The White Hunter

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Do you speak French?”

  “Why . . . no, ma’am.”

  “Too bad. We’ll probably be in France very shortly. And we’ll be going to England next week, so we’ll have to get you some clothes. I can’t be seen with you dressed like that.”

  Moving the tea table and throwing the coverlet back, she got to her feet. Annie saw that Jeanine was extremely tall indeed and had a breathtaking figure, full-bodied but slender at the same time.

  Now she looked down at her new employee. Reaching out, she touched the collar of Annie’s dress and said, “Yes, we’ll have to get you some new clothes. Help me get dressed now because you’ll have to be maid, secretary, companion, and whatever else I need. At the salary I’m paying I deserve it, don’t you think?”

  Annie smiled and said, “I’m not sure that any of us get what we deserve.”

  This enigmatic answer unnerved the older woman. “I don’t know what that means,” she said finally. Then she laughed briefly. “Come along. I’m going to give you a hard time this week. If you’re going to quit, I want it to be on this side of the Atlantic—not when we get to England!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Annie Meets a Sailor

  As Annie sat in front of her dressing table brushing her hair, she glanced around and could not help but compare the opulence of her surroundings with those she had grown up in. Just a week earlier she had stepped off the steamship The Royal Queen onto English soil. Since that time life had been a whirl for her. The room she studied now was large with two tall windows looking down on the busy streets of London. In between the two windows was a cherrywood tea table that was flanked by red and ivory upholstered easy chairs. The walls were covered in ivory and gilt damask with gilt-framed mirrors all around the room, and the windows were framed with white curtains that reached down to the floor. The ceiling was high and painted a bright white with gilt accents, and the floor was a highly polished wood that was covered with a large area rug with black, reds, blues, and white patterns running through it. In the middle of the room was a large mahogany canopy bed covered with a heavy ivory fabric tied back with red velvet ties on the posts, and a large feather mattress covered in matching fabric. A bedside table with a crystal lamp was on one side of the bed and a large chest of drawers was on the other. A breakfront bookcase with a scrolling pediment had been placed next to a Queen Anne mahogany inlaid desk, and a blanket box took its place at the end of the bed.

  With a start she glanced up at the gilt clock over the mantelpiece, replaced the brush on the table, then rose reluctantly. “I’m going to be late,” she muttered. “And I don’t want Jeanine dressing me down again.” Nevertheless she paused for one moment, long enough to pick up a letter she had received from Jeb Winslow. Holding it, she remembered how surprised she was that it had gotten to England only a few days after she had arrived. She smiled slightly as she studied the neat but bold handwriting.

  Dear Annie:

  I already find myself missing you more than I would have thought possible. I knew I would be lonely after you left, but it has been even worse than I anticipated. I go back to all the restaurants where we enjoyed spending so much time together—remember Luigi’s? The time that we stayed so late the owner had to ask us to leave? It embarrassed me, but you merely laughed at such a thing. Anyway, I went back to Luigi’s and sat for a long time thinking of our days together, but it wasn’t the same without you.

  I have been busy with my studies and feel that I will be finished with what I can learn here in two years or, perhaps, even less. What I will do then for a job I have no idea. The world is not beating a path to the door of youthful scholars, so I put it behind me and will worry about it later.

  I also have been faithful to the church, although it seems lonely in the pew there without you. Everyone here asks about you. When will you be back? I could not tell them much, but you made a mark on this church for sure.

  Annie continued to read the long letter and finally came to a brief passage that troubled her somewhat.

  I am not much of a fellow with words, Annie, but I think you know how much I care for you. I wish I could have said more about this while you were here, but I’m too much of a coward, I suppose. I think I’m as afraid of young women as I was of horses the time we were in the West together. In any case, it’s easy for me to say on paper how much I admire you. So until we meet again—and I hope it will be soon—I remain your faithful friend.

  Jeb Winslow.

  Putting the letter down, Annie quickly crossed the room and began to dress. As she pulled her outfit together and slipped into the dress she had chosen, she thought, I hope Jeb isn’t serious about me. We have been good friends for a long time, but I can’t think about any man now. I’m headed for Africa, and Jeb doesn’t have the call to go there.

  The dress was one Jeanine had selected for her. Annie had brought along only very plain clothes from the States, and on the second day after their arrival, the two had gone on a whirlwind shopping trip. Jeanine had waved aside Annie’s protests that she had no money to spend for clothes, because she was saving it to go to Africa. “Don’t worry about that. This is a bonus. You can’t go around looking like a scarecrow, Annie,” Jeanine had laughed.

  The floor-length dress was made of a forest green jacquard with a round neck and a moss green silk overlay covering the upper part of the three-quarter-length sleeves down to a deep V under the bustline, where it was held in place by a large, ornate pin. The skirt of the dress peeked out from under the overlay in front, and the overlay had a small train that trailed behind her when she walked. It was worth more than Annie would ever have paid for a dress, but she saw that it fit her well. She put on the simple gold chain with a cross around her neck, and her single other ornament was a pearl ring that had been given to her by her father when she had graduated from high school.

  “Well, that’s about as well as I can do, I suppose,” Annie murmured. She turned and started for the door, reflecting on her new job serving as a companion to Jeanine. She already knew it was not going to be easy. The woman’s ways were so different! She had an immoral spirit that she took no pains to hide, and Annie was constantly embarrassed by Jeanine’s remarks and activities in public. She had almost refused to accompany her across the ocean, but still she felt somehow that God was in it, although she could not see how. With a lift of her chin, she moved outside the door and down the hall to Jeanine’s room. She knocked softly, and when a voice said, “Come in,” she stepped inside and was immediately assailed by Jeanine.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you! We’re going to be late! Annie, you’re getting to be a sluggard! Come and help me get dressed now!”

  “I’m sorry, Jeanine,” Annie said evenly. “I didn’t realize the time.” Moving forward, she began to select Jeanine’s clothes, but nothing she selected seemed to suit her.

  “Not that dress! I wouldn’t wear that to a dogfight! And this one is simply hideous. The light blue one, Annie—and hurry up!”

  As quickly as she could, Annie helped Jeanine get dressed.

  From time to time the older woman would take a sip from a glass, and the strong smell of alcohol filled the room. More than once Annie had been tempted to protest, but she well knew what sort of reaction that would bring. Jeanine would hear nothing about her personal behavior—not from Annie, nor from anyone else.

  Jeanine was watching Annie rather closely, and a malicious light glinted in her eyes. Picking up a glass, she poured it full of amber liquid, then offered, “Here, Annie, have a sip of this.”

  “No, thank you, Jeanine.”

  “Oh, come on! Don’t be such a Puritan!”

  “I’d really rather not. We’ve been through this before.”

  “I know we have, and I’m not asking you to get roaring drunk,” Jeanine shrugged. “Just a little drink. After all, it’s only wine.”

  Annie knelt down and began to adjust the hem of Jeanine’s dress. She knew this was part of the dark side o
f Jeanine Quintana. It was not only that she herself participated in such things, but Jeanine would not rest until others joined her. Annie knew that Jeanine had taken it as a particular challenge to get her to drink, and it was a constant battle between them. Rising to her feet, she looked straight into Jeanine’s eyes and said quietly, “You know I’m not going to drink that, Jeanine. I’d think you’d be tired of trying to tempt me.”

  “So you’re just too holy to take even a little drink.”

  “It’s something I don’t want to do, that’s all.”

  Jeanine drained the glass herself and a flush came into her cheeks. “I don’t know why I ever brought you on this trip. What do I need with a preacher?” Malevolence laced her tone, and suddenly her lips drew tight for a moment. “What if I told you that you either drink this or you’re fired?”

  “Then, Jeanine, I’d have to go pack my clothes.”

  The simplicity of Annie’s reply seemed to stiffen Jeanine’s back. She fixed her gaze on the young woman, taking in the steadiness of the large dark blue eyes that were somehow firm and mild at the same time. There was no sign of defiance, and yet there was a calm steadiness in this young woman that piqued Jeanine’s temper. “All right, suit yourself!” she snapped finally with a shrug. “Come along. It’s time to go.”

  The two left the hotel and got into a carriage. Jeanine gave the driver instructions in a short, clipped voice, then sat back. The two women felt the surge as the horses moved forward at the driver’s command. Jeanine said nothing for some time, nor did Annie try to begin a conversation. Finally, as usually happened, Jeanine’s good humor returned, and she asked, “Are you excited about this ball?”

  “They’re always interesting. So different from anything in America.”

  “Well, this will be the finest one we’ve been to. There’ll probably be lots of young men there.”

  “That will be nice,” Annie sighed, knowing she was about to be taunted a little more.

  “You never say anything about yourself,” Jeanine complained. “Have you ever had a sweetheart?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, that’s a phenomenon! Do you ever expect to get married?”

  Annie hesitated. “Someday, if the Lord puts me with the man He has planned for me.”

  “Planned for you? You think God has nothing to do but go around matchmaking?” Jeanine leaned forward. The shadows were darkening in London now and the light was fading. She studied the younger woman, then asked mockingly, “Have you put your order in yet on the kind of man you want?”

  Annie turned and met Jeanine’s gaze and smiled slightly. “Yes, I have.” Her answer took Jeanine aback, for she had not expected an affirmative. “I told the Lord I’d like to have a man who loves Him more than he loves anything on earth.”

  “You mean—more than he loves you?”

  “Yes. More than that.”

  Jeanine Quintana leaned back and stroked her chin. Her bold eyes examined the girl across from her and she shook her head. “I wouldn’t want any man that loved anything or anybody more than me. Even God.”

  “I know that, Jeanine.”

  The quiet tone of Annie Rogers’ voice somehow irritated Jeanine, and she snapped, “I don’t know how we’re ever going to get along! We’re a million miles apart.”

  “I hope I’ll do the best I can for you, but if ever you want me to leave, all you have to do is say the word.”

  “Oh no, you’re not going to get out that easy! It took long enough to break you in, and now you’re not walking off from your responsibility.”

  Actually, the responsibility had been quite overwhelming. Jeanine had many business interests. She had left them in the hands of a manager back in the States, but she created a steady flow of letters that at times took hours to produce. Annie was not the fastest shorthand expert in the world, and she had felt the lash of Jeanine’s tongue when she had stumbled and had to ask her to dictate at a slower pace. Then, of course, typing them up was difficult for her, too. The sheer bulk of the letters had shocked her, and she had gotten to know much about the Miss Quintana’s business affairs. She did not know exactly how wealthy Jeanine was, but now she was becoming aware of the extent of her fortune. Annie had never once complained about the long hours, and she knew it would be difficult to replace her.

  Within a short time the carriage pulled up in front of a large ornate building built of gray stone. When the door opened, a footman was there to help them out, Jeanine first, followed by Annie. The two women moved up the steps to the doors, which were opened by another servant. As they stepped inside, the faint sound of music came to Annie’s ears. She followed Jeanine, and the two women left their wraps in a cloakroom and then entered the massive ballroom, which was grander than anything Annie had ever seen. “I can’t believe how big this is, Jeanine,” she whispered.

  “I’ve been in bigger,” Jeanine shrugged. “Well, let’s go have refreshments until someone asks us to dance.”

  As they walked to the refreshment table, Annie gazed at the enormous room with its bright colors, huge windows, and beautiful marble floors. She had never seen such a grand place. She noticed that there was a raised platform at the far end where a six-piece ensemble played softly.

  The refreshments were profuse, but Jeanine had merely taken her first sip out of a glass when she was greeted by a slender young man with a pale face and a wide smile. He had blond hair and light blue eyes and greeted her with, “Miss Quintana, I believe.”

  “Yes,” Jeanine said calmly. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “No, but you have met my aunt, Mrs. Smythe.” The young man nodded across the room, and a large, ornately dressed woman with diamonds sparkling from her sausage-like fingers waved and smiled, then called Jeanine’s name.

  “Take care of my nephew now, Jeanine.”

  “Oh, that’s Hannah Smythe. Yes, I met her last time I was in England.”

  “My name is Clive Winters.”

  “I’m glad to know you, Mr. Winters. This is my companion, Miss Rogers.”

  Winters bowed from the waist in the Continental fashion and acknowledged the greeting, “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Rogers. Both of you ladies are welcome. You just arrived in London shortly, my aunt tells me.”

  “Yes. About a week ago.”

  As the two spoke, Annie kept quiet. She had found one of the punch bowls full of lemonade and helped herself to a glass. Soon she saw Winters leading Jeanine out onto the dance floor where they began to waltz. It was a graceful dance, and the floor was filled with couples who swept around, the dresses of the women adding flashes of color. Many of the men she saw were wearing military uniforms, some of them naval.

  For some time Annie stood beside the refreshment table watching the waltzes. Jeanine, she saw, soon had other partners as new dances began. No one approached Annie, and after a while she felt conspicuous. Moving along the edge of the wall, she looked for a place to sit down. She saw three chairs, but a gentleman was sitting in one of them. She hesitated, and looking up, he caught her eye.

  Rising to his feet, he said, “May I offer you a seat, miss?”

  “Why, thank you. I am getting rather tired.”

  The speaker was a short man with a very round pale face and a pair of twinkling blue eyes. He looked to be in his thirties, and he introduced himself by saying, “My name is Churchill. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “No, sir. My name is Annie Rogers.”

  “From America, I take it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re very welcome here, Miss Rogers. My mother was born in America. Are you here on a visit?”

  “I’m the companion of Miss Quintana.”

  “Oh! Is she here?”

  “Yes. That’s her in the light blue dress, dancing with the blond young man.”

  Churchill’s eyes swept the floor and he grunted. “I see. Well, that’s one of my young men dancing with her. I hope she doesn’t run off with him.”

 
; Startled, Annie turned to face the Englishman. “Run off with him? Why would you say a thing like that, sir?”

  Churchill laughed deep in his throat. He had a hoarse voice that seemed to emerge and bubble over his chest and up through his throat, and she realized that if he wanted to, he could shake the rafters.

  “Just a remark. I don’t know the lady, of course. She’s an American, too, I assume?”

  “Yes, sir. She owns several businesses there.”

  Churchill’s sharp eyes went back to the dance floor. He watched as Winters and Jeanine came by, and he studied the pair carefully. Turning back, he shook his head ruefully. “Well, she’s the kind of woman that could make a man want to run away with her.”

  Annie was at a loss as to how to take Churchill’s words. She did not want to believe that just by a casual glance a man could tell that Jeanine Quintana was a danger to men, but somehow Churchill seemed to have pinpointed her. Casually, she inquired, “Would it be a bad thing if the two of them became interested in each other?”

  “Very bad,” Churchill responded, then smiled. “You mustn’t mind me, Miss Rogers. You see, I’m trying to convince young Winters there to join the navy. I think he could have a tremendous career, but I doubt if Miss Quintana would be a good naval wife.”

  “Well, why not, sir?”

  “Because she’s obviously too rich, too beautiful, and too spoiled.”

  Somewhat astonished at the boldness of Churchill’s reply, Annie went on, “How can you tell all that? You’ve never met her.”

  “I can tell she’s rich by the clothing and the diamonds she’s wearing. And I can tell she’s spoiled because she’s rich. All rich people are spoiled, my dear Miss Rogers. I can tell she wants her own way, also. You see, she’s trying to lead Clive out on the dance floor. No, I’m afraid she won’t do. You’ll have to warn her off, although he’s quite a good catch. It’s Lord Winters, you know.”

  “He’s a lord?”

  “Oh yes. Not one of the wealthy ones, of course, but still, he can call himself Lord Winters, and his wife would be Lady Winters. Yet I apologize for speaking so abruptly. It’s a bad habit of mine.”