The Lady's Hand

by Bobbi Smith

  "Do you remember my friend Rafe Marchand?"

  "Oh, yes. He's a very nice young man," she said approvingly.

  Marc explained Rafe's situation with Brandy, saying only that it had been a whirlwind courtship and was a love match. "They're planning to marry while they're here in town, but he wants to make sure that her reputation is untarnished. He needs to hire a suitable chaperone for her, someone perhaps who could even act as a tutor and help her with some of the finer points of etiquette. Can you think of anyone who might be qualified for such a job? Or at least, recommend someplace for me to look?"

  "That is so romantic," Suzanne said with a smile as she looked over at her husband. Her expression turned thoughtful as she considered the possibilities; then her eyes lit up as she realized the answer to Marc's problem. "Of course! Roger.. .what about Claire?"

  At Suzanne's mention of Jennette's childhood friend, Roger smiled his approval. "Claire would be perfect," he agreed. "Marc, you should remember Claire Patterson. She was one of Jennette's friends from the academy. I think you met her on several occasions. I know she was at your wedding."

  Marc frowned. "The name sounds familiar, but I don't remember what she looks like."

  "Claire was never a great beauty. She's rather tall and thin. Her hair is brown and she wears glasses."

  Marc looked up at Suzanne, recognition showing in his eyes. "I remember her now. She was always quiet and stayed in the background a lot. Jennette liked her, and I think they wrote to each other often when we were first married."

  "Claire is a delightful young woman. She's never married, though. She teaches at the academy now, but since it's the end of the school year, that shouldn't be a problem. Shall I send a note for you this afternoon?"

  "That would be wonderful," Marc said, pleased that they might have been able to solve the problem so quickly and easily. He relaxed then and enjoyed the Davidsons' company. Since Jennette's death, they'd only had the opportunity to visit twice, and it was good to be together again.

  Claire had settled into her parlor with a good book and was reading when the knock came at the door. She hadn't been expecting anyone and was curious when her maid, Delia, came in to hand her the letter.

  "It's from the Davidsons," Delia announced. "The servant who brought it over has been instructed to wait for your answer."

  "The Davidsons?" Claire repeated, a bit surprised, as she took the envelope and quickly opened it. She scanned the contents once, then reread it. "Tell him that I'd be delighted to join them for dinner tonight. I'll be there promptly at six o'clock."

  Delia went off to deliver her answer as Claire glanced quickly at the clock. It was already going on four. She knew she'd better start getting ready if she was going to be on time for dinner.

  "Claire! Come in! It's so good to see you, again," Suzanne welcomed her as their maid was ushering Claire into the foyer.

  "Mrs. Davidson, it's good to see you, too. I was so excited when I got your invitation this afternoon. What a wonderful surprise to hear from you."

  "It's our pleasure, believe me. Come on in and join us. We've so much to talk about."

  Claire had not expected it. Her heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught in her throat. She could only pray that her expression did not reveal what she was truly feeling as she came face-to-face with Marc LeFevre in the Davidsons' parlor.

  Marc was standing at the fireplace conversing with Roger when Claire entered the room with Suzanne. He looked up and recognized her immediately, for she hadn't changed in the nine years since he'd last seen her. She was a tall, spare woman with medium brown hair tied back in a bun at the nape of her neck. She wore wire-rimmed glasses and a very nondescript, dark blue gown. She was the picture of a prim and proper old-maid schoolteacher, and Marc knew immediately that Suzanne and Roger had been right. She would be perfect for the job, if he could only convince her to take it.

  "Good evening, Claire," he said, turning to greet her with a smile. "It's been a long time."

  "Marc...?" She hoped she sounded normal. She hoped she sounded like anything other than the way she was feeling. Marc was there, standing before her looking every bit as handsome as he had the last time she'd seen him on the day of his wedding to Jennette. The memories came back in a rush, and she struggled to hold them at bay. It had been nine years ago.. .nine long years. She had never told anyone how she'd felt about this man. He had been too far out of her reach. Jennette had loved him and he had loved her. There had been no point to her feelings, but she had never been able to control them where Marc was concerned.

  Claire had fallen in love with him the first time she'd seen him, when he'd attended a society ball. He had been everything she'd ever dreamed of in a man handsome, intelligent and kind. They had danced one dance that night, and she had lost her heart to him. He'd never known it, though, for shortly thereafter, Jennette had made her grand entrance.

  Jennette had been beautiful and witty and charming, the belle of St. Louis that season. She'd had every man in town proposing to her, but it had been Marc Jennette fell in love with, Marc whose proposal she accepted. Claire had been happy for them and had tried never to think of her feelings for Marc again. It startled her now to be staring at him and to have those long-buried emotions surge to the fore in her heart.

  "It's good to see you again. Thank you for coming," Roger was saying as he came forward to take her hand and press a kiss on her cheek.

  She tore her gaze from Marc to speak with Jennette's father. "Thank you for inviting me. It was a wonderful surprise, especially after all this time."

  They spoke at length of general things, settling in on the sofa.

  "How are your children, Marc? It must have been a difficult time for them," she said sympathetically.

  "It's been a hard time for all of us, but things are slowly getting better. Jason's getting to be quite a young man now, and Merrie..." He paused, looking to his mother-in-law.

  "Well, Merrie is very much like her mother," Suzanne added with a smile.

  Claire gave a soft laugh. She remembered how Jennette had always been curious about life, always asking the question no one else dared to ask, always seeing the delight in life. "Merrie must be wonderful."

  "She is," Marc said huskily. "They've already gone to bed for the night, but we're going to be in town for over a week so I'm sure you'll get to see them before we have to leave."

  "I'd like that."

  The servant announced that dinner was ready then, and they went into the dining room.

  Claire couldn't help wondering why she'd been invited to dinner after all this time. During the meal, as they spoke of all that had happened over the years, her rather active imagination teased her with the fairy-tale notion that Marc had really missed her and had longed to see her again. The logical, rational Claire knew better and refused to entertain the fantasy. She'd been invited there for a reason; they just hadn't gotten around to bringing it up yet.

  As dessert was served, they finally did. Claire had been relating tales of her students to them, and it was then that Suzanne broached the subject.

  "Claire, we need your help," Suzanne began, "or rather, Marc needs your help."

  She met his gaze across the table, wondering what he could possibly need from her. "You need my help?" she asked, a little disbelieving. She couldn't imagine what she had that he could possibly need.

  "Suzanne and Roger recommended that I speak with you about this," he began in earnest.

  At those words, her heart sank even more. He hadn't thought of her on his own; the Davidsons had been the ones to mention her to him.

  "I need to hire a chaperone, and tutor, of sorts, and they thought you would be perfect for the job. I understand why now," he said, meaning to be complimentary, not realizing that he'd failed miserably.

  "You need a tutor for your children and you want to hire me?"

  "Oh, no..." Suzanne put in. "It's much more romantic than that. Tell her the whole story, Marc."

  Rom
antic? What were they talking about? Claire looked around the table. "I'm afraid I'm a bit confused."

  Marc related Rafe's tale. "Brandy is wonderful. I think the world of her, but she is in need of a female companion and some social guidance. That's where you come in."

  "I do?" Claire clasped her hands together in her lap, schooling her expression to one of polite interest.

  "Rafe would be willing to pay handsomely for your services. It could last as long as a few months and would require you to accompany them back to Natchez. Suzanne and Roger suggested you, and I think you'd be wonderful. Would you be interested?"

  Claire didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She was glad she'd fought down her foolish fantasy. Marc certainly didn't want her for herself. He wanted to hire Claire, the teacher.

  "Tell me more about Brandy."

  "She's about twenty, I think. She's very bright, and I'm sure she'll be a quick study. Shell need your help learning how to run a plantation house and some of the other finer arts of society."

  Claire nodded and was quiet for a moment. She had thought Marc was gone from her life forever. She had thought that she would never see him again. And now... She gave a rueful shake of her head. Earlier that day, she'd been wishing something exciting would happen, and now it had. If she took this job, she would get to travel, to meet new people, and be close to Marc. She knew he would never consider her romantically. She was nothing like Jennette. But this way, at least, she could be with him for a little while.

  "I'll take the job," she answered with conviction, not needing to think about it anymore. "When would you like me to start?"

  "We can meet with Rafe and Brandy at the Planter's House in the morning-if that's all right with you?

  "That will be fine."

  The rest of the evening passed in a blur for Claire. She had never in all her life done anything as impulsive as taking this job, and she was amazed at how calm she felt about it. As she lay in bed that night courting sleep, she wondered what had ever possessed her to say yes.

  But she knew the answer.

  It was Marc. If only for this short span of time, she would get to be near him, to hear his laugh, talk with him and love him... from afar.

  Rafe was studying Claire with open interest. She had arrived at the rooms he'd taken for Brandy that morning promptly at nine A.M. as Marc had said she would. She was dressed conservatively and wore her hair pinned back in a bun. He couldn't tell if she was young or old, but he certainly knew that she looked every bit the formidable schoolmarm he'd been hoping to hire. He'd already decided that if she wanted the job, it was hers.

  "Marc has told us all about you, Miss Patterson, and after meeting you this morning, I agree with everything he said. The job is yours if you'd like it."

  Claire was pleased, but she looked at Brandy, the young woman she was to work with. "And you, Miss O'Neill? I wouldn't dream of taking on the responsibility of being your chaperone without your consent. If you feel there would be any difficulty between us that would impair our ability to work together, now is the time to say so."

  Brandy had been quiet during the meeting with Claire. She listened carefully as Rafe had asked the other woman several questions relating to her background and teaching experience. She found the woman interesting and certainly no mealy-mouthed miss from the way she was handling Rafe. She met Claire's gaze and saw the kindness in the depths of her eyes. "I would love to have you as my chaperone."

  Rafe and Marc both sighed in relief.

  "It's settled then," Rafe said, smiling. "Now, as to your salary..."

  "I'm sure you'll be more than generous," Claire responded, honestly caring little about the money. Her excitement was too great to be troubled with such a mundane thing. She didn't know what the future held for her, but she hoped it proved more adventurous than the life she'd been leading. "When would you like me to start?"

  "Today, if you can." Rafe wanted Brandy safely ensconced at the hotel. "I've taken these rooms at the hotel for you and Brandy. Mine is right across the hall."

  "I'm afraid that arrangement is unsatisfactory," Claire dictated, drawing surprised looks from Rafe, Brandy and Marc. Her tone brooked no argument. "Brandy will move in with me at my home until the wedding takes place."

  "Are you sure you want to do it this way?" Marc asked.

  "I have plenty of room, and it's the only way I can be sure of safeguarding her reputation. It will also be easier for the two of us to work on the finer points of her education." She looked at Brandy. "If you have your things with you, we can leave now."

  "I have a few more things to get from the steamer, and I need to say good-bye to Ben. I could be at your home this afternoon."

  "I'll be expecting you by one." Claire gave her the address.

  "I'll be there."

  "Also, you will be needing a new wardrobe. Are there funds available, and if so, how much?"

  "Money is no object. Order whatever she needs."

  "Are you sure?" Brandy glanced at Rafe in surprise.

  "You're going to be my wife. I want you to have whatever you desire."

  "Thank you." For a moment, Brandy had been touched by his generosity, but then she understood the motivation behind his largess. He didn't want her to embarrass him. She had to be beautiful when they were in public, so he would pay whatever it took to ensure that her wardrobe was immaculate. Outwardly, she was going to be turned into a shining example of delicate Southern womanhood.

  "First thing this afternoon, then, we'll pay a visit to the dressmaker. Until then." Claire left, knowing she had a myriad of things to do before Brandy came to stay.

  "Well, what do you think?" Rafe asked Brandy once Claire had gone.

  "I think Claire and I are going to get along just fine." She smiled. "But I certainly wouldn't want to make her angry. She seems quite formidable. I bet she's a wonderful teacher."

  "I'm going on back to the Davidsons'," Marc said. "If you need me for anything, just send word. I know you've got a business meeting in an hour. Shall I drop Brandy at the Pride on my way?" he asked.

  "Thanks, Marc."

  Marc went on out into the hall to give Rafe and Brandy a moment of privacy.

  "I'm glad you approve of Claire. I wanted to find someone you'd be comfortable with."

  "I think we'll do fine."

  "Shall we plan on dinner tonight, at eight?"

  "I'll be ready."

  Ben sat beside Brandy in the carriage as they rode toward Claire Patterson's home.

  "Are you sure this arrangement is satisfactory to you? It's not too late to back out, you know," he said, his expression serious.

  "You are so sweet, Ben." She gave him a heartfelt look. "But it looks like Rafe and Marc have arranged everything, so I'm going to be in very good hands. Claire Patterson is a teacher at a prestigious girls' academy here in St. Louis. She's agreed to take the job of being my chaperone for the duration."

  "And you liked and trusted her?"

  "I did. You'll see when you meet her. You'll feel the same way."

  "I wish I didn't have to leave tomorrow."

  "I wish you could stay, too. It would be good to have you here for the wedding, but that won't be for at least a week."

  "I've got to pull out and head upriver tomorrow; then it'll be almost three full weeks before I'm back in St. Louis again. You take care of yourself, you hear? I'll be worrying about you until I can check up on you when I get back to Natchez."

  "Thank you, Ben. I don't know what I would have done without you." She gave him a bittersweet smile, knowing nothing would ever be the same again once they parted.

  "You would have done just fine without me. You're a survivor, Brandy," he told her confidently.

  The carriage slowed before Claire's house then, and Ben got a look at the home where she would be living. It was in a good neighborhood and the twostory brick house looked well kept. He escorted her to the door and waited with her for someone to answer. He would not leave Brandy alone until he'd spoken
with Claire Patterson.

  "Brandy. You're right on time," Claire greeted her as she opened the door.

  "Hello, Claire. I'd like you to meet my friend, Captain Ben Rodgers. Ben, this is Claire Patterson, my official chaperone."

  They exchanged pleasantries.

  "I just wanted to make sure that Brandy got here all safe and sound. And I wanted to meet you."

  "I'm glad you came. Any friend of Brandy's is a friend of mine."

  Brandy was relieved that they seemed to like each other. When Claire went back inside, leaving them to say their good-byes, she turned to her friend with a bright smile.

  "I told you you'd approve."

  "I am impressed. Your Miss Patterson seems like a very capable lady. You're sure you're going to be fine?"

  "I'm sure."

  "Well, I'd better be heading back. You just send word if you need me any time, any place."

  "I will. Thanks for coming with me, Ben. It's good to know that you care," Brandy told him.

  He gave her a quick hug and kissed her cheek. "I'll be in touch."

  Her smile was teary as she bade her friend goodbye. She watched him go, then turned back into the house, prepared to face her future.

  "Well, the first thing we need to do is go through your present wardrobe and see exactly what you have, so we know what to order at the dress shop," Claire announced, once Brandy's things had been taken up to one of the extra bedrooms.

  For the first time in her life, Brandy was a little embarrassed in front of another woman. Knowing that Claire was unaware of her background, Brandy flinched inwardly as she opened her bags to draw out her clothing. She spread the four fancy dresses she'd worn for gambling on the bed, smoothing the wrinkles from the skirts. She was not ashamed of them, but they were too low-cut and far too flashy for a "decent" woman to wear in public.

  "I see," was all that Claire murmured as she studied the gowns thoughtfully.

  "I do have three more sedate day gowns," Brandy told her quickly, laying them out, too.