Jubilee Trail (12 page)

“Oliver, don’t you believe her?”

“Why yes,” said Oliver, “I believe her.” But he was regarding Florinda shrewdly. “You haven’t told us very much, you know,” he said.

“Haven’t I?” she asked quietly.

“Why no,” said Oliver. “You said there were at least fifty people in the gambling house that night. There must be some reason why Reese thinks that you, and not one of the others, could be convicted for the murder.”

Florinda shut her eyes for an instant, and took a quick breath, as though she were in pain and trying not to cry out. Garnet walked over and put her arm around Florinda and stood by her defiantly.

“Oliver Hale,” she said, “you let her alone.”

Florinda turned her head. Her blue eyes were so soft and tender that Garnet felt tears very close to her own.

“Thank you, dear,” Florinda said in a low voice.

She went back to the chair she had occupied earlier and sat down, resting her arm along the back of it. Garnet stood by her. Florinda took Garnet’s hand in hers, and held it while she spoke to Oliver.

“Mr. Hale,” she pled, “suppose I talked till day after tomorrow? What good would it do? For all you know, I might just be spinning a yarn to make you sorry for me. And besides—” She stopped, and Garnet felt the hand holding hers give a little shiver. Florinda could defy trouble, but she could not defy tenderness. Garnet had a feeling that maybe Florinda had not had very much tenderness in her life. Florinda said, “And besides, I can’t talk about it.”

She put her forehead down on her arm. Her gay taffeta dress rustled as she moved, and the light danced over her jewels as though everything she had on was laughing at her as she begged,

“Don’t make me tell you any more.” She drew a short shuddering breath. “Mr. Hale, did something ever happen to you that you just
couldn’t
talk about? Something that you had to push down deep inside of you and forget, because if you didn’t forget it you’d go perfectly mad?”

Oliver moved uncomfortably. He did not answer. He could not; nothing of that sort had ever happened to him. Garnet caught herself wondering if Oliver had ever had a profound experience of any sort. Well, she hadn’t either, now that she thought about it, but she did feel a strange sense of understanding.

Still without lifting her head, Florinda pled,

“Please help me get out of here! I can pay for it. I don’t care where I go. I’ll go to Europe, I’ll go to South America, I’ll go to some quiet little village up the river and take in sewing. I’ll never make any trouble for anybody as long as I live. But don’t send me back to New York!”

Oliver stood up. “Good Lord, Florinda,” he exclaimed, “I’m sorry!”

He put his hand on her shoulder.

“It seems pretty obvious,” he added, “that you don’t deserve the New York state prison. I guess the rest is none of my business.” Florinda raised her head. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Thank you. And please—” she smiled contritely—“forgive me for carrying on like that. I won’t go to pieces again.”

Oliver smiled too. “Oh, stop being sentimental.” He glanced at Garnet. His face was humorous again. “And now that the hotel is surrounded like a fortress under siege,” he said, “and there’s a man in Florinda’s room so we can’t go in there to get any of her belongings—well, now I suppose we’d better start thinking up a way to get Florinda out of town.”

T
HEY DISCUSSED
THE PROBLEM
. Florinda did not know what men might be on guard at the doors, but she said Reese had probably taken care to hire men who could recognize her. She had been on the stage all her life, so thousands of people knew what she looked like.

Oliver agreed. “I don’t think there’ll be any trouble putting you on a boat,” he added, “if we can get you past the doors and into a closed carriage. But getting you out of the hotel—that’s going to be difficult.”

Florinda put her chin on her hand. “Isn’t there any way,” she asked, “to make me inconspicuous?”

Garnet burst out laughing. She hadn’t meant to. It just happened.

“Inconspicuous?” she repeated. “You?’

Florinda looked across the room at her bejeweled reflection in the mirror. “Yes, dear, I see what you mean. But another costume might help.”

Oliver shook his head. “We could get you a quiet dress, of course.” But his eyes went over her silvery hair and her resplendent figure. “That’s not enough.”

“Oh, hell for breakfast,” said Florinda.

They were silent. Then Garnet gave a sudden little gasp. She had an idea.

“I know!” she cried. “Oh, I know! Florinda, will you do exactly what I say?”

“Why yes, darling!” Florinda exclaimed. “What?”

“All right, listen to me. If you’ll keep your mouth shut and not talk about damn and hell and bottles of gin—”

“Oh dear. I’ll keep my talk nice, really I will. What else?”

“There’s just one sort of woman,” said Garnet, “who can go about with her face covered, in clothes that hide her figure, and have everybody step aside respectfully to let her pass.”

“What sort, for heaven’s sake?” Oliver demanded.

“A widow,” said Garnet. “A newly made widow, in a heavy black veil that comes down to her knees.”

“You’re right,” Oliver exclaimed with admiration.

“You’re a genius,” said Florinda. “Can we get the costume?”

“Oh yes. That’s one dress you can always be sure of finding in any town. Widows are being made every day, some of them most unexpectedly. There’s always a shop with funeral weeds made up. That’s something I
know
about,” she insisted.

Florinda was delighted. After a little discussion, Oliver began to outline a plan. By this time Oliver was enjoying himself very much. He liked intrigue.

“I’ll go down and tell the clerk at the desk that a relation of mine has just come in from a plantation down the river. She is taking a boat for—for wherever there’s a boat going tonight, I’ll ask about that first. I don’t suppose it makes any difference where you go, does it?”

“No difference at all. I’ll take any boat I can get.”

“My dear cousin is in great affliction,” Oliver continued, “for her husband was buried only last week.”

“She came South with her husband,” Garnet contributed, “in the hope that the mild winter would restore his health. Now she’s going home.”

“Yes, excellent, that will account for her traveling so soon after her bereavement. She wishes to seek consolation in the bosom of her family. While she’s here waiting for the boat, my wife is taking care of her. She wishes on no account to be disturbed.”

“Nobody’s going to remark that they didn’t see your afflicted cousin come in?” Florinda suggested.

“If they do, I’ll say I brought her in by a side entrance out of respect for her natural wish to have privacy in her grief. However, I don’t think Mr. Maury is going to trouble us with any more questions about anything.” He picked up his hat. “Now I’ll go ask about boats.”

“I’ll buy the clothes,” said Garnet. “I seem to remember a shop on Royal Street that had widow’s weeds on display.”

Oliver said he would be back in a few minutes, and told Garnet to wait for him. She began making a list of the things Florinda would need. A mourning costume, toilet articles, black cotton stockings. Florinda had on black shoes, which would do, but her stockings were silk, and Garnet had to explain that ladies in deep mourning did not adorn their ankles with silk stockings. “And some baggage,” she added, “Oliver can get that. What are you laughing at?”

“You,” said Florinda. “Me. All this.”

She linked her hands behind her head and stretched out. Garnet’s gaze went admiringly along her perfect profile. Florinda said,

“Garnet, there are some nice folks down at the Flower Garden and I don’t guess I’ll ever see them again. I’d like to tell them goodby. If I write a letter, will you keep it and drop it in the post office after I’m gone?”

“Why yes, I’ll be glad to.”

“Thanks.” Florinda bit her lip regretfully. “I wonder what they’re going to do without me tonight. I never walked out of a show before. I feel like a traitor.”

“But it’s not your fault!”

“It is too, in a way. I should have kept out of trouble.”

She looked so remorseful that Garnet searched for something to catch her interest. “Now don’t sit here worrying while we’re out,” she said briskly. “You can write your letter—here’s a pen, and there’s some paper and sealing-wax in the table drawer. And I have several good books.” She picked up a copy of
Two Years Before the Mast,
which she had bought because it told about a voyage to California.

Florinda took the book and turned it over in her hands, examining the cover and opening it tentatively in the middle. She handled it with such artless unfamiliarity that Garnet exclaimed,

“Florinda, didn’t you ever read a book?”

Florinda tried to remember. “You mean, start at page one and read every page right through to the end?” She shook her head. “Why no, I don’t believe I ever did.”

Garnet could not think of anything tactful to say. She changed the subject by telling Florinda that if she got hungry, there was a bowl of fruit in the other room. Fortunately, just then Oliver came in.

“There’s a boat leaving tonight for St. Louis,” he said. “It stops at Natchez, Vicksburg, and several other towns on the way.”

“Just what I need. Get a stateroom all the way to St. Louis. I can leave the boat sooner if I need to.”

“In the name of Mrs. Florinda Grove?”

Florinda agreed. Oliver did not comment that this name was safe because she had never used it till last night. He had meant what he said when he told Garnet that people’s names were their own business. He said he had a carriage waiting to take Garnet and himself on their various errands, but before he could open the door again Florinda interposed.

“Just a minute, dear people.” She was gathering up her skirts. “Oliver, take a look out of the window.”

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“I told you this wasn’t going to cost you anything. When I said I had money where I could get it, I meant I had it under my petticoats.”

“That’s not necessary. You’ll need whatever you’ve got. I’m not very much attached to money,” he answered smiling. “I’ll take care of this.”

“Oh, stop going on like a charity worker. I’ve got lots of money. Look at the scenery, Oliver.”

As she evidently had her mind made up, he yielded and looked out of the window. Beckoning to Garnet, Florinda rested her foot on a chair and raised her skirts.

Her stockings were held by pink ribbon garters embroidered with rosebuds and fastened with gold clasps. Her drawers and petticoats were made of such excellent muslin that Garnet felt a pang of regret for the other clothes she would have to leave in her room. Stitched to the lower edge of her corset was a strong fat canvas purse.

Taking out a roll of banknotes, Florinda put her foot back on the floor and shook her skirts into place. “Here, Garnet,” she said. “If it’s not enough, let me know.”

Garnet took the bills. Oliver turned around. Florinda added,

“You’re the nicest people I ever knew. I love you both.”

She kissed her hand to them as they went out.

Florinda’s roll of bills amounted to a hundred and ten dollars. Oliver said this would not be enough, but they agreed to tell her it was. He told Garnet to buy the clothes, while he got the steamboat ticket and a couple of carpetbags. He would leave those with Florinda. Then he had to go down to the warehouse, but he would be back at six o’clock to escort his afflicted cousin to the boat.

Garnet told the dressmaker she was buying an outfit for a friend whose husband had been killed that morning in an accident. The good lady did not think of doubting the story. Her business was run for just such emergencies.

It was all very exciting. When she came back to the hotel, laden with bundles and boxes, Garnet looked like a bride glowing with the joy of a shopping spree. Florinda said Oliver had already brought the bags and steamboat ticket. “Now show me what you’ve got,” she added eagerly.

Gathering up her skirts, she sat on the floor before the pile of bundles. Garnet stirred up nests of tissue paper and brought out the sad black garments. Florinda went off into gales of laughter at the sight of them. While Garnet spread the dress on the bed, Florinda rummaged in the other boxes, delighted to find that Garnet had provided her with a hairbrush and a looking-glass and some clean towels.

“You darling. I’ll travel in luxury. Oh my soul, look at all these black cotton stockings.”

“Well, you can’t wear the same pair all the way to St. Louis,” said Garnet. She opened a bureau drawer. “I couldn’t find any readymade underclothes, so I’m going to give you a nightgown—”

“Oh Garnet, I couldn’t!”

“Yes you can, so be quiet. And some chemises and drawers.” Garnet smiled over her shoulder. “When you picked up your skirts, I noticed that everything you had on was perfectly immaculate. So you’re not going on a long journey with no change.”

“Imagine,” said Florinda softly, “you thinking about my pants. Thanks, angel.”

“Don’t you want me to help you pack?”

“Oh no. When you’ve been on the stage, you get so used to packing you can do it with no trouble at all.” She was taking handfuls of tissue paper out of the boxes. “This will be fine to keep the clothes from rumpling. I’ll put in the marten cape first. Lucky I was wearing it today.”

“When you change your dress,” said Garnet, “you’d better take off some of your petticoats. A widow’s dress isn’t very full. How many petticoats are you wearing?”

“Seven.”

“Put four of them into the bags.”

“All right, I’ll leave room for them.”

Florinda began folding the fur over her knees. Garnet noticed that she was still wearing her gloves. She wondered if all actresses took such care of their hands. It must be awkward to work with gloves on, she thought, but Florinda did not seem to find it so. Garnet curled up on the bed and gave her some instructions about the journey.

“If you stay in your cabin most of the time,” she concluded, “nobody will think anything of it. But it’s all right to sit on deck when you need fresh air.”