Lily (Song of the River) (11 page)

He waved away her words with one hand. “I have been thinking for some time that I should sell her, but I didn’t want to let that beautiful boat be ruined by the wrong owner.” He smiled broadly. “I can see what a determined young woman you are, the perfect owner for
Hattie.
There is, however, one small consideration.”

Lily nodded. “I have my money with me.” She could hardly contain herself. Never before had God been so quick to answer her prayer. She thanked Him mentally and made a promise to spend time on her knees that evening in gratitude and praise. But for now she needed to close this deal.

His eyebrows rose. “You do not want to take a tour of the boat before making your purchase?”

“No, sir. I’ve been on board, remember? My aunt and I attended your party.”

“Of course you did.” Monsieur Champney looked through the various stacks of paper on his desk before pulling out a leather-bound portfolio. He focused his attention on the papers he held. “Here we are. I thought I had the proper paperwork on my desk. I’ll need your signature here so the transfer will be properly recorded.”

She barely heard his explanation, nodding as he talked about deeds and rights and filing. She signed where he indicated and handed over the money she had received from Grandmother, her mind occupied with thoughts of the river.

Her dream was coming true. She could see herself standing in the pilothouse, looking for the next port to load or unload her lucrative cargo. Her sisters would be at her side, watching the water for hidden dangers. It would be a glorious way to spend their days. Of course, the
Hattie Belle
was large enough to take on passengers as well as freight, an unexpected development for their first boat.

Wouldn’t her parents have been proud to see their children following in their footsteps? Her eyes burned with unexpected tears. Sadness for Mother’s death battled against the anger she felt at their father’s abandonment.

Determined to turn her thoughts from the past, Lily concentrated on the idea of sifting through the backgrounds of prospective passengers before selling them berths. It would be awful to expose her little sisters to the riffraff. She would only accept the most unexceptionable people—parents with children of their own or aristocratic couples. Perhaps President Buchanan would one day petition them for passage.

“And I believe we have completed all the necessary paperwork.” Monsieur Champney held out a hand. “Congratulations, you are now the proud owner of the
Hattie Belle.
”

Lily’s emotions nearly overwhelmed her as they shook hands to seal their arrangement. She had really done it! Her future and her sisters’ futures were secure. They would make their fortunes on the river. She could hardly wait to break the good news to them.

Foreboding made Tamar’s heart thud as the carriage made its way back to the plantation. What had happened to the quiet girl she had cared for all these years? Lily had bloomed into a determined young woman who would not blindly follow the wishes of her elders. Yet had there really been a change? Or was Lily’s decision a natural outcome of her love for her sisters?

While Tamar envied her charge the freedom she had to control her own future, she also was unsettled by Lily’s ability to enter into a man’s business and make a shocking, unheard-of purchase. “Tell me again exactly what you’ve done.”

Color rode high in Lily’s cheeks. “I’ve bought a boat—a beautiful, glorious boat called the
Hattie Belle.
It’s going to be our home. I’m going to give Camellia and Jasmine a taste of life on the river. What better place for them to learn about life as they become young ladies?”

Tamar shuddered. She could think of several places.

“And we want you to come live with us, Tamar. I’m going to ask Grandmother to let you come. Won’t it be wonderful?”

“I don’t know.” The words came out slowly. Tamar’s mind went back to the first time she’d ever seen Lily—a tall, thin, towheaded child with skin as brown as a nut. A heartbroken little girl who had lost her mother and was about to lose her father. A girl determined to protect her baby sisters. That had been eight … no, nine years ago. In the intervening years, things had changed—Lily’s skin was white and her hair had grown darker. But she was still as fiercely protective of her sisters. “Won’t it be dangerous to live on a boat?”

Lily’s eyebrows drew together. “I suppose you are referring to the accident that took Mother’s life.” Sadness invaded the carriage, an echo of the grief that had once been a part of Lily’s daily life.

Tamar summoned a shaky smile. “I’m sorry, Lily dear. I didn’t mean to dredge up old memories. All I meant is we’re always hearing about boats catching on fire or getting sunk or attacked by pirates. Living in your family’s home seems a safer choice.”

It took Lily a moment to respond. Tamar wished she could find the words to bring Lily some comfort.

“I don’t care.” Lily’s raised chin was an indication of her strong will. “It might have been safer at one time, but since Grandfather died, things have changed. I’m afraid that Aunt Dahlia and Uncle Phillip will convince Grandmother to make me marry Adolphus Marvin. She’s already half-certain it would be the right thing to do.”

“Your grandmother loves you, Lily. She wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“You’re probably right, but I cannot take the chance.” Lily sighed. “I have to grab this opportunity. Uncle Phillip says it’s a sure way to make a fortune. Besides”—a smile lit her face—“I have river water in my veins. Father always said so.”

Tamar wanted to argue with Lily, but she didn’t know what else to say. “I’m sure everything is going to be all right.” Where had those words come from? It seemed highly unlikely that anything would be all right if Lily stuck to her plan. The list of things that could go wrong was longer than Tamar’s arm.

As the carriage turned into the drive leading to Les Fleurs plantation, peace spread over her like a familiar quilt. It was the Lord. He was whispering that He was in control. It was the same voice that had brought her comfort throughout her life. The voice that had strengthened her when she needed it, reassured her whenever she took the time to listen.

Tamar smiled. “Everything is going to be all right.” This time when she said the words, she knew they were the truth.

J
ean Luc strolled down the boardwalk, swinging his walking cane. Even though his world had crumbled … again … he would not wear his problems on his sleeve. The
Hattie Belle
was lost to him for now, but he would recover. He must recover.

Last night he had taken a few dollars and returned to the
Lucky Lucy
, only to find his nemesis had left the day before. He sat down and played a few hands of poker, retaining enough sense to get up and leave the table when he doubled his stake. If only he’d had that much sense a week ago.

The money jangling in his pocket was evidence that he was too good a gambler to stay behind forever. Too bad his father didn’t see it his way. Every gambler knew all he had to do was to keep gambling. Eventually everything would flow his way.

A carriage pulled away as he turned the corner of Canal Street. A common occurrence at Champney Shipping. His father dealt with most of the prominent businessmen in town.

Jean Luc raised his cane in greeting as the carriage drew even with him, but his hand froze in mid-salute when his gaze discovered a large pair of sparkling brown eyes. A lady! She didn’t seem familiar to him, although he found something arresting about her expression. Something that teased at his mind.

She couldn’t be one of the young women he’d met at the round of social gatherings, could she? There were so many beautiful Southern belles. Blonds, brunettes, redheads. He’d met every marriageable daughter in town and most of the ones from the outlying communities. A shame they all blended together into a single image—empty, vacant, subservient. He wished he could find one who had some spirit.

Her cheeks colored, but the young lady did not look away from him. A slight smile turned up the corners of her mouth, again striking some chord in his mind. Jean Luc could not place her, so he looked to see if he recognized those she traveled with.

A female slave sat beside her, a middle-aged woman with a stern look on her honey-colored face. No brother, father, or other male accompanied them. That fact alone piqued his interest.

Was the mystery woman a young widow? No, she looked far too innocent for that role. Maybe she had dropped off some family member at his father’s office and would pick him up when she finished shopping. Deciding this must be the case, Jean Luc bowed as her carriage picked up speed and passed him.

It would be interesting to meet her relative and find out more about her. So far, all the young women paraded in front of him had left him yawning at the least, horrified at the worst. He wished his parents were not so anxious for him to find a bride. At least not here. If they would allow him to travel to New Orleans, he had no doubt he could find an acceptable candidate, but sophistication could not be found at the back of beyond.

A derisive smile curled his lips. The newspapers proclaimed the Mississippi River the gateway to the West, the muddy divide between civilization and wilderness. To his mind, Natchez should be on the far side of the river. The whole state of Mississippi, as far as that went, should be moved to the wilderness. It seemed to be composed of nothing but impenetrable forest and provincial settlers.

With a sigh, he opened the front door and strode past the clerk, entering his father’s sanctum after a brief knock with the silver head of his cane.

His father reached for his pocket watch and grunted. “It’s about time you arrived, Son.”

Jean Luc yawned and flopped into one of the chairs opposite his father. “Mama didn’t mention a time when she told me you wanted to see me.”

His father’s lips folded into a straight line. He leaned back in his chair, causing the wood to creak ominously. Jean Luc refused to be intimidated by his father’s tactics. He’d already heard plenty about his stupidity at the gaming tables. But Papa would soon find out who knew more about that.

He lifted his cane and studied the snarling panther’s face. He felt a kinship with the predator. Jean Luc might have to lie in wait until the time was right, but one day he would pounce. On that day, everyone who had ever bested him would be sorry.

“I’ve managed to take care of the problem we have with the
Hattie Belle.
”

Jean Luc glanced up at his father. “What do you mean?” A vision of Blake Matthews floating lifelessly in the eddies of the river came to mind.

“I had an interesting interview with a young lady you may remember, Miss Lily Anderson, whose grandfather, Isaiah Blackstone, recently died.”

Jean Luc cocked his head to one side. A collage of images took form in his mind—a distraught young lady at the launch of the
Hattie Belle
, that same young lady eyeing him with admiration as he twirled her about on the dance floor of his boat, a concerned girl who left behind an air of mystery, and the young woman he had just seen in the carriage. Lily Anderson.

“It seems Miss Anderson will not inherit her grandfather’s estate, at least not yet. But she did receive a generous settlement, a dowry of sorts.”

“How generous?”

His father cocked an eyebrow. “Not enough to support your habits.”

Jean Luc sat back, a flash of anger passing through him. He was tired of being gigged about how he spent his leisure time. Why could his father not forgive and move forward? Deciding that to ignore the pointed comments was the best response, Jean Luc composed his features into a mask of nonchalance and waited.

“It is, however, enough for her to purchase my portion of the
Hattie Belle.
”

The cane clattered to the floor. “You sold controlling interest to a girl?”

“That’s right. Imagine the surprise Blake Matthews will receive when he discovers I am no longer his partner.” A bark of laughter came from Papa. “I almost wish I could be there.”

Jean Luc’s mind whirled. Lily Anderson had managed to possess the thing he wanted most to get his hands on. Why hadn’t his father offered it to him? Or had he? It suddenly occurred to Jean Luc that selling to Miss Anderson might be his father’s way of offering the boat to him. An attempt to kill two birds with one stone. Ownership of the
Hattie Belle
was a prize for which Jean Luc might pursue a marriage in earnest.