Shirt tucked in properly, he reached for the rakish yellow waistcoat patterned with brown and bronze flowers. He staggered just a little as he stepped over to the mirror. He put the waistcoat on and smoothed it down, stepping back to examine himself.
"Good-lookin' man," he said, addressing his reflection. "Damned handsome. Gonna be rich, too, soon as them investments pay off. Rich an' handsome."
He turned to face me then. His grin was lopsided. He peered at me, and the grin vanished. The merriment went out of his eyes. He pressed his brows together in that irritable scowl that was becoming increasingly familiar.
"All right," he said sullenly. "You got somethin' on your mind. What is it?"
I took the bills out of my reticule and handed them to him. He peered down at them, still scowling, finding it difficult to focus.
"What're these?"
"They're bills, Jeff. From Lucille. Two. One for my dresses. One for Corinne's."
"So you found out about that?"
"I've known about Corinne for months. It isn't that."
"She loves me. Did ya know that? Loves me. Been beggin' me to leave you, beggin' me to marry her. Ain't just th' money either. She's had lotsa men richer'n me, could find one twice as rich tomorrow. Thinks I'm th' most wonderful man—"
"I'm not interested in that," I said sharply. "The bills haven't been paid, Jeff. You've let them go for months. I was humiliated. Lucille works very hard, and—"
"I'll pay them tomorrow!"
"See that you do, Jeff."
I turned and left the room then before either of us could say words we would regret later on.
Reaching my own bedroom, I sighed, forcing myself to calm down and forget the scene just enacted. Jeff would pay the bills, would be humble and apologetic, and I would forgive him, just as I always did. I couldn't help worrying, nevertheless. How many other bills remained unpaid? Was he running short of money? We made a good profit here every week after expenses, and I had assumed there was a large amount in the bank. Was there? Jeff never discussed finances with me, had given me only a sketchy description of the investments he had been making, assuring me they would bring in piles of profit in just a little while. I wondered just how much he had invested. Jeff fancied himself a shrewd businessman. I wasn't so sure of that.
I took my time getting ready, and it was almost an hour before I was ready to go downstairs. My auburn hair was arranged in waves in front, long ringlets dangling down in back, and I was wearing the dark-blue velvet gown that was one of my favorites. I decided to wear the diamond necklace Jeff had given me two years ago, when we had known for certain that Rawlins Palace was going to be successful. The diamonds rested against my skin in a web of glittering pendants alive with silver and violet fires. Inspecting myself in the full-length mirror, I was satisfied with my appearance. I only wished I felt as serene and composed as I looked.
I went down to the kitchen to check with Pierre. He was in a flurry as usual, slamming pots and pans, snapping orders at his underlings, complaining that the hams weren't properly glazed, the roast not sliced thinly enough. I flattered him outrageously, assured him everything would be done to perfection. He begged me to sample one of the tiny frosted cakes. I did so as the marmalade cat watched resentfully. Pierre reminded me that we were running out of the expensive French wine our customers had come to expect. I told him it was supposed to be delivered tonight, after the place was closed. Pierre made a face to indicate his disdain of the smugglers, and then he began to stir the cheese sauce vigorously.
I went back up to the main floor. The young waiters who would serve food and drink in the ballroom had all arrived and were standing at attention as Kyle inspected them with a severe expression. The crystal chandeliers shed dazzling light over the gaming rooms. The tables were all ready, cards in place, and the dealers in their handsome uniform jackets were waiting for the first customers to arrive. Angie hurried over to join me as I entered. She was wearing a lovely white silk gown adorned with violet ribbons. There was a mischievous look in her eyes.
"That bloody Kyle," she said. "I guess I gave him what for. He told me I'd better watch myself, said he had his eye on me! I've been as honest as the day is long since the day I arrived, haven't cheated once! I told him to go get laid. He was terribly upset."
"When are you and Kyle going to stop this constant bickering?"
"Soon as he makes up his mind to do somethin'," Angie replied. "Oh, he wants to all right. I guess I know that much. You should have seen the look he gave me when I met him in the hall this morning—I know what's on his mind. He thinks he's too high and mighty to tumble to a bit of goods like me, thinks he might demean himself, but he's dyin' to have me."
I smiled. "You've been teasing him again."
"Bloody right I have," she admitted. "He's going to break down any day now and pull me into the first handy broom closet. Truth to tell, I can hardly wait!"
"You're incorrigible, Angie."
"I know," she sighed. "When I see a man I fancy I just can't seem to help myself. Kyle's ever so intriguin'— never met a man so hard to get. He's so bleedin' solemn and so big. Gives me goose bumps just thinkin' about it!"
"Poor Kyle. He doesn't stand a chance."
"Not bloody likely. You look smashin' tonight, Marietta. That blue dress, cut so low. Goes well with your hair, too. And those diamonds! You look like a duchess."
"Thank you," I said, distracted. "Angie, have—have you seen Jeff?"
"He came down almost an hour ago," she replied. "I smiled at him and said 'Good evenin' and he just walked right on past, like he wasn't aware I was there."
"He went out?"
Angie nodded. "Looked like he was ready to tear one on. Looked like he'd already started, if you want to know the truth. The smell of whiskey almost knocked me over."
I shook my head and gave a weary sigh.
"Did you two have words?" she asked.
"It was foolish, really. He'd been drinking, and it wasn't terribly pleasant. I spoke rather sharply. We didn't really argue, but I do wish he hadn't gone off like that."
"He'll be all right. Always is, isn't he? Oh, he'll have a wretched hangover tomorrow, of course, but then he'll be a bloomin' prince for two or three weeks, charming as can be, trying to make up for slipping again."
"I know it's silly to worry. It's just—I've had this curious feeling, as if something dreadful is going to happen."
"Nonsense. He'll probably be back before we close. Cheer up, luv. Oh dear, here come the bloody marks. Got to get to my table. Old Langley looks full of mischief, must have a big roll on him. Don't you worry now. Have a glass of champagne."
Angie hurried over to her table, greeting Charles Langley with a ribald remark that caused him to bellow with laughter. She was vastly popular with the customers, saucy, spirited, enjoying herself immensely every night. That enjoyment was infectious, and her table was always crowded. The place began to fill up rapidly with merry, optimistic gentlemen who would become tense as the evening progressed, with lovely, amoral women who would become quickly bored and prowl restlessly. I immersed myself in my duties, greeting the regular customers, smiling at new ones, circulating around the rooms. I let one of the regulars buy me a glass of champagne and agreed to play a hand for another. An hour passed, then two, and still I couldn't get Jeff off my mind, couldn't stop worrying about him.
I took a second glass of champagne and wandered into the ballroom. It was filled with guests who weren't playing. Women in gorgeous gowns sat on the sofas, gossiping and flirting. Men in elegant attire talked about their winnings, their losses, drinking steadily to give themselves courage to return to the tables. Food was being served. Corinne was holding court in one of the corners, sumptuous in pink satin, her dark, lustrous hair gleaming. Although she was surrounded by attentive men, she kept glancing around restlessly, making no effort to conceal her boredom. So Jeff isn't with her tonight, I thought. He and his boisterous friends were probably in some waterfront tavern, getting ready to wreck
the place.
A gruff, noisy voice assailed my ears as I stepped back into the hallway. Kyle was standing in front of the door, barring the way to a tall man with powerful shoulders. His brown suit was decidedly shabby, his yellow stock creased and stained. His mouth was too wide, his nose hawk-like, his blond locks tumbled.
"Ain't my bleedin' money good enough for you?" he cried huskily. "See here, I got five pounds. Who do ya think you are, mate? I'm warnin' you better step aside or fists are gonna fly! You may be a bloomin' giant, but that don't bother me one bloody bit. Reckon I could take you on with no trouble. Shove off now, mate. Don't wanna hurt you."
I stared at the man, unable to believe it, and then I felt a rush of pleasure. I hurried over to the door. Kyle had been patient enough, but I could tell he was ready to take the necessary measures. The blond had his fists doubled up.
"Let him in, Kyle," I said.
"I think not," Kyle replied grimly. "He's riff-raff. A troublemaker as well."
"Riff-raff, am I! No one calls Jack Reed names like that without gettin' a bloody nose!"
"Let him in," I repeated.
Kyle looked at me with dark, resentful eyes, but he stepped aside nevertheless. Jack Reed sauntered into the hall with that swinging, bouncy walk that betrayed his years at sea.
"Bloody lackey," he said. "You'd think he owned th' bloody place. Thanks for the help, ma'am."
"Hello, Jack," I said quietly.
"I say, how'd ya know my—" He cut himself short. He stared at me, eyes wide with dismay. "Sweet Jesus!" he exclaimed. "It is you, isn't it?"
I nodded, smiling warmly. Jack's wide mouth split into a grin.
"I knew it! I knew you'd end up wearin' fancy gowns an' diamonds! A lass like you, it was bound to be. What's it been—four years? Five? I say, this is bloody wonderful, seein' you again."
"Come to lose your money, Jack?"
"Come to win is more like it. Five pounds is all I got to me name, but once I get to them tables that's gonna change. I'm feelin' real lucky, and runnin' into you's gotta be a good omen. I still can't believe it!"
"Have you had supper yet, Jack?" I inquired.
He shook his head. "Didn't wanna waste any of my money on food. Asked 'em what was th' best gamblin' place in New Orleans and they give me this address. Then your bleedin' lackey tried to keep me out. I'm rarin' to get to them tables."
"Perhaps you'd like a little food first," I suggested. "We could dine together. You could tell me what you've been doing. You'll be my guest, of course."
"Wouldn't mind a bite or two," Jack admitted. "You own this place?"
"I help run it. My—my good friend owns it."
"I see," he said, eyes twinkling. "Always figured you'd get yourself hooked up with someone important. Knocks me over to see you doin' so well. Sure you wanna waste time talkin' to a rowdy bloke like me?"
I smiled and took his hand. "Quite sure," I told him. "Come along. We'll have a lovely chat and some food, and then I'll turn you loose in the gaming rooms. I've the feeling you are going to be lucky."
Kyle watched with stern disapproval as I led Jack down the hall and into the ballroom. I summoned a waiter and asked him to bring food and wine, then led Jack over to the alcove where Jeff and I usually dined. There was a small table, covered with a snowy white cloth, and two comfortable chairs. Although it opened directly onto the ballroom floor, an urn of tall greenery gave us some privacy. Jack was a bit uncomfortable now, awed by all this splendor, aware of his shabby suit, his shaggy, uncombed locks. The waiter brought champagne in a silver bucket and returned a few moments later with our food. I smiled warmly at Jack, doing my best to put him at ease.
"What brings you to New Orleans?" I inquired.
"On my way to Natchez," he explained. "Done my last bit o' seafarin', I 'ave. Thought it was time for a bit of settlin' down. They say Natchez is th' comin' spot. Up in th' Colonies ain't nothin' but bleedin' rebels stirrin' up trouble and bein' disloyal to England. Lotta folks loyal to th' King 've been movin' down to Natchez, sendin' their possessions down by flatboat."
I had heard about that. A General Lyman had brought a group of military people to Natchez and laid out several townships in the vicinity, and it was estimated that over four hundred families had emigrated to the budding city in the summer of '73 alone. Jeff had predicted that it would soon grow to rival New Orleans, and it looked as though his prediction was going to come true sooner than anyone expected. Actually, Natchez was a fourteenth colony of Britain and, because of its remoteness, blessedly removed from the conflicts boiling in the other thirteen.
"Reckon I can find work easily enough," Jack continued. "New buildings are springin' up every day. They need men to help build. Friend o' mine told me all about it, urged me to come."
I opened the bottle of champagne. The cork popped loudly. Jack shook his head, sighing, as I poured the sparkling beverage into our glasses. He smiled, studying me with fond eyes.
"Lotta time 'as passed since we had our little tussles on board ship. You've become a grand lady."
"Hardly that," I told him.
" 'Deed you 'ave. Surprised you'd even speak to a shaggy ruffian like me."
"Don't be silly."
"I'm happy for you," he said. "Does me good to see you such a bloomin' success."
"I'm sure you'll be successful, too, Jack."
"Aw, bloke like me'll never amount to much, but if I can win enough to pay my fare to Natchez and keep me from starvin' till I get a job, I reckon I'll get by. Bloke like me doesn't require much."
As we drank our champagne and ate the delicious food, Jack began to relax, no longer intimidated by the splendor surrounding us. He related some of his experiences during the past four years. He had been through a hurricane and a mutiny, and had helped harpoon a whale. Finally weary of the seafaring life, he had jumped ship in Jamaica and had worked in the cane fields there until he had enough to pay his passage to New Orleans. He had arrived only this morning and wasn't at all taken with the city. It was too bloody big, for one thing, and it smelled like a cesspit. He couldn't wait to get up to Natchez where there was clean air and good British folks who didn't jabber in Spanish and French.
When the meal was finished, I took him into the gaming rooms. A few of the customers looked askance at his shabby apparel, but most of them were far too engrossed to pay attention to anything but the cards they held. Jack wanted to know if we would take English pound notes. I assured him we would, leading him over to Angie's table.
"This is Angie," I told him. "She was on the ship, too."
"Christ! This is like old 'ome week."
"Jack Reed!" Angie exclaimed. "I remember you. Handsomest sailor on board. Sit down, sailor. I have a feeling this is going to be your lucky night."
"So do I," I said meaningfully.
Angie understood at once. She gave me a tiny nod. The other players were a bit disgruntled by the attention she paid to him, and they were dismayed by his incredible luck. Angie was very subtle. He didn't win too much at once, he lost a little now and then, but the cards were definitely in his favor. Jack was elated, and as his winnings steadily mounted he grew more and more excited. A crowd gathered around the table. There was an air of excitement, people urging him on, giving advice. Everyone liked to see a winner, and Jack's lusty cries and boyish exuberance made him a favorite with the crowd. They enjoyed his success vicariously, were stimulated to try and match it. It was well after midnight before he finally got up from the table, over two hundred pounds richer.
"Pretty good for one night's work," he admitted.
"I'm worn out," Angie declared. "I've never seen such bloody luck!"
"Serves you right," one of the players teased. "You're always taking us. It's high time you were took yourself."
"Piss off, Dalton. Everyone knows you're helpless in bed and hopeless at cards!"
Dalton roared with laughter along with the others. Angie's insults were a token of esteem. The regulars delighted in them. Her
silvery-blond hair was slightly disarrayed now, her gown a bit crumpled. She gave Jack a long, hard look, knitting her brows together.
"If you didn't have such innocent blue eyes I'd swear you were a bleedin' sharp!"
"Mighty obliged to you," Jack said, flashing a cocky grin.
"Get on with you! I've got to win some of that money back or I'll be sacked for sure. Come on, men, place your bets! We've only got an hour or so left to play. So long, sailor."
"Be seein' you," he called.
Jack put his money away in a thin leather pouch, and I walked out front with him. It was a sultry night with a full moon half-hidden by dark, drifting clouds. Moonlight gilded the cobbles with a silvery sheen and intensified the heavy black shadows. Jack sighed wearily, gazing up at the moon for a moment, then looking at me with a rueful smile.
"Reckon it was my lucky night after all," he remarked.
"It certainly was."
"You didn't have to do that, you know."
"Do what?" I asked innocently.
"Oh, I saw what the two of you were up to, saw right from the start. I'm lucky, but I ain't that lucky. I'm pretty good at cards, you know. I probably could've won fair and square."
"I didn't want to take any chances."
"No?"
"You were very kind to me once, Jack. Let's just say this was my way of repaying some of that kindness."
"You're a real lady," he said, "as fine a lady as I ever 'ope to meet. I always knew you was, even when we was on the boat."
"I suppose you'll be leaving for Natchez now," I said, changing the subject quickly.
"First boat I can get," he replied. "Reckon I'd better get back to my room now, took one this mornin' down by the waterfront, stored all my gear there."
I peered down the dark, deserted street, a nest of sinister shadows broken only here and there with wavering rays of moonlight. I was apprehensive, for New Orleans was filled with footpads and thieves who would slit a throat for much less money than Jack was carrying. Sensing my concern, he reached under his jacket and pulled out a long, narrow club bound with leather strips. He slashed the air with it, grinning.
Wilde, Jennifer Page 35
