Destiny's Daughter (15 page)

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The doors to the private parlor were closed against the sounds of activity going on in the big house. Hattie Lee stationed a maid to see to the card players’ drinks. Annalisa positioned a comfortable chair in a corner of the room where she could sit whenever her foot ached, or if she tired of unobtrusively watching the poker game.

While the men concentrated on their cards, discarded, grumbled, occasionally swore, she discovered that she liked being here. As she had on the riverboat, she realized that she enjoyed the rich smell of tobacco, the low rumble of masculine voices, the swish of cards, the long silences. The men were so engrossed in their cards they barely noticed her as she moved among them, watching, learning the rules, digesting the skill of the game.

Chase was a good poker player. That fact surprised her. She hadn’t expected him to be. She’d thought that he would often have to rely on cheating to win. The fact was, she never once saw him resort to "changing his luck."

While the cards were being shuffled, one of the players pulled a cigar from his pocket. Annalisa reached a lighted taper to the tip.

Surreptitiously Chase watched her, wishing she were standing beside him. He could still recall the delicate rose fragrance that clung to her hair and skin. He wondered if she had any idea just how beautiful she was. Though most of the men were absorbed in the card game, he had seen them occasionally glance her way admiringly. She was proving to be too much distraction for him. Yet he was oddly pleased that she’d chosen to stay here. It was a pleasant feeling to have her moving about the room, lighting a cigar, refilling a drink.

"The Tyler plantation has been sold for back taxes," Edmond Lafourcade announced dryly.

It was one of the most beautiful farms in the area, with gently rolling hills, a creek meandering through acres of woods, and a sprawling house that had been home to three generations.

"When?"

It was Chase’s voice, Annalisa knew without glancing up. She blew out the flame and dropped the smoking taper on a tray of empty glasses.

"This morning."

"I didn’t see any notice in the paper." A former Confederate colonel ignored the cards dealt to him and turned his head to stare at the mayor-elect.

Lafourcade shrugged. "They were probably happy to find a buyer."

"At ten cents on the dollar," the colonel sneered. "There were probably a hundred buyers waiting in line like vultures."

"Ten cents is better than nothing," Lafourcade muttered. "Without a buyer the land would have been seized by the government. And the Tyler family would have been left with nothing."

"Who was the buyer?"

Lafourcade picked up his cards and calmly discarded two. Glancing around the table he said, "An industrialist from the East. Made his money in firearms, I believe."

"Damned carpetbaggers." The colonel’s fury was obviously shared by several at the table, who scowled as they picked up their cards. "When will it ever end? When will we be allowed to pick up the pieces of our lives and put this war behind us?"

Annalisa glanced at Chase, who seemed deep in concentration over the hand dealt. How could he calmly go on playing a game while the future of an entire family had just been shattered? Had he no heart, no feelings? Damn him, she thought furiously. Damn all of them.

Feeling suddenly too overcome to stay and quietly watch a meaningless game, Annalisa let herself out of the parlor. As she closed the door and turned, she nearly collided with Nate Blackwell.

"Miss Montgomery." He caught her arm. "I’m sorry. Did I startle you?"

"Just a little. I’m afraid I wasn’t looking." She glanced around and realized that they were alone in the large sitting room. What a strange, lonely man he was. How long had he been there, all alone, listening to the drone of conversation in the parlor?

"Would you join me in a glass of sherry?" Nate asked.

Annalisa thought she detected a note of desperation about him. She, too, was feeling alone and bereft. What she needed was the company of someone sensitive, someone cultured. "I’d like that."

Within minutes a maid returned with a crystal decanter filled with ruby liquid and two stemmed glasses. After a tentative sip, Annalisa decided she rather liked the sweet taste.

They sat down together on a settee of deep forest green, a stunning contrast to her gold gown and lush auburn hair. Nate Blackwell found himself completely entranced by her artless beauty.

"Tell me about yourself, Mr. Blackwell."

He gave her a gentle smile. "I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell. Before the war I managed the family plantation. It was a lovely, peaceful life. We had whole sections planted in cotton, as far as the eye could see, as well as corn, wheat, barley. In addition we had one of the finest dairy herds around."

She studied the pale blue eyes that lit for a brief moment, then seemed to die once more.

"Were you a soldier?" she asked.

"During the war practically everyone was a soldier." He spoke as if she were an addled child. She berated herself for her ignorance. Only those sheltered in a convent had been spared the fighting.

"Did you have a commission?"

He nodded. "I was a captain."

"I’ll bet you looked fine in your uniform."

He laughed then, the first time she’d heard him genuinely laugh. It was rich and deep and joyous. "I’d forgotten until just this minute." He laughed again, then explained. "Someone had taken the wrong measurements. My pants were too short, the jacket too long. There was no time to make the necessary alterations. It was a comedy of errors. Riding out with my company I looked ridiculous, like a mock soldier in a silly operetta."

She studied this tall, handsome man and couldn’t imagine how he could ever look anything but wonderful. "You may say that, but I’m sure you looked quite noble."

He wiped a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye and refilled their glasses. "My dear Miss Montgomery. How good it is to be with you. You make it so easy to talk and laugh. With you, one could almost forget there ever was that hell we called the war."

"I’m glad." She lifted her glass and took another sip of sherry, feeling calmer and warmer herself. With a gentleman like Nate Blackwell, she could almost forget that there were people losing their ancestral homes to men who were willing to take advantage of the misfortunes of war.

When the doors to the parlor opened and the card players emerged, Annalisa and Nate were still engaged in lively conversation. She was shocked to realize that it was long past midnight.

As the maids scurried about seeking the gentlemen’s hats, Chase paused in the doorway of the parlor, watching them.

Nate Blackwell emptied his drink and stood, catching Annalisa’s hand in his. "Miss Montgomery. This has been one of the most pleasant evenings I can ever remember. Thank you for the pleasure of your company. I hope we can do this again sometime."

Out of the corner of her eye, Annalisa saw Chase stiffen. While Nate continued holding her hand, she gave him a bright smile. "The pleasure was mine, Mr. Blackwell. I enjoyed being in the company of a gentleman. I hope you’ll come by often."

Brushing his lips lightly over her hand, he turned and strode out the door.

As Chase stepped closer, she asked, "Did you win?’

"No."

"Oh, well," she said lightly. "I suppose as a professional gambler you’ve already learned that you can’t always win."

His voice had a hard edge. "I guess that’s one lesson I haven’t yet learned. I go into every game fully expecting to win."

As he accepted his hat from a smiling maid, he turned and gave Annalisa a final lingering look. His eyes, she noted, were as hard as granite.

Within days, Annalisa mastered the art of aiming and shooting the little gun. Though she still resented the need for it, she no longer felt awkward carrying it on her person. Concealed in her pocket, it became just another accessory, like the lace-edged handkerchiefs and the small gold watch. When she wore the little purse tied at her waist, the gun rested inside it, along with the key to the strongbox.

Several times a week Annalisa and Hattie Lee took the receipts to the bank in Jackson Square. In their elegant carriage, Hattie Lee wore an ornate dress of blue crepe de Chine and a hat with blue-dyed ostrich plumes. She carried a matching ruffled parasol against the broiling sun while Annalisa drove the team.

"You shouldn’t let the sun get at your skin like that," Hattie Lee complained. "Proper white ladies would never allow their skin to get that dark."

Annalisa had tied her hair back in a decorated hair net. Her businesslike skirt was navy drill, the hem brushing the tops of her shoes. Her blouse, of pale ivory grenadine, had an open, latticework design on the long full sleeves, allowing the breeze to cool her skin.

"It doesn’t matter then, does it? Since I’m not a proper lady."

The edge to her voice alerted Hattie Lee. "Has someone insulted you?"

Annalisa thought of Chase’s comment that day at the river. Wasn’t her reputation already tarnished by her association with Hannah Elliott’s House of Pleasure?

"No one needs to tell me what I am, Hattie Lee."

The black woman touched her arm. When Annalisa turned her head, she saw a flash of temper in those usually placid dark eyes.

"You hold your head up, child. You’re as good as anyone in this town. And better’n some."

Annalisa stiffened her spine. "Don’t worry, Hattie Lee. I don’t mind what they think."

At the bank, the black woman waited in the carriage while Annalisa took the sack of money inside. A portly man whose stomach bulged over his waistband hurried forward to relieve her of her burden. His eyes were little slits behind thick, wire-rimmed glasses.

"Miss Montgomery. How are you today?"

"Fine, Mr. Willis. And you and Mrs. Willis?"

"Couldn’t be better." Leading the way to his little cubicle, Jasper Willis began to count out the money. When he was finished, he made out a slip and handed it to Annalisa to sign.

"I heard about the Tyler plantation," Annalisa said, handing the pen and paper back to him.

"Yes. Sad thing, wasn’t it? But at least they were able to realize a little money on the sale."

"Was there enough left over for a fresh start?"

"Good heavens, Miss Montgomery. They hadn’t paid a cent in taxes since the start of the war."

"I understand Mr. Tyler was killed at Vicksburg. It must have been nearly impossible for his widow and young children to maintain their plantation without him. I’m not surprised they couldn’t afford the taxes."

"No one is above the law," the banker said mechanically, as if he’d had to deal with this question before.

"Who would have owned their house if they hadn’t found a buyer?"

He blinked. "The bank." He busied himself stacking the money and marking it before placing it in the safe. "While Jonathon Tyler was away at war he borrowed heavily to pay the servants’ wages so they wouldn’t run off and leave his family alone."

She watched the fat little man as he wet his fingers and began counting another pile of money. It was obvious that he loved his work.

"Thank you, Mr. Willis. Good day."

He never bothered to look up from the stacks of currency. "Good day to you, Miss Montgomery."

Seeing the tight, angry line of Annalisa’s mouth as she exited the bank, Hattie Lee asked, "What’s got you so mad, child?"

"Life," she said, pulling herself into the seat of the carriage. Flicking the reins, she watched the parade of carts and carriages, shopkeepers and sailors making the square a riot of sight, sound, and color. "It just doesn’t seem fair that the Tylers should have to sell land that has been in their family for generations just because they can’t pay the taxes."

Hattie Lee waved at a pretty woman selling fruit at a stand. "No one ever said life was fair."

Annalisa turned to the woman who was her friend. "Mr. Tyler gave his life for the people of this state. I think they should be willing to give something in return."

Hattie Lee gave a sigh of defeat. "It’s too late. I heard that the Tyler family has gone to stay with relatives in South Carolina."

"It may be too late to help the Tylers, but I can’t believe we’ll all just sit by and watch it happen again and again."

"What can we do about it, child?"

She gritted her teeth. "I don’t know. I guess that’s what makes me so angry. I feel so helpless."

Hattie Lee touched her arm. "Let me off here. I need a few things at several of the shops. Where will I find you when I’m through?"

Annalisa glanced at the French Market. "I’ll be at the Café Du Monde."

At the French Market, Annalisa handed her team over to a young black boy and inhaled the inviting aroma of rich strong coffee and beignets. Instantly her thoughts flew to Chase. She’d heard that he’d left town again. She wondered what drove a man to spend his whole life traveling from one part of the country to another. Some of it was business, she knew. The goods he bought and sold came from all over the world. But a large part of it was probably his need for adventure. Chase Masters wouldn’t be the kind of man who would ever be willing to settle down in one place. Or be faithful to one woman.

In the open air café, Annalisa took a seat at a small round table overlooking the banks of the Mississippi. A little farther down, she could see the activity on the docks as a ship was being unloaded.

A waiter appeared. "Café, mademoiselle?"

"Please. And beignets."

A minute later she bit into the fried cake and sipped a cup of rich cafe au lait. As a paddle-wheeler moved gracefully along the river, she reflected on how much her life had changed in a few short weeks. She had come to New Orleans to see her mother and to announce her intention of entering the convent. But her mother had died, still a stranger to her. And she had taken Sara’s place among a group of women far different from the sisters she had always known. In many ways, she thought, sipping coffee, they really weren’t so different. She had discovered in these women a goodness, an integrity that she admired.

"May I join you, Miss Montgomery?"

Annalisa started at the voice. Emile Soulet stood beside her table, hat in hand. In the late afternoon heat his shirt was plastered to his skin. His hair was damp and matted.

As he settled his heavy bulk onto the chair across from her, he signaled for a waiter. After ordering, he gave her a toothless smile.

"I see you’ve had an accident, Mr. Soulet."

He wiped a hand across his mouth and touched the spot where his front teeth had been. "Nothing serious, ma’am."

"Did you wish to discuss business, Mr. Soulet?"

He seemed surprised by her question. "Not at all, Miss Montgomery. I just wondered if your last order was to your satisfaction."

She noted the deference in his tone and was puzzled by it. The last time they’d met, he had been surly and aggressive.

"My shipment of goods was fine."

"I’m glad, ma’am. Chase Masters stopped by to—explain that you had been more than generous with me, and that any shipment of yours should be handled with the greatest care."

Annalisa set down her cup with a clatter and looked at him. Soulet seemed almost apologetic. In two bites he disposed of a plateful of beignets. With a slurp, he downed the hot coffee.

"Mr. Masters warned me not to expect any more money until you felt I’d earned it." He rubbed two fingers gingerly over his jaw and added, "Chase Masters can be very persuasive, if you know what I mean."

She didn’t know, but she had no intention of telling him so.

He stood and gave a slight bow. "Nice seeing you, Miss Montgomery. You just let me know if you have any problems with shipments on my docks."

"I will. Thank you, Mr. Soulet."

As the man lumbered away, the truth suddenly dawned on her. With a little gasp, she realized that Chase had used brute strength to stop Soulet’s bribery demands. That was why Soulet had been so cowed. For a moment her heart seemed to leap to her throat. Chase had taken it upon himself to become her champion.

Seeing Hattie Lee making her way through the crowd, Annalisa decided to say nothing of this. But the frown she had been wearing earlier was now replaced by a smile as warm as the New Orleans sunshine.