Tracie Peterson & Judith Miller - [Lights of Lowell 01] (8 page)

‘‘Tut, tut. Tonight is for fun—not admonitions. I am determined to show my granddaughter, and perhaps my son, that the Northern states are just as fond of parties and revelry as is the South.’’

‘‘Then let us go among your Northern neighbors,’’ Jasmine’s father said, smiling.

Jasmine relaxed a bit. Her father was clearly not nearly as annoyed with his mother as he let on. She followed her elders to the carriage, watching as her grandmother lovingly placed her gloved hand against her son’s face. Jasmine couldn’t hear what she said, but the look on her grandmother’s face was one of pure love.

The exchange warmed Jasmine and made her forget her fears. At least momentarily.

By the time they arrived at the Cheevers’, Jasmine’s father appeared to relish the idea of a party, hurrying them out of the carriage and up to the porch with a swiftness that caused Jasmine’s grandmother to tug on his sleeve.

‘‘Do slow down, Malcolm. This isn’t a footrace, and I’m an old woman.’’

Papa winked at Jasmine before turning back toward his mother. ‘‘Since when do you consider yourself old?’’

‘‘When such a comment suits my fancy, of course.’’ She gave her son a smug grin and looped arms with Jasmine. ‘‘Come along, my dear. I’m going to introduce you to some of the most eligible bachelors to be found north of Mississippi.’’

Malcolm immediately sobered. ‘‘Don’t get any ideas, Mother.

As I said on our way here, with your improved health, we’ll be returning to Mississippi very soon. I much prefer to be home in time for picking season.’’

‘‘Don’t discount my medical ailments so quickly, Malcolm.

You assume because I’m able to navigate the streets of Lowell, I am completely well. However, my health hangs in the balance, changing from day to day, much like the weather.’’

‘‘Or to suit your circumstances?’’ he inquired as they reached the front door.

Alice ignored his question, stepping forward to greet Lilly Cheever. ‘‘Lilly, Matthew. May I introduce my son Malcolm Wainwright and my dear granddaughter Jasmine?’’

Matthew grasped Malcolm’s hand in a warm handshake. ‘‘I believe Bradley Houston mentioned your name to me only this morning. He said he had visited your plantation and that you and your brothers have some of the finest cotton fields to be found in the South.’’

Malcolm nodded. ‘‘I’m pleased to hear he was so favorably impressed with our cotton. Bradley appears to be quite a shrewd businessman. In fact, we’ve corresponded since his departure.’’

‘‘We’re pleased to welcome you to our home. I believe Bradley is expected tonight, isn’t he, my dear?’’

Lilly nodded. ‘‘Yes. Actually, Bradley’s already here, though Nolan hasn’t yet arrived. He’s coming from Cambridge with Henry Longfellow.’’ She lowered her voice and leaned close as though she were sharing some privileged piece of information.

‘‘They’ve both agreed to read poetry for us later this evening.’’

Alice clapped her hands together in obvious delight. ‘‘How enchanting! I know we’ll all enjoy hearing them,’’ Alice said before stepping aside to permit the other guests entry.

The three Wainwrights walked down the hallway toward the drawing room, and Malcolm gave his mother a smug grin. ‘‘It sounds as though Mrs. Cheever’s entertainment will provide me with ample opportunity to talk to Bradley Houston this evening.’’

‘‘Listening to something other than the price of cotton would expand your mind,’’ Alice gently chided.

When her father gave no retort, Jasmine looked upward and followed his gaze. Bradley Houston was wending his way through the crowd. He plainly stared at her as he approached where they now stood. He looked quite dashing dressed in gray and black. His rigid features gave him a hard but handsome appearance.

‘‘I didn’t know you had arrived in Lowell. I thought you would send word,’’ he said. She couldn’t discern if he was angry or merely surprised by her appearance. He took hold of her gloved hand and bent over it, refraining from touching his lips to the cloth. When he looked back up to meet her face, Jasmine thought his expression suggested that he expected some sort of explanation.

‘‘There wasn’t sufficient time, what with preparations for the evening and visiting with Grandmother,’’ she replied. ‘‘I’m sorry.’’

‘‘You’re young.’’ He straightened, his gaze boring past any facades of bravery Jasmine might have put in place. ‘‘You are forgiven. In time you’ll learn where to direct your time and attention.’’

He then smiled with the warmth of a summer day. Yet something in his voice caused her to shiver.

C
HAPTER
•
6

J
ASMINE KNOCKED
on her grandmother’s bedroom door and then stepped inside when Alice bid her enter. ‘‘Good morning, Grandmother. I trust last evening’s dinner at the Merrimack House didn’t tire you overly much.’’

She smiled and motioned Jasmine forward. ‘‘On the contrary, I’m fine.’’

‘‘I’m so glad. I thought perhaps the activities of the last week might have wearied you.’’

‘‘You mustn’t fret about me. I’m aging to be sure, but I’m still very capable. I’ve been meaning to ask if you enjoyed the Cheevers’ party last week. We’ve scarcely had a chance to speak of it.’’

Jasmine considered that evening, and Bradley Houston immediately came to mind. ‘‘I’m not sure what to think about that night. I thought the party itself was lovely. Mrs. Cheever is very gracious. Mother would say she has the grace and manners of a perfect Southern lady. Although as I understand, she’s very much of New England background.’’

‘‘That she is. She was born and reared right here in Lowell,’’ Grandmother replied. ‘‘But let us speak about you, my dear. What seems to trouble you about that evening?’’

Jasmine shrugged. ‘‘I’m not sure I would say that the evening troubles me; rather, I’m not sure what it all meant.’’

Grandmother tilted her head to one side as if to study her for a moment. Jasmine felt silly for having even brought up the matter.

‘‘I suppose it was nothing,’’ she murmured, looking away from her grandmother’s prying gaze.

‘‘Nonsense. You seemed completely perplexed. Tell me what this is about.’’

Jasmine turned, trying hard to put her thoughts into words.

‘‘Mr. Houston said several things to me—things that confused me.’’

‘‘Did he try to take liberties with you, child?’’

‘‘Oh no,’’ Jasmine assured. ‘‘It’s just that he spoke to me in a very familiar way, as if he’d known me for a long time. It confused me.’’

‘‘Did he speak of love?’’

Jasmine grew warm around the lace of her collar. ‘‘No, not exactly. He spoke of obedience and helpfulness. He talked of my learning where best to direct my attention. I’m not at all certain what he wanted me to understand, but he seemed quite intent with his words.’’

‘‘Well, child, you are of a marriageable age, and you’re quite beautiful. The man probably fancies thoughts of you for his wife.’’

Jasmine shook her head. ‘‘Bradley Houston is too old for me, and he’s a Northerner, after all. He would never understand our ways, and no doubt Papa would never consider him as a suitor for me.’’

‘‘Yes, but what of you, Jasmine? Would you consider him?’’

Jasmine couldn’t give her grandmother an answer. Truth be told, she hadn’t really considered anything so farfetched as a marriage proposal from Bradley Houston.

As if understanding Jasmine’s bewilderment, her grandmother motioned to the chair. ‘‘Sharing these last few days with you has been wonderful. Sit down and have breakfast with me. Martha tells me your father is meeting with Mr. Houston again this morning, so perhaps the mysteries will be explained.’’ She smiled with reassurance. ‘‘But even better, we shall have the day to ourselves. I thought perhaps we might go to some of the shops and see about a small gift for your mother, something your father could take home that might cheer her.’’

‘‘Perhaps a book of poetry,’’ Jasmine suggested, pushing aside her troubled thoughts.

‘‘An excellent idea. Nolan Houston is quite eloquent, is he not? His reading was impeccable the other night.’’

Jasmine placed a linen napkin across her lap. ‘‘It’s a shame he doesn’t have a published book of poems we could purchase for Mother. It would be great fun to give her a book written by someone she’s actually entertained in her home, even if he didn’t read any of his writings for us.’’

‘‘I doubt your father would have encouraged him. And Bradley doesn’t appear to lend much support either. I was rather horrified when the two of them got up and went outdoors during Mr. Longfellow’s reading at the Cheevers’, although I suppose I shouldn’t have been. Your father told me he planned to utilize the time to discuss business. He’s convinced my health doesn’t require his presence in Lowell, and I’m certain he’ll soon book passage for your return to The Willows. He thinks the first picking won’t occur without him.’’

‘‘Oh, Grandmother, do try to convince him we should remain awhile longer. We’ve only just arrived, and I don’t think I could bear to leave you so quickly.’’

Grandmother Wainwright’s face seemed to suddenly come alive with excitement. ‘‘What if I could convince him to allow you to remain until the end of November? I could then accompany you home and spend the holidays with all of the family.’’ The animation in her tone confirmed she was quite delighted with her new idea.

Jasmine pulled her grandmother into a tight embrace. ‘‘What a
perfect
plan! Surely Papa will agree, especially if it means you’ll be at The Willows for Christmas.’’

‘‘I doubt he’ll be quite as enthusiastic as you. He’ll immediately worry about your mother’s reaction to your absence. She’ll be distraught when you don’t come home and will surely take to her bed.’’

Jasmine pulled back, carefully contemplating her words before she spoke. ‘‘I do want to stay, Grandmother, but Mama’s health is fragile at times. I wouldn’t want to cause her distress. However, she was most supportive of our journey, even telling Father he had an obligation to come north and personally check on you. And she encouraged him to bring me along to see you.’’

Alice patted Jasmine on the cheek. ‘‘Then we’ll leave it to your father and abide by his decision. In the meantime, let’s get ready for our shopping trip. I saw some of the loveliest velvet at Paxton’s Mercantile in town. I think it might make a very fetching Christmas gown.’’

Jasmine smiled and turned her attention back to the breakfast tea. ‘‘I’m certain to be impressed if it caught your attention.’’ Jasmine pushed aside her anxieties and the pending question of whether her father would allow her to remain in Lowell and concentrated on the joy of the moment. Tomorrow would surely see her troubles smoothed over and her mind at peace.

Bradley stepped out of his carriage in front of the Merrimack House. He’d agreed to meet Malcolm Wainwright for breakfast and then escort him on a tour of the textile mills. Settling at his table with a steaming cup of coffee, Bradley contemplated the events of the past few days. He didn’t believe Wainwright was ready to sign a contract, but he appeared somewhat receptive to the possibility of shifting his cotton sales away from the English markets. With a bit more time and persuasion, Bradley hoped to convince him such a decision would be beneficial for his entire family, as well as all of the Mississippi and Louisiana cotton growers. The Wainwright family was renowned in the South, and Malcolm Wainwright could be a strong ally.

The Associates were anxious for Bradley to move forward with a speed that defied developing the type of associations needed for long-term business relationships. Business was done much more quickly in the North, whereas Southern deals were struck over mint juleps and lazy summer afternoons.

Bradley had learned long ago that pushing a cause too strenuously often resulted in adverse outcomes—in all aspects of life. But nowhere was this truer than with Southern gentlemen, and Malcolm Wainwright seemed no exception to this rule. Bradley was willing to move at a more respectable pace if it meant accomplishing his goal in the end. After all, he didn’t want to frighten off the patriarch of the Wainwright family before their business relationship had even commenced.

And then there was the matter of Jasmine. He would be extremely cautious in that regard. The girl was young and likely to object to any advances from him. What little he had tried to coax from her in conversation seemed completely void of depth and understanding. But he reminded himself that she had led a very sheltered life and that someone of his worldly knowledge was no doubt a threat to genteel sensibilities. Still, she had been quite spirited while associating with Nolan and his literary friends during the evening, which he found somewhat disquieting. Especially since she had been as frightened as a church mouse when he escorted her home from the Cheevers, careful to keep a safe distance between them and running into the house the moment he helped her out of the carriage.

You aren’t a handsome man,
Bradley chided himself between sips of coffee. He knew his features were considered by some to be quite stern, even imposing. He wasn’t a very tall man, standing only five and eight, but his square jaw and penetrating gray eyes had managed to cower many an adversary. There was, as some said, a look of determination, even unto seeing the last man fall before giving up. Bradley rather liked that people considered this of him. It made them cautious in saying no to him. Of course, Malcolm Wainwright was not as naïve as some. He was the type of man, in fact, that was sure to smell a bad deal before it ever reached the table.

A shadow passed across the window in front of him, and Bradley glanced up to see Wainwright enter the building. ‘‘I didn’t notice your carriage,’’ Bradley remarked as the man seated himself.

‘‘I walked. It’s a lovely morning, and everything is close at hand here in Lowell. As a matter of fact, I find it rather refreshing that I can leave Mother’s front door and walk downtown in such short order. The town is quite compactly organized.’’

‘‘Indeed it is. In fact, that very concept is what the Associates envisioned when planning this community. I believe they were very successful in most aspects.’’