Diane T. Ashley

by Jasmine

  David watched the older man’s face as frustration and anger replaced his moment of humor. Mr. Bastrup was dedicated to his job. For him it was a personal insult for someone to get away with a crime. As tenacious as a snapping turtle, he rarely failed.

  “Now the same thing is happening in New Orleans. One of the bank officers wants to hire our agency. They need help getting their money back, and it seems the police force down there isn’t having much luck. When I talked to Mr. Pinkerton about this assignment, I told him I think there may be a connection between the robbery there and what happened here. He agreed and told me about another incident in Vidalia, Louisiana, across the Mississippi River from Natchez. Isn’t that where you’re from?”

  David didn’t want to nod. He had no desire to discuss Natchez or even think about the people there. But Mr. Bastrup knew the answer. He tilted his head.

  “I thought so.” Bastrup slammed a fist on his desk for emphasis, making David’s shoulder even more tense. “The robbers take their time and hit the banks when they are most vulnerable. We have to stop them. Let people know their money is safe. I want an agent down there who can put them in jail where they belong.”

  An odd mix of feelings assailed David as he listened to his supervisor. He was equally anxious to catch the bank robbers, but he wasn’t certain if he wanted to return to the South. He had come to Chicago for many reasons, not the least of which was to start a new life. He no longer had any family ties. He was free to go anywhere, even to Europe if he wanted. Was going back to the area where he’d grown up a good idea? His heart said yes; his mind, no. “Do you need an answer now?”

  A frown drew Mr. Bastrup’s eyebrows together. “Most of the detectives out there would jump at the chance I’m offering you. I thought you were a man of ambition. Do you really want to become a manager here, or are you satisfied working small cases in remote areas?”

  When his supervisor laid out the options, David realized he didn’t have much choice. “I’ll do it.”

  “Good.” Mr. Bastrup handed him the folder. “Here’s all the information we gathered in Chicago. Maybe you’ll see something we missed. And you should probably check out that bank that was robbed in Vidalia. They might have some new lead. If nothing else, it’ll give you an opportunity to visit your family in Natchez before you continue on to New Orleans.”

  David started to correct him about his family situation, but he simply said, “Thank you for trusting me.” He stood and tucked the folder under his arm. “I’ll do my best.”

  Bastrup grunted. “I expect good things from you. If you want more responsibility, you’ll have to earn it. Mr. Pinkerton demands it from himself and from his agents.”

  As he walked from the room, David wondered at the irony. He had thought he could break free of his past. Unresolved questions returned to his mind. Would the people in Natchez treat him differently now that he was a full-fledged detective? His life had taken so many turns that it made him dizzy to consider all the twists and turns. Where would this venture take him?

  Chapter Two

  Natchez, Mississippi

  My dance card is full.” Jasmine Anderson snapped together the spines of her fan so David wouldn’t see that several of them had no partner written on them. Why had Camellia decided to order fans instead of using the traditional dance cards that could be more easily hidden? Dangling from her wrist, its weight seemed to chide her for being untruthful. She wished she could use the silly thing to cool her cheeks. Why was the room so warm when the month of May had barely begun?

  Jasmine set her jaw and glared up at him. She would not yield to temptation. David had no right to expect her to swoon with excitement because he had shown up at the last minute. At one time she might have considered a proposal from him—a temporary bout of madness, no doubt. She had been foolish enough to listen to his plans and dream of a future together. But no more. She was done pining for him.

  A slight smile emerged from the corner of his lips but did not continue up to his eyes, eyes as green as maidenhair ferns. Eyes that held a hint of sadness. Why should he be sad? He was the one who had gone adventuring and left her to molder here in the backwaters.

  Something had changed in him since he decided to move to Chicago and become a detective. And she didn’t like it at all. In spite of her determination to remain at arm’s length from him, she wished David could remain the staunch friend and ally he’d been. She was the same, after all. What had happened to the boy who had known her better than anyone else? Was he still inside there somewhere? Or had he ceased to be her David the moment he left town?

  No matter the answers to all those questions, he should not have appeared so suddenly tonight. He should have had the decency to call on her yesterday or at least earlier this afternoon—before the ball started—like her other dance partners. Did he think he should get special consideration because of a handful of empty promises?

  If that’s what he thought, she would disabuse him of the notion right now. “I’m sorry, David. If I’d known you would be here …” She let the words trail off.

  “Of course. I understand.” His voice was steady and his smile widened, but his green eyes stayed sober. He bowed briefly. “I apologize for my presumption.”

  She was saved from further conversation with him by the appearance of William Smalley, her next dance partner. She welcomed his arrival with a determined smile. She refused to compare him to David. A proper gentleman, Mr. Smalley had called on her several days ago and secured her hand for this dance. Never mind that he was not as tall or broad shouldered as David. He was a very nice man, and she was looking forward to their dance.

  “I believe our quadrille is beginning.” Although William held out his right hand in invitation, his uncertain brown gaze darted from her face to David’s.

  “Of course.” Jasmine put her hand on his arm and allowed herself to be swept onto the dance floor as the music began.

  “You are looking exceptionally lovely this evening, Miss Anderson.” William’s smile was much more flattering and genuine than David’s had been. It soothed her ruffled nerves.

  Jasmine curtsied to him before turning to the gentleman on her right and curtsying again as the dance required. “Thank you, Mr. Smalley.”

  The orchestra’s music could not quite drown out the conversations in the crowded ballroom, but at least out here they had room to breathe. Waiting for their turn to cross the square, she pulled at the cuff of her elbow-length glove. What was wrong with her? She should not be so nervous. It wasn’t like this was her first ball. Since the end of the war she had attended dozens of similar affairs with her sister Camellia. At the age of twenty some would consider her an old maid, but Jasmine was determined to take her time before selecting a husband. Or she might decide to remain single. No law demanded that she marry, after all.

  Tapping her foot in rhythm to the music, Jasmine swept out onto the floor with all the enthusiasm she could muster. As she and her partner neared the far end of their square, she held out her left hand for him to grasp. His right hand rested lightly on her waist as they executed the turn. In perfect coordination, they crossed the center once more to return to their original position. Then it was time to promenade.

  Mr. Smalley was an excellent partner. Jasmine was beginning to enjoy herself in earnest, her gaze sweeping the room for sight of either of her older sisters. Both Lily and Camellia were dancing in another square, their husbands at their sides.

  The turn of a man’s blond head drew her attention. David! He was leaning toward another female and smiling. His eyes crinkled in the way she remembered. The way they should have crinkled when he was smiling at her.

  Betrayal swept through her like a spring flood. Jasmine missed her next step and stumbled. If not for Mr. Smalley’s tightened grip on her waist, she might have actually fallen to the floor like a graceless child.

  “Are you all right, Miss Anderson?” His whispered question brushed past her ear.

  She answered him with
a nod. “Thanks to your quick thinking, sir.”

  “It’s kind of you to say so.” His face beamed, and his chest expanded with pride and satisfaction.

  “I apologize. I must have been distracted. I promise I’m not usually so clumsy.”

  His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. “You’re never clumsy, Miss Anderson. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

  They reached the point in their square where they had begun, and Jasmine breathed a sigh of relief. Concentrating on the other dancers, she refused to let her mind wander to what she’d seen David Foster doing. It was none of her business anyway. Let him flirt with whatever girl he wished. He’d made it quite clear when he moved to Chicago what their friendship meant to him—nothing. He may have hinted at returning for her, but he’d never done so. And her heart had mended.

  The quadrille came to its conclusion without further mishaps, and Mr. Smalley escorted her from the dance floor. Jasmine was quickly inundated with other young men who wished to dance with her. Laughing with all the skill she could muster, Jasmine allowed one or two to pen their names to the empty spines on her fan. No green-eyed traitor was going to ruin her night.

  By the time the orchestra took its first break, her feet ached and her lips felt cracked from all the smiling she’d done. She spied a pair of empty chairs next to a large vase of cut flowers and hurried toward them. Sitting down with a sigh of relief, she stretched her toes as far as her shoes would allow. It would be nice if she could reach down and rub her arches, but Camellia—ever the stickler for proper behavior—would have a fit of apoplexy if she saw her sister doing anything so gauche.

  “You seem to be the belle of the ball tonight.” Lily’s voice interrupted her moment of solitude.

  Tucking her feet away, Jasmine glanced up at her oldest sister. Lily’s light brown hair was pulled back into its usual bun, but it gleamed in the light of nearby candles. “Isn’t that what you and Camellia want? Both of you seem insistent on introducing me to suitors so I’ll wed and no longer be a burden to you.”

  “Don’t be a goose.” Lily sat down in the chair next to her, the dove gray silk of her dress sighing like the flutter of birds’ wings. “You’ll never be a burden to me. All I want is for you to be as happy as I am.”

  “And marriage is supposed to make that happen?”

  Before Lily could answer, a shadow fell over their corner. Jasmine frowned as her other sister approached them. Camellia was resplendent as always. A true Southern belle, she wore a gown of light blue watered silk that matched the color of her eyes. Her golden hair was dressed in the latest style—pulled straight back to the crown of her head and allowed to cascade around her face in a profusion of ringlets. “Here the two of you are. I wondered if you were hiding.”

  Jasmine sighed. If she tried to arrange her hair that way, it would have looked like a rat’s nest. But Camellia’s natural curls could always be depended upon to look just right. “I believe you can count your ball a success.”

  Camellia’s blue gaze swept the ballroom. “Who would want to miss such a festive evening? Did I see David here awhile ago?”

  “I saw him at the docks this afternoon and invited him to come.” Lily unfurled the fan each of the ladies had been given at the beginning of the ball—it was noticeably empty of partners’ names—and waved it back and forth. “He didn’t seem certain if he could make it. Did you speak to him, Jasmine?”

  “Only for a moment.” Jasmine’s hands clenched in her lap. “I’ve been so busy dancing.”

  Camellia frowned at her. “I hope you weren’t rude. David considers us his family, you know.”

  “I don’t know why.” Jasmine rolled her eyes. “He and I may have been playmates as children, but he’s hardly been here since last summer.”

  “I’m sure it’s been difficult for him. I wish his father had not died before David tracked him down.” Lily’s brown eyes moistened. “We all know what it’s like to be separated from our parents.”

  Guilt assailed Jasmine. She grew up thinking her father had died in the same accident that took their mother’s life. When he had reappeared eleven years ago, all their lives had changed. Lily had let go of her bitterness, Camellia had focused on her future, and Jasmine had welcomed Papa into her life with an open heart. She had accepted his viewpoint on everything from river traffic to faith. Of course, she was an adult now. She still respected her father, but she was beginning to see that the world could not be viewed as simply as he had once taught her.

  She nodded to a far corner of the ballroom where a knot of dowagers and middle-aged courtiers had gathered. “It looks like Aunt Dahlia is still holding court. No wonder she was so eager for you to have this ball.”

  “I wonder where Uncle Phillip has gotten off to.” Camellia pleated the material of her skirt, her blue gaze fastened on something farther away than their mother’s sister. “I for one am glad to see her so animated. Since Grandmother died, she has become more frail somehow. Some days I worry that she will wilt like an unwatered flower.”

  “I doubt Aunt Dahlia is going to fade away.” Lily’s voice was practical as always. “She’s as strong willed as ever. She may well outlive all of us.”

  Camellia tilted her head and considered her older sister. “The two of you have always rubbed each other the wrong way. Can you not forgive her for trying to marry you to the wrong man?”

  “You can’t think I would nurse a grudge like that.” Lily’s fan swept back and forth with enough speed to raise a breeze. “I forgave her many years ago. But she still expects me to go along with whatever strategy or plan comes to her fevered mind. Last week she told me that Magnolia needed to begin comportment lessons. My daughter is too young to be made to worry about such things. She’s only four.”

  Deciding her two sisters might need someone to play the peacemaker, Jasmine cleared her throat. “And the two of you call me melodramatic?”

  Both of her sisters stopped glaring at each other and turned to her. Lily was the first to respond. A smile broke through her frown. She nodded at Jasmine. “You make an excellent point.”

  Camellia looked as though she’d like to continue discussing the matter, but Jasmine raised an eyebrow and glanced toward the other guests. After a moment her shoulders relaxed. “I should find Jonah. He’s supposed to dance with me after this break.”

  Jasmine and Lily watched her move across the dance floor in search of her husband, her gown barely swaying in spite of all the hoops under it.

  “I cannot believe how warm this room is.” Lily redoubled the speed of her fan and frowned at Jasmine. “Where is your fan? Has some lovelorn boy stolen it away from you?”

  Jasmine’s cheeks heated. She had stashed it in a corner of the library earlier, unwilling to hold onto the evidence of her lie to David. “I … It’s around here somewhere.”

  Her oldest sister raised her right eyebrow in a mannerism she had picked up from her husband. It conveyed her skepticism quite plainly.

  Unwilling to admit the truth, Jasmine pushed herself up from her chair. “I believe the orchestra is ready to begin again.” Without another word she escaped Lily’s probing gaze, smiling widely at the young man she hoped was coming to collect her for the next dance.

  The rest of the evening passed in a blur of mazurkas, waltzes, and polkas. By the time the ballroom emptied out, Jasmine was certain she had danced away at least an inch of her height. Everything hurt—feet, legs, arms—even her head. She could hardly wait to pull the hairpins out, exchange her ball gown for a nightgown, and seek her bed.

  Uncle Phillip and Aunt Dahlia led the way as they all headed upstairs for the night. Jasmine yawned and put a hand to her aching head. “Don’t expect to see me before noon.”

  Camellia glanced back over her shoulder at her younger sister. “I’m sure all of us feel the same way.”

  “I’m sure the children will have us up earlier than that.” Lily put her hand on Blake’s arm.

  He laughed, the deep sound echoing in the
quiet stairwell. “And I’m sure you’ll want me to keep them busy while you get dressed.”

  “Would you? That would be grand.”

  Jasmine heard her brother-in-law mumble something but didn’t quite catch what he said as she reached her bedroom door. It didn’t really matter anyway. Lily and Blake were always carrying on like children.

  With impatient fingers, she jerked her hair free from the pins restraining it as a sleepy maid helped her undress. “Thanks for staying up so late, Lynette. Go on to bed now.”

  The room darkened as the maid left, and Jasmine sighed her relief. She had gotten through the evening even though David Foster’s presence had made it a trial. Normally she wouldn’t have taken part in every dance, but because she’d told him that she had no dances open, she’d had little choice. A wry smile crossed her face. She supposed she had no one to blame for her aches but her own incautious tongue.

  As she drifted to sleep, a Bible verse her father had once taught her floated through her mind. “In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin: but he that refraineth his lips is wise.” Her last thought was that she was not as wise as she thought … according to the Bible anyway.

  Chapter Three

  I think we should pay a visit to Anna and Jean Luc.” Blake Matthews pushed his chair away from the dining table.

  “That’s a good idea.” Lily finished the last bite of her toast and washed it down with a sip of strong, dark coffee. “I noticed they weren’t at the ball last night.”

  She wasn’t surprised at the absence of Blake’s sister and brother-in-law. They had only come back to Natchez last month, and she had hoped they might attend, even though some sticklers might have raised their eyebrows. Glancing toward her husband, she could tell he was thinking the same thing. So often their minds traveled the same pathways. Lily supposed it was a result of working together so closely … and of being married for ten years.