Wilde, Jennifer (66 page)

I
moved about the airy room, which was done in shades of white and pale blue,
delicate gold gilt patterns on the elegant French furniture. Marie Antoinette
herself would have felt at ease amidst all this tasteful splendor, I thought as
I sat down at the mirror to brush my hair. However, like all the other rooms at
Roseclay, it was undeniably cold. At first, overwhelmed by the beauty, I had
hardly noticed the atmosphere of chill that pervaded the mansion, but lately it
seemed to have grown worse.

Even
if it was cold, I told myself, it was a far cry from a damp brown cell on Bow
Street, or a filthy bunk in the hull of a prison ship. I had come a long way
indeed, from indentured servant to wife of one of the richest men in America.
Hair finally arranged to my satisfaction, I stepped over to the wardrobe to
take out the dress I intended to wear. Meg's arrival might help dispel the
chill. Perhaps she would bring the vitality and friendly warmth that would
breathe life into the formal, sumptuously beautiful rooms.

I
took my time getting ready, for I wanted to make a good first impression on my
sister-in-law. My dress, newly arrived from Lucille's shop, was dark blue with
short, narrow sleeves and a high lacy neckline, very snug at the waist. The
skirt was adorned with row upon row of black lace ruffles, and my elbow-length
gloves were of matching black lace. There was a black lace parasol as well. I
had just turned to fetch it when Helmut came into the room.

"It's
time to go," he said.

"Oh.
You—you startled me!"

"Did
I?"

"I'm
not accustomed to your coming into my bedroom."

"Is
that supposed to be a complaint?" he inquired.

"Hardly
that," I replied coldly.

Helmut
smiled a humorless smile. He was handsomely attired in dark-gray breeches and
frock coat, his white satin waistcoat heavily embroidered with black silk
flowers. Adjusting his black silk neckcloth, he asked, "You haven't felt
neglected?"

"Not
in the least."

"I've
the feeling you didn't enjoy our first little tussles. Perhaps we should have
another go-round soon."

"Forgive
me if I seem less than eager."

He
liked that. He chuckled softly. "Truth to tell, Marietta, you're a magnificent
creature, but a shade too patrician for my taste. I prefer an earthier
type."

"I'm
sure there's no shortage of them in Natchez-under-the hill."

"You
know about that? But of course. You would. I'm pleased to know you haven't been
pining away. You could always take a lover, you know. So long as you did it
discreetly, I wouldn't have the least objection."

"I'm
quite content with things as they are, Helmut. You needn't concern yourself
about my welfare. We have a very nice arrangement." I picked up my parasol.
"Shall we go now?"

He
nodded, and we went downstairs and out to the drive where the carriage stood
waiting. Larger than the one we had ridden in the day before, it had two richly
upholstered seats facing each other. A liveried black driver sat on a high
perch in front. A cart had been sent on ahead to accommodate the trunks and
baggage.

Helmut
handed me up into the carriage and, sitting down on the seat opposite, signaled
for the driver to start. I opened the black lace parasol and rested the handle
lightly against my shoulder. We were soon on the river road, the horses moving
at a steady pace. Helmut sat leaning forward slightly, his palms spread over
his knees. My cool demeanor seemed to irritate him.

"You
still upset about that little incident with Norman?"

"I'm
trying to forget it," I replied.

"Good.
I wouldn't want Meg to hear about it. She's extremely sensitive. No need for
her to be unnecessarily distressed."

"I've
no intention of telling her."

"Norman's
not likely to come around, not after the sample of the whip I gave him
yesterday. He's not that big a fool."

"I
hope Meg and I can be friends," I remarked.

Helmut
did not reply. We were soon passing through Natchez proper. It was a busy
Monday afternoon, people trading at the shops, holding lively conversations on
the walks. Before we turned and started down the slope toward the docks, I
caught a glimpse of my former shop at the end of the street. Helmut had taken
care of all the arrangements, disposing of the goods, leasing the place to a
hardware merchant. I had not known it before, but he owned the building, just
as he owned so many others.

The
docks were alive with activity. Two ships that had just come in this morning
were still being unloaded. Meg's boat wasn't due for twenty minutes or so, but
Helmut had been impatient to arrive. I could sense his tension as he climbed
down from the carriage and helped me alight. He peered up the river, scowled,
took out his pocket watch and examined it, and then turned to look in the
direction of his three warehouses that stood some distance away.

"I
might as well take care of some business while I'm waiting," he informed
me. "I'll be back before the boat arrives. You stay here by the
carriage."

"Very
well."

Moving
with all the authority of a lord, he strolled briskly toward the warehouses.
People made way for him, stepping aside quickly. I had the feeling he would
have shoved them out of his way had they not done so. He disappeared into one
of the warehouses, and I turned my attention to the men unloading heavy wooden
crates from one of the ships. They moved swiftly up and down the gangplank,
stowing the crates in wagons, hurrying back for more.

Farther
along, fisherman were mending nets, and a prostitute in a vivid red dress
strolled past boxes and barrels, pausing to chat with sailors who loitered
about. There was a cart filled with bunches of bananas, another with baskets of
oranges and lemons. Over a dozen ships stood lined up on the water, masts
towering, hulls rocking slightly. I could smell hemp and tar and mud. The noise
was deafening. Boxes banged. Men shouted. A monkey chattered. Wood scraped
against wood. It was all vivid and stimulating, a lively and absorbing scene.

"I'll
be damned! Marietta?"

I
turned to see one of the men who had been unloading crates moving toward me.
Bronzed, muscular, he had sun-bleached hair and roughhewn features, his wide
mouth spread in a merry grin. He wore tight, faded blue breeches and a
red-and-black-striped jersey with the sleeves shoved up over his forearms. I
didn't recognize him at first, and drew myself up imperiously, ready to send
him on his way with a cutting comment. He stopped a few feet away, his blue
eyes filled with delight.

"Don't
ya recognize me?" he asked.

I
hesitated. "Jack?"

"Big
as life," he retorted. "I say, this's a surprise. What're you doin'
in Natchez? Just passin' through?"

"I—I
live here. I had a dress shop for a while, but I'm married now. I knew you had
come to Natchez, but when I didn't run into you in all these months, I assumed
you'd moved on."

"Never
get up to th' bluff much," he told me. "Got me a job loadin' an'
unloadin'. 'Ave me a lean-to behind th' warehouses I share with a couple uv
other chaps. Any free time I 'ave I generally spend at th' gin shops an' fancy
'ouses under-th'-'ill. Reckon that explains why we ain't run into each
other."

"It's
good to see you, Jack. You're looking well."

"Oh,
I ain't got nothin' to complain about. It's a good life. I work 'ard durin' th'
day and play 'ard at night. Lotsa gin, lotsa wild women, a good rowdy brawl
every now 'n' then."

"The
life evidently agrees with you."

"Never
been 'appier. Beats swabbin' decks an' fightin' 'urricanes."

Jack
grinned again, folding his arms across his chest. Brawny, amiable,
uncomplicated, he glowed with health and vitality. I remembered his kindness to
me so many years ago, remembered his curious tenderness, and I was glad he had
found his own brand of contentment.

"You're
lovelier'n ever," he remarked.

"Thank
you, Jack."

"So
you left that gamblin' 'ouse to open a dress shop 'ere in Natchez?"

"That's
right."

"An'
found yourself a 'usband right away. Judgin' from them clothes you're wearin'
and that fancy carriage with th' nigger in 'is fancy suit, I'd say you got
yourself a rich one."

"I
did."

"One
of them wealthy chaps who came to get away from the rebels?"

"No,
I married a German."

Jack
looked surprised. "German? You—you don't mean—" He paused, his blue
eyes alarmed. "You ain't talkin' about 'elmut Schnieder, are you? I 'eard 'e
got 'imself a wife. You ain't married to 'im?"

"We
were married almost three months ago."

His
manner changed abruptly. The breezy amiability vanished. He frowned and looked
down at the ground, avoiding my eyes. When he finally looked up, his manner was
guarded. He tried to be casual, but he wasn't able to carry it off.

"You
know who he is," I said.

"Reckon
I do. Reckon everyone does. I—I just 'ope you know what you got yourself
into."

"What
do you mean?"

"Some
of th' things I've 'eard—they ain't pretty. Several of th' girls—" He cut
himself short. "Does he treat you all right?"

"He's
very generous."

His
frown deepened. "I see. Well... uh... look, I gotta get back to work
now."

"It
was nice to see you, Jack."

He
nodded and turned away, preparing to leave. Then he hesitated. He turned back
around to face me, his mouth tight, his brows pressed together. He seemed to be
debating something, and when he finally spoke, his voice was very sober.

"Look,
if—if you ever have any kinda trouble, if you ever need help, you just call on
Jack Reed. Okay? If you ever need me for anything, you know where to find
me."

Jack
hurried away before I could reply, and Helmut joined me almost immediately. He
had seen the two of us talking together as he returned from the warehouse and
asked me who Jack was. Instinct told me to keep his identity a secret, and I
managed to be very casual, replying that he was only a workman I had been
questioning about the cargo. Helmut seemed satisfied and asked no further
questions. Meg's ship had come up the river as Jack and I were talking, and the
gangplank was being lowered. Helmut led me down the dock to where the
passengers would disembark.

A
crowd had gathered. There was much shouting and waving, an air of excitement
prevailing. Helmut and I stood some distance from the gangplank beside a stack
of wooden crates. I had never seen him so tense. His face was like granite, and
I noticed that his fists were clenched. He looked as though he wanted to
strangle all these shrill, merry people who greeted each other so effusively.
He kept his eyes on the gangplank, growing more and more tense at his sister's
failure to appear. Most of the passengers had already disembarked, and men were
beginning to bring down trunks and boxes.

The
girl finally came to the top of the gangplank, but stepped aside to let one of
the men pass. Slowly, hesitantly, she moved down the wooden ramp, as though she
were not certain there would be anyone to meet her. She wore a soft gray muslin
frock sprigged with lilac and blue forget-me-nots, and her light-brown hair
took on a silvery sheen in the sunlight. Even more slender than I remembered,
she had a fragile, vulnerable quality that was immediately apparent. Her face
was pale, saved from plainness only by those enormous violet-blue eyes that
reflected her emotions so openly. She seemed much younger than her twenty
years, but perhaps the demure, girlish frock was partly responsible for that.
She paused at the foot of the gangplank, looking about nervously. Helmut left
my side and strode through the crowd toward her.

They
didn't embrace. Helmut wore a stern expression, and his manner was brusque.
They spoke together for a moment, and then Meg turned to look in my direction.
Helmut said something else. The girl nodded. He clasped her arm and led her
toward me. As they approached, I could see that the girl was fighting to
control some powerful emotion. I smiled as Helmut made the introductions. Meg
smiled, too, a faint, timorous smile that trembled on her lips and failed to
reach her eyes. I saw what the emotion was then. It was fear. Meg Schnieder
looked terrified.

I
was
surprised to find Meg in the library. Ever since her arrival, she had kept to
her room, having her meals brought up on a tray. The long sea voyage had worn
her out, Helmut informed me, and she needed to rest. Not once had she dined
with us. I had gone to her room to see if there was anything I could do for
her. She had obviously been ill. But she made it quite clear that she didn't
want to talk, nor did she want me to visit her. I had seen her only once since
then. She had been standing at the hall window upstairs, looking out at the
gardens, and when she heard me approaching she returned quickly to her room.