griffin, dressed in a purple doublet, made an appearance a few minutes later. Jasmine supposed he was handsome. His eyes were large and dark, his brow wide, and a pair of dimples bracketed his mouth when he smiled. But he wasn’t nearly as handsome as Vance, at least to her. Standing close to her ladder, he showed his dimples. “You must be the new girl Clem was telling me about.”

“I was about to send someone out looking for you, Rafe.” Miss Fenwick addressed the actor, but her pale eyes shot daggers at Jasmine.

Jasmine wanted to sigh. She had not been here for two full days, and she’d already managed to earn the dislike of both the female leads. What had she done wrong?

Rafe pointed at a spot on his doublet sleeve. “Clem was mending my costume.”

Harmon Easley, the owner and manager of the
Ophelia
, entered the stage from the wings. He was a burly man with beefy arms, a round belly, and bowed legs. “What’s going on out here? Why aren’t y’all practicing? Do I need to advertise for new actors?” He smoothed his mustache with a finger. “Or maybe I should turn this into a circus boat. I don’t imagine animals would give me any more trouble than the lot of you.”

Properly chastised, the foursome took their places on stage. Jasmine could tell the other members of the cast were waiting backstage from the occasional movements of the curtain. They were the stock company, the actors who filled in the minor parts for much lower pay.

“We’ll begin with this week’s farce,
Fish Out of Water
.” Mr. Easley crossed his arms over his chest. “Places everyone.”

As the one-act play began, Jasmine slipped into one of the empty seats, her heart thumping as they began. How she wished to join them onstage.

Someone sat down beside her, and she turned to see Clem’s brown hair and plain garb. “If Mr. Easley finds you sitting here doing nothing, he’ll sack you for sure.”

Jasmine nodded, and the two of them slipped out.

“Here.” Clem led her downstairs to the area where the props were stored. “I have to make some alterations to Lady Montague’s dress. The girl playing that part was tripping all over the hem last night. It’s a wonder she didn’t fall and break her neck.”

“Do you ever act?”

“No. “Clem folded the material at the bottom of the skirt and pinned it in place. “Not for a long time. I tried it when I first started working in this business, but I didn’t want to deal with the petty quarrels and backbiting. And the men who see you on stage get funny ideas about a girl’s morals.”

Jasmine remembered that the first night she’d met Vance the men had crowded around Miss Barlow’s door, wanting to take her to dinner. That didn’t sound bad to her. Bickering with her coactors, though, was not a pleasant idea. Perhaps she could find ways to accommodate the needs of the other actors by giving them sufficient respect. In her experience it was the best way to avoid confrontation. She sighed at the realization that she had not made a promising start. “I seem to have a talent for making people angry. Both Miss Barlow and Miss Fenwick have given me tongue-lashings.”

“Miss Barlow isn’t so bad. I’ve learned as long as you don’t get in her way she’s happy to ignore you.”