River Queen (7 page)

Archie’s eyes widened in outrage. “There. That’s what I mean, Julienne. Such a lack of ladylike modesty! Listen to me, you simply must stop exhibiting yourself in such a manner. It invites common louts like Dallas Bronte to take liberties.”

Ignoring his criticism, Julienne asked, “How do you know about Mr. Bronte? He told me he was a pilot. They’re not exactly ignorant roustabouts, Archie.”

“He may be a pilot, but he’s connected with some kind of scandal, and the details are so sordid that I have no intention of inflicting it on you. There’s no need for you to know about it, Julienne. He is no concern of ours. When we are married you’ll have to curb this inappropriate curiosity about people that are beneath your notice. Particularly men,” he added nastily.

Julienne merely sighed, leaned back against the velvet padded seat, and stared out the window. Somehow the immaculate snowscape outside didn’t seem nearly as inviting as she had thought. By the hard winter starlight it looked impersonal, uninviting, and cold.

And she remembered the warmth in Dallas Bronte’s voice.

Julienne slept until just after noon the next day. When she awoke she felt sluggish. Tyla placed her breakfast tray on the bed as Julienne sat up, yawning and rubbing her eyes. “Don’t do that, Miss Julienne, you’ll make your eyes red and look like a Saturday night drunk,” she admonished her. “Come down to it, I smell liquor. You weren’t a Saturday night drunk, were you?”

“Of course not,” Julienne said indignantly. “I just had two glasses of champagne.”

Tyla drew open the heavy draperies and Julienne squinted in the glaring afternoon sunlight. “What’s it like outside?” she asked idly as she poured her cup of tea from the small silver teapot.

“Messy,” Tyla answered succinctly. “It’s warmed up a lot, and the snow’s melting fast.”

“Fine with me. Now that we’ve had a pretty snow, I’m ready for winter to be over and for a lovely warm spring.”

Tyla turned to eye her knowingly. “Spring, that’s for weddings, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” Julienne said carelessly. “But I was thinking more about my visit to New Orleans to see Simone, the middle of next month. I hope it’s sunny and warm and blooming by then!”

“That’s only in a little over two weeks, you know.”

“It is?” Julienne said blankly. “What day is it?”

“Sunday, Miss Julienne. It’s February 25. Your passage is booked for March 12, that’s fifteen days away,” Tyla explained patiently.

“Good heavens! I guess it was snowing and freezing and February and I was just thinking of wintertime. I didn’t really realize it’s almost spring. And I haven’t even started thinking about my spring wardrobe, much less ordering it!”

Tyla’s mouth tightened, and she asked, “So we’re going to Mrs. Fenner’s today?”

Julienne hesitated, then shrugged and sipped her tea. “No, I’m still tired, I don’t feel like going out. And no, ma’am, it’s not because I drank too much last night, I told you, it was just two glasses of champagne. And you were wrong about the party on the
Columbia Lady
, Tyla. There were a lot of people of good family there.”

“Mm-hm,” Tyla said noncommittally. “And I heard there were some from not-so-good family too.”

“But those river people weren’t really at the Moak’s ball,” she argued, but then she hesitated. A vivid image of Dallas Bronte’s roughly handsome face staring down at her as they waltzed rose before her eyes, and abruptly all the memories of the eventful night flooded her sleep-muddied mind. She turned and stared out the bright window.

Tyla eyed her knowingly, then went into Julienne’s massive closet to get her an at-home dress, underclothes, petticoats, and shoes. She came out and began laying the items out neatly at the foot of the bed, then sat on a side chair to brush the soft suede slippers.

After awhile Julienne turned to watch her, then said, “Come take this tray, Tyla, and sit down with me for awhile.” She patted the bed.

Tyla set the tray on a side table, then took her place sitting by Julienne. All of their lives they had done this. Despite Julienne’s constant protests that Tyla was holier-than-thou, she had always confided in her. Since they were children she had always trusted Tyla with all of her secrets, and her maid had never betrayed a confidence, nor did she really act judgmental toward Julienne. Deep down Julienne admired Tyla’s steadfast faith, and often wondered how it was that some people seemed to be so much closer to the Lord than others, including herself. When she had these doubts, she always managed to shrug them off with the excuse that it was just that Tyla was “low church” while Julienne was “high church.”

Now, however, her thoughts were on men. In particular, she was thinking about Archie Leggett and his proposal, and how she felt about that. Somewhat confusingly, Dallas Bronte’s question to her kept interfering with her train of thought.
It seems like a silly question, but is it really? What is it that I really like to do? What is my life made up of? And if I were to marry, what would that mean?

She began to talk to Tyla, telling her about Archie’s proposal and skirting around the deeper questions in her mind. “I suppose Archie is suitable,” she said with disdain. “But that man is such a crashing bore. And he’s a prig. He’s already presuming to tell me how to behave! And I haven’t even agreed to marry him yet! He has no right to dictate to me, even if I do get involved in a-a-stupid, embarrassing situation!”

Quietly Tyla asked, “What situation was that, Miss Julienne?”

“It wasn’t my fault,” she answered plaintively. “There were some river men, some pilots and captains, that attended the dance in the ballroom. I was dancing with one of them, and Etienne Bettencourt got all upset and said that he had offended me, and then this man called him a little man, and then Etienne wanted to fight a duel. All this happened right in the middle of the dance floor, and I suppose it was sordid. Usually gentlemen do these things when women aren’t around, and I wish Etienne would have thrown his little fit outside. But I suppose that’s what I get, dancing with a low, common riverboat pilot.”

“Excuse me, but it sounds to me like Mr. Bettencourt caused that sordid scene, and he’s supposed to be a fine gentleman,” Tyla said evenly.

“Hm? Oh, yes, I guess I see what you mean,” Julienne said reluctantly, but then she smiled. “But Etienne is different. He’s so dashing, and everyone knows he’s got that fiery Creole temper.”

Tyla cocked her head slightly to the side. “You admire him. You’re very attracted to him.”

In a low voice, Julienne said slowly, “You know, Tyla, I do admire him. He is an extremely attractive man. I think—I think I may even be in love with him. I think about him a lot. A lot more than Archie.”

Tyla sighed, then, in an unusual gesture for her, she reached out and took Julienne’s hand. “Let me tell you something, Miss Julienne. What you’re feeling for Mr. Bettencourt is not love. There are other names for it, but I’ll just say it’s passion. It’s a physical attraction, and that’s all.”

Julienne jerked her hand away. “How do you know? And what do you think, that I’m actually in love with Archie Leggett?”

Tyla shook her head. “No, I know you’re not in love with him. Believe me, I know what love for a man is. A strong, godly love that’s meant to last for a lifetime. And I know you. You don’t have that kind of love, Miss Julienne. Not for Etienne Bettencourt or Archie Leggett or anyone else.”

“But how do you know all this, Tyla?” Julienne demanded. “You’re three years younger than I am, and you’re talking like you’re some ancient wise woman!”

“I do have some wisdom, thanks to the Lord Jesus and His Holy Spirit in my heart. And I know about loving a man. I’ve been learning about that for years now.”

“You have?” Julienne asked in shock. “Do you mean you have a man, Tyla? That you’re in love with someone?”

“Yes, I am,” she said, and smiled, her wide dark eyes soft and luminous. “The Lord has blessed me so much. I’ve been in love with a good man, a fine man, since I was seventeen years old. And he loves me.”

“Well, who is this lucky man? And why doesn’t he grab you up and marry you?” Julienne joked.

The smile faded from Tyla’s face. “His name is Matthias. He belongs to the Moaks. He’s one of their stablemen, and he drives their big landau with the four-horse team.”

Julienne looked blank, and Tyla added, “You’ve seen him before, Miss Julienne, plenty of times. And you saw him last night. He and his brother Thaddeus served as butlers at your party.”

Then Julienne remembered the two big fine-looking Negro men who had been at the door receiving guests. “Oh, yes, I remember now! I have seen Matthias, several times, when I went out with Felicia and Susanna. He is a very handsome man, Tyla. So when are you two going to get married?”

“Don’t you understand, Miss Julienne? Matthias is a slave. He can’t just get married,” Tyla said grimly. “Mr. Moak would never let one of his slaves marry a free woman of color.”

“Oh, pshaw. Then I’ll just tell Father to buy him, and manumit him like we’ve done with all of you, and then he can come here and be our stableman and driver and he can move in with you. Whyever haven’t you told me this before, Tyla? It’s so simple, and you would be so happy!”

“No, ma’am, it’s not that simple. Miss Julienne, haven’t you been listening to your father for the last year? Money is real tight in this family, it’s been hard for your father for a long time now, and it’s getting worse. And Matthias is what white people call a ‘prime buck,’” she said grimly. “He would cost a lot of money, even if Mr. Moak had a mind to sell him. Which he doesn’t.”

Julienne stared at her. “But this is awful, Tyla. I didn’t think, I didn’t realize that you were in this terrible situation. Aren’t you angry? Don’t you just hate Mr. Moak?”

“No, I don’t hate him, or anyone else. Yes, sometimes I get angry, but I always pray, and the Lord fills me with love,” Tyla answered softly. “Miss Julienne, I know you can’t understand that, and I’d give anything if you would come to the Lord Jesus, and ask Him to save you and give you peace. I’m no better than you, I never was, we’re all sinners. It’s just that you have to realize, like I did, that having good manners and going to church and not breaking society’s rules doesn’t mean that you’re righteous in the Lord’s eyes. We’re all of us terrible, hopeless sinners. When I realized that, I fell to my knees and begged forgiveness, and asked the Lord Jesus to come into my heart and save me from my sin. And when He did that, He also saved me from bearing the hurt of other people’s sin. He gave me love, and He gave me peace.”

“But how can you have peace? How, when you can’t be with the man that you love?” Julienne cried.

“Because I trust in the Lord Jesus, and my Father God. I know that He will bless me, no matter what happens. Who knows what will happen tomorrow, Miss Julienne? No one does, anything can happen, we may not even live through this day. But I know that every minute I walk and breathe is right alongside my Lord Jesus. And there’s no earthly comfort that can compare with that.”

She rose then and went to pick up the breakfast tray. “I’m going to go get you some more hot tea, Miss Julienne. You just please think about what I’ve said.”

“I am thinking about it, Tyla,” she said, throwing aside the covers and climbing out of bed. “I’m going to wash up and dress and then I’m going to go talk to Papa. I know he’s been poor-mouthing for awhile now, but that’s just Papa. And I can’t believe that he can’t talk Mr. Moak into selling Matthias. They’ve been friends forever, and I know if Papa just explained the situation to him, an arrangement could be made.”

Julienne was still talking when Tyla left the room, her face filled with sorrow.

WHEN JULIENNE WENT DOWNSTAIRS, still bubbling over with her plans to unite Tyla and Matthias, she found only her Aunt Leah in the family sitting room. “Good morning, Aunt Leah. Where is my mother? And Papa?”

“It’s afternoon in this hemisphere, my dear. Your mother is resting before dinner. Your father has gone to the plantation. He thinks he may have to stay for a few days.” She answered calmly, never looking up from her knitting. She was much like her brother, Charles Ashby, a slightly older feminine version of him. She was tall, with thick white hair and brown eyes. Although her proud posture was forbidding and her demeanor was stern, she was actually a good-humored woman with a dry sense of humor.