Gentleman's Trade (10 page)

“Now and then I do seem to suffer a sad want of dignity, but never in company.”

“It might be best if you did.”

“I wonder if I could chase Mr. Wilmot away by becoming excessively silly,” mused Vanessa.

“It would be too out of character; he’d know it for a ruse,” Adeline replied. “But I thought, after last night, you were not going to have anything more to do with him.”

Vanessa sighed. “I don’t have much choice.”

“Why?”

“He visited Father this morning and made a full confession of his misdeeds. He claimed he was swept away by my charm and beauty.”

“Gammon,” scoffed Adeline.

“Why, don’t you think I have charm and beauty?”

“Vanessa! Of course I do, now stop teasing.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. You’re right of course; he pitched quite a tale at Father.”

“And Father believed him?”

“That’s the strange thing. I don’t believe he does; however, somehow it’s to his advantage to accept and forgive Mr. Wilmot his actions.”

“How odd,” Adeline said.

“Yes, but it gets stranger still. He told me to accept Mr. Wilmot’s apology and continue considering him a suitor, be friendly to Mr. Talverton, and ignore Mr. Danielson when Mr. Wilmot is around.”

A tiny worried frown marred the perfection of Adeline’s features, and her hands fluttered agitatedly in front of her. She looked away from her sister, then back. “W-w-why?” she stammered. “Does he think Mr. Wilmot might harm Mr. Danielson?”

“I cannot say,” Vanessa replied distractedly, failing to notice the extent of her sister’s dismay. “My summation is it has something to do with business. Perhaps the negotiations for a wedding settlement or dowry,” Vanessa suggested sardonically. “I have the feeling Father is playing games within games and I resent my involvement.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure yet. I need to contemplate this further.”

Adeline shivered slightly. “It terrifies me to even consider it.”

The sisters sat silently for a few moments, considering their father’s strange behavior. Finally Adeline roused herself, shaking her head as if to shake out all troublesome thoughts.

“Oh, dear, I nearly forgot my flowers. I must get them between blotting paper and weighted before they wilt.”

“I’ll help you,” offered Vanessa. “Perhaps I shall have an easier time solving my dilemma if I don’t dwell on it constantly.”

Adeline laughed softly. “I suppose at this juncture you could do no worse. Come, before Father returns and reclaims his library, let’s see if we can get all these pressed.”

“That’s all of them, now what?” Vanessa asked as she slid the last blossom and leaf set between the pages of a heavy law book.

“Now we check on the progress of some I laid down earlier this spring. Let’s see. I used the Greek books for those,” Adeline said, dragging a small stool over to one of the tall bookshelves and climbing up on it. Standing on tiptoe, she reached up to grab a thick volume of Greek plays and pull it off the shelf.

“Do you keep track of what you press by what type book it’s in?”

“Yes. Well, actually that’s how I record when I pressed it.” She handed the book to Vanessa before turning to grab another. “For example, today we used all law books, so tonight in my journal I shall make note of what we pressed and where they are.”

“How many Greek books are there?” Vanessa asked as Adeline passed her another heavy tome and she staggered under the weight.

“Four,” Adeline replied distractedly, tugging at a particularly thick book of Greek essays.

“I hadn’t realized the Mannion women were bluestockings,” said a warm deep voice from the door.

Vanessa, her arms full of books, turned around to stare in surprise at Hugh Talverton standing in the doorway of the library.

Adeline teetered on the stool as she spun around, her arms flailing outward to restore her balance.

“Vanessa! Look out!” Huge warned as the heavy book in Adeline’s hand swung in a wide arc and smacked Vanessa in the face.

He caught her as she fell sideways.

“Vanessa!” screamed Adeline. Jumping off the stool, she ran to her sister’s side, the book she held falling heedlessly to the floor.

“Vanessa! I’m so sorry! Are you all right?”

She moaned, a hand fluttering up to her face as she sagged against Mr. Talverton.

With a grim expression marring his handsome features, he picked her up in his arms as if she were a featherweight. “Where can I lay her down?”

Adeline jumped at his harsh tone. “What? Oh, yes, of course. The parlor, I believe.”

Carrying his precious burden, he turned on his heel, heading for the parlor. In his arms, Vanessa moaned and whimpered. Adeline ran behind him, her hands twisting together.

They passed Jonas in the hall.

“Jonas,” called Adeline, “Vanessa’s been hurt. Get some lavender water from Leila.”

“No,” contradicted Talverton harshly, “fetch a side of beef.”

“A side of beef?” echoed Adeline faintly.

“Yes, a piece of raw beef,” he ordered over his shoulder as he strode into the parlor, “else she’ll have a wicked black eye.”

Adeline jerkily nodded permission to Jonas, shooed him on his way, and then followed in Talverton’s wake. She entered the parlor in time to see him settle her sister gently on the largest sofa in the room. Swiftly he turned to gather up pillows from other chairs and gently place them behind her head and shoulders.

Vanessa’s eyes fluttered open as he smoothed her skirts down around her ankles, tucking them about her. “What?” she muttered, struggling to sit up.

“Hush,” he said quietly, his voice sending odd, comforting ripples through her.

“Oh, Vanessa, I’m so sorry,” wailed Adeline.

Vanessa furrowed her brow against an incipient pounding in her head and tried to concentrate. “What happened?”

“Your sister planted you a facer,” explained Hugh as he smiled down at her. “Her form was questionable, but it was a nice flush hit.”

“How can you jest about it?” complained Adeline, sinking to her knees beside Vanessa.

“It’s all right, Adeline,” assured Vanessa weakly. “Actually it was Mr. Talverton’s fault,” she declared, trying to glare at him but giving it up when it increased the pounding in her head.

“Somehow I knew you’d come round to blaming me.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Vanessa demanded aggressively, then winced as a sharp pain pierced her cheek and eye.

“You’ll probably feel better if you keep the eye closed,” he counseled. “I was in the neighborhood and decided to pay an afternoon call. When your butler left me standing while he went to search out your location, I became restless. I heard female voices coming from the library, so I merely came to investigate.”

“Excuse me, Miss Adeline, but I got the beef the gentleman requested,” said Jonas from the doorway.

“Excellent,” declared Talverton, striding over to the butler. He took it from Jonas, testing the weight and thickness in his hand before crossing back to the sofa where Vanessa lay.

“What’s that for?” she asked in dismay as she saw him approach.

“For that black eye you’re going to get if you don’t put this on it.”

“Black eye?”

“Yes, black eye,” he said, pushing her back down among the pillows and laying the slab of beef over the left side of her face.

“This is ridiculous,” Vanessa protested, reaching up to remove the meat.

He caught her hand, holding it firmly in his. “Leave it,” he commanded, “unless you desire to resemble a pugilist who has lost a round.”

“Perhaps you had best do as he says,” Adeline said weakly, biting her lip in dismay.

“What’s going on in here?” a harsh, gravelly voice demanded.

Vanessa looked toward the doorway and groaned. Mr. Wilmot had arrived, as promised.

Jonas pushed past him, scurrying to the sofa. “I tried to tell him you were indisposed, Miss Vanessa, but he wouldn’t listen. Came right on in, he did, saying as how he was expected.” He turned to glare resentfully at the man, his old face heavily lined, though his eyes stared out fiercely at the intruder.

“I understand, Jonas,” she said. Suddenly she realized Mr. Wilmot’s angry gaze was settled on her hand, which was still clasped in Mr. Talverton’s. “You can let go of my hand now, Mr. Talverton,” she said, pulling it free. “I promise I shall suffer the meat to stay in place for it is certainly not my desire to resemble any prizefighter.”

Hugh allowed her hand to slide free and straightened to face Mr. Wilmot, though he maintained his position by the sofa.

“I apologize for not rising to meet you formally, Mr. Wilmot; however, I’m afraid I met with a slight accident.”

“What did this man do to you?” Wilmot growled, striding forward to tower over her.

“Mr. Talverton? Do not be ridiculous, sir. If anything, he has been my savior.”

Hugh’s sandy brows rose at her comment. Just moments ago she had been blaming him. His lips tightened to suppress a smile.

Adeline rose from her knees to move away only to feel her sister’s arm restraining her. Vanessa edged closer toward the back of the sofa, making a space for Adeline to perch beside her.

Casting a nervous glance in Mr. Wilmot’s direction, Adeline settled herself next to her sister. “Oh, it was all my fault,” whispered Adeline, folding her hands over Vanessa’s. “I’m afraid I hit her with a volume of Greek essays.”

“My classical studies professor at Oxford always said the Greek essays carried power,” murmured Hugh, “but until now I failed to understand his precise meaning.”

His wry sally was rewarded with a flickering smile from Vanessa and a hostile glare from Mr. Wilmot.

“What are you doing here?” the man demanded.

“I could ask you the same, with much more justification,” replied Hugh calmly. He stood at his leisure, appearing totally unintimidated, a circumstance Mr. Wilmot was not accustomed to when he was angry. Men quaked and placated him; they did not stand nonchalantly. His eyes narrowed.

“I’ve come to take Miss Mannion driving,” he said challengingly.

“Yes, beautiful day for a drive. I could wish for a rig of my own on a day like today. Pity she’s no longer up for it,” drawled Hugh.

“How did this happen?” Wilmot ground out, turning to fix Adeline with a malevolent stare.

She blinked and slouched a little, closer to Vanessa.

“You have no call to browbeat my sister, Mr. Wilmot!” Vanessa declared, pushing herself up on her elbows to address him. “And I’ll thank you to mend your tone. I have a splitting headache that your insistent thundering is aggravating.” She sank wearily back against the pillows.

He flushed and instinctively stepped back at her ferocious words, and Hugh Talverton smiled at his unconscious action. It was obvious the man was not used to people standing up to him.

“Adeline!”
called Mr. Mannion from the hallway. “Adeline, what happened in my library?” He strode angrily into the room, stopping short when he saw the assembled tableau. “Egad, what’s going on here? Wilmot, if you’ve harmed my daughter . . .”

“What?” demanded Mr. Wilmot.

“No, Father—” interrupted Vanessa exasperatedly.

“It was all my fault,” chimed in Adeline.

“Quick assumptions can be quite amusing,” said Mr. Talverton to no one in particular.

Vanessa tilted her head back and attempted to frown at him, only to burst out laughing at his insouciant expression. “Oh, please, don’t make me laugh, it only hurts more.” She looked back at her father. “I was helping Adeline retrieve some of her pressed flowers. They were in your Greek works, and she needed to stand on a stool to reach them,” she explained patiently. “While on the stool she lost her balance and hit me in the face with the book she held. That’s all. It was a silly accident and now I just wish everyone would go away. This grand assembly only increases my embarrassment.”

“Your wish, fair damsel in distress, is my command,” responded Hugh with alacrity, his voice almost whisper soft, subtly reminding her of the first time he’d played the gallant knight. He smiled at her and raised her hand to bestow a chaste salute. She looked so interestingly wan, laying back against the pillow, her brown hair sagging out of its formal coiffure, leaving wispy tendrils to wave across the pale skin of her brow and echo the tiny frown lines etched there, mute testimony to her battle with pain. A strange wave of tenderness surged over him. He paused, staring at her a moment as he rode out the wave of feeling.

“Just remember,” he added with a wink, in quite his normal arrogant manner, “keep the beef in place. I shall return tomorrow with Trevor to see how you are faring, if that is permissible.”

She nodded, sinking back limply into the pillows.

He turned to bid adieu to the others, his voice hushed. He was pleased to hear them respond in equally hushed tones.

Trevor Danielson closed the door to his office and joined Hugh on the banquette. “You say Wilmot acted as though he was expected?” he said as they strolled up the street in the bright afternoon sun.

Hugh nodded slowly. “Yes, and I was nonplussed by his appearance, I’ll admit.” They sidestepped a couple of ragamuffin street urchins laughing and chasing each other. Hugh turned to watch them a moment, an amused smile lighting his face. When he looked back at Trevor, his features sobered and he shook his head. “Yet, I’d hazard Vanessa was not surprised at his appearance,” he continued dryly. “I believe she may have been expecting him. Regardless, I gathered she was grateful for the accident which prevented their outing.”

“So I would think. I wonder why she even deigned to see him?”

“I cannot say. What was interesting was Richard’s first assumption that Wilmot was responsible for her injury.”

“Odd. It sounds as if he has found some way to ingratiate himself with them. I wonder if we are not too late, and he has succeeded in his negotiations for her hand and Richard’s business.”

“If so, it is not with Vanessa’s agreement. We shall have to redouble our efforts to turn her attention and his,” Hugh said grimly.

Trevor sighed. “At this point, that is the last I wish to do.” Hugh looked at him curiously, but Trevor didn’t notice. “Our appearance at the Mannion home this afternoon should help divert attention, or at least prevent anyone from making final plans for Vanessa’s future.”

“Perhaps,” Trevor slowly conceded, “if she is up for visitors.”

Hugh frowned briefly and shook his head. “I can’t imagine her being so vain as to turn away callers. In fact, I would be more inclined to believe she would have me see her injury since, despite her words to the contrary, I believe she holds me partially responsible for the accident.”

Trevor laughed. “You may be made to squirm, my friend.”

“Indeed, I am aware of that possibility,” Hugh conceded dryly.

“It may reassure you to know I have set about some investigations into Wilmot’s background, but he is a hard man to investigate surreptitiously for he has many friends, particularly in the more seamy side of town. He is not a man I would openly antagonize.”

“Why, do you fear he is the type to take physical means to assure his ends?” Hugh asked sharply.

“I don’t know,” Trevor answered slowly, “but I hope not. His compatriots are men of violence and generally not the sort to be drawn to loyalty by those not of their ilk.”

“This is a bad business, Trevor,” Hugh muttered darkly as they neared the Mannion home.

“I only hope we are wrong,” his friend said with a sigh, tacitly acknowledging the truth of Hugh’s statement. “It is ironic that what began as a gentle courtship should have the appearance of taking a particularly nasty turn.”

“I begin to have the hope we are foolish dreamers, seeing demons at every corner.”

“Aye, you have the right of it there,” Trevor admitted, slowly lifting and dropping the knocker on the heavy carved wood door before the Mannion home. Hugh didn’t comment further but bent to brush the dust off his normally gleaming Hessians, his lips pursed in thought.

It was but a few moments before Jonas admitted them and led them into the spacious foyer. “One moment, gentlemen, while I inform the ladies of your presence,” the old butler said.

“A moment, man, if you please. Tell us first, how does Miss Vanessa Mannion feel?” Hugh asked.

“Poorly, in truth, but it’s not for me to be talking. I shall return directly. Please wait here.”

Hugh scowled and would have said more had not the door to the library swung open and Richard Mannion appear.

“Ah, I thought I heard your voice, Mr. Talverton. A moment of your time, if you please.”

Trevor and Hugh exchanged questioning glances, neither guessing Mr. Mannion’s intent. Hugh shrugged slightly in Trevor’s direction and walked toward the library.

Richard Mannion held the door wide and closed it tightly after his guest entered.

“Please, have a seat, sir,” he said, gesturing to a comfortable corner of the room with two chairs placed providently for conversation. “Would you care for a smoke?” he asked, extending a box of cigars in Hugh’s direction.

Hugh nodded and accepted one.

After lighting Hugh Talverton’s and his own, Richard Mannion sat down.

“I wish to thank you for assisting my daughter, Vanessa. I understand from Adeline that you were very propitious in your actions yesterday when Vanessa’s injury occurred.”

“I must confess, Mr. Mannion—”

“Richard, please.”

“Thank you. I must confess, Richard, I do account myself responsible for the accident. My presence startled Adeline and caused her to lose her balance.”

“Be that as it may, you responded with alacrity, as I understand you did at the theater the other evening.”

Hugh paused, an arrested expression narrowing his eyes as he stared at Richard Mannion. He puffed on his cigar again, a ring of blue smoke rising, blurring his features from Mr. Mannion’s eyes. He tapped an ash loose. “You have me at a disadvantage, sir. I am at a loss for what to say.”

“The truth, man,” Mannion said sighing heavily, the lines in his face looking deeper. “I fear of necessity there is much hidden by all of us. In this matter I would wish a modicum of honesty to prevail.”

“Why?”

Richard Mannion’s mouth twisted at Hugh’s bald question. “My daughter, Vanessa, is a remarkable woman. She has intellect, wit, charm, and grace. Most women with her qualities would be married by now.” He puffed on his cigar, his expression one of sad irony.

Hugh straightened in his chair and set aside his cigar as he studied the older man.

“Though I am loath to admit it, Vanessa has always been my favored daughter. In her interest, I have done seemingly incomprehensible things. Heretofore, I have manipulated matters to keep her free from suitors. I have also endeavored to keep her innocent of business and political matters.” He laughed mirthlessly, bitterly. “In this I have failed miserably. In all, however, what actions I have taken have been to protect her.”

Hugh stirred restlessly in his chair, for a miasma of despair filled the room. He didn’t want to hear Mannion’s revelations, but he knew he must. Intuitively, he began to realize his flippant description of himself as cannon fodder could be truer than either he or Trevor realized.

“Four years ago,” Mannion continued, “I arranged dowries for my daughters. I did this at the same time I drew up my will. At that time I did something unheard of; I drew up documents to give half of my business to Vanessa. She was my bright star, and I intended to train her in the business.” He held up his hand to forestall an exclamation of shocked protest from Hugh. “I know, I know,” he said sadly, “it was a foolish idea. Though she is capable of such intelligent endeavors, it would not be accepted in the realities of business. I was not, thankfully, so totally lost to all reason that I didn’t make other provisions. First, I maintain control of her half of the business until her marriage. At that time control devolves on to her, not a husband. Of course, there are ways for an enterprising gentleman to get around this.”

“Sir, why are you telling me this?”

“Have patience, Mr. Talverton.” Richard scratched the side of his nose thoughtfully for a moment. “To my other daughters I have bestowed property and money. These were all investments I made four years ago. At that time, the Chaumondes were not my lawyers. Another gentleman, an American actually, was handling my papers. I soon discovered this gentleman was in the pay of Jean Laffite, and my careful, secret plans were a secret no more. That damned pirate,” he said slowly, fairly spitting the words out. “He found the situation humorous, but he kept those papers and showed me cleverly forged documents that implicated me in his piratical dealings. Me!”

Mannion exploded out of his chair to pace the room. Hugh Talverton stroked his chin in thought. “I gather he used those documents to prevent you from changing your settlements on your daughters?”

“Precisely.” His agitated pacing slowed as he wearily continued his tale. “Vanessa was barely sixteen at the time. I told Laffite I was planning for the future and did not intend to betroth her for at least two years. He agreed easily enough but told me the choice of a groom would be his, and if any gentleman not of his choosing came sniffing around, he would see to his removal.”

Hugh felt the skin at the back of his neck crawl and his muscles tighten at Mannion’s bald words, but he remained silent. He would hear the man out, he had to.

Richard Mannion stopped by his chair, sighing heavily. He reached down for his port glass and tossed off its contents. “It was then I began to deny my daughter any information on business and politics and carefully kept her immured in our household to the extent I was able. I did not want her to draw attention from either Laffite or some innocent worthy gentleman. She has chafed mightily at my restrictions, as well she might, but I was playing for time.

“Though Laffite is a favorite among many Creoles, public sentiment for him has been declining, and government action to end his business has increased. During the war he saw this was the case and, for expediency, offered to ally himself with the Americans.”

Hugh nodded his understanding. “In England, it is now thought that Captain Lockyer’s failure to win him over to the British cause back in September of ’14 cost us our victory at the Battle of New Orleans.”

Mannion smiled sardonically. “At the time, Laffite had more to fear from the United States than Britain. His headquarters, Grande Terre at the Bay of Barataria, was more defensible by sea than land, and there was a plan by the United States to attack and disperse his Baratarian organization. Also, his brother Pierre was in prison in New Orleans. When Commodore Patterson and Colonel Ross destroyed his headquarters, some eighty of his men were taken prisoner and all the goods and ships there taken as spoils of war. Because of prior knowledge of the planned attack through friends in influential positions, Laffite had already removed himself, all the stored ammunition, and the lion’s share of his men to safety.”

“Yes, and with those circumstances, many in England wonder why he did not throw in his lot with us.”

“First, he liked his autonomy, but aside from that, you British had too many strings attached to your offer. He would have faced losing his privateers, and it would have forced him into an alliance with Spain, a hated enemy of his family’s for he held them responsible for his father’s death. Though he is a shifty and untrustworthy character, no one can fault his intelligence. He offered General Jackson his cooperation in the defense of the city in the hopes of gaining a general pardon for himself and his men, along with restitution of property. His actions aided General Jackson greatly, though it galled many to be beholden to a pirate. All the Baratarians have received pardons, but that’s all. Laffite’s filed court cases for the restitution of his property, but so far that’s been useless.”

Mannion circled the room again. “I calculated that with his star on the wane, he’d have little time, if any, to chase the fortune of one American woman. Truthfully, it is a small pittance in comparison to his properties. To a great extent, I have been correct.” He paused and turned to face Hugh Talverton.

Hugh sat forward in his chair, for he realized that his host was now approaching the heart of the matter.

“This spring I made several substantial loans to cotton growers. With the wars ended everywhere, trade is expected to increase dramatically. I wanted to be in on grabbing a lucrative part of this business, so I overextended myself. But in my eager calculations for success this year, I failed to take into account increased warehousing and cotton press demand. What I currently own will be lamentably inadequate. Earlier this year I began courting Mr. Wilmot for warehouse space. As is my wont, I brought him home for business dinners. Here he met Vanessa and seemed captivated by her. Later, he came to me and formally asked permission to pay her his address. Feeling Laffite to be powerless now and concerned with other matters, I agreed. Shortly thereafter it was subtly made known to me that he was aware of the terms of my will and bride dowry. Imagine my surprise, for I thought that threat ended.

“At first, Wilmot also seemed content to play his own game and legitimately woo Vanessa. I figured he would have to win her on his own merits, and therefore it was a safe agreement to enter into. After all, no mention was made of the forged documents that would have labeled me a traitor, and now that we are at peace they no longer have the threat they once bore. Knowing this, I really saw no harm in the man; in fact, Wilmot at times has a chilling formality and politeness. I certainly did not hold a grudge for him using his information in order to set himself up as a suitor. I even found it comical, for to me it displayed an uncertainty on his part of his acceptability in New Orleans society. I thought the man to be grossly underestimating himself. Though he has been in the city a relatively short time, he is popular.”

Mannion stood by the window, staring blindly out. He sighed deeply, like a man wresting with some deep, unfathomable pain. “Then somehow, last Friday night, things started to fall apart. I don’t know why, unless he finally saw Trevor Danielson as a rival for Vanessa’s hand. I admit I’ve been encouraging Mr. Danielson merely to give Mr. Wilmot competition, though I certainly would not be adverse to welcoming Trevor as a son-in-law. I believe Wilmot’s recognition of rivals for Vanessa’s hand has spurred his activity to claim what he feels is his. Thus the possessive actions toward Vanessa. But I do feel he generally likes her; he just doesn’t understand her. Damned if I don’t at times, and I’ve lived with her these twenty odd years!”

He turned back to face Hugh. “Anyway, it seems Wilmot’s got me over a damned whiskey barrel. I need his cooperation in business, but I don’t want to force Vanessa into anything that will not work for her. I also get a might restive when someone tries to force my hand. I figure if I can keep my daughter unencumbered until the summer and we leave New Orleans for the country, I can start to see my way clear of my debts and obligations. After that, Vanessa can make her choice freely, even if she chooses Wilmot, which at this juncture I doubt. Whatever devil inspired him to try to force intimacy with her worked greatly to his disadvantage.”