As the woman waddled off, Gwen fought
the urge to stick out her tongue. She was too much the lady to
indulge in such childish spite, and besides, wasn’t it that loose
appendage that had given Mrs. Tibbs such ammunition to use against
her? It had been a weak moment, one of those long, lonely nights in
the dark, when Gwen had so foolishly confided her fantasies to the
woman. Trust Mrs. Tibbs to have the sublime bad taste to throw them
back in her face.
Little she knew. Gwen wasn’t running
away; shed faced the sins of her past and atoned for them. Why,
shed more than made amends. Hadn’t she become so finely bred a
lady, even Mama would have beamed with pride. She now accepted her
role in the world, the standards of a lady must uphold, the
expectations she must fulfill. So much so that upon leaving Boston,
her Aunt Agatha had declared she could not hope to find a more prim
and proper niece.
It was this assessment that gave Gwen
hope, for surely her father would be similarly impressed. Once John
McCloud saw she was a lady, that she’d put aside her impetuous
ways, he’d forget the past, sweep her in his arms, and call her his
little princess.
That was why she’d taken off Mother’s
locket and set it inside the carpetbag. Normally she’d have worn
the one remaining link with her mother, but meeting her father
after five years separation would be difficult enough. She had no
wish to remind him of what he had lost.
Frowning, she thought of his summons.
His letter was also tucked in her carpetbag. Nothing is wrong, she
insisted to herself, but tiny voice-sounding like Mrs. Tibbs-kept
asking why her father must be so insistent upon her getting
married. And why had Edith Ann written in his behalf?
Gwen tried hard to liker her cousin,
but nothing had been the same after she and Uncle Jervis had come
to live with them. In Gwen’s mind, her parents had been overly
impressed with Edith’s ladylike poise, and far too determined to
stop their own daughter’s hoydenish behavior. “Look at your
cousin,” Amanda McCloud would say. “See how well-mannered she is,
and how ladylike.” And though it was never uttered, Gwen had
nonetheless heard the “why can’t you be more like her?” in her
mind.
No one seemed to notice Edith’s sly and
mincing ways, or her spiteful glee when Gwen was caught in a
misdeed. Had her cousin penned the letter from father, Gwen
wondered? How disconcerting, to learn that Edith had control over
his personal affairs. It would be just like her to suggest that
marriage would tame Gwen’s impulsive nature-then slyly recommends
an absolute toad she could marry.
It wouldn’t be Lance, Gwen thought with
a sigh. Lance Buford Sr. had been an incredible gambler, and when
he’d asked on he left his son with little more than his charm and
the shirt on his back. Gorgeous, dashing Lance might set any
female’s heart flutter, but father would never let a him wed his
only child.
Who then? Gwen wondered. The summer
boys? Both Robert Andrew were pleasant to gaze upon, and rivers
edge was almost as grand as The Willows. Or maybe she should set
her sights on the notorious Beau Allenton, since Edith had adored
him or years. It would serve her cousin right, if after all of her
plotting? Her precious objects was stolen right out from under her
nose.
But when didn’t want him or the others.
She didn’t want to marry anyone if she couldn’t have Lance. He was
her Lancelot, her hero, and together with The Willows, was the only
remaining constant in her life. Had it he promised, that long ago
day the need the oak tree, that when all others would forsake her,
he would stand steadfast and strong at her side, loving her
always.
Oh please, don’t let him
have forgotten,
she thought, crossing her
fingers as she searched the crowd lining the docks for signs of his
beautiful, golden head. Brushing the skirt of her carriage gown
again, she wished she could be dressed in something more seducing
then heavy green wool, but without starch, or one of those hoop
skirted crinolines that were now the rage, she had little hope of
lessening the creases and a bit to other gowns she had in her bag.
With the rest of her wardrobe packed in her trunk in the hold, and
Lilith off helping Mrs. Tibbs, Gwen supposed she must count herself
fortunate to be dressed at all.
Assailed by a wave of longing, she
could not wait to be home. She closed her eyes and imagined her
arrival at The Willows, with father’s legion of servants rushing to
see her every whim. She’d have pressed clothing, clean linen, and
fresh fruits and vegetables whenever she wished for
them.
“
Just one more thing,
Gueenie.”
With a start, Gwen woke from her
daydream fine that the ship had docked and the obnoxious Mrs. Tibbs
stood before her with a hand thrust out in her direction. “Before
we part ways, I wish for you to have this.”
Gwen stared at the card. Did the woman
expect to maintain their acquaintance? They moved and utterly
different circles; surely even Mrs. Tibbs must recognize
that.
Apparently not. “This will be my
location here in New Orleans,” she went on, waving the card with
irritating resistance.
“
Feel free to call upon me,
if you ever feel the need.”
Gwen could think of nothing less
likely, but then, this was less a case of charity then blatant
social climbing. Preparing her set down, Gwen was surprised into
silence when Mrs. Tibbs laid a gentle hand on her arm.
“
I know we have had our
differences,” she said, her tone softly, “but I cannot help but
worry about you. I am an independent woman, with no few
connections. Should you find yourself in need of a friend, please
do not hesitate to call.”
Once more, she shoved the card forward,
and this time Gwen was to stun to refuse it. Gesturing to Lilith,
timidly guarding their luggage by the planks, Mrs. Tibbs quickly
reverted to form. “Come, Sampson and I are happy to share our cab.
Our driver will take you wherever you need to go.”
Flustered, Gwen shook her head. “That
is kind of you, but my father will be sending someone to meet me.”
Benoit by the woman’s raised eyebrows, she began to embellish. “My
fiancé is coming, as a matter of fact. Why, I declare, he’ll be so
eager to see me, I’ll wager he will be the first one waiting when
we disembark.”
Plump hands reached out close over
Gwen’s. “Don’t you be losing my card now,” Mrs. Tibbs said softly,
giving an extra squeeze before letting go. “The time may yet come
when you need it.”
With that, she waddled off towards
Lilith and the luggage. Dreadful female, Gwen thought, watching her
fully past the other passengers. Mrs. Tibbs would be the first to
leave the ship, and woe to whoever stood in her way.
When jammed the unwanted card into her
bag, but one glance at her overstuffed bag had her regretting her
decision. Perhaps should have gone with Mrs. Tibbs. At least as far
as the landing. What would people think of a lady who carried her
own things, who stood all alone?
She looked up, meaning to call the
woman back, but Mrs. Tibbs and Lilith had reached dryland and were
fast making their way to a waiting carriage. Grabbing her bag, Gwen
headed towards the plank ends, finding that she must wait in line,
since everyone else had gotten there before her. As her bag group
recently heavy in the warm morning sun, found herself wishing the
fog would return.
When she finally disembarked, she found
no one waiting, nor did anyone approach her as she made her
tentative way along the dock. It did not help to see Mrs. Tibbs and
Lilith will off any fine looking carriage. Gwen tried to say good
riddance, but she grew painfully conscious of the other passengers
locating their convoys, while she continued to wait.
Not one family face appeared, and a
nasty suspicion grew in her mind. Had father-with no little help
from Edith-forgotten send someone to fetch her home?
She tried not to panic, but she had no
money, and had never before had to make her own traveling
arrangements. There might be friends here in the city who could
help her, but she had not the least idea how to reach them. Someone
else had always dwelled with such details; she had merely gone
along for the ride.
Yet clearly, she could not
stay where she was. As the crowds thinned, the hurling to their
homes and businesses, she grew aware of this cedar elements that
haunted the docks. Early dressed men strolled by with a predatory
glance; overblown females, lounging in doorways, I’d her with
contemptuous humor.
You don’t belong
here,
their gazes told her, and she was
more than inclined to agree.
Searching the docks again, he told
herself her escort would come; hadn’t she bet Mrs. Tibbs that her
fiancé would be here, eager and adoring? Please let him appear, she
thought in a rising panic. Let anyone appear. Indeed, she’d marry
the first man to calm to her rescue
“
Oh Merlin.” She whispered,
looking about her frantically, “wave your magical wand again and
show me my valiant knight.”
She saw his eyes first, dark and
intense, a deep melting brown that seemed somehow familiar, though
she could not imagine where they might have met. Girls in her
social position were carefully shielded, allowed it to converse
with only the top of society, and a male who could stare so
intensely, so strongly, could not possibly be a
gentleman.
He leaned against the door of one of
the more disreputable establishments, watching her, and though Gwen
knew she should ignore him, she found herself staring back, tall
and sinfully handsome, with his shiny black hair and school did
features, he was every girl’s dream of a pirate.
And for the briefest moment, Gwen let
herself imagine how it would be to be pursued by such a man. A
secret passionate, stolen kiss-what an exciting game they could
play. He would stalk her, and she let him-though only up to a
point, for she never risk her reputation with such a rogue. Playing
with this man be like playing with fire, and it would take great
care and discretion to make certain she did not get
burned.
A perilous situation, yes, but wasn’t
that its appeal?
As if hearing her thoughts, his
expression intensified, looking suddenly more dangerous than Gwen
really wanted.
She started, glancing nervously about
her, belatedly reminding her precautious position. Whatever had she
been thinking of, daydreaming in the middle of the street about a
common stranger? On closer scrutiny, she decided to put the
emphasis on common, though he was indeed a stranger. How dare he
stare as if he knew her. What cause would she have to be acquainted
with one who wore patched, homespun clothing, and worn, unpolished
boots?
Looking away, anxiously to avoid any
further contact, she spun, her fear and indignation causing the bag
swing with unsuitable arc. It took the thought of for her brain to
absorb the facts that someone had been in its path.
“
She tried to kill me,” a
child shrieked as scrambled up off the ground “did you see that?
She tried to knock me in the water.”
“
I did no such thing.”
Appalled, Gwen stared at the boy. Filthy was too kind a word; you
must have acquired all the available dirt from here to Alabama.
“Though putting you in the water might not be all that bad an
idea,” she added, sniffing delicately. “When precisely was the last
time you had a bath?”
“
Did you hear her?” The
child asked his comrades, four more children in tattered clothing.
“First she knocks me down and then she insults me.”
The tallest strode up, his manner
belligerent, his voice twice as loud. “You be careful how you talk
to John.”
Anxious to avoid a scene, Gwen turn to
go.
“
Hey, wait,” the tallest boy
shouted. “You apologize to John.”
Horrified, Gwen could only think of
getting away, but the breaths followed as she hurried along the
dock. “Patrick spoke to you,” one called John cried out, grabbing
her arm. “Don’t you dare ignore my brother.”
Brother? Of course, she could have seen
the family resemblance in the dirt, though granted, they shared the
same dark care and eyes. “I suggest you remove your hand this
instant before I enforced to contact the authorities. I doubt the
sheriff would be happy to hear you have been way laying
people.”
“
Waylaying-“John sputtered.
“It’s was not us. You do not even look where you were
going.”
“
How could she?” One of the
others jeered. “Her nose is so high in the air, she can’t even see
nothing but sky.”
Gwen was so furious, it was all she
could do not respond in kind. Conscious of a curious crowd
gathering to watch, she reminded herself that she was a lady.
“Highly lower your voice,” she told them through clenched teeth.
“You’re making a scene.”
“
Darn right we are, and
we’ll keep on making one until we get an apology.” John stood, arms
folded at the chest and legs planted firmly. “You had no call to
insult me like you did.”
Gwen bit back another insult. “Might I
suggest that you and your game of ruffians step out of
my-“
“
Ruffians?” They shouted at
once, their comments censoring primarily on her parentage and lack
of a heart, but nowhere in their words was a mention of moving out
of the way. Instead, they circled closer, taunting her, and drawing
a larger crowd.