“So I would think. I wonder why she even deigned to see him?”
“I cannot say. What was interesting was Richard’s first assumption that Wilmot was responsible for her injury.”
“Odd. It sounds as if he has found some way to ingratiate himself with them. I wonder if we are not too late, and he has succeeded in his negotiations for her hand and Richard’s business.”
“If so, it is not with Vanessa’s agreement. We shall have to redouble our efforts to turn her attention and his,” Hugh said grimly.
Trevor sighed. “At this point, that is the last I wish to do.” Hugh looked at him curiously, but Trevor didn’t notice. “Our appearance at the Mannion home this afternoon should help divert attention, or at least prevent anyone from making final plans for Vanessa’s future.”
“Perhaps,” Trevor slowly conceded, “if she is up for visitors.”
Hugh frowned briefly and shook his head. “I can’t imagine her being so vain as to turn away callers. In fact, I would be more inclined to believe she would have me see her injury since, despite her words to the contrary, I believe she holds me partially responsible for the accident.”
Trevor laughed. “You may be made to squirm, my friend.”
“Indeed, I am aware of that possibility,” Hugh conceded dryly.
“It may reassure you to know I have set about some investigations into Wilmot’s background, but he is a hard man to investigate surreptitiously for he has many friends, particularly in the more seamy side of town. He is not a man I would openly antagonize.”
“Why, do you fear he is the type to take physical means to assure his ends?” Hugh asked sharply.
“I don’t know,” Trevor answered slowly, “but I hope not. His compatriots are men of violence and generally not the sort to be drawn to loyalty by those not of their ilk.”
“This is a bad business, Trevor,” Hugh muttered darkly as they neared the Mannion home.
“I only hope we are wrong,” his friend said with a sigh, tacitly acknowledging the truth of Hugh’s statement. “It is ironic that what began as a gentle courtship should have the appearance of taking a particularly nasty turn.”
“I begin to have the hope we are foolish dreamers, seeing demons at every corner.”
“Aye, you have the right of it there,” Trevor admitted, slowly lifting and dropping the knocker on the heavy carved wood door before the Mannion home. Hugh didn’t comment further but bent to brush the dust off his normally gleaming Hessians, his lips pursed in thought.
It was but a few moments before Jonas admitted them and led them into the spacious foyer. “One moment, gentlemen, while I inform the ladies of your presence,” the old butler said.
“A moment, man, if you please. Tell us first, how does Miss Vanessa Mannion feel?” Hugh asked.
“Poorly, in truth, but it’s not for me to be talking. I shall return directly. Please wait here.”
Hugh scowled and would have said more had not the door to the library swung open and Richard Mannion appear.
“Ah, I thought I heard your voice, Mr. Talverton. A moment of your time, if you please.”
Trevor and Hugh exchanged questioning glances, neither guessing Mr. Mannion’s intent. Hugh shrugged slightly in Trevor’s direction and walked toward the library.
Richard Mannion held the door wide and closed it tightly after his guest entered.
“Please, have a seat, sir,” he said, gesturing to a comfortable corner of the room with two chairs placed providently for conversation. “Would you care for a smoke?” he asked, extending a box of cigars in Hugh’s direction.
Hugh nodded and accepted one.
After lighting Hugh Talverton’s and his own, Richard Mannion sat down.
“I wish to thank you for assisting my daughter, Vanessa. I understand from Adeline that you were very propitious in your actions yesterday when Vanessa’s injury occurred.”
“I must confess, Mr. Mannion—”
“Richard, please.”
“Thank you. I must confess, Richard, I do account myself responsible for the accident. My presence startled Adeline and caused her to lose her balance.”
“Be that as it may, you responded with alacrity, as I understand you did at the theater the other evening.”
Hugh paused, an arrested expression narrowing his eyes as he stared at Richard Mannion. He puffed on his cigar again, a ring of blue smoke rising, blurring his features from Mr. Mannion’s eyes. He tapped an ash loose. “You have me at a disadvantage, sir. I am at a loss for what to say.”
“The truth, man,” Mannion said sighing heavily, the lines in his face looking deeper. “I fear of necessity there is much hidden by all of us. In this matter I would wish a modicum of honesty to prevail.”
“Why?”
Richard Mannion’s mouth twisted at Hugh’s bald question. “My daughter, Vanessa, is a remarkable woman. She has intellect, wit, charm, and grace. Most women with her qualities would be married by now.” He puffed on his cigar, his expression one of sad irony.
Hugh straightened in his chair and set aside his cigar as he studied the older man.
“Though I am loath to admit it, Vanessa has always been my favored daughter. In her interest, I have done seemingly incomprehensible things. Heretofore, I have manipulated matters to keep her free from suitors. I have also endeavored to keep her innocent of business and political matters.” He laughed mirthlessly, bitterly. “In this I have failed miserably. In all, however, what actions I have taken have been to protect her.”
Hugh stirred restlessly in his chair, for a miasma of despair filled the room. He didn’t want to hear Mannion’s revelations, but he knew he must. Intuitively, he began to realize his flippant description of himself as cannon fodder could be truer than either he or Trevor realized.
“Four years ago,” Mannion continued, “I arranged dowries for my daughters. I did this at the same time I drew up my will. At that time I did something unheard of; I drew up documents to give half of my business to Vanessa. She was my bright star, and I intended to train her in the business.” He held up his hand to forestall an exclamation of shocked protest from Hugh. “I know, I know,” he said sadly, “it was a foolish idea. Though she is capable of such intelligent endeavors, it would not be accepted in the realities of business. I was not, thankfully, so totally lost to all reason that I didn’t make other provisions. First, I maintain control of her half of the business until her marriage. At that time control devolves on to her, not a husband. Of course, there are ways for an enterprising gentleman to get around this.”
“Sir, why are you telling me this?”
“Have patience, Mr. Talverton.” Richard scratched the side of his nose thoughtfully for a moment. “To my other daughters I have bestowed property and money. These were all investments I made four years ago. At that time, the Chaumondes were not my lawyers. Another gentleman, an American actually, was handling my papers. I soon discovered this gentleman was in the pay of Jean Laffite, and my careful, secret plans were a secret no more. That damned pirate,” he said slowly, fairly spitting the words out. “He found the situation humorous, but he kept those papers and showed me cleverly forged documents that implicated me in his piratical dealings. Me!”
Mannion exploded out of his chair to pace the room. Hugh Talverton stroked his chin in thought. “I gather he used those documents to prevent you from changing your settlements on your daughters?”
“Precisely.” His agitated pacing slowed as he wearily continued his tale. “Vanessa was barely sixteen at the time. I told Laffite I was planning for the future and did not intend to betroth her for at least two years. He agreed easily enough but told me the choice of a groom would be his, and if any gentleman not of his choosing came sniffing around, he would see to his removal.”
Hugh felt the skin at the back of his neck crawl and his muscles tighten at Mannion’s bald words, but he remained silent. He would hear the man out, he had to.
Richard Mannion stopped by his
chair, sighing heavily. He reached down for his port glass and tossed off its contents. “It was then I began to deny my daughter any information on business and politics and carefully kept her immured in our household to the extent I was able. I did not want her to draw attention from either Laffite or some innocent worthy gentleman. She has chafed mightily at my restrictions, as well she might, but I was playing for time.
“Though Laffite is a favorite among many Creoles, public sentiment for him has been declining, and government action to end his business has increased. During the war he saw this was the case and, for expediency, offered to ally himself with the Americans.”
Hugh nodded his understanding. “In England, it is now thought that Captain Lockyer’s failure to win him over to the British cause back in September of ’14 cost us our victory at the Battle of New Orleans.”
Mannion smiled sardonically. “At the time, Laffite had more to fear from the United States than Britain. His headquarters, Grande Terre at the Bay of Barataria, was more defensible by sea than land, and there was a plan by the United States to attack and disperse his Baratarian organization. Also, his brother Pierre was in prison in New Orleans. When Commodore Patterson and Colonel Ross destroyed his headquarters, some eighty of his men were taken prisoner and all the goods and ships there taken as spoils of war. Because of prior knowledge of the planned attack through friends in influential positions, Laffite had already removed himself, all the stored ammunition, and the lion’s share of his men to safety.”
“Yes, and with those circumstances, many in England wonder why he did not throw in his lot with us.”
“First, he liked his autonomy, but aside from that, you British had too many strings attached to your offer. He would have faced losing his privateers, and it would have forced him into an alliance with Spain, a hated enemy of his family’s for he held them responsible for his father’s death. Though he is a shifty and untrustworthy character, no one can fault his intelligence. He offered General Jackson his cooperation in the defense of the city in the hopes of gaining a general pardon for himself and his men, along with restitution of property. His actions aided General Jackson greatly, though it galled many to be beholden to a pirate. All the Baratarians have received pardons, but that’s all. Laffite’s filed court cases for the restitution of his property, but so far that’s been useless.”
Mannion circled the room again. “I calculated that with his star on the wane, he’d have little time, if any, to chase the fortune of one American woman. Truthfully, it is a small pittance in comparison to his properties. To a great extent, I have been correct.” He paused and turned to face Hugh Talverton.
Hugh sat forward in his chair, for he realized that his host was now approaching the heart of the matter.
“This spring I made several substantial loans to cotton growers. With the wars ended everywhere, trade is expected to increase dramatically. I wanted to be in on grabbing a lucrative part of this business, so I overextended myself. But in my eager calculations for success this year, I failed to take into account increased warehousing and cotton press demand. What I currently own will be lamentably inadequate. Earlier this year I began courting Mr. Wilmot for warehouse space. As is my wont, I brought him home for business dinners. Here he met Vanessa and seemed captivated by her. Later, he came to me and formally asked permission to pay her his address. Feeling Laffite to be powerless now and concerned with other matters, I agreed. Shortly thereafter it was subtly made known to me that he was aware of the terms of my will and bride dowry. Imagine my surprise, for I thought that threat ended.
“At first, Wilmot also seemed content to play his own game and legitimately woo Vanessa. I figured he would have to win her on his own merits, and therefore it was a safe agreement to enter into. After all, no mention was made of the forged documents that would have labeled me a traitor, and now that we are at peace they no longer have the threat they once bore. Knowing this, I really saw no harm in the man; in fact, Wilmot at times has a chilling formality and politeness. I certainly did not hold a grudge for him using his information in order to set himself up as a suitor. I even found it comical, for to me it displayed an uncertainty on his part of his acceptability in New Orleans society. I thought the man to be grossly underestimating himself. Though he has been in the city a relatively short time, he is popular.”
Mannion stood by the window, staring blindly out. He sighed deeply, like a man wresting with some deep, unfathomable pain. “Then somehow, last Friday night, things started to fall apart. I don’t know why, unless he finally saw Trevor Danielson as a rival for Vanessa’s hand. I admit I’ve been encouraging Mr. Danielson merely to give Mr. Wilmot competition, though I certainly would not be adverse to welcoming Trevor as a son-in-law. I believe Wilmot’s recognition of rivals for Vanessa’s hand has spurred his activity to claim what he feels is his. Thus the possessive actions toward Vanessa. But I do feel he generally likes her; he just doesn’t understand her. Damned if I don’t at times, and I’ve lived with her these twenty odd years!”
He turned back to face Hugh. “Anyway, it seems Wilmot’s got me over a damned whiskey barrel. I need his cooperation in business, but I don’t want to force Vanessa into anything that will not work for her. I also get a might restive when someone tries to force my hand. I figure if I can keep my daughter unencumbered until the summer and we leave New Orleans for the country, I can start to see my way clear of my debts and obligations. After that, Vanessa can make her choice freely, even if she chooses Wilmot, which at this juncture I doubt. Whatever devil inspired him to try to force intimacy with her worked greatly to his disadvantage.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand. If the forged documents are no longer a threat, how can he coerce you or Vanessa?”
“I told you I’ve overextended myself to finance some planters. I’ve also had to take out some loans myself, with half my business as collateral.”
Hugh’s mind raced ahead of his host’s words, and a chilling scenario occurred to him. “Wilmot has purchased your notes,” he said softly, each word falling distinctly like pebbles into a still pond.
Richard Mannion’s face looked gray and ravaged. He nodded.
Hugh whistled silently through his teeth. “And I take it the half of your business you used as collateral was your own, not Vanessa’s? So, if you cannot meet your obligations, and Wilmot weds Vanessa, then he gets the entire business.”
Mannion nodded again, then turned once more to stare out the window. He looked as if he’d aged twenty years since Hugh entered the room. Hugh pursed his lips, touching his fingertips together in steeple formation. He tried to think, to puzzle a way out of this new dimension to the maze; but his emotions kept rushing in. His rage at Wilmot’s duplicity was at the man’s callous use of Vanessa, merely a means to an end, for he did not believe, as Richard wanted to, that Wilmot truly cared for Vanessa. He had to will the violent emotions to ebb. They would serve no purpose and only cloud his reasoning.
The library door opened, and the figure of a woman in a white cotton gown printed with delicate floral trails backed stealthily into the room, her head still peeking out the door into the hall.
“Vanessa?” queried her father.
She jumped, her breath whooshing out of her chest, and turned toward him. Her hand clutched over her heart in recovering surprise.
“Shsh!” she hissed, swiftly closing the door, her back against it. “Mr. Wilmot’s here!”
“Again?” asked her father.
“Yes,” she whispered, “and I just heard him ask Jonas if he could see me. I had Jonas tell him earlier that I was not coming down to see anyone with this bruise.” Her hand unconsciously rose to touch a spot below her left eye.
“It doesn’t look too bad,” observed Hugh.
Vanessa’s eyes opened wide, and a bright red flush swept up her neck and face to bum her cheeks as she assimilated Mr. Talverton’s presence in her father’s library. Turning sideways, she presented him with her right side only,
the bruise out of sight, her gaze directed at the wall.
“What are you doing here?” she squeaked, then nervously cleared her throat. “This is wonderful. If Mr. Wilmot finds me in here with you, my excuse for avoiding his company will be hollow, and I shall be forced to speak with him again.”
“I told you before, Vanessa, you are being ridiculously missish. I want you to continue to socialize with Mr. Wilmot.” The falseness of her father’s words made his tone flat and harsh.
Hugh’s eyebrows rose in amused recognition of the lie.
“I understand that, Father,” Vanessa responded distractedly, failing to catch the innuendos Hugh heard. She went on, exasperated: “I choose to do so from a position of strength, however, not an embarrassing weakness for a physical flaw.” She stared resolutely at the opposite wall.
“Mr. Mannion?” called Jonas’s voice as he rapped on the library door.
Vanessa swung around, wild-eyed. “Where can I hide?” she silently mouthed, desperation in her eyes. Hugh was surprised by the intensity of her desire to avoid Mr. Wilmot, and he felt a rush of feeling to be of assistance. Coming up beside her and catching her elbow in his hand, he propelled her toward the desk.
“One moment, Jonas,” called out Mr. Mannion, uncertain what his daughter and guest were up to.
The door opened a few inches and Jonas scurried inside. “Mr. Wilmot desires to see you, sir. Immediately,” said the butler, his voice quavering slightly. In openmouthed awe, he watched Mr. Talverton shove Vanessa underneath the desk, then lightly vaulted it to sit in a chair in front, slouching and crossing his long legs out in front of him to obscure any sight of Vanessa hiding on hands and knees.
Mr. Mannion just shook his head at his daughter’s antics, then a thoughtful expression stole over his face, and he rubbed his hands together with glee. Making an abrupt decision, his lips parted in a smile, and he strode over to stand by Mr. Talverton and aid in the deception.
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