River Queen (31 page)

He searched her face for long moments, and she dropped her gaze. Quietly he asked, “What’s wrong, Julienne? Either you’re ill, or something’s really bothering you. Can’t you tell me?”

“No, I can’t,” she retorted. “I just really want to be left alone.”

Slowly he said, “Oh. Okay. But I just thought you’d want to go over the money. We made enough this time that I thought you might want to open a small bank account, get started on establishing credit.”

“I really don’t want to deal with that right now,” Julienne said dully. “Maybe tomorrow. Or better yet, why don’t you go talk to Aunt Leah. She can handle these things as well, or better, than I can.” Even though he was starting to reply, Julienne shut the door and threw herself back on her bed.

The next morning Robbie brought her tea and a full breakfast, a perfectly-boiled egg, bacon, jacket potatoes, buttered toast, and peach preserves. She laid the tray on the chest and turned to Julienne, showing no sign of surprise that Julienne had slept in her clothes. “We’re heating up water, Miss Ashby. You can have a nice hot bath after breakfast.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Julienne said wearily. “I’m sure that will make me feel much better.”

Robbie nodded and said, “Miss Ashby, Caesar knows you haven’t been feeling well, and so he wondered if you want the morning mail, or if he should take it to Mrs. Norris.”

“No, please have him bring it to me,” Julienne said. “I’ll go over it while I’m having this nice breakfast. Thank you, Robbie.”

She curtseyed, to Julienne’s mild amusement. Carley had taught her how to curtsey, and now she did it at exactly the right times that the best-trained British maids did.

Caesar brought the mail, and immediately Julienne was struck by a handsome thick envelope of rich parchment, addressed to the Ashby Family, c/o the
River Queen
. On the back was printed in gold letters:
Lyle Dennison, Natchez, Mississippi.
She remembered Lyle Dennison, who had bought the
Columbia Lady
from Elijah Moak. When she had seen the steamer the previous night, she had remembered seeing him that night, a tall, muscular, commanding man who seemed to dominate the conversations among the men that night.

Eagerly she tore it open and read:

Mrs. Ashby, Miss Ashby, Mr. Darcy Ashby, Miss Carley Ashby, and Mrs Norris:

When I saw the River Queen come in last night, I realized with regret that it has never been my honor and privilege to be introduced to you. Considering that unfortunate circumstance, of course I realized that I may not simply send you my card and then call.

It is my sincerest hope that you will consider this missive as my attempt to introduce myself to you with all the propriety I can muster, and that you will forgive me for being so forward. In the hope that I may be received, I enclose my card, and would be very pleased if I may call on you tomorrow.

Until then, I remain,

Your most faithful servant,

Lyle Dennison

The riotous mix of emotions that this polite note produced in Julienne was almost funny. First she was elated to receive a note worded in the stiff but elegant phrases that she had been accustomed to her entire life, until she had moved onto the
River Queen
. Then she was horrified when she tried to picture how—and where—they would receive Dennison. Down in the engine room? In one of their miserable staterooms? Following this, she read the note again and was wildly happy that a prominent man such as Lyle Dennison was calling on them, since none of their “friends” had ever done so, except for Preston Gates, who came by the boat at least once a week. Then, perhaps most disturbing of all, she wondered what she would wear, if Robbie could get one of her nice dresses presentable by tomorrow after being folded up and stored for two months, if they could find her hoop skirts, and particularly her gloves, as Julienne’s hands were as worn and rough as a field hands.’ Now panicked, she ran up to the hurricane deck, where Roseann, Leah, and Carley were. Dallas was bent over Carley’s chair, pointing out stops on a map of the river.

As soon as Julienne caught sight of them she waved the note and said, “Mother! I can’t believe this wonderful news! Mr. Lyle Dennison is calling on us! Tomorrow!”

She didn’t notice Dallas’s face darken, and he slowly stood up straight and crossed his arms.

Roseann said mildly, “That’s nice, dear. Now, tell me again, who is Mr. Dennison?”

“He owns the
Columbia Lady
,” Dallas answered her darkly, “along with some other things in Natchez-Under-the-Hill.”

“He’s a very prominent, well-known and well-respected businessman,” Julienne said. “And I think it’s a very good sign. Maybe we’re starting to regain some respectability. But I cannot for the life of me imagine how we’re to properly receive him. What are we going to do? Gather around that dismal dining room table?”

“Properly receiving him will be for us to welcome him, make him feel at home, and begin to get to know him,” Aunt Leah said firmly. “And the table in the ballroom will be fine for that.”

“But that’s not the most important question by far,” Julienne said with obvious distress.

“Then what is?” Carley asked. She had been following the conversation with great interest.

Impatiently Juliennne replied, “You’re going to have to learn, Carley, the most important question of all for a lady: What am I going to wear?”

THAT DIFFICULT PROBLEM WAS smoothly and efficiently taken care of by Robbie. She and all the ladies visited the stateroom where their trunks were stored; they had decided not to drag them back down to the cargo deck, where they were in the crews’ way anyway. All of them found the dresses they wanted to wear, the appropriate petticoats and underthings, their jewelry, accessories for their hair. Robbie even knew where their almost-forgotten hoop skirts were, all of them flattened and encased in two bedsheets and hung up on the wall. When Lyle Dennison arrived that afternoon, Roseann, Leah, and Julienne were all dressed in lovely summer muslin at-home dresses, with wide flounced skirts and dainty shawls. Carley was in a green-and-blue striped dress with blue satin ribbons in her pigtails, and she looked as pretty and fresh as the spring flowers.

They had a family meeting with Darcy, who had agreed to meet Dennison at the gangplank and bring him in to introduce him to his family. Julienne was a little surprised that Darcy didn’t dress in his best clothes to receive their important visitor; he wore a plain white linen shirt, creased black trousers, and his boots were shined. When Julienne asked him where his coat, tie, and waistcoat were, he replied, “It’s too hot for all that folderol, Jules. Besides, I’m going to pay my respects and then go back to work. I don’t want to sit in this stuffy ballroom drinking tea.”

Since Darcy had gotten interested in piloting, he had seemed to truly have changed. Before, when he worked, he seemed to be merely acting out of guilt, and was also somewhat cowed by Dallas Bronte. But now he was eager and interested in every valve, lever, piston, and bolt on the
River Queen
.

At exactly three o’clock—the fashionable time for what was called “morning calls”—Lyle Dennison appeared on horseback at the
River Queen
’s berth. Dismounting from a prancing black stallion, he came forward immediately to Darcy, his hand extended. They shook hands and spoke for a few moments, while Jesse took Dennison’s horse and led him to a hitching post by the boardwalk. Still talking, Darcy and Dennison boarded the boat, and Julienne and Carley hurried to their seats. They had been watching out the window.

They came into the ballroom, where the ladies were indeed seated around the dining table. He betrayed no sign of surprise or censure at their shabby, and rather odd “parlor,” merely bowing deeply as Darcy began the long recitations required by formal introductions.

Julienne studied Dennison avidly, though she kept her expression coolly polite. He was a big man. Right at six feet tall and thickly muscled, his body was bulky, like a bare-knuckle boxer. He had hair so black it seemed to glint blue. His features were rugged, with a prominent nose, an iron jaw, and very sharp dark eyes under thick black brows. His dress was impeccable, a three-piece cream broadcloth suit with a matching cream silk low-crowned hat. A fine gold watch chain hung suspended from his waistcoat pocket at exactly the right arc. The only other accessory he wore was a large square-cut diamond pinky ring.

When Darcy introduced them, Dennison took her hand and bowed over, looking straight into her eyes with an intense, appreciative gaze from his glinting dark eyes. It nonplussed her for a moment, for she had almost forgotten what it was like to be in this social situation, meeting an attractive new man who so obviously appreciated her good looks. But she quickly recovered and greeted him warmly.

When Darcy introduced him to Carley, she stuck out her hand and he made a very courtly bow over it. “Miss Carley, it is my great honor to meet you. I see that all of the ladies in this family share the same beauty.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dennison,” she said politely, but then she squirmed a little and said, “Julienne said you own the
Columbia Lady.
Could I come see it sometime, please?”

Roseann whispered, “No, dear.”

But with a good will Dennison smiled at her, then included everyone else as he said, “Miss Carley must be a mind reader. I had hoped that you would all join me on the
Lady
for dinner, perhaps on Friday night? Would that fit into your social calendar, Miss Carley?”

Carley giggled and answered, “I don’t have a social calendar yet, Mr. Dennison. I only just turned eleven.”

“It won’t be long before you’ll need one,” he said with assurance. “As pretty as you are, I’m sure it will be a full one, too.”

“That’s good of you, Dennison,” Darcy said, “but of course my sister didn’t intend to wrangle an invitation from you.” In spite of his words, his eagerness to visit the
Columbia Lady
was evident. Even though he had been at the Moak’s party, all he had seen that night was the grand ballroom and the card room. Now he wanted to see the firebox and the engine room and especially the wheelhouse.

“No, no, I assure you, I intended to extend this invitation for dinner on Friday night,” Dennison assured him. “Of course I realize that it is short notice, and also on short acquaintance. But I hope you’ll indulge me and accept the invitation.”

“We will need to speak with our pilot, Mr. Bronte, to find out if the
River Queen
will be here or not,” Roseann said. “But if we are in town, we would love to dine with you on your lovely boat, Mr. Dennison.”

“Very good,” he said warmly, glancing at Julienne, who smiled warmly at him.

Roseann urged him to sit down and asked if he would prefer tea or fresh lemonade. He chose lemonade, and so did Darcy, who sat down with him. Immediately he began asking questions about the
Columbia Lady.
He asked about her boilers, about her engine, her running times, her freight capacity, and on and on. Julienne had been a little surprised that Darcy had stayed, after his assertion that he didn’t want to sit around with them for a social call. But then, when she realized that he was talking about his new favorite topic—piloting steamboats—she understood.

None of the ladies were perturbed that Darcy monopolized their guest. Even Carley understood that when men were present, their conversation always took precedence, and under no circumstances were they to be interrupted. She and the ladies sipped lemonade and observed Lyle Dennison and listened.

After awhile, Lyle asked Darcy to give him a tour of the
River Queen.
Her mother and aunt looked pleased, and Carley begged to come, promising to be quiet. The three of them left, with Julienne cringing inside. Now looking at the
River Queen
through Lyle Dennison’s dark penetrating eyes, she was so embarrassed she could have happily sunk through the floor.

“What an interesting gentleman,” Roseann said happily. “Although I have gotten over our lack of social life—mostly—I am looking forward to dining out again. And, Julienne, he’s so handsome! Well, not handsome. Striking, perhaps I should say.”

“Yes, he does make an impression,” Julienne agreed.

As if she were talking to herself, Aunt Leah murmured, “He has a certain air about him—no, that’s not right. Something about him, his presence. He’s not crude, not at all, but I sense a certain aggressiveness in him, a sort of dangerous edge.”

“I don’t understand, Leah,” Roseann said plaintively. “He has such elegant manners, and he’s so kind to Carley. I can’t believe he could be
dangerous
.”

Julienne thought,
I can
. Without realizing it, her lips turned upward in a small private smile.