Wilde, Jennifer (45 page)

A
few minutes later there was a brisk knock on the door. I opened it to discover an
exceedingly plump young girl with tousled blond curls and jolly brown eyes. She
wore a blue cotton dress, a starched white apron and, incongruously enough, a
pair of dangling jet earrings. Merry, effusive, she identified herself as
Lizzie, confessed that she was the proprietor's daughter, and added that she
detested being a maid and longed to be an adventuress.

"My,
you
do
need a bath, don't you? It's ready—that little room at the end of
the hall. Here's the key. Don't dawdle now. The water's good and hot. There's a
big fluffy towel and a bar of the sweetest smellin' soap! I wish
I
had
hair that color."

"Your
hair is lovely, Lizzie."

"Wish
I had a figure like that, too. I'm giving up sweets, I swear it. That Mister
Rawlins—I wish I had a man like him sleepin' in
my
room. He's ever so
excitin'."

"I'll
tell him you said so."

"Cripes!
You wouldn't? He'd think I was awful!" And she scurried off down the hall,
giggling merrily.

I
felt marvelous after the long, hot bath in the huge white porcelain tub filled
with steaming water. Later, wearing the lovely new petticoat with its
billowing, lace-trimmed skirts, I spent over an hour working with my hair,
using the brush and the pair of tongs Lizzie had brought to me with a brazier
of burning coals. I was quite pleased with the results, hair pulled up sleekly
and fastened in back, a mass of long, perfectly shaped sausage ringlets spilling
down to my shoulders.

I
was ready to go downstairs a few minutes before seven, and I took a final look
at myself in the mirror. The gown was a rich brown satin with great puffed
sleeves dropping off at the shoulder. My breasts were caught up in an inset of
dark beige lace, a blue velvet bow centered beneath, and the skirt was composed
of huge puffy brown flounces adorned with blue bows, parting in front to reveal
the underskirt covered with row upon row of beige lace ruffles. It was the kind
of gown the ladies in the French court were wearing, a magnificent creation
that made me feel like a queen... or an extremely elegant courtesan. Du Barry
herself would have been jealous, I thought, sweeping out of the room and moving
down the curving staircase.

Jeff
was nowhere in sight. The main room was empty but for a slender,
nervous-looking girl with light-brown hair and violet-blue eyes and an
unusually handsome young man who seemed to be upbraiding her about something.
The girl, who wore a white silk gown sprigged with tiny blue and violet
flowers, was obviously from a wealthy family. The young man had unruly black
hair and angry brown eyes. His black boots were old, poorly polished, his brown
suit beginning to grow shiny with age. He was an appealing figure, nevertheless,
aglow with youth and vitality. The girl was pale and would have been plain but
for those lovely, tormented eyes and the hair so light a brown it had a silvery
sheen. She kept glancing over her shoulder toward the crowded dining room, and
she seemed to be on the verge of tears. Immersed in their intense, intimate
private drama, neither of them so much as looked up when I moved down the last
steps and entered the room.

"I
don't
care
what he says!" the man protested. "It's your life,
Meg, your decision. I'm almost twenty years old! When Pa died I inherited
everything. Oh, the plantation isn't much now, I grant that, but in a few
years, with a lot of hard work—"

"James,
you—you don't understand. He would—" The girl cut herself short, again
glancing toward the dining room. "We'll have to wait. I'll be eighteen in
two years, and then—"

"I
want you now!"

How
bold and impetuous he was, fiery with the passions of youth and eager to assert
himself. The girl loved him, too, desperately. That was quite evident. Seeing
them together made me feel a curious sadness. Although both were more or less
my contemporaries, I felt immeasurably older, wiser, and it was not necessarily
a pleasant feeling. The innocence, the wonder, the surging intensity of young
love as they knew it had been denied me. How beautiful it was, how sad.

"After
we're married there's not a thing he can do," the handsome youth
continued. "You may be scared to death of him, but he doesn't frighten me
one bit! I want you to come with me now, Meg, tonight, this minute! I don't
intend to sneak around any longer!"

The
girl looked up at him with anguished violet-blue eyes, and then she shook her
head mournfully and hurried on into the dining room. The young man slammed his
fist into his palm, emitted a colorful curse, and stalked out of the room and
down the short hallway leading to the front door. He was just a few months
younger than I, yet he seemed like a frisky pup compared to the men I had
known. I wished I could be young and dewy-eyed again, wished there were still
beautiful illusions to cling to.

"I
see the gown fits," Jeff remarked. "Woman who sold it to me assured
me it would. You look gorgeous."

"Jeff.
I didn't hear you come in."

"Almost
didn't make it. Young James Norman swept out the door just as I was about to
enter—damned near knocked me down. Didn't even apologize. If I didn't like him
so much I'da given him a good shakin'."

"Who
is he?"

"Norman?
Owns a plantation outside of town, right next to Schnieder's. His folks died of
the fever a year or so ago, and Norman's runnin' the place all by himself,
tryin' to make a go of it. Refused to sell out, even though Schnieder offered
him a small fortune."

"He's
very good-looking."

"Reckon
he is," Jeff agreed.

He
was silent. He seemed to be waiting for something. Finally he shook his head in
exasperation, took several steps backward, and turned around slowly. I had been
so immersed in thought that I hadn't even noticed his new clothes. No wonder he
was exasperated. Gone were the dirty buckskins. He wore shiny new black boots, a
splendid blue suit, and a blue-and-brown-striped waistcoat. His brown silk
stock was impeccably folded, and for once his hair was neatly brushed, not a
lock out of place. I hardly recognized him. I told him so. He made a face.

"Took
you long enough to notice! I coulda been stark naked for all the attention you
paid. James Norman is handsome, but me—me, I'm an old shoe you don't even pay
any mind to. These duds cost me a pretty penny, I don't mind tellin' you, and I
had to wait hours while they took the breeches up."

"You
look extremely dashing."

"Feel
like a fool," he grumbled, "but I've worn buckskins for the last
time. From now on, it's Jeffrey Rawlins, gentleman, at your service. Think you
can stand me like this?"

"I
think so."

"Then
let's go on in to dinner. I'm starvin'."

The
dining room was crowded, but Jeff had reserved a table. As we took our seats, I
noticed the girl with light-brown hair sitting at a table across the way. I
recognized the man with her immediately. Helmut Schnieder had donned a blue
waistcoat and the gray jacket that went with the breeches he had been wearing
on the docks. Catching sight of us, he stared openly, as though amazed at the
transformation both of us had undergone.

"Who
is that woman with Schnieder?" I asked.

Jeff
glanced across the room. "His sister, Margaret. I mentioned her to you
earlier."

"You
said she was a mousy little thing. She's almost pretty. Lovely eyes, and that
hair—"

"Look,
Marietta, would you mind payin' just a little attention to
me
for a
change?"

"I'm
sorry. Have I hurt your feelings?"

"Don't
be bitchy! I sold the mules this afternoon. Hated to part with 'em, I'll admit,
but that phase of my life is over. Soon as I get to New Orleans I'm buyin' a place.
It's kinda run down now, but after I spend a little money on it, it's gonna be
plush as all get-out."

"What
kind of place are you talking about?"

"Gamblin'
hall," Jeff said. His voice was sharp with enthusiasm. "It's gonna be
somethin'. There'll be all kinds of tables, a roulette wheel, a fancy bar, the
works. There'll be a ballroom, too, for dancin'—this'll be the kinda place the
ladies can come to—well, a certain kinda ladies. No whores, mind you, but the
men can bring their lady friends. There'll be white marble and gold curtains and—"

"How
do you intend to pay for all this?" I interrupted.

"Didn't
I tell you? I'm a rich man—well, fair to middlin' rich. I got a lot of
investments, and I've been savin' all the while, savin' for the day I could
open my own place, be a gentleman."

"Gentlemen
don't own gambling houses," I informed him.

"Hell,
you really are a wet blanket tonight, aren't you? Here I have all these
excitin' things to tell you and—oh, forget it! Let's order dinner!"

He
was like a petulant little boy, and I couldn't help but smile. Feeling sorry
for having teased him, I reached across the table and gave his hand a pat. Jeff
jerked his hand away, scowling. He continued to sulk for a few moments, and
then he looked up and grinned his sheepish grin, waved the waiter over to the table,
and ordered our meal. Though plain, the food was excellent, and there was a
bottle of sparkling wine to go with it. Jeff continued to talk enthusiastically
about the gambling house. I tried to be an appreciative audience, but it was
difficult. Although Jeff didn't seem to notice, I could feel Helmut Schnieder
staring. I turned once, glancing in the direction of his table. He didn't
bother to lower his eyes, simply stared, openly and rudely. I was relieved when
he and his sister finally left the dining room.

When
we had finished our meal and drunk the last of the wine, Jeff suggested we take
a stroll in the gardens out back. He was in a thoughtful mood as we stepped outside,
his hands thrust into his pockets, his exuberance released. I had paid little
attention to them this afternoon, but now the gardens seemed lovely. The moon
was almost full, the pink and white roses silvered with moonlight, the small,
neat shrubs casting velvety black shadows across the flagstones. We strolled
slowly, my skirts rustling softly, Jeff's new boots squeaking ever so slightly.
Reaching the foot of the gardens, we stood looking at the Mississippi below, a
vast silver ribbon shimmering in the night, banks shrouded in darkness.

"You
really climb down this cliff?" he asked.

I
nodded. "Right over there. It was... rather frightening."

"Fool,
you silly little fool."

"I
almost wish I had fallen. It would make things so much simpler."

"Hey,
this is supposed to be a celebration. We're supposed to be happy."

"I'm
afraid I don't feel very happy."

"I
wonder why."

"Jeff—"

Before
I could continue he pulled me to him, slipping one arm around the back of my
neck, the other around my waist and drawing me even closer. He kissed me for a long,
long time, with incredible tenderness, his lips pressing and probing with a delicious
languor that had little to do with passion and everything to do with love.
After a while he released me and, reaching into his jacket pocket, pulled out a
much folded square of paper and showed it to me.

"Watch,"
he said.

He
tore the paper in two, then tore it again, continuing to tear until the paper
was a handful of tiny pieces. These he tossed into the air. The wind caught
them, and for a moment they fluttered in the moonlight like frenzied white
moths, then disappeared into the night. Jeff sighed and turned to me, grinning
again.

"You're
a free woman," he said.

"I
don't understand."

"That
was your Articles of Indenture, purchased by me from Derek Hawke for a whopping
eighteen hundred pounds. You're free, Marietta. You belong to no one."

"You..."
I was too moved to continue.

"Aw,
I know what you thought. You thought I was gonna sell you to a brothel. I never
told you any different, but I never intended to do that. You see, I was
thinkin' about the place all the time, thinkin' I ought to have a gorgeous
woman to... well, kind of act as hostess. A sort of special attraction, you
might say."

"Why
didn't you
tell
me?"

"I
was
savin' it for a surprise."

"That's—"

"Wretched
of me, I know. I didn't intend to set you free, Marietta, not at first. And
then—somethin' happened. I reckon you know what I'm referrin' to. I reckon you
know I'm in love with you. Don't guess you could help but know."

"I—I'm
not in love with you, Jeff."

"You
think you're not. You think you're still in love with Hawke. I think
differently. I gave you your freedom, Marietta, but now I want to take it back
again. I want you to marry me. 'Stead of bein' my hostess, you'll be a partner.
Christ, what a team we'll make!"

He
was standing behind me now. He wrapped his arms around in front of my waist
and, leaning forward, rested his cheek against mine. Below us, far below, the
river shimmered, silver and black, silver-blue, and I stared at it and felt his
cheek resting on mine and felt something hard inside that I recognized as
determination. I didn't love him, but he loved me and I could use that love. I
was going to succeed. I was going to have all the things a woman could desire,
and because Jeff Rawlins loved me he would help me begin to acquire them.