Lily (Song of the River) (3 page)

Lily clenched her jaw to keep it from falling open. What an exaggeration. Aunt Dahlia and Uncle Phillip tolerated her and her sisters because they had no choice.

Aunt Dahlia put a hand on her shoulder, and Lily schooled her features into a polite expression. “Monsieur Champney is doing some business with your uncle, dearest. I suppose he was talking about his concern for your future.” She turned back to their host. “I’m certain that’s how the misunderstanding occurred.”

“Our English is a little …” Mrs. Champney glanced toward her husband.

He patted her hand. “Shhh, Gabrielle, we will learn.”

Lily’s soft heart was touched. She put aside her shock and reached out toward their embarrassed hostess. “My papa also struggled with accents.”

“You are sweet,
enfant.
” Mrs. Champney smiled at her. “Such a kind heart you have. Go on inside and enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you.” Lily could feel her face flush. Expectation made her stomach clench. When her grandparents had introduced her to local society two years ago, it had been the same—terrifying and exhilarating all at once as she entered any ballroom.

Mr. Champney passed a white handkerchief across his forehead before turning to greet the next guest.

Lily moved down the line behind her aunt and came face-to-face with the Champneys’ son, the young man who, according to rumor, was the real reason for today’s party. He was said to be a bachelor on the lookout for a compliant wife. Her heart sped as she wondered which lady he would find interesting.

He bowed and kissed the air above her hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you, Monsieur Champney.”

His smile was wide and inviting, transforming his face from pleasant to handsome. Two dimples bracketed his mouth, and his dark eyebrows rose in the center. “My father is Monsieur Champney. You must call me Jean Luc.”

For once Lily’s face didn’t flame. But a dozen butterflies seemed to have awoken in her stomach.

“And I hope you will save a dance for me.”

Was he teasing her? She searched but could find no hint of mischief in his expression. “I … I would be gl—”

“Come along, Lily. You must not monopolize our host.” Aunt Dahlia’s voice seemed to come from a distance.

Jean Luc’s impudent grin drew an answering smile from her. He squeezed her hand briefly. “I will find you later.”

“I—” Her voice came out in a squeak, betraying her once again. Lily pulled back and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “Thank you, monsieur.” That was better. She sounded more confident, less terrified. “I look forward to having you partner me.”

Then her aunt whisked her away. Lily didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Was Jean Luc Champney flirting with her? What an odd feeling. And one she could easily grow accustomed to.

As she followed her aunt to the second level of the steamboat, Lily realized how glad she was that she had worn her new dress, a tailored suit with a fitted top and wide flounced skirt. Jaunty blue ribbon outlined each flounce and fluttered with every step she took. The sleeves were soft and generous, with blue-edged cuffs. A line of pearl buttons decorated the bodice from the edge of her beribboned collar to the wide blue grosgrain ribbon at her waist. The outfit was perfect for this party. Even though she would never be as beautiful as her middle sister, Camellia, Lily’s fashionable attire and Jean Luc’s obvious admiration made her feel pretty.

She held her skirt aloft with one hand so she wouldn’t trip while her other hand traced a bronze handrail rubbed to a rich sheen. A welcome breeze brushed by as she reached the main landing.

The stateroom was a large, open area with floor-to-ceiling windows that provided light and a view of the Natchez bluffs. At one end, a full orchestra awaited the arrival of the guests while a wide, arched doorway dominated the other end, its leaded-glass doors thrown open to coax river breezes into the room.

The boat whistle sounded. Several guests hurried outside to watch the ropes loosened and the gangplank lifted away from the wharf. Some young ladies covered their ears because of the clanging boilers and hissing stacks. The boat shuddered as the long pistons began to move back and forth, slowly at first but with increasing speed and thrust.

Lily rushed outside to see the stern-wheeler begin churning the brown river water. The busy dock receded quickly as the
Hattie Belle
slipped into the strong current. Someone joined her at the rail, and Lily turned to see Jean Luc standing next to her. Unable to contain her exhilaration, she smiled widely. “Isn’t it glorious?”

“Yes.” But his gaze was fastened on her.

Unable to think of anything to say, she gazed at the green banks slipping past. Silence fell between them, almost like they were in their own private bubble that none of the other guests could inhabit. Her shoulders tensed with each second that ticked by.

Jean Luc moved a tiny bit closer. “Is this your first time on a steamboat?”

The romance of the moment fled. Lily shook her head. “My … my parents had a steamboat.” She swallowed hard. “My mother d–died in an accident.”

“How terrible for you.” He put a hand on the one she had rested on the guardrail. “I didn’t know.”

Lily appreciated the kindly tone, but she pulled her hand from underneath his. “It was a long time ago. I was only a child.”

The orchestra began playing a lively tune, and Lily pushed away from the rail.

“Wait, Miss Anderson. I didn’t mean to pry.” He offered his arm to her. “Please forgive me.”

She hesitated before resting her hand on the crook of his elbow. “It’s not your fault. Being here has brought old memories to the surface.”

“Do you want me to have the captain turn the boat around?” His features were drawn in a frown of concern. “We can reschedule the picnic for another day.”

Lily was touched by the offer but shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of depriving your guests for such a selfish reason.” She pasted a wobbly smile on her face. “I’m just being overly sensitive.”

“Good afternoon, Monsieur Champney.” Grace Johnson, the beautiful, tawny-haired daughter of one of Natchez’s wealthiest tobacco merchants, floated toward them, her movements as elegant as a swan’s on a moonlit lake. She opened a fan and fluttered it in front of eyes as blue as chicory blossoms. “What an exceptional idea your family has conceived to host a floating gala. I predict they will become all the rage.”

A hard look from Grace made Lily realize she should not monopolize their host’s attention. She wanted to protest that he had followed her, not the other way around. Yet she felt guilty, so she started to remove her hand from his arm. She was stalled when he placed his hand over hers and applied a slight pressure.

“Thank you, Miss Johnson.” Jean Luc’s dimples appeared as he smiled. “Please excuse us. Miss Anderson has just agreed to let me partner her on the dance floor.”

Lily’s heart tripped. Dance? She couldn’t dance with him. They would be the focus of everyone’s attention. She would trip over her dress or step on his feet … or somehow make a fool of herself. Her mind screamed warnings even as he led her into the ballroom. She barely heard Grace’s huff of irritation over the cacophony in her head.

Then they were in the center of the room. Jean Luc placed one arm around her waist, leading her into a waltz. She concentrated on following his lead for the first few bars but relaxed when she realized she was not going to make a fool of herself. The lessons she had complained about were paying off. She was thankful Grandmother had been so insistent.

“I’m glad you and your aunt were able to come this afternoon. Especially since I now know about your aversion to the river.”

“Oh no, Monsieur Champney, I am not averse to the river.” She could feel his fingers tighten around her waist. “On the contrary, I love the river. It is so alive! So full of intriguing characters and beautiful scenery. I deeply regret that my mother lost her life while boating, but I fault my father’s lack of foresight rather than the river itself.”

His midnight-dark gaze speared her. Lily could feel her heart flutter at the intense scrutiny. A blush heated her cheeks.

“Mademoiselle, you are an intriguing young woman. As fascinating as the ladies of Paris.”

“You have been to Paris?” Lily jumped at the chance to change the subject. “Please tell me all about it.”

He swept her into a complicated series of turns. She could feel the material of her gown swirling out and hoped the movement was not so energetic that her ankles were exposed.

“Paris is a very sophisticated city. There are endless things to do—balls every night, the opera house, the zoo, and of course Versailles.”

“You have been to the Palace of Versailles?”

“Oh yes. It is
magnifique
, though the emperor, Napoleon III, does not reside there, of course. It is too much the symbol of Bourbon imperialism, and Napoleon and his wife are populists.”

Lily nodded and tried to think of some dazzling remark. Like why a populist had become emperor. Hadn’t he been elected president of France? She was not sure enough of the facts to question him. “I suppose they would avoid it.”

“But a pretty girl like you does not want to hear about dreary politics.” Chagrin deepened his voice. His mouth turned up on one corner. “I should be telling you how lovely your dress is and how your eyes sparkle. How light you are on your feet and how much I want to spend the rest of the evening at your side.”

A blush heated her cheeks. Did he really think she was pretty? “N–not at all. I find your descriptions fascinating. You have seen so much more of the world than most of the men from Natchez. And you understand so much more than they.”

Their dance came to an end before he responded, and Lily wondered if her compliments had been too gushing. Perhaps he had interpreted her enthusiasm as an attempt to flatter him, but she had been sincere in her sentiments.

He returned her to her aunt, who was visiting with some of her cronies in a corner of the room. Jean Luc bowed to them and chatted for a moment before excusing himself.

Aunt Dahlia drew Lily away. “Where did you disappear to, Lily? I was about to introduce you to a special friend of your uncle’s, but I could not find you anywhere.”

“I went outside to watch as the captain steered the ship away from the docks.”

Her aunt shook her head and sighed. “I should have known. One would think you had no thought for your future. Are you content to always be a burden to your poor grandparents?”

“I danced with the Champneys’ son,” Lily defended herself. She had imagined her aunt would be pleased. Why was she so disgruntled?

“I’m sure he was just being polite. The Champneys have exquisite refinement, and surely their son has been schooled to spread his attention equally among his guests.” She nodded to the other side of the room where Jean Luc stood talking to a group of young ladies.

Lily noticed Grace Johnson among their number. Her heart dropped like a heavy stone to her toes. How had she let herself be swept away by Jean Luc’s easy charm? Plainly, her aunt was right. He was nothing more than a kindly host doing his duty. She dropped her gaze to the floor.

“I declare, I don’t know why I keep trying to instruct you. It seems you will never learn the basic rules governing our little corner of society.” Aunt Dahlia opened her fan and fluttered it.

Lily could feel the fan moving air against her warm cheeks. How could she have so easily forgotten herself? She was not beautiful or artistic or even witty. Her talent lay in her practicality, her ability to watch out over others and steer them from trouble. A girl like her would never be able to secure the interest of someone as debonair, charming, and cultured as Jean Luc Champney, the heir apparent to his father’s vast shipping interests.

The first indication Lily had of trouble floated toward her in a cloud of strong cologne. She opened her own fan and used it to disperse the overpowering smell.

Aunt Dahlia’s overly bright tones were the second indication. “Oh, good. Mr. Marvin has returned. I know you’re going to be delighted by his interest.”

Lily glanced at the man who approached. Her heart sank. He was old! As old as Uncle Phillip and Aunt Dahlia. Surely this was not the man her aunt wished her to meet. Casting one last, longing glance toward the lively group of young women surrounding Jean Luc, she sighed and waited for her aunt’s introduction.

Mr. Marvin asked Lily to dance, and Aunt Dahlia practically shoved her at him. But Mr. Marvin did not seem to notice. They exchanged the usual pleasantries as they moved about the room in time to the musicians.

When the music ended, he returned her to Aunt Dahlia with aplomb. From that point on, she was handed from one partner to another, some more skillful with their steps than others. Even though she had not attended many balls, she knew most of the guests, as they were from local families.

She was dancing with Louis Roget when a disturbance at the ballroom door drew their attention. “What do you suppose is happening?”

His hazel eyes narrowed. “It looks like a message is being delivered by someone’s slave.” Roget halted as the orchestra’s notes died away.

Lily recognized the black man who was making his way toward Aunt Dahlia. It was Amos, Grandfather’s personal slave. Her heart began to hammer. She pushed her way past the couples still standing on the dance floor and reached her aunt just as Amos straightened, his message apparently delivered.