Flora's Wish (35 page)

He finished his speech and watched for a reaction. Slowly her enthusiasm turned to something else. Was it anger? Not likely.

“No, Lucas,” she said patiently, “you're the one who doesn't understand. When I get home and tell my grandmother I am still not married, I do not know what her reaction will be. She may be quite happy to hear it, or she may be upset. But if you're there as a diversion…”

Flora looked at him as if he should pick up the thread of the conversation and continue.

“And?”

“And while she's fussing over you and the party we're giving, she will be far too busy to bother either of us. That leaves us free to clear Will Tucker's name so I can marry him.”

“Or to see that justice is served and Tucker is thrown in jail.”

The idea went against all he knew to be good lawman's techniques. And yet it was just crazy enough to work. Unless Tucker had connections far superior to his own, Lucas doubted the crook would know who he was. He certainly wouldn't know of any personal connections between them. Pride had seen to that.

“He's going to disappoint you,” Lucas said. “He always does.”

“You don't know that,” was her response, though he couldn't help but notice that she put far less enthusiasm into that argument than she had anything she'd said previously.

Flora Brimm had her doubts. She had carefully hid them until now.

And so did he, but not about Will Tucker. He knew exactly what Tucker would do. All he needed to figure out was how, when, and where.

“Will you cooperate with the idea of being the guest of honor? Maybe we could throw another costume party. That would be fun.”

“That would completely defeat the purpose of having a party, Flora. Think about it. If you require the guests to wear masks, how will you know which one is Tucker?”

“I would know.”

“Well, I'm not committing to this harebrained scheme of yours just yet. I'll have to give it some thought.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself, but don't think too long. Both of us are in a hurry to find Mr. Tucker. I don't see how waiting around and trying to make a decision is going to further that goal.”

“As long as you're in my custody, I make the plans. And right now I'm still deciding. All right?”

“All right,” she muttered as she turned her attention to her menu.

“Now, about the arrangements at your home. Keeping to propriety means you will be on your honor not to leave the premises without me. Should that occur, you will be jailed for fleeing. Understand?”

“Truly, Lucas, why would I want to run away and risk that sort of humiliation in my hometown? Isn't losing four fiancés enough? I cannot imagine a good reason to leave without you, though I will hold out there could be one.”

“Flora…” he said, his tone serving a double dose of warning.

“It's the best I'm willing to offer. Take it or leave it. I'll not lie and give you an absolute promise when I have no idea of all the possible—”

“Fine,” he said, holding up his hands to indicate he was done listening. “Have it your way. Just understand I'll not be pleased if you defy me.”

“And I'll not be defying you if there is good reason to act in a particular way.”

He could have argued the point further, but he knew no good would come of it. The woman was bent on irritating him beyond toleration, that much was plain to see.

“When the boat stops next, I'll ask the steward to send a telegram informing my grandmother of the change of plans regarding my wedding and that you are coming as a houseguest. That way you won't be a surprise.”

A nod served as his response as the steward returned to attend to them. By the time the meal was over, Lucas had decided that Flora's plan wasn't half bad. He wouldn't tell her just yet, though. Not until he had a chance to speak with Kyle and get the update on any surveillance information that had come in.

For while they had been taking a train ride to St. Louis and then a lazy float downriver aboard the
Americus,
Pinkerton agent Kyle Russell had his men doing advance preparation that would lay the groundwork for the arrest Lucas knew was coming.

Of course, that was pending the news that the Tucker investigation had become an official case. With warrants for Flora and, Lucas hoped, for Will Tucker on the books, there should be no reason why the agency would balk at putting a man on the case.

A
fter the steamboat docked in Natchez, Lucas's first order of business was to seek out the telegraph office to make contact with Kyle. Listing his location as the Brimm home was risky, but Lucas decided it was worth it.

If Tucker had a connection at the telegraph office in Eureka Springs, which Lucas had surmised was a possibility, he might also have one in Natchez. However, there were enough telegraph offices in the city to seriously lessen the odds of walking into the wrong one.

Or the right one.

His mission complete, he went back aboard the
Americus
to fetch Flora and her entourage. The Brimm family, obviously familiar with how Flora traveled, had sent a carriage as well as a large wagon. In all, there was enough room on the wagon to fit the three maids and the luggage, leaving Flora and Lucas to ride alone together up the hill and away from the docks.

They sat in silence, the clatter of the wheels against the uneven pavement making for a bumpy trip. By the time the carriage passed through the ornate gates of Brimmfield, Lucas felt as if his insides were going to jolt out.

But once they were inside the Brimm property, the road was smooth and level. A perk of privilege, Lucas surmised as he settled back against the seat and awaited his first glimpse of Flora's home.

As with most houses that predated the war, Brimmfield was large, lavish, and set up on a rise with a view of the Mississippi River beyond the indigo fields. A quick tour of the interior, gained as he made his way up the stairs behind a uniformed valet, proved the home bore no signs of ill use during the war years.

The walls were covered in what appeared to be silk, and family portraits of men, women, children, and even the occasional loyal hound paraded down the distance between the two floors. A crystal chandelier hung halfway between the two levels, casting light on the Persian carpets and the curved ebony stair rail.

“You're probably wondering about the house,” Flora said as she trailed just behind him. “Why we fared so well when others in Natchez did not.”

“I was actually.”

“That would be my grandmother's doing.” They reached the second floor landing, and Flora fell into step beside him. “While she has great concern for the less fortunate, Millicent Meriwether Brimm does not abide interlopers in her husband's family home. Apparently, she told every group of Yankee soldiers the same thing when they arrived on her doorstep. She also paid a visit early to General Grant when he and his men were looking for a home to appropriate for their headquarters.”

“Oh, Flora, are you telling that story again?” Mrs. Brimm stepped into the hallway, her eagle eyes trained on Lucas with what felt like disapproval but with her smile showing nothing but welcome. “I simply explained to the general that Brimmfield was not to be touched under any circumstances. I do not allow dirty boots to mar my carpets and uncouth men to cross my doorstep in peacetime. Why in the world would I allow it during a war?”

“Whatever the reason,” Flora said, “the soldiers bypassed Brimmfield and made their camp at Rosalie, the next plantation down the road.”

“General Grant promised to pack away all the furniture and valuables, and he did. But poor Fanny Rumble. She was still finding carpets rolled up and stuck in the attic years after the aggressors went home.” A pause. “You just never know when strangers are allowed to stay.”

Something in that speech was directed at him. Lucas was quite aware that the old woman's gaze swept the length of him. He surreptitiously checked his boots to be sure he hadn't committed a travesty against the Brimm carpets.

“I wish I could say this is a surprise,” she said to him, “but I've had advance warning of your arrival.” She shifted her attention to Flora. “Warning but not explanation. Might I have a word when your guest is settled, dear? We've a dinner with the Chamberlains at eight, so do remember to have Lucy put one of your nicer dresses out.”

“Not tonight, please, Grandmama. I've only just returned.”

“Darling, you're being dramatic. You act as if you carried your luggage on your back. The Ellicotts will be there.”

“I just don't want to go tonight.” She paused. “I already made plans.”

This was news to Lucas, though he half hoped Flora might be bluffing to get out of a social engagement she wasn't keen to attend. In either case, she wouldn't be leaving without checking with him. Much as he would hate to lose his best bait to the Natchez jail, he couldn't have her colluding with Tucker or, worse, running off to marry the crook and then seeing to his escape.

Grandmama appeared ready to respond but unwilling to speak in front of Lucas. For her part, Flora seemed not to care.

“A little warning that you're as yet unmarried would have been nice. Thankfully, your father has not yet returned.”

“Should I have sent something so personal in something so public as a telegram?”

Both women looked at Lucas. Mrs. Brimm sighed. “Am I wrong in asking this of her, Mr. McMinn?”

“Honestly, ma'am, I'd rather not say.”

She offered her granddaughter a triumphant smile. “Well played, Mr. McMinn.” She returned her steely gaze to him. “Is it true that Augustus Girard is your grandfather?”

He paused only a moment. Obviously she knew the answer, so his response would change nothing. “He is.”

“A fine man, and quite the dancer. Your grandmother was a lucky woman.”

Well, now. Lucas let out a long breath. “I'll take your word for it, ma'am.”

He spied the valet standing in front of an open door at the far end of the hall and gave thanks for the means to exit the conversation before it became too personal. “If you ladies will excuse me, I'll just go settle in.”

Both women spoke of him though he wasn't even there. “Flora, dear, please tell me you didn't marry that one. Much as I loved a good waltz in his grandfather's arms, he is from New Orleans, for goodness' sake.”

“Grandmama, truly you're insufferable. Tell me everything you know about him.”

“I'll do nothing of the sort. That man's secrets are his own to tell. Now, you and I have some plans to make.”

Lucas knew a good time to make an exit when he saw one. He left them standing in the hall and moved as quickly as acceptable to duck inside his room. The bedchamber assigned to him bore a man's touch in the dark paneling and deep green curtains that all but blocked out the afternoon sun.

Waving away the valet, he waited until the door closed behind him and then walked over to the window to open the curtains. Fields of indigo danced in the distance, rolling down the hill to the brown ribbon of the Mississippi River.

Another home of similar size—Rosalie, he surmised—could barely be seen on the horizon. The road running between them apparently marked the place where the Brimm property ended. There he spied a small cottage that appeared almost out of place in the midst of the fields.