"Alice, what are you doing?"
"Henri, the closeness inside the wagon is stifling. I need air."
Amelia whispered, "Mother is fretful today."
Cora nodded.
Millie placed her finger across her lips to silence her sisters.
Alice said, "Children, come out."
To keep from complaining, Millie bit her tongue. Her mother's delay would make them late for dinner. Crossing her arms over her chest, she refused to move.
"What are you doing?" Cora whispered as she moved past her.
"I'm not moving from this spot. Mother is being ridiculous."
When they were younger, Dolly, the cook and Isaac's wife, had coined each girl with distinct personalities. She said Cora was reckless and dangerous and often commented that if she lived until her twentieth birthday, it would be a miracle. As for Amelia, Dolly considered her realistic and reliable, the voice of reason in most situations. And Millicent, according to Dolly, was obstinate.
Cora shrugged and descended the wagon. Squealing with delight, she ran toward a swirling creek, jumping from one rock to another.
Alice called, "Cora, do be careful. If you wet your gown you will shiver the rest of the way to town."
Amelia said, "Millie, please come down. If mother notices your actions she will speak to father and he may reveal the purpose of this trip. You don't want her knowing that you insisted upon it. She still believes you are wearing her coming-out gown."
Millie relented and climbed from the carriage. Finding a tree with overflowing limbs and a stone beneath it, she sighed and sat down. If Mother believed she was wearing her old gown then she was mistaken. Not only was it faded, but the lace had yellowed. But far worse than that, its color was a grotesque pink, completely unsuitable for the month of December.
While the family sat on rocks beside the creek for at least an hour, Millie fretted over her gown and brushed at ants that crawled up her dress. She sighed when shadows began to fall. Her father spoke above her, "My little dove, we are ready to depart."
Millie grabbed the hand he offered and was pulled to her feet. "Thank you, Father."
"You are welcome. Don't be overly upset with your mother. Travel puts her in a surly mood. But I assure you shopping will take her mind off traveling woes."
"Father, may I ask you a question?"
"Yes, of course."
"Will mother be upset when I tell her I want a new gown?" Millie waited. Her father looked over his shoulder and studied his wife. A frown tilted the corners of his mouth downward.
"I will not lie to you, daughter. I fear she may not be pleased. The timing is not the best. If I would have planned better, then we could have come last month, so I fear–"
"You had many things on your mind, Father. I do not blame you. Yet I don't want to make Mother angry. But you do understand, don't you? Pink in December is not acceptable. I just couldn't be seen in such attire at my eighteenth birthday party. If I'm supposed to meet my future husband, I would be embarrassed for all time!"
Henri's brow rose in a questioning expression.
"Well, I-I mean, it could happen, right?"
"Hmm."
"And I need a new dress. Of course, if we'd come earlier then we could have purchased material, but at this late date, Dolly has no time to make the gown. The only option is to purchase a gown and have it altered while we're in New Orleans. Right, Father?"
Millie placed her hands behind her back and crossed her fingers. Luck was what she needed. She needed extra time in New Orleans. Then she could go to the post office and intercept the mail before it was shipped to Bayou Sara, see if Stephenie had replied to any of her posts. She wanted to know if Stephenie was attending her party.
"Of course. We'll find a seamstress and complete the dress while we're in town. I'll find ways to distract your mother while you girls and Manfred take care of business."
Millie wrapped her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Father. This will be the best birthday ever."
****
This would be the worst birthday ever. Mother lay in her room wailing with a headache. Worried, Father wouldn't let his daughters out of his sight. Doctors were called, but they could find nothing wrong with Alice.
Millie paced their suite anxiously. She tried to convince Cora to sneak away with her, but for all Cora's reckless behavior, she refused to leave their mother's side.
"I have to stay with her. She needs me."
Amelia wouldn't leave either. She sat in a chair opposite the bed and stitched her needlepoint.
What was Millie going to do about her dress?
Downstairs in the formal dining room, Millie sat at a table alone. Gentlemen and couples filtered in and ordered meals. Several looked at Millie questioningly, but she smiled and looked away. The waiter passed by and she raised her hand to order. He continued to ignore her. Without a man she was invisible.
Cradling her chin in her palms, she studied the patrons. Fancily dressed couples stared into each other's eyes, while single men gathered around tables with large cigars sending wisps of gray smoke around their heads. Two young men sat across from one another chuckling. Both were tanned. One had light blonde hair and when he turned, the light in the room reflected off his pale blue eyes. The other had thick midnight black hair. His eyes were the brightest blue she had ever seen. He winked and Millie felt heat flush her cheeks. Lowering her hands, she moved her eyes and studied her table.
"Miss, will your family be joining you?" A waiter interrupted her thoughts.
"No. I'm leaving." The waiter nodded politely and moved to other patrons.
She pushed away from the table and her chair tittered. Covering her mouth with her hand, she waited for the loud crash. A flash of color made her turn. Suddenly, there was a gentleman beside her catching the chair.
"Thank you," she said breathlessly.
"You're welcome." The man with the bright blue eyes bowed low before rising to his full height. Millie lifted her gaze to his face. It was beautiful; well proportioned with high cheekbones and a defined nose. Mesmerized, and unable to stop herself, she lifted her hand and touched his cheek. His face lit with surprise.
The feel of his skin sent tingles through her hand and up her arm. She didn't draw her finger back; instead she lightly cupped his cheek. Even the sound of someone clearing his throat didn't stall her movement.
"Excuse me, miss," said a voice behind her.
Millie still didn't move. The corners of the stranger's eyes twitched upward, his lips following suit.
The voice spoke again. "Your carriage waits to take you to the dressmaker. Your father told me to tell you."
A gasp escaped her lips. Releasing the man's face, she lifted her skirts and fled. Her father sat atop the carriage and frowned as she dove inside. Amelia said, "Where have you been? Father has sent servants all over the hotel looking for you."
"I was in the dining hall. Where is Cora?"
"She chose to stay behind with Mother. Father changed his mind about remaining indoors and has decided he will take you to pick out your gown. But it has to be purchased today. Tomorrow we're returning home. Mother has ordered it."
But of course; Mother spoke so it must be. Millie settled against her seat and tried to calm her rapidly beating pulse. Her hand still tingled from the roughness of the man's face. A fresh wave of heat flooded her cheeks at her boldness with the stranger.
Settling her gown around her, she decided not to worry. She would never see the man again anyway. All she needed to think about was what color of dress to purchase.
Chapter Six
Stephen returned to his table dazed. His cheek tingled.
"Who was that?" asked Charles as he stuck a piece of bread in his mouth.
"I have no idea."
Charles stopped chewing. "You let a stranger caress your face and didn't even get her name?"
Stephen jumped up from his seat. "I have to find her."
"What?"
"Charles, I c
an't just sit here. That girl, woman, there's something about her. I need to know more."
"But what about Miss Beaumont? We've come all this way to attend her party."
"We're still going. But we have one day before we must depart." Motioning to the waiter who had spoken with the young lady, Stephen said, "I would like some information."
The man bowed. "Of course, sir, at Le Chateau anything you desire is possible."
Stephen scratched the tip of his nose. "Hmm, thank you. I would like to know the name of the young woman."
"Which young woman, sir? There are many Mademoiselles at Le Chateau."
"The woman you sent away."
The waiter frowned. "I don't understand–"
Stephen said exasperated, speaking slowly, "The woman you sent outside. She had brown hair and greenish eyes."
"Oh, yes, that lady. Forgive my forgetfulness, she was very, how do you say, ordinary."
Stephen balled his fists at his side. Charles stepped up. "The lady's name, please?"
"Oh, I do not know. I was only told the family of a young girl wearing a maroon gown with black trim waited outside." The man moved away.
Pressure from Charles grasp on his shoulder drew Stephen's attention. Charles said, "The daggers you're throwing could kill."
"As could my fists."
Charles released his hold. "Come, my friend, let's see if your vixen has departed."
Unfortunately, they were too late. No carriages waited curbside. Studying the road, Stephen sighed. Too many people crowded the streets. He turned in a wide arc. It was hopeless.
"I'm sure the family will return. We shall wait in the lobby."
Grudgingly, Stephen agreed.
****
"How is mother?" asked Millie as the carriage rumbled through cluttered streets.
Amelia said, "Not well, I fear. Cora wanted to stay with her."
"And you agreed?"
"Don't act so shocked. Cora is the best thing for mother. Her reckless behavior will give mother another focus."
"Amelia, do you believe mother is truly ill?"
Amelia studied her. "Are you worried?"
"Maybe," said Millie, staring at her clasped hands and gnawing on her lip.
"Forgive me, sister. I exaggerated my concern. I feel Mother will be fine. I believe she is suffering from a lack of knowledge. Not knowing father's reason for the impromptu visit to the city is aggravating her. Why don't you just tell her?"
The sudden change in topic made Millie squirm. "Tell her? After the way she acted on the drive here? I don't think so. Besides, we will be on our way home soon."
"At which time mother will discover your gown in the carriage."
Fear raced through Millie's chest.
Amelia continued, "You don't honestly believe mother will remain in the dark forever. What about the party? She knows what dresses you own."
Millie fell against the seat. Amelia was right. As soon as Mother saw the large box she would know she had been dragged from the comfort of her home to the city simply to buy a new gown. What was Millie to do?
"Amelia, this is a disaster. If she hadn't insisted I wear that pink monstrosity, I would have gladly allowed Dolly and Mary to make a gown out of scrap material." She buried her face in her hands. "Why is this happening?"
"What a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive," quoted Amelia.
Millicent raised her head. "What? What are you talking about?"
"Walter Scott said that in his poem, Marmion. I believe it is appropriate. If you had just told the truth to begin with, then you wouldn't be in this predicament now. My suggestion is to tell father to turn around so you can speak with Mother. Once the conflict is settled, Mother can come with you to pick out your new gown."
"No, impossible. We leave tomorrow. I'll just have to pick out my own gown and then explain to Mother what happened. I'll be sure to tell her how I didn't wish to distress her in her already delicate condition. She'll understand."
For all of Millicent's boasting, she didn't believe a word she'd said. Amelia was correct. She should have Father turn the carriage around. If Mother played a part in purchasing the gown, she would be much happier and amicable. But there was no time to lose. Eventually, Mother would forgive her.
They arrived at the dress shop minutes later and all thoughts of her mother flew away. The two story shop boasted gowns for every occasion and she asked to see only the readymade ones. Walking the aisles, Millicent's eyes fell on morning dresses, day gowns, evening gowns, summer dresses, and ball gowns. A lovely creation captured her attention. Deep blue, the dress had a fitted waist, a full skirt, and material that draped off the shoulders; the fabric glistened in the light. The puffed gigot sleeves ended in a tight band around the elbow. Nearby was a pair of midnight blue, silk slippers.
Without looking at another gown, Millicent turned to her father. "I've found what I want."
Henri frowned. "Are you sure? We've traveled–"
"Yes, this is it."
The proprietress sent her to the fitting room. Although florals and swirls were the current style, this gown was of one solid color; exactly what she wanted.
Studying herself in the mirror, she noted how the design made her waist appear even smaller. Only a few places would need adjusting. Leaving the dressing room, she twirled for her father.
"Breathtaking," said Henri.
"Thank you, Father."
He turned to the dressmaker. "We shall take it, if you can alter it now."
The woman called for a seamstress and the dress was pinned for alterations. Amelia helped Millie out of the gown and back into her clothing. Heat flushed Millicent's cheeks as she waited for her party dress.
"Why are you blushing?" asked Amelia.
"What?"
"Your face, it's red."
"Oh, I was thinking about my party."
"I see."
"Do you really? I mean, consider the possibility that I could meet my future husband. In just a few days, I may be introduced to the man I'll spend the rest of my life with." Millie threw her hands in the air and paced the small space.
"I guess I didn't think about it like that."
Taking a deep breath, Millie plopped onto the dressing room bench. Amelia joined her and they swung their legs back and forth in a rhythmic motion and started laughing.
"Your gown is finished," said the seamstress after a short wait. They both stopped laughing and jumped to their feet.
Wrapped and boxed, the dress was placed inside the carriage. Desperate to feel the fabric against her skin, Millie lifted the lid.
Amelia slapped her hand. "Stop."
"But–"
"You can wait until the party."
Millicent pulled her hand to her lap and massaged her stinging skin. They stopped in front of the hotel and Father led the way upstairs, carrying the box. Millicent lingered behind and sneaked to the gardens.
Surrounded by greenery, benches lined the flagstone pathway. Statues and fountains dotted the enclosure. Ivy clung to a wooden trellis and Millicent fingered one of the broad waxy leaves.
Mother would be furious when she discovered Millie's deceit. The veins in her forehead would bulge and throb, like the veins of the leaf in Millie's hand.
Laughter drew her attention and she lifted her head to see a group of people dressed in costumes. Colorful masks covered their faces. As they walked past, someone in the group grabbed her arm.
"Come, we're going to be late. Put this mask on."
"B-but," Millie stuttered in protest only to be hushed by another member of the crowd.
The dining room was overflowing with men and women. The men were dressed in fine suits and the women in fancy gowns. Each wore a mask. Millie's less formal attire seemed to draw little attention amongst the mass of people intent on having a good time.
Relieved by the unexpected reprieve from her mother, Millie decided to join the festivities. Musicians played and couples gathered to dance. A strange
r grabbed her hand. Soon she was following the crowd and watching the merriment.
Chapter Seven
"It appears they aren't coming back," said Stephen.
"Maybe they live nearby and only came to the hotel for a meal."
"We've waited all day. This is ridiculous. How often will we be in New Orleans? Let's get out of here and enjoy ourselves." Stephen made the suggestion but his heart wasn't in it.
After venturing out to see the sights and eat local cuisine, they returned to a party at their hotel. People arrayed in colorful costumes and masks filled the dining hall.
"Why don't we join them? It looks like fun," Charles suggested.
Stephen agreed and they returned to their room to quickly dress in their finest suits. They purchased masks from the hotel boutique and then entered the celebration. Party goers stood in two lines, females on one side and males on the other. Stephen and Charles stood across from companionless females and joined the dance.
Charles laughed and flirted with his partner. Her long blonde hair swished back and forth as she over emphasized each move.
Stephen's partner was reserved. When they lifted their hands to walk in a circle, the masked lady turned her face away. Following the dance moves, they drew close and then backed apart, then came together again, and yet he still hadn't glimpsed her face.
Each movement brought a plethora of fragrances. The young woman smelled like a cornucopia of flowers. Her heady scent was intoxicating.
A thin strip of air was all that kept their hands from connecting. If he moved his but a fraction of an inch–
The announcer called above the music, "Everyone step down the line one person and find a new partner!"
The woman moved away. Stephen's new partner was Charles' old partner. She was chatty and forward. Instead of their palms rising to meet air, she clasped his hand and held it tightly. When they drew together, she said, "I do love a rousing dance. Don't you?"
Stephen nodded as the woman continued her inane chatter. Relief came when the announcer told everyone to shift again. Charles raised his hand behind the girl's back and mimicked her moving mouth.
The night waned and Stephen wished to find his first partner. It was the mystery girl from that morning; he was sure of it. But why was she shy now when she had been so bold before?
Millicent, Southern Hearts Series, Book One Page 3
