The Reluctant Debutante (19 page)

“I’m glad to see some color in your cheeks again.” Charlotte patted Ginger’s face and looked her over to make certain all parts of her elaborate dress were secure.

The dress was a pale cream crepe, the exact color of Ginger’s skin. Around the off-the-shoulder neckline a band of black lace dripped over her arms. Three wider flounces of similar black lace graced the skirt. Five layers of petticoats, each a bit shorter than the other, finished off the bottom. Each petticoat was edged in a violet band of velvet, and a wide band of violet velvet was cinched around her small waist.

“You are lovely, my dear. Quentin is a most lucky man.”

“Quentin is a buffoon, Mother. You know as well as I do he is totally lacking in poise and refinement. But his father is a wonderful man, and I agreed to this evening so he and I can talk about the railroads.”

Charlotte pursed her lips. She had hoped Ginger would forget all about Joseph Lafontaine and find a suitable husband before the season ended. She knew Ginger would never allow William near her again, and Richard, charming as he was, was penniless. Quentin was Charlotte’s last hope.

“Please be certain to show some attention to Quentin, too.”

Ginger smoothed the band of velvet around her waist. “Do not worry, Mother. You have taught me well. I’ll not say or do anything tonight to cause harm to the family’s reputation, or to cause you embarrassment. I’m not like Basil. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up about Quentin and me ever being more than friends. I have decided to continue my work with Papa at the bank after this abysmal season creaks to an end.”

Her mother’s eyes filled with tears at the thought of her daughter never getting married. “Oh, Ginger, I do want the best for you, you know I do. And, even though a woman’s role is changing slowly, it’s still best if you marry and have children. Only then will you be truly fulfilled.”

“But I only want to marry if I truly love the man, and I certainly would never be happy with a man like Quentin. And there is none other in sight. Besides, I can’t very well give my heart to another when I’ve already given it to Joseph.”

Charlotte used a fine lace handkerchief to pat her cheeks and dry her tears. “Why can’t you just accept it was a mistake for Basil to bring the Indian into our midst in the first place, and your paths should never have crossed?”

“Because he did, and we did. I don’t care if he’s an Indian, a Frenchman, or a rancher, for that matter. He has taken my heart with him back to St. Louis, and I’ll not pretend to fall in love with another, just to satisfy society’s interpretation of what a woman should be in the nineteenth century! I’ll work with Papa at the bank, and make lots of money for our customers. It will suffice.”

Ginger wrapped her arms around her mother and said, “I know this is not what you planned for me, but it’s the best I can do. I don’t like to see you in tears, so let’s leave well enough alone, can we?”

Her mother straightened and fussed in front of the mirror to repair the damage her tears had caused to her makeup. “I still say buffoon or no, Quentin would be better than a miserable spinster existence. Will you at least try to look at him with a new set of eyes this evening?”

“All right, Mother. If Quentin can manage to get through the evening without doing anything ridiculous, I’ll reconsider, just to please you.”

The carriage carrying the Grays was late pulling up to the Fitzpatrick house. Charles Gray came to the door to announce their arrival. “Sorry about the lateness. I hope we’ll still be in time to make the opening of the show.”

As he hurriedly led the trio out to the carriage, he confided, “Quentin split his pants in two as he was getting into the carriage this evening and had to rush back inside and change. Then, of course, changing the pants meant he needed a different jacket, too, and the hat and the shoes. You know how it is.”

Ginger glanced at her mother, and raised an eyebrow. Charlotte pretended not to see the look, and fussed with her fan.

The carriage had two bench seats facing each other. Quentin, Ginger, and Charlotte sat on one bench. Mr. and Mrs. Gray and George were on the opposite side. Charles Gray and George eagerly began to talk business, and Ginger leaned forward to hear what they were discussing. Charlotte tapped her on the knee with her fan. With a small sigh of defeat, Ginger sat back on the bench, struggling to think of something to say to Quentin.

“Are you as glad as I am that this season is almost over, Mr. Gray?”

He tried to turn in his seat to face her, but they were packed together so tightly she could still only see his profile. She caught his startled look, however, at being addressed.

“Have you not enjoyed the season then, Miss Fitzpatrick?”

“I’ve had enough of this charade. Please, Quentin, call me Ginger. We’ve been friends for years, but suddenly and sadly, this year, because of our introduction into society, we are no longer able be on a first name basis. I find it totally ridiculous, as I have found everything else about the season. Although I have enjoyed portions of the past few months, I grow weary of it now, and just want to be done with it.”

Quentin smiled a little before he replied, “I, too, am a bit tired of it, but I do plan to attend again next year, in hopes of finding an appropriate wife, if what’s left of this season doesn’t net me one.”

He again tried to turn to look at her squarely, and almost succeeded this time. His eyes raked over her fine dress, and she burned with embarrassment.

“Jasmine and Heather are so excited about coming out next year. I’m certain they’ll both beat me to the altar.”

“You will not be returning, then?”

“Gracious, no. One season was brutal enough for me. I plan to make a career for myself at the bank, alongside Halwyn and Papa.”

Quentin took one of her hands in his. “A finely bred woman such as yourself should not have to work for a living. You need a husband to take care of you.” His pale blue eyes gazed into hers adoringly.

Ginger removed her hand from his sweaty palm and surreptitiously wiped it dry on her velvet waistband. “I have no plans to get married, Quentin. You’d be wise to look elsewhere.”

Charlotte rapped her fan on Ginger’s knee again.

Ginger smiled up at Quentin and finished her statement. “Although I am looking forward to this evening. I have never seen burlesque, have you?”

She and Quentin continued to make halted conversation until the carriage pulled up at the door to the Opera House on Broadway. The two sets of parents exited first. As Quentin was stepping from the carriage, one foot got caught in a rung of the steps, and he crashed to the ground. Ginger was crouched at the door of the carriage, waiting for Quentin to exit and turn to help her. As Quentin scrambled to his feet, her gaze caught her mother’s. Charlotte shrugged her shoulders, and Ginger grinned.

New York City, October, 1855

When Elizabeth returned from Illinois shortly after the big elopement, she and Ginger fell back into their same familiar routine of late afternoon visits. The scandal Elizabeth had caused entertained society for only a few weeks before it died down. But now that Elizabeth was a married woman, Ginger found their talks had shifted from girlish fun and games to include more adult topics. Hurriedly, the two women made their way to Ginger’s bedroom and closed the door.

“Oh, thank you. I’m starving!” Elizabeth exclaimed as Colleen wheeled in the teacart. Ginger poured the tea and handed Elizabeth a gooseberry tart, which she knew was her friend’s favorite.

“Okay, what secret are you dying to reveal?”

Elizabeth’s smile could have lit up the room. “You’re so clever. I never have been able to keep a secret from you for long. I am with child!”

Ginger grasped her friend’s hands and they jumped up and down in a circle, squealing with glee, like they’d done since childhood.

“Well, it didn’t take you very long.”

Elizabeth grinned. “It’s because Cedric is insatiable. We make love whenever we can, sometimes several times a day. My trip to Galena was one long sensual ride.” Elizabeth threw herself onto the bed, where she rolled languidly from side to side. “I do believe I got pregnant on the train.”

Ginger experienced a flash of jealousy at Elizabeth’s announcement. She knew she would never again feel a man’s embrace, much less have children of her own.

Elizabeth caught her look of yearning, and reached for Ginger’s hand. “You know I want the same for you. I remember how, when we played with our dolls, you were always so patient, long after I’d lost interest. You’d be a great mother. Have you truly found no one who interests you?”

Ginger shrugged and gently removed her hand. “No, no one. What were my choices? Richard Douglas, Quentin Gray, or William Davenport? Not a really outstanding field from which to draw. I guess it’s not meant to be my lot in life.” She looked sternly at her dearest friend. “Well, Elizabeth, since your elopement took away my opportunity to be in your wedding, may I at least be your child’s godmother?” Ginger asked with a touch of wistfulness in her voice.

“Of course, silly. But you may have to travel to England for the christening ceremony.”

“What? Are you moving?”

“Cedric and I have discussed it, and yes, at the very least we’ll go for a visit before I’m too much further along, so I can meet his parents. And we may stay there, for the quality of life provided by the English society would be so beneficial to our children.”

“You’re not wanting to move just to get away from your parents, are you? They have forgiven you for running off with Cedric, haven’t they?”

Elizabeth smiled. “As soon as they found out about the baby, all hard feelings were tossed aside. We’re on very good terms now. If we decide that England is where we want to raise our family, Mother and Father have said they’ll make the trip at least once a year, after I have the baby. Will you help me pack for the trip to England?”

“Of course I will. But are you feeling well enough to travel, with the pregnancy and all?”

“I must admit, I do get a bit queasy in the mornings, but one has to expect a bit of morning sickness.”

Ginger and Elizabeth spent the rest of the afternoon talking about what garments she should pack. They chose some books on the United Kingdom to read up on the area where Cedric’s family lived.

“After all, the last thing I want is to have his parents think I’m an uneducated girl from the Colonies!” Elizabeth declared.

The two young ladies giggled in unison, as they’d done for years. Ginger tucked the memory away, knowing it might be one of the last times she and Elizabeth would share tea and conversation like this.

• • •

The following morning, Ginger sat behind her desk and surveyed her little office at the bank with pleasure. She had fallen back into a familiar pattern when she returned to her work two months ago. Her mother encouraged her not to return to the bank, but rather to continue her social schedule of attending the opera and accepting invitations to formal teas. Charlotte still held out the hope Ginger would attract the attention of some of the young men who remained unattached after the season. Ginger emphatically declined, reminding her mother she had fulfilled the request of last February, and she had no intention of shirking her duties at the bank for another minute.

Looking around her office, Ginger sighed softly. Losing Elizabeth to England was the final blow in this long Cotillion season. She longed to rewind the clock back to last February, and knew she would do everything differently. Beginning with putting her foot down when the suggestion first arose about her participation. Considering how close her parents had come to losing their reputations among their peers, would it really have been so bad if she declined the invitation to be part of the Cotillion ball? She thought not. If her family had waited one more year and begun the Fitzpatrick Cotillion tradition with Heather and Jasmine, who were certain to be quite successful in their quests to find husbands, what difference would it have made? Yes, Ginger thought, her younger sisters would shine throughout every moment of their time in the spotlight, and would thoroughly enjoy their season.

She sighed as she turned back to her work. She picked up a report from the Pacific Railroad, detailing the steady progress they had been making laying track west of St. Louis. Within a month, rail service would extend all the way to the state capital of Jefferson City. She would need to add the Pacific Railroad to her list of recommended buys for the bank’s clients, rather than keeping it an exclusive for Charles Gray’s portfolio.

She glanced up from the report when she sensed someone at her doorway. “Why, Mr. Gray, how nice of you to stop by. I was just thinking about you. Please, have a seat.”

“I have to admit, Ginger, it’s good to see you back at the bank. I’ve missed having your keen insight when selecting companies to add to my portfolio.”

“It does feel good to be working again.”

“So, you’re glad the season is finished?”

She smiled. “I could actually feel my mind melting during the flurry of drivel I had to endure. I think both Quentin and I breathed a huge sigh of relief when August came to a close. How is he?”

“Doing well, and surprise of surprises. He’s now seriously courting someone.”

Surprised, Ginger inquired, “Who might that be?”

“Jane Livingstone seems to have taken a liking to my boy. They’ve been stepping out together for the past month now, and she’s not tired of him yet.”

“Jane Livingstone, eh? Well, bless my bloomers!” Ginger grinned at the thought of the overpowering Jane taking Quentin to task. “Maybe she’ll be the one for your son.”

She sighed softly. It seemed she was losing yet another friend to the marriage game. Another twinge of jealousy rippled through her body. Not because she had set her cap for Quentin herself, but because another of her friends would be able to experience married life, and she never would. A marriage to someone other than Joseph would leave her with an empty heart and an empty marriage.

Mr. Gray nodded. “What are your plans now?”

“To stay here at the bank, and make money for all of us. Papa has offered to make me an officer of the bank, and I’m considering it. If I accept, though, it would mean longer and more consistent hours, with no days off for shopping with Mother and Pepper. Or time for anything else. So, I don’t know. It’s kind of exciting though, don’t you think? To be a trailblazer in the world of finance?” She looked at Mr. Gray for the approval she needed.