Camellia (10 page)

That was it. Jonah pulled back on his horse’s reins and moved out of the flow of traffic. He had no feelings about her at all. Visiting Camellia was nothing but a ruse to protect him from exposure. He didn’t even enjoy being around her. In fact, he hoped she would turn down his mother’s invitation. The idea of being around her for an extended period of time filled him with nothing more than dismay, perhaps even repugnance.

Once this war was over, he would turn his attention to marriage, and when he did, it would be to someone much more serious about life. A girl who had strong faith and exhibited the qualities enumerated in the book of Proverbs. Camellia probably had no idea how to be a proper wife, and he had no desire to teach her.

Satisfied with his logic, Jonah clucked his tongue and encouraged his mount forward once more, eventually arriving in the quieter portion of the city where Mrs. Dabbs’s school was located. The trick was to keep his mind on the job the military had given him. Maybe after he left the school, he would visit the Custom House to discover what the enterprising blockade runners had managed to slip past the Union navy. Feeling much more in control of himself, Jonah dismounted and tied his horse to an ornate post outside of the school. All he had to do was politely ask Camellia to visit. Then he could get on with the real reason for his visit.

I
don’t understand why we have to practice needlepoint.” Camellia punched her needle through the piece of cotton, almost stabbing her knee through her skirt and the multiple layers of petticoats she wore. “I already know how to sew.”

Mrs. Dabbs was helping Camellia with a knot in her thread. “This is not about sewing. It’s about beautifying your home with handmade art.”

“Every well-bred lady should be able to ply a needle with skill.” Pauline, a short girl with olive skin and a long nose, added her opinion.

Fourteen-year-old Molly nodded. Camellia thought of the girl as Pauline’s shadow. She had an unfortunate lisp, so she didn’t speak often. Next to her sat bespectacled Catherine, who was probably doing a better job than Camellia even though she was practically as blind as a bat.

Even Jane seemed to be enjoying their lesson. She held her handwork up to the light, and Camellia could see how even each stitch was in the five-pointed star and the circle surrounding it.

She sighed and pulled her needle back through even as she realized the points of her star had an odd tilt and her circle was decidedly lopsided. She would much rather be practicing her penmanship or even adding up columns of numbers. At least those skills had some bearing on her future. If she needed artwork for her home, she would commission an artist to paint a portrait of her to be hung above the mantel in the front parlor.

A knock at the door brought Camellia back to the present. Mademoiselle Brigitte Laurent, Mrs. Dabbs’s assistant, entered the room and looked straight at her.
“Excusez-moi,
Mademoiselle Anderson,
vous avez un visiteur.”
The girl looked over her shoulder and blushed.

“Merci.” Camellia thanked her in French without effort. Her accent was getting much better. She caught Jane’s inquisitive glance and shrugged. She had no idea who might be asking for her. Standing up, she moved to place her handwork in her seat, but it was stuck on something.

A giggle from one of the other girls made her look down.

“Oh no!” The groan came when she realized she had sewn her star to her dress. Now everyone could see how poor her needlework was. She tried to jerk the pitiful cloth free, but she had no luck. She had never been so embarrassed in her life. A blush burned her throat and cheeks.

“I see you’re sporting a new style.”

Camellia looked toward the door and wished she had not gotten out of bed this morning. Her embarrassment increased tenfold—a hundredfold—as she saw the sardonic grin on Jonah Thornton’s face. She wanted to jump out the window, sink beneath the carpets, or at least run away from the derisive laughter. Even Mrs. Dabbs had a hand over her mouth, her eyes dancing.

“Let me help you.” Jane pulled out a pair of scissors and snipped the threads holding the needlework to her dress.

Bless Jane, her only friend in the world. Even though her cheeks were still flaming, Camellia lifted her chin. “I have always been an innovative thinker.”

Jonah bowed, although his grin was still wide. “I look forward to seeing all the debutantes following your lead.”

The smothered giggles stopped as Mrs. Dabbs stood. “How pleasant to see you again, Mr. Thornton.” She nodded at Camellia. “Why don’t you and Jane show Mr. Thornton the visitors’ parlor? Mademoiselle Laurent will order the tea service.”

Grabbing her friend by the hand, Camellia hurried to comply with the instructions. Anything to put distance between her and their stitchery lessons. She pulled Jane past Jonah before he could say anything derogatory, leading the way to a small parlor just off the central staircase.

A cheerful fire crackled in the fireplace, its flames dispelling the February chill. A small sofa provided seating for an intimate conversation, while a single straight-backed chair some distance away was for a chaperone. Camellia sank onto the sofa, her cheeks beginning to cool. She motioned for Jane to sit next to her, but her friend shook her head and moved to the chaperone’s chair.

Did Jane think Jonah was a suitor? Far from it. Although she had considered him a possibility at one time, it had not taken her long to discover he was like a bothersome gnat she would like to swat. She was still staring daggers at Jane as he entered the room, having taken his sweet time to traverse the hallway.

Her heart stopped for a brief moment as their gazes met. He
was
handsome; she had to allow him that. She remembered the first time she’d seen him, his deep auburn locks stylishly disheveled, his emerald eyes swirling with mystery and challenge. But that had been years ago—almost two whole years—and she had become much more sophisticated since then.

In an effort to prove how little she cared, Camellia spread her skirts out to cover the length of the sofa. Of course he didn’t understand that she wanted him to stand.

He simply raised one supercilious eyebrow and towered over her. “I’m happy to see how much you’ve learned about decorum since you came to La Belle.”

Camellia’s shocked gaze met his and read the determination stamped there. Suddenly she realized that Jonah was no longer the carefree younger son. He was a man fully grown. She huffed her irritation but gathered in her skirt. “Please sit down, Mr. Thornton.”

“Thank you for the offer, Miss Anderson, but I believe I’ll stand.” He moved to the fireplace and leaned one shoulder against the mantel.

Infuriating man. One of these days she would get the better of him. Maybe she would even make him fall in love with her. Once she knew his heart was in her hands, she would make him beg for mercy. Then she would marry someone else, and Jonah would live out the rest of his days a broken shell of his former self.

With her plan in mind, Camellia fluttered her eyelashes at Jonah. “It’s so pleasant to see you on this dreary day.”

His grin widened.

Hanging on to her temper with all her might, Camellia forced herself to smile back at him. “How are your parents?”

He pushed away from the mantel, and she hoped it was because his backside was burning. After making a circle around the room, his gaze flitting from window to door, he sat next to her on the sofa. “My mother sends her regards. She and my father would like for you to come and stay with them for the first weekend next month.”

Since the moment Jonah had arrived at La Belle Demoiselle today, Camellia had felt like the very ground under her feet was shifting. His statement, however, changed all that. Her world steadied. He must have told his mother he would like to court her, and sweet Mrs. Thornton had extended the invitation so he would have ample opportunity. This was a game she knew very well how to play. She would turn him down and allow herself to be persuaded by his heartfelt pleas.

She leaned against the back of the sofa and turned her head toward Jane, giving her a broad wink as a cue. “Don’t we already have plans for that particular weekend?”

Jane shook her head. “I don’t—”

Camellia interrupted her friend. “Oh yes, the trip to Lake Pontchartrain is scheduled for that weekend, is it not?”

Jane folded her lips together and shot her a fearful look.

Camellia turned back to Jonah only to find him not even paying any attention to her. He was looking over his shoulder at the door to the parlor. Was he interested in someone else?

A sharp pain clenched her heart, stealing her breath for a moment. Was she mistaken about Jonah’s interest? “I believe my roommate is correct after all, Mr. Thornton.”

“What’s that?” He turned back to her, his eyes unfocused.

Had he been drinking? He was certainly acting oddly. Camellia straightened her spine. “I said I will—” She broke off as a thought occurred to her. “That is, Jane and I will be able to come for a visit on that weekend.”

He nodded. “Good.”

Mademoiselle Laurent entered with the tea tray, and Jane pulled her chair closer to the low, ornate table in front of the sofa. Camellia narrowed her eyes and watched to see if any secret glances passed between Mrs. Dabbs’s assistant and Jonah. Neither of them seemed to notice the other, but was their nonchalance suspicious?

Camellia waited until the assistant left before pouring the tea and offering Jonah the tray of sweets. “Have you written to Mr. Lincoln?”

An odd expression crossed his face. Fear? It was gone so quickly she wondered if she had imagined it. “I have been too busy for that.”

“I suppose your father must appreciate your help at his office.”

“I’m not working.” Jonah shook his head and glanced over his shoulder again.

Who was he expecting? Camellia looked at Jane and shrugged. “Then what is it that occupies your time?”

He looked back at her. “Escorting my sister and my mother to their numerous social engagements.”

“I see.” She wanted to ask him how he could waste his time in frivolity. Didn’t he know they were at war? Had he no patriotic feelings? She rose from the sofa, forcing him to follow suit. “It’s been nice seeing you, but Jane and I must get back to our class.”

“Yes.” Jonah gave her his full attention. “You certainly need all the instruction you can get.”

Camellia snapped her mouth shut on the words that threatened to escape. Never before had she so clearly understood the command to not cast pearls before swine. She would make certain she followed it in her future dealings with Jonah Thornton.

Jonah lingered in the parlor after Camellia stormed out. He should be ashamed of himself for baiting her, but he found the temptation irresistible. A chuckle slipped out as he considered the girl. Of course, she brought a great deal of it on herself by insisting on adhering to all the rules of society.

“It’s good to hear you laugh.” Mrs. Dabbs entered the room and closed the door behind her.

He shook his head. “Not while I’m on such serious business.”

“Do you have new information for me?”

“Yes. Last night I learned that General Lovell’s request for additional troops to defend the city has been refused for now.”

Mrs. Dabbs clasped her hands in front of her chest. “That’s good news for us.”

“Yes, but we cannot get overconfident. The Confederacy will not give up the city unless the Union can act quickly. The troops will eventually arrive, and then it will take a pitched battle to capture New Orleans.”

The older woman grew more serious. “Many lives will be lost if that happens.”

“Yes.”

“Can you find out exactly when the troops will be sent?”

Jonah sighed. “I don’t know. I’ll try.”

Her sigh echoed his. “I know it’s difficult, but remember that we have a worthy goal.”

“You are right.” He bowed and turned to depart.

Mrs. Dabbs stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I pray for your safety every night. I know God is watching over us.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Dabbs. You are truly a remarkable woman.” As he left, Jonah compared Camellia’s personality to that of her headmistress. She would do well to emulate Mrs. Dabbs in all areas—skill, comportment, and faith. If only she could let go of her self-importance.

I
cannot believe the soldiers need any more bandages.” Pauline folded her arms over her chest and sat back. “We’ve rolled thousands already. Enough to stretch from here to Virginia. What can they possibly need more bandages for?”

All the blood drained from Jane’s face.

“Ith for doctorth to wrap around the hurth.” Molly was finally beginning to talk more often in spite of her lisp, and she no longer absorbed every word spouted by the overbearing Pauline.

Camellia reached out a hand to her friend. “Don’t think about it.”

Jane nodded and looked at Mrs. Dabbs. “May I be excused?”

Mrs. Dabbs gave her permission, and silence fell on the room while Jane rose and slipped out of the room, closing the door with a sharp click.