Gentleman's Trade (6 page)

Paulette laughed. “That is an opinion shared by numerous Creoles, Mr. Talverton. Before there were many
Americains
here, all were called
Kaintocks
and when children were naughty, our mothers and nurses would say:
Tois, tu n’es qu’un mauvais Kaintocks!”

“Kaintocks?
I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with the word,” admitted Hugh.

“Kentuckians,” reluctantly explained Vanessa. “Many of the keelboats coming to New Orleans start in Kentucky, and those keelboat men lead a rough life, so perforce they’re rough men.”

“Now we are much more democratic in our prejudice,” Charles said dryly. “There is a new song sung by children in the street. It goes:

‘Méricain coquin,

‘Billé en nanquin,

Voleur di pain

Chez Miche D’Aquin!

Of course, what these young songsters fail to remember is that they, too, are Americans!”

Hugh Talverton laughed. “I like that, I shall have to remember it. Let’s see if I’ve got it right:

American rogue,

Dressed in nankeen,

Stealer of bread,

Mr. D’Aquin!”

Paulette and Charles laughed at his ready translation, and even a rueful smile and small laugh escaped from Vanessa.

“All right, I call craven!” she admitted. “My comment was uncalled for, and I apologize.”

Hugh nodded once, acknowledging her words, while a warm smile transformed his features. With his blond and tawny coloring, Vanessa suddenly realized he reminded her of the sun and unaccountably, she basked in the sunlight warmth of his smile.

“I suggest we forget the matter,” he said easily.

“Please,” she said with relief. She felt the tension drain out of Charles, who was standing next to her.

“Vanessa and I, we came to steal Charles away for lunch. Would you care to join us?” Paulette asked.

“Lunch!” protested Charles.

“Oui, mon frère.
Vanessa is determined to discover all the news regarding Louisa and
la petite bebé,
Celeste.”

Charles looked at Hugh helplessly. “Our women, they are determined to rule our lives.”

Hugh chuckled. “I believe that is a universal trait. I shall bear you company to lend what fortitude I may.”

Paulette pouted prettily. “You gentlemen are unkind.”

“And you are a conniving little manipulator,” retorted her graceless brother.

Paulette shrugged and they all laughed.

“Excuse me a moment while I inform my clerk,” Charles said, heading back into his office.

Hugh surveyed the traffic in the street as they waited for Charles. “This city astounds me.”

“How so?” Vanessa asked politely, determined not to be provoked again.

“I don’t know that I can explain it. It has a color and life like no other city I’ve ever seen. But I suppose what impresses me most is the sound.”

“Sound?”

‘“
Je ne comprende pas,”
Paulette said, shaking her head in confusion.

“Yes, the sound, or sounds actually. While walking through the city today, I heard no fewer than six different languages spoken, heard vendors hawking their wares in singsong fashion, bells have tolled from what seemed like every corner, drums have sounded, bugles have been blown, and I saw Gypsies singing and dancing in the streets. New Orleans has a music unlike any other city.”

“Drums? You heard drums?” Paulette squealed, pulling on his arm.

Hugh raised an eyebrow at her strange enthusiasm. “Just this morning,” he said, carefully studying her.

“Vanessa, did you hear?” Paulette asked breathlessly as she did a little hop.

“Heard what?” Charles asked, coming out the French doors and shutting them firmly behind him.

“Oysters! There are fresh oysters in the marketplace!”

A puzzled expression twisted Hugh’s brow. “I thought we were discussing drums.”

Vanessa laughed. “Drums are played when a ship docks with a fresh load of oysters.”

“Ah, I take it, Miss Chaumonde, you like oysters.”

“Like is too mild a word,” grimaced her brother. “I need not ask what she would like for lunch, and have immediately reconciled myself to banishing the idea of a nice meal in a quiet cafe. I hope, Mr. Talverton, that your feet are not tired. Unless we are fortunate and find a vacant bench along the levee, we shall be standing as we eat.”

Laughing, Vanessa hooked her arm in her brother-in-law’s and prodded him toward the market. “We shall eat until past sated, then wander through the market and enjoy a pleasant hour.”

“After which I shall have to return to the office and try to concentrate on my legal work while you two will no doubt return home to nap before some social engagement this evening. You have me at a disadvantage, Vanessa.”

“Hmm,” she replied mildly, “it is interesting how perceptions may vary. And here I thought you had
me
at a disadvantage. Father would have us all be frivolous creatures without a thought to call our own. I would gladly exchange places with you.” She sighed ruefully. “Sometimes I have the wild desire to disguise myself as a boy and seek employment as a clerk in Father’s offices.”

“Mon Dieu!
But I believe you are serious!”

“Speak English, Charles,” intoned a saucy little voice behind them. Vanessa and Charles looked back to see Paulette and Hugh but a step or two behind them.

“Baggage,” Charles said to his sister, who laughed delightedly.

Vanessa quickly turned forward, for she felt another hot blush climb her neck. She hadn’t realized they had been walking quite so close to the other couple and hadn’t considered the possibility of being overheard.

Behind her, Hugh Talverton grinned, then turned his attention once more to Paulette and her nonsensical chatter.

Only a few white clouds scudded across the blue sky, chased by the spring breeze. The sky looked open and empty and the yellow sun hung like a pendant in the clear ether. The loneliness of the sky was in marked contrast to the color-crowded streets. Vanessa studied the people and the things they passed with new eyes, imagining how Mr. Talverton viewed her familiar surroundings. Was there an exotic quality here, something unique? People from all social levels swarmed the street, and Mr. Talverton was right. The sounds were almost musical but more than that, there was a sense of living theater.

She had only faint memories of a life in a Virginia city before her family had come to New Orleans, but none of her memories held such vivid color or sound, it was more drab red brick and hushed scurrying. She was proud of New Orleans, proud because she loved it. It was like no other city on earth.

As they crossed the Place d’Armes toward the marketplace, Vanessa became aware of knots of people, in all manner of dress, speaking volubly in different languages. Smiling Negresses milled through the crowds balancing baskets and cans on their heads, calling out the availability of gingerbread, milk, coffee, rice cakes, and flowers. Brilliantly bedecked quadroon women sauntered elegantly by with their parasols. Choctaw, Houma, and Natchez Indians sat squat-legged, wrapped in tattered blankets, trading for trinkets and strong spirits. Old cart wheels, improperly greased or not greased at all, groaned and squeaked as they rolled by while children darted and danced between them, harrying their drivers.

Vanessa smiled as she absorbed it all. This was her home. She glanced back toward Mr. Talverton to see if he was as entranced with the scene as she. His eyes were directed to some spot in the distance, following the direction of Paulette’s pointing finger. Vanessa turned back to see what caught their attention. She laughed when she realized what held their interest and Charles looked down at her, a quizzical expression on his face.

“Paulette has spotted an oyster vendor,” she explained as the other couple came abreast of them.

“Now, Vanessa, my stomach could rumble as inelegantly as yours!” exclaimed Paulette as she hurried Hugh forward.

Vanessa was mortified by Paulette’s careless words. Without thought, she turned her shocked eyes in Mr. Talverton’s direction to see him looking down at her with a faintly amused expression on his face. She blushed bright red, but her gaze stayed helplessly locked with his.

Suddenly her toe caught in a deep rut in the road and she lurched forward, falling. Charles and Hugh grabbed her, halting her headlong plunge.

“I know you like your city, but must you carry it with you everywhere?” Hugh Talverton teased as he stared down at the dust on the hem of her skirt.

A look of dismay crossed Vanessa’s face when she noted the dirt streaks. “Only when you are about,” she said grimly, grabbing her skirts to shake some of the dust off.

“Are you all right?” Charles asked solicitously.

Vanessa smiled at him, touched by his concern. Concern, which was a trait she should look for in a husband, she decided. It was probably a necessary prerequisite to any warmer emotions. It was also certainly lacking in anyone of Mr. Talverton’s aristocratic breed. To him, her stumble had been an opportunity for continued condescension.

“Vite! Vite!”
Paulette was saying, pulling at Mr. Talverton’s arm.

Vanessa roused herself, summoning a polite smile to her lips. Determinedly, she clasped Charles’s arm and followed in Paulette’s and Mr. Talverton’s wake.

Beside her, Charles studied her averted face with a curiously intent look. Then he smiled, his smile broadening into a grin, followed finally by laughter.

Astonished, Vanessa turned her head to stare at him, wondering what he could possibly be laughing at. He merely shook his head, his eyes twinkling, and led her forward to join Paulette and Mr. Talverton in purchasing oysters.

“Why aren’t you resting, my dear?” inquired Amanda Mannion when Vanessa entered the parlor late that afternoon.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged and smiled gently. “I guess I’m just not tired.”

“It’s fortunate I did not accompany you. From all the packages that nice clerk of Charles’s delivered here this afternoon, I’d have thought you trudged the length and breadth of New Orleans. Such exertions would have me recumbent the entire afternoon.”

“I find that difficult to believe,” Vanessa said laughing. “I suppose we did indulge ourselves, though.” She sat down on the small sofa across from her mother’s quilting frame, tucking her feet up beside her. “Mr. Danielson was correct. The shops are bursting with new and quite exciting items. Mama, I tell you we saw some lace the like of which I have never seen before. It was exquisite!”

“Did you buy any?”

“It also commanded an exquisite price,” Vanessa responded dryly.

Amanda chuckled warmly. “What about Paulette, did she purchase any of this exquisite lace?”

“She wanted to, but I diverted her attention.”

Her mother shook her head and laughed again. “You are very like your father. You will not spend a penny unless you are assured of getting its value in return. Worse, you will not allow anyone else to spend theirs!”

Vanessa shrugged and gave her mother a wry smile. “I guess I’m a merchant at heart. Sometimes I think it was a pity that I was not born a boy,” she finished softly.

“Vanessa, I’m shocked at you.”

“I’m sorry, Mama.” She rose and began to pace the room. “But there are so many things I’d like to know and understand. It’s not like I’m terribly bookish or anything of that nature, for in truth I see no reason to read those dreadfully dry accounts of long-dead Greeks and Romans. I’m more interested in the world around me.”

“So much so that you’ve persuaded Jonas to save your father’s newspapers for you to read.”

Shocked, Vanessa wheeled around to face her mother. “You know about that?”

“Of course, darling. There isn’t much that goes on that I don’t know.” Mrs. Mannion tipped her head to one side as she contemplated her daughter, her needle still, poised above the fabric. “Though I’ll admit, at the moment I have no idea what is troubling you.”

Vanessa sighed and blindly stared at the ceiling for a moment. “Maybe that’s because I don’t know either.”

She turned away from her mother, her skirts swishing behind her. Aimlessly she wandered over to the fireplace and picked up a porcelain statue from the mantel. It was a figurine attired in eighteenth-century court costume. She ran a delicate finger over the porcelain cast powdered wig and the masses of ruffles on the gown. “We ran into Mr. Talverton today. He had oysters with Paulette, Charles, and me down by the marketplace,” she said absently. She set the statue down again and stood studying it a moment. “I don’t know why it is, but when I’m with the man I get irritated and end up saying or doing something to embarrass myself.”

“Really?” Mrs. Mannion’s needle resumed its course through the fabric.

“Yes, and he began talking to us about his business, which fascinated me and about which I’d love to know more. But what did I do?” she asked aggressively, whirling around to pace the room again. “I acted capriciously and insulted him by doubting his sincerity to better the lot of the mill workers.”

“And to say the least, that ended the conversation swiftly,” Mrs. Mannion ventured, looking up from her work and smiling slightly.

Vanessa nodded ruefully. “Just when it was getting interesting, too. I don’t know what made me speak in such a rude manner.”

“That does seem a pity,” her mother responded noncommittally.

“It doesn’t help that he teases me.”

“Teases you?”

“Sometimes he says things merely to get me to react. And I do! In the next moment, however, he can be charming and gallant. He even purchased flowers for Paulette and me before we left the market.”

“My goodness,” murmured Mrs. Mannion, struggling to maintain her poise.

Vanessa stopped before the sofa, sighed, and sat down again. “I do want to be nice to him and like him for Paulette’s and Mr. Danielson’s sakes, you know. But he elicits such odd feelings in me. I feel out of balance.”

“I see. That is a rather unusual circumstance for a gentleman you have seen on merely two occasions,” her mother observed.

“I am aware of that. I think it is his aristocratic attitude I react to. I cannot tolerate that type of arrogance. It must be the Federalist within me,” she mused.

“No doubt.” Her mother smothered another smile, keeping her attention on her needlework.

Restlessly, Vanessa rose again and walked toward the tall French doors that let out onto the gallery overlooking the courtyard. She didn’t want to talk about Mr. Hugh Talverton, nor think of him for that matter. Maddeningly, he kept invading her thoughts. What she needed to contemplate was how to handle her suitors; how to evaluate their feelings for her, and how to judge her own in return. Those concerns should carry far greater weight than any thoughts of Mr. Talverton. She particularly needed to understand her feelings for Mr. Wilmot. It was unfair that she did not possess her elder sister’s confidence in dealing with emotions. She envied Louisa her fairytale courtship.

A deprecating smile hovered on her lips as she looked down into the courtyard. Adeline was there, gathering spring flowers as she seemed to do every day. Her favorite pastime was pressing flowers and afterward creating intricate floral designs under glass. Vanessa’s smile warmed, some of the tension leaving her body as she watched her industrious sister. Once again the giant tomes in her father’s study would become repositories for fragile blooms nestled between pieces of blotting paper. Father had never come to understand Adeline’s hobby, but he had become resigned to the use of his library. Now if he took down a heavy book from a shelf to show some business associate and a pressed flower fell out, he would casually replace it among the pages and proceed.

Adeline’s hobby had provided countless presents for relatives and friends. Sometimes virtual strangers, seeing examples of her work hung in the house, ventured to inquire where they might come by like works of art. Invariably Adeline made the picture a present to whomever inquired, leaving a bare spot on the wall that in time was replaced with a new creation.

Adeline was like the flowers she loved: fragile, floral scented, and beautiful. And perhaps also naive, fresh and unspoiled with the hint of dew still on her petals. Still, flowers often took a severe buffeting from man and nature and survived. Nonetheless, watching her sister, Vanessa knew Paulette was correct; she could not leave Adeline to Mr. Wilmot’s less than tender mercies. While a man like him fascinated Vanessa for his financial success and aura of leashed power, he terrified Adeline. Vanessa wanted to understand the source of his power and magnetism. He aroused strange feelings within her, and she wondered if they might not be the precursors to love. If he would quit his possessive nature and strive to acquire an empathy and concern for others around him, he might make an ideal husband. She knew she could do worse.

Tonight she needed to spend time in his company. It would not do for him to lose patience with her and disappear out of her life. A young American woman’s options for matrimony in New Orleans were slim, at best, within their social circle.

It was a pity Adeline did not have a suitor; she deserved her own happiness and, truthfully, was more ready for marriage than Vanessa herself. Vanessa decided that in the future she would have to account herself as matchmaker for Adeline. Tonight, however, she did need her to accompany Mr. Danielson. Luckily, they had for years maintained an easy friendship. In many instances, Adeline talked more with him than with anyone! Of course, it was his children, whom she adored, that drew them to such familiarity.

That was another matter. Children. Vanessa did not know how she felt about the possibility of becoming the stepmother of two rambunctious children. With Adeline they were like meek lambs, looking up at her with adoration. Adeline would definitely be a favored aunt should she marry Mr. Danielson.

Could the warm, friendly feelings she felt for Mr. Danielson evolve into love? He and Mr. Wilmot were so different, but truthfully, Vanessa didn’t know which of the two she could love. To be quite blunt about it, Vanessa admitted she didn’t even know what love was.

She fiddled restlessly with the fringe on the drapery swag hung on either side of the French doors. “Mama,” she said over her shoulder, “how will I know when I’m in love?” Behind her, Amanda Mannion jabbed her needle into her finger, quickly raising it to her lips to nurse the afflicted member. “I beg your pardon?”

Vanessa came back to the sofa and sat down, her face earnest. “How will I know when I’m in love? I guess what I really want to know is:
What is love?”

Mrs. Mannion carefully slid her needle into the fabric so as not to lose it, then leaned back in her chair. “That is a difficult question to answer,” she began slowly. “It means different things to different people for it is a very personal feeling.” A dreamy reverie transfigured her face as she paused. She looked at Vanessa who was staring at her so intently, anxiously awaiting her answer, and a slow smile transfigured her face, setting her eyes glowing with memories and feelings. “When love comes, you will know.”

Vanessa closed her eyes and heaved an audible sigh. “That is not an answer, Mama.”

“I know, darling, but it’s all I can tell you.”

Her daughter opened her eyes and shook her head ruefully. “I once received much the same answer from Louisa. And her face wore the same vague expression as yours. As I cannot imagine myself in such an amorphous state, perhaps I am not destined to know love.”

Mrs. Mannion laughed. “Give yourself time, my love. You may be closer to it than you think,” she said enigmatically. Vanessa slumped back into the chair and lightly massaged her temples, feeling more confused and unbalanced. She needed to understand. It was one thing to know love intellectually, but it was another to understand it emotionally. She was beginning to realize the vast difference between the two types of comprehension, although that realization was no help in deciphering the puzzle. She would have to study other relationships carefully for clues, while maintaining awareness of her own reactions. At the moment, however, her mind was too muddled for further thought.

She gathered herself together and stood up, smiling wanly at her mother. “I cannot fathom it, but perhaps I am more tired than I thought. I believe I will lie down for a while.”

Her mother pulled her needle loose from the fabric and again began plying it with quick, sure little stitches. “Perhaps that would be best,” she agreed, while a stubborn little smile kept playing across her features, refusing to be dimmed.

Vanessa knocked on the door of the bedroom shared by Adeline and Paulette with a certain degree of trepidation. It was nearly time to leave for the theater; Mr. Wilmot was already below and Mr. Danielson and Mr. Talverton were expected momentarily. She hadn’t known how to broach the subject of Mr. Danielson to Adeline, and she still needed to resolve that arrangement for the evening. She hoped her sister wouldn’t mind, and go along with the plan. Though Adeline was a shy, quiet woman, she was noted for occasionally revealing a hidden iron determination and strength, like her beloved flowers, bending but not breaking in the wind. It was odd, Vanessa thought, though she and her sisters were very different for Louisa was the sociable one, she the serious one, and Adeline the kind one, they all possessed a stubborn strength. None of them would contemplate falling into a fit of vapors at shocking events, and they had all been among the leaders of the corps of women who aided the soldiers after the Battle of New Orleans.

Adeline opened the door, and so deep was Vanessa in her thoughts, she nearly jumped.

“Come in,” Adeline invited, stepping aside. “Leila is still working with Paulette’s hair, but we shouldn’t be too long.”

“I came to tell you Mr. Wilmot has arrived and Father desires we make our entrance.”

“Has Mr. Talverton arrived?” Paulette asked, hardly daring to move while Leila coaxed an errant curl into place.

“Not yet.”

“Well, I, for one, will not descend until he does. I shall make a grand entrance on the stairs, and he shall look up and admire me.” She flung her arm out dramatically. “Ouch!” she yelped, feeling a sharp tug on a lock of hair.

Leila placidly waited for Paulette to settle down before continuing to pin her curls in place.

“And what are your plans for us?” Adeline inquired good-naturedly. “Are we to go down before you or are we to wait until after you’ve made your entrance?”

“In truth, that is a good question. I think you go before so that will heighten the anticipation for my appearance, no?
”

“Oh, of course,” Vanessa agreed dryly. She silently watched Leila arrange Paulette’s hair for a moment more, then took her sister’s arm and led her over to the bed. She sat down and urged Adeline to join her. Adeline looked at her inquiringly, but nonetheless she acceded and sat down beside her.