Gentleman's Trade

by Newman, Holly

  Charles strolled over to Vanessa’s side and claimed her hands in his. “And you, how are you today? You appear, I do not know, tense, drawn like a bowstring perhaps, before the arrow is released.”

  “I? No. There is a great deal on my mind, that’s all.”

  Paulette strolled over to the French doors and watched the traffic in the street. “Thoughts of all her suitors are occupying her mind,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Really?” Charles said, grinning.

  Vanessa blushed. “Paulette exaggerates, but it does seem both Mr. Danielson and Mr. Wilmot have been attentive.”

  An indelicate snort came from the direction of the doors.

  “Paulette!” Charles admonished.

  “You would laugh, too, if you had seen her maneuverings. I did better when I was fifteen!”

  “Eighteen is not much beyond that,” drawled Charles.

  “It is compared to Vanessa,” exclaimed Paulette matter-of-factly. “Oh! Oh, look!” she exclaimed from her post by the door. “It is Mr. Talverton!” She pointed eagerly to the tall, broad-shouldered figure coming down the street.

  “Richard stopped by the other day and mentioned the gentleman. I should like to meet him.”

  Paulette didn’t need any further encouragement. She opened the door, setting the entrance bell tinkling again. “Mr. Talverton!”

  Hugh raised his head and turned to see Paulette Chaumonde exuberantly waving at him.

  “Mr. Talverton, a moi, s’il vous plait!’ She urgently motioned him toward her.

  Charles laughed and joined her at the doorway. Vanessa sighed deeply and followed.

  Hugh cocked an eyebrow in inquiry, though a smile curved his lips.

  “Miss Chaumonde, what a pleasant surprise! What are you about today? I had not anticipated the pleasure of your company until this evening.” He drew her hand to his lips for a feather-light salute across her fingertips, then straightened, noting Vanessa’s presence.

  “Miss Mannion, you also? This is a delight.”

  Vanessa compressed her lips tighter, striving for a neutral visage. A broader smile split his lips as he noted her endeavor. She was obviously not aware how her features were a canvas for her emotions. He liked watching her shifting moods and unguarded moments, endlessly fascinated by the beauty they created on a pleasing, but not otherwise noteworthy, visage. He bowed low before her, his lips lingering longer on her hand. She pulled it peremptorily away, whipping it behind her, eliciting a chuckle from Hugh.

  “Mr. Talverton,” she said primly, and Hugh immediately knew she was in her “propriety” mood. “I’d like you to meet someone. This is my brother-in-law, Charles Chaumonde. Charles, Mr. Hugh Talverton.”

  “Brother-in-law, you say?”

  “I had the good fortune to marry Vanessa’s older sister,” Charles said amiably, shaking Hugh’s hand. “Richard told me about you. He said you were here to buy cotton for a mill you have interest in in England.”

  “Yes, there have been some intriguing innovations developed in the past few years that a few of my friends and I decided to invest in. Most mills are archaic and depend upon long working hours and child labor to provide profits. We’re hoping these new innovations, coupled with better working conditions, will lead to a revolution in the mill industry by increasing productivity from the machines and the workers.”

  “An aristocrat with a social conscience?” sneered Vanessa. Instantly she regretted her ill-considered words, but it was too late to recall them. With dismay she noted shocked expressions on Charles’s and Paulette’s faces at her rudeness, while a dark scowl turned Mr. Talverton’s face into a stony mask. She bit her lip, wishing she could be anywhere but standing before him. Her only recourse, she decided, was to brazen the situation out. She tossed her head up to look him straight in the eye, an eyebrow arching quizzically, and a determinedly neutral expression sliding over the rest of her features.

  Hugh almost burst out laughing. He saw chagrin sweep over her swiftly, and recognized the moment the impudent wench decided to meet his ire boldly, though she knew herself to be impertinent. The woman was enchantingly transparent.

  “What opinions you Americans have of us,” he drawled. “They are almost as ludicrous as our opinion that all Americans are ill-mannered, uneducated, bumptious louts.”

  Vanessa blushed, and she swallowed the hot retort that rose in her throat.

  Paulette laughed. “That is an opinion shared by numerous Creoles, Mr. Talverton. Before there were many Americains here, all were called Kaintocks and when children were naughty, our mothers and nurses would say: Tois, tu n’es qu’un mauvais Kaintocks!”

  “Kaintocks? I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with the word,” admitted Hugh.

  “Kentuckians,” reluctantly explained Vanessa. “Many of the keelboats coming to New Orleans start in Kentucky, and those keelboat men lead a rough life, so perforce they’re rough men.”

  “Now we are much more democratic in our prejudice,” Charles said dryly. “There is a new song sung by children in the street. It goes:

  ‘Méricain coquin,

  ‘Billé en nanquin,

  Voleur di pain

  Chez Miche D’Aquin!

  Of course, what these young songsters fail to remember is that they, too, are Americans!”

  Hugh Talverton laughed. “I like that, I shall have to remember it. Let’s see if I’ve got it right:

  American rogue,

  Dressed in nankeen,

  Stealer of bread,

  Mr. D’Aquin!”

  Paulette and Charles laughed at his ready translation, and even a rueful smile and small laugh escaped from Vanessa.

  “All right, I call craven!” she admitted. “My comment was uncalled for, and I apologize.”

  Hugh nodded once, acknowledging her words, while a warm smile transformed his features. With his blond and tawny coloring, Vanessa suddenly realized he reminded her of the sun and unaccountably, she basked in the sunlight warmth of his smile.

  “I suggest we forget the matter,” he said easily.

  “Please,” she said with relief. She felt the tension drain out of Charles, who was standing next to her.

  “Vanessa and I, we came to steal Charles away for lunch. Would you care to join us?” Paulette asked.

  “Lunch!” protested Charles.

  “Oui, mon frère. Vanessa is determined to discover all the news regarding Louisa and la petite bebé, Celeste.”

  Charles looked at Hugh helplessly. “Our women, they are determined to rule our lives.”

  Hugh chuckled. “I believe that is a universal trait. I shall bear you company to lend what fortitude I may.”

  Paulette pouted prettily. “You gentlemen are unkind.”

  “And you are a conniving little manipulator,” retorted her graceless brother.

  Paulette shrugged and they all laughed.

  “Excuse me a moment while I inform my clerk,” Charles said, heading back into his office.

  Hugh surveyed the traffic in the street as they waited for Charles. “This city astounds me.”

  “How so?” Vanessa asked politely, determined not to be provoked again.

  “I don’t know that I can explain it. It has a color and life like no other city I’ve ever seen. But I suppose what impresses me most is the sound.”

  “Sound?”

  ‘“Je ne comprende pas,” Paulette said, shaking her head in confusion.

  “Yes, the sound, or sounds actually. While walking through the city today, I heard no fewer than six different languages spoken, heard vendors hawking their wares in singsong fashion, bells have tolled from what seemed like every corner, drums have sounded, bugles have been blown, and I saw Gypsies singing and dancing in the streets. New Orleans has a music unlike any other city.”

  “Drums? You heard drums?” Paulette squealed, pulling on his arm.

  Hugh raised an eyebrow at her strange enthusiasm. “Just this morning,” he said, carefully studying her.
<
br />   “Vanessa, did you hear?” Paulette asked breathlessly as she did a little hop.

  “Heard what?” Charles asked, coming out the French doors and shutting them firmly behind him.

  “Oysters! There are fresh oysters in the marketplace!”

  A puzzled expression twisted Hugh’s brow. “I thought we were discussing drums.”

  Vanessa laughed. “Drums are played when a ship docks with a fresh load of oysters.”

  “Ah, I take it, Miss Chaumonde, you like oysters.”

  “Like is too mild a word,” grimaced her brother. “I need not ask what she would like for lunch, and have immediately reconciled myself to banishing the idea of a nice meal in a quiet cafe. I hope, Mr. Talverton, that your feet are not tired. Unless we are fortunate and find a vacant bench along the levee, we shall be standing as we eat.”

  Laughing, Vanessa hooked her arm in her brother-in-law’s and prodded him toward the market. “We shall eat until past sated, then wander through the market and enjoy a pleasant hour.”

  “After which I shall have to return to the office and try to concentrate on my legal work while you two will no doubt return home to nap before some social engagement this evening. You have me at a disadvantage, Vanessa.”

  “Hmm,” she replied mildly, “it is interesting how perceptions may vary. And here I thought you had me at a disadvantage. Father would have us all be frivolous creatures without a thought to call our own. I would gladly exchange places with you.” She sighed ruefully. “Sometimes I have the wild desire to disguise myself as a boy and seek employment as a clerk in Father’s offices.”

  “Mon Dieu! But I believe you are serious!”

  “Speak English, Charles,” intoned a saucy little voice behind them. Vanessa and Charles looked back to see Paulette and Hugh but a step or two behind them.

  “Baggage,” Charles said to his sister, who laughed delightedly.

  Vanessa quickly turned forward, for she felt another hot blush climb her neck. She hadn’t realized they had been walking quite so close to the other couple and hadn’t considered the possibility of being overheard.

  Behind her, Hugh Talverton grinned, then turned his attention once more to Paulette and her nonsensical chatter.

  Only a few white clouds scudded across the blue sky, chased by the spring breeze. The sky looked open and empty and the yellow sun hung like a pendant in the clear ether. The loneliness of the sky was in marked contrast to the color-crowded streets. Vanessa studied the people and the things they passed with new eyes, imagining how Mr. Talverton viewed her familiar surroundings. Was there an exotic quality here, something unique? People from all social levels swarmed the street, and Mr. Talverton was right. The sounds were almost musical but more than that, there was a sense of living theater.

  She had only faint memories of a life in a Virginia city before her family had come to New Orleans, but none of her memories held such vivid color or sound, it was more drab red brick and hushed scurrying. She was proud of New Orleans, proud because she loved it. It was like no other city on earth.

  As they crossed the Place d’Armes toward the marketplace, Vanessa became aware of knots of people, in all manner of dress, speaking volubly in different languages. Smiling Negresses milled through the crowds balancing baskets and cans on their heads, calling out the availability of gingerbread, milk, coffee, rice cakes, and flowers. Brilliantly bedecked quadroon women sauntered elegantly by with their parasols. Choctaw, Houma, and Natchez Indians sat squat-legged, wrapped in tattered blankets, trading for trinkets and strong spirits. Old cart wheels, improperly greased or not greased at all, groaned and squeaked as they rolled by while children darted and danced between them, harrying their drivers.

  Vanessa smiled as she absorbed it all. This was her home. She glanced back toward Mr. Talverton to see if he was as entranced with the scene as she. His eyes were directed to some spot in the distance, following the direction of Paulette’s pointing finger. Vanessa turned back to see what caught their attention. She laughed when she realized what held their interest and Charles looked down at her, a quizzical expression on his face.

  “Paulette has spotted an oyster vendor,” she explained as the other couple came abreast of them.

  “Now, Vanessa, my stomach could rumble as inelegantly as yours!” exclaimed Paulette as she hurried Hugh forward.

  Vanessa was mortified by Paulette’s careless words. Without thought, she turned her shocked eyes in Mr. Talverton’s direction to see him looking down at her with a faintly amused expression on his face. She blushed bright red, but her gaze stayed helplessly locked with his.

  Suddenly her toe caught in a deep rut in the road and she lurched forward, falling. Charles and Hugh grabbed her, halting her headlong plunge.

  “I know you like your city, but must you carry it with you everywhere?” Hugh Talverton teased as he stared down at the dust on the hem of her skirt.

  A look of dismay crossed Vanessa’s face when she noted the dirt streaks. “Only when you are about,” she said grimly, grabbing her skirts to shake some of the dust off.

  “Are you all right?” Charles asked solicitously.

  Vanessa smiled at him, touched by his concern. Concern, which was a trait she should look for in a husband, she decided. It was probably a necessary prerequisite to any warmer emotions. It was also certainly lacking in anyone of Mr. Talverton’s aristocratic breed. To him, her stumble had been an opportunity for continued condescension.

  “Vite! Vite!” Paulette was saying, pulling at Mr. Talverton’s arm.

  Vanessa roused herself, summoning a polite smile to her lips. Determinedly, she clasped Charles’s arm and followed in Paulette’s and Mr. Talverton’s wake.

  Beside her, Charles studied her averted face with a curiously intent look. Then he smiled, his smile broadening into a grin, followed finally by laughter.

  Astonished, Vanessa turned her head to stare at him, wondering what he could possibly be laughing at. He merely shook his head, his eyes twinkling, and led her forward to join Paulette and Mr. Talverton in purchasing oysters.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Why aren’t you resting, my dear?” inquired Amanda Mannion when Vanessa entered the parlor late that afternoon.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged and smiled gently. “I guess I’m just not tired.”

  “It’s fortunate I did not accompany you. From all the packages that nice clerk of Charles’s delivered here this afternoon, I’d have thought you trudged the length and breadth of New Orleans. Such exertions would have me recumbent the entire afternoon.”

  “I find that difficult to believe,” Vanessa said laughing. “I suppose we did indulge ourselves, though.” She sat down on the small sofa across from her mother’s quilting frame, tucking her feet up beside her. “Mr. Danielson was correct. The shops are bursting with new and quite exciting items. Mama, I tell you we saw some lace the like of which I have never seen before. It was exquisite!”

  “Did you buy any?”

  “It also commanded an exquisite price,” Vanessa responded dryly.

  Amanda chuckled warmly. “What about Paulette, did she purchase any of this exquisite lace?”

  “She wanted to, but I diverted her attention.”

  Her mother shook her head and laughed again. “You are very like your father. You will not spend a penny unless you are assured of getting its value in return. Worse, you will not allow anyone else to spend theirs!”

  Vanessa shrugged and gave her mother a wry smile. “I guess I’m a merchant at heart. Sometimes I think it was a pity that I was not born a boy,” she finished softly.

  “Vanessa, I’m shocked at you.”

  “I’m sorry, Mama.” She rose and began to pace the room. “But there are so many things I’d like to know and understand. It’s not like I’m terribly bookish or anything of that nature, for in truth I see no reason to read those dreadfully dry accounts of long-dead Greeks and Romans. I’m more interested in the world around me.”

&
nbsp; “So much so that you’ve persuaded Jonas to save your father’s newspapers for you to read.”

  Shocked, Vanessa wheeled around to face her mother. “You know about that?”

  “Of course, darling. There isn’t much that goes on that I don’t know.” Mrs. Mannion tipped her head to one side as she contemplated her daughter, her needle still, poised above the fabric. “Though I’ll admit, at the moment I have no idea what is troubling you.”

  Vanessa sighed and blindly stared at the ceiling for a moment. “Maybe that’s because I don’t know either.”

  She turned away from her mother, her skirts swishing behind her. Aimlessly she wandered over to the fireplace and picked up a porcelain statue from the mantel. It was a figurine attired in eighteenth-century court costume. She ran a delicate finger over the porcelain cast powdered wig and the masses of ruffles on the gown. “We ran into Mr. Talverton today. He had oysters with Paulette, Charles, and me down by the marketplace,” she said absently. She set the statue down again and stood studying it a moment. “I don’t know why it is, but when I’m with the man I get irritated and end up saying or doing something to embarrass myself.”

  “Really?” Mrs. Mannion’s needle resumed its course through the fabric.

  “Yes, and he began talking to us about his business, which fascinated me and about which I’d love to know more. But what did I do?” she asked aggressively, whirling around to pace the room again. “I acted capriciously and insulted him by doubting his sincerity to better the lot of the mill workers.”

  “And to say the least, that ended the conversation swiftly,” Mrs. Mannion ventured, looking up from her work and smiling slightly.

  Vanessa nodded ruefully. “Just when it was getting interesting, too. I don’t know what made me speak in such a rude manner.”