Lily (Song of the River)

by Aaron McCarver

  “You are very debonair this evening, Monsieur Champney.”

  He bowed again. “I am honored to please you.”

  The aunt simpered as though he’d directed his compliments at her.

  Jean Luc tucked Lily’s hand into the crook of his arm and faced the rest of her family. “Thank you for trusting your treasure to my care.”

  The grandmother waved a hand at them. “Save your suave compliments for my granddaughter. Now go on, you two, and enjoy your evening.”

  They climbed into the carriage with a minimum of fuss. As soon as they were settled on opposite benches, Jean Luc rapped on the roof of the carriage with his cane.

  “Where are we going this evening?”

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to return to the place where we first enjoyed a meal together.”

  “That will be delightful. I’m sure you remember that I secured my very first cargo that evening.”

  Jean Luc’s jaw clamped. If not for that coincidence, Lily would probably have returned ownership of the Hattie Belle to him months ago. “Yes, that’s right.”

  She chattered about her trips to Memphis and yet another branch of the shipping family who had befriended her. He sat back and nodded, biding his time.

  They arrived at the hotel, and he escorted her to the dining room. The host caught sight of them and hurried over. “Welcome, welcome. We have your table ready, Monsieur Champney.” Bowing repeatedly, he escorted them to the linen-covered table.

  Jean Luc hoped Lily noticed how eager the man was to please him. She needed to understand how influential his family was.

  After he helped Lily into her seat, Jean Luc slipped an extra coin into the man’s palm, which earned him yet another bow. Sliding into his seat on the opposite side of the table, Jean Luc frowned. Although the flower arrangement was lovely, it hid his dining partner from his view. Reaching out, he moved a silver candelabrum closer to the edge of the table and scooted the crystal vase over so he could see Lily’s face. “That’s better.”

  If the smile on her face was any indication, he had managed to impress her. She opened her napkin and placed it on her lap. “You must have gone to a great deal of trouble.”

  “Once you accepted my invitation to dinner, I wanted to make sure this would be a memorable night.”

  “How could it be otherwise? I always enjoy our time together.”

  “Then you have forgiven me for offending you the last time we met?”

  A fleeting frown crossed her expression. “I could never be truly offended by you, Jean Luc. I value your friendship too much.”

  That was a start. Jean Luc led their conversation in a different direction as their meal was delivered. Lily ate hers with a bit more gusto than he found attractive, being more used to ladies who picked at their food and abandoned whole plates after only managing to swallow a bite or two. But for now that habit could be overlooked. Once he secured her affection, she would want to please him enough to adopt more genteel habits.

  He signaled for their dessert, a chocolate custard accompanied by steaming cups of dark, rich coffee. “I trust you approve of my choices for our dinner.”

  “Yes.” She picked up a spoon and dredged out a mouthful of chocolate. “I’m flattered by your thoughtfulness. You make me feel like a princess.”

  Jean Luc summoned a burning stare to convince her of his desire. “I would like to do more.”

  The words fell between them, stilling her spoon halfway between plate and mouth. Her eyes widened. She put down the bite of dessert. “But you’ve already done so much. I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

  Leaning forward, he took her hand in his. “Let there be no discussion of debts between us. It is not appropriate when I have such feelings about you. My heart is troubled when you are away. I worry about your safety and think of you almost without ceasing. I wish we were not so often separated by distance.”

  “But it is delightful to see you whenever I am in Natchez.” Her hand fluttered in his hold like a frightened bird.

  Jean Luc hid his irritation. “I pine for your smiles when you are not close.”

  “Your sentiments are very flattering, Jean Luc. I put so much stock in our friendship. You must know how much I rely on your advice and expertise.” Her hand stopped fluttering.

  “And I will be most happy to advise you, but please tell me that our friendship could evolve into a warmer relationship.” He summoned his most devastating smile, one that had won him many favors in the past.

  “I don’t know. …”

  He tightened his grasp on her hand. “Has someone stolen your heart from me?”

  “Of course not.” She tugged her hand free. “I’ve been much too busy to think of romance. Running a business commands my full attention.”

  “You must feel overwhelmed by the responsibility.” Jean Luc drummed his fingers on the tablecloth. He hoped this was the right time to broach the subject that had been on his mind for several days. “In fact, I have an idea that may help.”

  “Really?”

  He watched her face for a hint of how to proceed. Her features smoothed out so quickly it was like looking at a mask. Was her mind open or closed?

  She glanced at the table, and he realized he was still drumming his fingers. He clenched his hand and brought it to his lap. “How would you feel about letting someone else, someone you trust, someone who has your best interests in mind …” Jean Luc paused and took a slow breath. “What if such a person offered to take over the day-to-day decisions of your shipping operations?”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “I am offering to run the Hattie Belle.” There. He’d said it. Now he must convince her that his idea was the perfect solution.

  “Why would I want to burden you with such a task?”

  “Lily, you have seen the river up close. You must know that you are the only woman trying to run her own boat. By your own admission, it is a terrible burden.” He reached for his coffee cup. “I think it is admirable that you’ve given so much to your endeavors. You have proven what you can accomplish, but now it is time for you to come back home … settle down … perhaps even marry.”

  “I am quite happy on the Hattie Belle.”

  Jean Luc sipped some of the dark liquid from his cup and set it back on the table. “But you are working much too hard. Don’t you see? You should be treated like a princess. If you were here more often, I could court you properly.”

  She pushed her chair back from the table. “I am not a princess, nor do I aspire to become one.”

  Jean Luc rose when she did. Was she going to storm out of the hotel? “I meant to compliment you, Lily. I only want you to lead the life to which you were bred.”

  Her brown eyes filled with flashes of hot emotion. “The life to which I was bred? My father and mother spent many years together on the river. They thought it was a good place to raise a family. I’d say that remaining in Natchez and allowing you or some other man to fawn over me would be contrary to the life my parents imagined for me, wouldn’t you?”

  He raised his shoulders in a gesture of agreement, but inside he was seething. How dare she spurn his offer? How dare this little nobody—a girl who’d never even seen Europe—look down her nose at him?

  Like a volcanic eruption, he felt the anger gathering force. She may have been raised at Les Fleurs plantation, but she was proving a great deal of common blood ran in her veins. “I’m sorry, I must have been mistaken. I suppose you’re right. I should have realized that your head has been filled with nonsense from the likes of Blake Matthews and the other wharf rats you’ve been rubbing shoulders with.”

  Her mouth open and closed several times, but no words came.

  Good. Maybe she was beginning to regret her earlier disdain. But he would be slow to accept her apology. He gestured for their cloaks. “I should take you home.”

  The ride back was quiet and uncomfortable. Jean Luc got out first and offered her a hand.

  She ign
ored his gesture, climbing out with one hand on the carriage frame and the other lifting her skirts. “Thank you for the meal.” Her voice was as cold as winter rain.

  Jean Luc bowed and watched as she ascended the stairs and disappeared through the front doors. The minute she was out of sight, he wanted to kick himself. Why had he let himself get so angry? Why hadn’t he apologized instead of waiting for her to come to him? He knew how stubborn she was. He would have to demean himself tomorrow and send her a note of apology, maybe a bouquet of flowers. He had to get back in her good graces.

  He climbed back into the carriage, his mind on possible solutions. As the coachman headed back to his parents’ home, an idea occurred to him. He rapped on the roof of the carriage and shouted new instructions before settling back to contemplate his situation. Maybe he wouldn’t need to grovel in front of Lily Anderson after all.

  Chapter Fourty-two

  The housekeeper, Alice, bustled into the crowded kitchen and snapped her fingers at Tamar. “Go see Mrs. Blackstone. She’s in the front parlor.”

  Tamar put down the ear of corn she’d been shelling. “What’s wrong?”

  Alice settled her hands on her hips. “Can’t be Miss Lily or Missy Jasmine. They gone to town to see about that boat y’all been living on.”

  “Mebbe she’s got something special for you to do,” suggested the cook.

  Mrs. Blackstone’s personal maid pursed her lips. “Seems like she’d a-called me for that.”

  Tamar shrugged as she moved to the pump. “It’s probably some rumpus Miss Camellia’s caused.” She worked the handle and washed her hands in the stream of cool water. After drying her hands on her apron, she removed it and smoothed the skirt of her dress.

  “Don’t forget your cap.” Alice nodded toward the white cloth hanging from a hook on the wall.

  “You sure you’re not in trouble?” Mary shook her head. “You ain’t done nothing wrong, have you?”

  “No.” Tamar retrieved the cap, shook it out, and settled it on her head. But as she stepped out of the warm kitchen and crossed to the back of the big house, she wondered. Could Mrs. Blackstone have found out about Jensen wanting to court her?

  Her heart clenched as she moved from the narrow hallway in the back of the house to the wider corridors the family used. By the time she reached the front parlor, however, her good sense righted itself. No one at Les Fleurs knew Jensen, so she had nothing to fear. She knocked on the door and waited for Mrs. Blackstone’s command.

  Lily’s grandmother was sitting in her chair next to the fireplace. She didn’t look angry. “There you are, Tamar.” Mrs. Blackstone waved at her to enter. “I need your help with a little project.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Tamar curtsied and waited.

  “I’m sure you know I’m planning a dinner party for tonight as my granddaughters are about to depart once again.”

  Tamar nodded. It was the reason she’d been helping in the kitchen.

  “I can’t get Lily to give me a straight answer about her business partner and boat captain. She was supposed to deliver an invitation, but neither of the gentlemen has responded. I would think they would be flattered and even eager to meet Lily’s family and friends.”

  Wondering why Mrs. Blackstone was telling her this, Tamar shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  “I hate to suspect my granddaughter, but I have decided something must have happened to the invitations and she is loath to confess the problem.” She sighed and held up two white envelopes. “So I have written out new invitations. Now I need someone to hand deliver these and wait for a response. Of course I could send one of the footmen, but since you know both of the men and they will know you, I thought I would send you instead.”

  Tamar’s heart tripped. She would see Jensen. He had not attempted to contact her since she came back to Les Fleurs more than a week ago. She ought to be glad that he’d stayed away. She’d told him to do just that many times. But now that he’d taken her at her word, she found herself missing his teasing compliments, his easy smile, and the gleam in his coffee-brown eyes.

  The door to the parlor opened and Miss Dahlia breezed in with Camellia following a couple of steps behind. “Mama, it’s the worst disaster ever.”

  Mrs. Blackstone turned to her daughter. “What’s wrong, Dahlia?”

  Her daughter sighed as she sank into a chair. “It’s Camellia’s dress, the one she is supposed to wear to the dinner party tonight.”

  “I’m so sorry, Grandmother, but it was an accident.” Camellia’s eyes were red rimmed. “I was upstairs painting a still life of bananas and apples, and I upset the paints with disastrous results.”

  “There is a bright spatter down the front of Camellia’s new dress.” Miss Dahlia took up the tale. “We must take it to the dressmaker to see what may be done to repair it.”

  Tamar put a hand over her mouth. A disaster indeed. If it had been Miss Lily’s dress, she would have shrugged and chosen an older one, but Miss Camellia put much more emphasis on her appearance.

  “That’s a shame, Camellia.” Mrs. Blackstone’s calm tone quieted the other two women. “Of course you must take the carriage. I was about to send Tamar to town, so she can ride with you.”

  Miss Dahlia looked surprised that someone else was in the room. “Of course we can take Tamar.”

  “That’s settled, then.” Mrs. Blackstone handed the envelopes to Tamar. “The top one is for the captain.”

  “Where are you sending her, Mama?”

  “To the Hattie Belle. I have not heard from either Mr. Matthews or the captain, and it would be a shame if they did not attend because their invitations were not properly delivered.”

  A spark of interest entered her daughter’s eyes. “I was a guest on the boat before Lily purchased it. I’ve been wondering what changes she’s made.”

  “But I don’t want to go back to the river until I have to.” Camellia’s forehead crinkled.

  Tamar edged out of the room as Miss Dahlia warned Camellia to stop frowning or risk premature wrinkles. The joy she’d felt earlier faded as she realized the addition of the two ladies meant she would have no chance of seeing Jensen alone. She might not even be able to leave the carriage if Miss Dahlia decided she wanted to deliver the invitations herself. What had looked to be a delightful outing had become nothing more than another chore.

  What else should she expect? She was a slave, not a free woman who could go wherever she chose. For one of the first times in her life, Tamar found herself resenting her lack of freedom.

  Lily was more than ready to leave for New Orleans. It seemed so long since she’d seen her friends there. They would have so much catching up to do.

  “We should be ready to leave as soon as you get here Monday morning.” Captain Henrick glanced toward Blake for confirmation.

  “Good. I’ll have the girls in the carriage by first light.” She was relieved she wouldn’t have to continue trying to sidestep Grandmother’s plan to have the two men at her dinner party.

  Jasmine, followed closely by a laughing David, brushed past Lily’s skirts.

  “Don’t knock any of the crates over,” Lily admonished.

  David skidded to a halt and looked back at her. “We’ll be careful.” She would have to be satisfied with his promise, although Lily doubted he could control her youngest sister’s exuberance.

  “We’ve come to see where you girls have been living for all these weeks.”

  Recognizing the voice, Lily whirled toward the gangplank, her mouth falling open as she came face-to-face with Aunt Dahlia and Camellia.

  “What on earth are you doing here?” Aunt Dahlia’s gaze was fixed on someone standing behind Lily. Then she turned back to Lily. “Why is your father on board your boat?”

  “Father?” Camellia gasped out the two syllables. Her shocked face turned toward Lily. “That can’t be right. Our father is dead.”

  “I’m sorry.” Lily reached toward her. “I didn’t wa—”

 
; “What?” Camellia’s shriek rivaled the clamor of a steamship whistle. “You didn’t want us to know our father was right here with us?”

  “Camellia.” Their father stepped toward her. “Don’t blame your sister. This is not her fault.”

  “Of course it is. She knew.” Camellia looked past him to Lily. “How long have you known? Why didn’t you tell us?”

  Lily didn’t know what to say. Her sister was right. She should have told them. Even though she’d been only a child when her grandparents decided to tell everyone, including Camellia and Jasmine, that their father was dead, she could have let her sisters know the truth when each grew old enough to understand. She put a hand to her forehead.

  “How could you deceive us so?” Camellia’s voice broke. She picked up her skirts and ran back to the dock.

  “Isn’t anyone going to answer me?” Aunt Dahlia’s querulous voice drew Lily’s attention.

  “No.” Lily faced down her relative. She wanted to get to Camellia but had the feeling her sister would not listen to her at the moment. “Not right now. Not while my sister is sitting in that carriage crying her eyes out. She trusts you. Please go comfort her and get her back home. I’ll be there soon to sort everything out.”

  The shock on Aunt Dahlia’s face should have been amusing, but Lily couldn’t find any humor in this situation. “Please go, Aunt Dahlia. Go take care of my sister.”

  Her father added his voice to Lily’s. “You cannot wish the whole town to know our family business, Dahlia. Your father would be mortified.”

  “Papa is past worrying about such earthly matters.” Aunt Dahlia gathered her skirts. “But I suppose you’re right.” She glared at Lily. “See that you are home soon.”

  “What is all the shouting about?” Jasmine and David appeared as Aunt Dahlia marched off the boat. “Where’s Aunt Dahlia going?”

  Lily looked toward Blake. His sympathetic gaze nearly wrecked her control. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. She tried to hold the tears at bay.

  Apparently their aunt heard her name. She turned back to the boat and pointed at Jasmine. “You need to come with me now.”