The Immortelles (29 page)

“What in the world for? I always like to go early.”

“Not me,” Yancy grinned. “I like to make a big entrance. Walk in about thirty minutes late, and people notice. You like that kind of attention yourself.”

Damita made a face at him. “You say the most awful things!”

“Put on your prettiest dress. We'll show these New Orleans folks how it should be done. We'll be the best-looking couple at the ball.”

“I really would like to go,” Damita said, smiling, and her eyes were bright.

“Good. Then it's settled.”

Charissa was enjoying the ball, which surprised her. Jeff had been gloomy enough, and she knew that Damita had refused to attend with him. He had finally decided to accompany Debakky and Charissa, and he had asked Charissa for a dance. She had been having a fine time, dancing mostly with Debakky, but she had also observed that Jeff and Lewis had met and simply stared at each other, bowing slightly. After their dance, she stood beside Jeff and saw that he was glaring at the young Creole.

“How does it feel to have New Orleans laughing at you, Jefferson?”

Jeff turned, astonished. “That's an unkind remark.”

Charissa was sick of Jeff 's behavior. She had attended the dance for pleasure, and now the alienation between the two men annoyed her. “Jeff, you look absolutely foolish!”

Jeff glared at her. “I haven't been ungentlemanly.”

“You two are chasing around after Damita like mindless dogs.”

Jeff blinked with surprise and reddened slightly. He looked down at her. “I wish you wouldn't talk like that.”

“All right. I won't.”

After their tiff, Jeff tried several times to make conversation, but Charissa answered in monosyllables. Then he asked, “Why didn't you let that young Matthew Denton bring you?”

“You know we're not seeing each other anymore. I asked him not to speak of marriage to me again. He'd be miserable with me.”

“Don't be foolish! Nobody would be miserable with you. You have everything that a man needs.”

“But you don't need me, do you, Jefferson?”

“Why, of course, I do. You know better than that.” He hated to quarrel.

Charissa heard a commotion and turned to the entrance of the ballroom. Jeff followed her glance and watched as Yancy and Damita entered. “She told me she didn't want to come tonight!”

“They make a fine-looking couple, don't they?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

Damita had spotted Jeff and knew that Depard also was there. “I wish I hadn't come, Yancy,” she whispered. “Lewis and Jeff will work themselves up into some sort of a disagreement.”

“No, they won't. I have a plan.”

Damita looked up at Yancy. “What kind of plan?”

“A plan so that you won't be bothered by Jeff or Lewis or any other fellow. You'll dance only with me tonight. Come on.”

He pulled her to the floor, and they began to swirl amongst the other dancers. Yancy noticed all the eyes upon them and was pleased. “Everybody's here, and they're all looking at us.”

“You have no humility at all, do you?”

Yancy tried to look hurt. “What do we have to be humble about? We're a handsome couple. By the way, I didn't tell you: You look beautiful tonight.”

Damita smiled. “So do you. Yancy, how are you going to keep men from asking me to dance?”

“I can't keep them from asking,” Yancy said with a grin, and humor flashed in his eyes as he added, “I can stop them from dancing with you, though.”

“Men are touchy—you know that, Yancy. Don't forget that dueling is common around here.”

“That's not my problem.”

Damita remembered how his first encounter with Lewis Depard had led to the threat of a duel with broadaxes. “Be careful,” she said. “Some of these men won't take jokes lightly.”

“I'm not responsible for their deficiency of humor. Now, let's just enjoy the dance.”

They swept around the floor, and as soon as the music came to an end and the couples applauded, a voice said, “I request the pleasure of the next dance, Miss Madariaga.”

Damita and Yancy turned to see a tall man smiling at them.

“Oh, hello, Anthony.”

Anthony Rivera was a wealthy businessman Damita had known for a long time. He was a widower, now in his mid-thirties, and he was reputedly looking for Wife Number Two. She started to agree, as was customary, but Yancy said, “I'm sorry, sir, but that would not be possible.”

Rivera bristled. “And why not, sir?”

“Señora Madariaga asked me to chaperone her daughter. She made me absolutely responsible. I won't allow the young lady to dance with anyone unless I approve of him.”

Rivera sneered, “You're a Kaintock, aren't you?”

“Yes, I am. And I'm proud of it.”

“And you don't approve of me!” Rivera snapped. “May I ask why not?”

“I don't like your mustache,” Yancy said. The people around the three had fallen silent and were listening carefully. “I never trust a man who wears one. Sorry.”

A murmur ran through the crowd, and Rivera said, “I'm afraid I must take exception to your remark, sir.”

“That's your privilege.”

“I will have my man call on you.”

“Not until after the last dance, if you don't
mind.”

Rivera smiled coldly. “After the last dance it will be, then.”

Debakky had made his way through the crowd and listened to all this. “That's a dangerous fellow, Yancy.”

“I'm afraid you'll have to be my second, Doctor, if you don't mind.”

“I think this dueling business is foolish.”

“It is, of course, but will you help me out?”

“I suppose so,” Debakky said seriously. Then his tone lightened, “Perhaps I'll dance with Miss Madariaga.”

“No, I'm afraid not.”

“Why not?” He teased.

“You're a physician. I never trust that breed with women.”

Debakky let out a belly laugh. The music started, and he found Charissa and repeated what had happened.

“He's going to have a duel with that man?”

“I don't think so. Yancy's a clever fellow.”

“He's going to get himself in trouble. You know how touchy these Creoles are.”

The music started, and Yancy put his hand out to Damita. She joined him in the dance and asked, “Have you lost your mind? What do you think you're doing?”

“Looking out for you, Damita. You can't be too careful in a place like this. Why, some of these men probably have impure desires in their hearts.”

Ordinarily, Damita would have smiled at this remark, but she was worried. “Anthony is a fine shot. He's already killed one man in a duel and wounded several others.”

“Don't ever worry about what's going to happen tomorrow.”

“I'm worried about what's going to happen after the last dance. He'll be waiting for you.”

“Don't think about that,” Yancy said cheerfully. The two finished that dance, and instantly, another gentleman asked for the next one. His eyes were fixed on Yancy, who looked him over and said, “I'm sorry, sir. I couldn't possibly let Miss Damita dance with a man who wears foppish attire such as yours.”

Damita gasped, and the man's face turned scarlet. “Very well then, sir. My man will call.”

“Won't be necessary. After the last dance, we'll settle this business. Dr. Debakky will act for me.”

“That will suit me exactly, sir.”

Yancy winked at Damita and said, “Nothing like a little drama to enliven a dance, don't you think?”

Damita did not know what to think. She knew that Yancy's antics had become known throughout the ball, so that after every dance several men came by, asking for the next one. Yancy refused them all, and in each case, the disappointed man challenged him. Yancy simply said to each, “See my man, Dr. Debakky, over there. He handles all my dueling business.”

Yancy's behavior became the talk of the crowd. Everyone's eyes were on him and Damita, and Jeff exclaimed to Debakky, “He's crazy! Why, he's been challenged at least ten times!”

“Don't worry about it. Yancy's a clever fellow.”

Jeff turned to Charissa and said, “I always thought Devereaux was a savvy man, but this is suicide.”

Charissa was smiling. “Look around you. Everybody's laughing. It's become a joke, which is exactly what he intended, I think.”

“After that last dance, he'd better have a plan,” Jeff said. “He'll need doctors if he fights all of these men.”

“This is the last dance, Damita,” Yancy said. His eyes were bright, and he smiled. “I'm so glad we came. I've never had so much fun at a ball.”

“You have lost your mind, Yancy Devereaux.” Damita was worried. “Some of these men are expert duelists. I know you're trying to make a game out of it, but that just makes it worse. Anthony Rivera has no sense of humor about these things.”

“He's the first, is he? I get them all confused. Let's see, there must be at least fifteen or twenty of them now. You know, it would be great if we could make a little money off of this.”

Damita stared at him as he whirled her around. “What are you talking about?”

“We could sell tickets. Yancy Devereaux's Famous Dueling Extravaganza! Ten dollars a ticket. Why, all of New Orleans would come out to see me get punctured by these hotheaded young fellows.”

Damita shook her head. “I don't think it's funny, Yancy.”

“You're too serious, Damita. Forget about it. Enjoy this last dance.”

Damita tried to focus on the dance. She studied her partner.
He's really enjoying this,
she thought.
How could he? Doesn't he have any nerves at all?
“Please, Yancy, let's leave before it's over. Let's get away from here.”

“Why, we couldn't do that. We'd disappoint all of your admirers.”

“They don't admire me. They just want to shoot somebody or stick him with a sword.”

“I'll have to give them a chance.”

The music stopped, the danced ended, and the crowd began to whisper, every eye on Yancy Devereaux and Damita Madariaga.

Yancy said to her, “Come along. I see my foes are gathering around Debakky.”

He offered his arm, and she took it. As they walked over, she noticed Lewis Depard staring at her, disbelief on his face. Jeff was standing back in the crowd with Charissa.

“Dr. Debakky, have you made the arrangements?”

Debakky's eyes were sparkling. He had a small piece of paper in his left hand. “I think I've got them all in order. I believe, Mr. Rivera, you are the first.”

Yancy said, “Suppose we all retire outside, where such business as this is usually conducted. Will that satisfy you, sir?”

“Perfectly,” Rivera said. His face was pale. He knew that Yancy was making light of something important to him. “Laugh while you can, Devereaux.”

Yancy grinned at him, then asked Damita, “Will you wait here, dear? I have a few engagements.”

Damita said, “No, I'm going with you.”

“Why, ladies don't attend such things, Señorita Madariaga!” Rivera exclaimed.

“Then maybe I'm no lady, but I insist on going. I'm ready, Yancy.”

Almost everyone who had attended the ball crowded outside to watch the spectacle. It took some doing to get a space cleared away for the duelists to carry out their business.

The night was bright and clear, with the stars and a full moon overhead. “Good night for shooting, eh, Señor Rivera?” Yancy asked cheerfully.

Rivera glared at him. “I'm willing to accept your apology.”

“I'm sorry, but your mustache still offends me.”

Laughter rose from the crowd.

“Dr. Debakky, I am acting for Señor Rivera,” said a man named French, who often served as a second in duels. “We've chosen our ground, and I have the weapons here, if they would suit you.”

“Let me see,” Debakky said. He stepped forward and examined the leather case that French held open.

“These look very nice,” he said. “What do you think, Yancy?”

Yancy was standing alone, but his eyes were scanning the crowd. He saw Damita watching him, her face pale in the moonlight, and he winked at her. “Just a minute,” Yancy said. “I'm the challenged party. I have the choice of weapons.”

“There'll be no duels with axes, sir,” French said coldly. “We've heard of your frivolousness.”

“No, firearms will be fine with me, but I'll choose which firearms.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Yancy said, “Wait right here. I have them in my buggy.” He strode to his buggy, which was parked nearby, and threw back a canvas cover.

“What's he got in there?” Charissa asked Jeff.

“Can't see. It looks like rifles.”

Yancy brought back not rifles, but shotguns. Holding one in each hand, he said, “You may take your pick of these, sir. Both of them are in working condition, and your man may do the loading himself.” He thrust one of the shotguns at French and another at Debakky, then reached into his pocket. “Here, this ought to do. Double-ought buckshot.”

“What do you mean by this foolishness?” French demanded.

“Why, this is my choice of weapons. What we will do is this: You gentlemen will load the guns. Mr. Rivera and I will stand ten feet away from each other, aim, and at the count of ten, we'll fire.”

A silence fell over the crowd. Yancy stared at Anthony Rivera. “I'm sure you wouldn't want to take advantage of a man, sir. You might be a better shot than I am, but with shotguns, accuracy is not a problem.”

“This is foolishness!” Rivera cried out.

“Do you always have to have the advantage? Neither man has it with these. I'm the challenged party. These are the firearms. Let's get at it.”

Rivera stared at him. “You jest! You wouldn't dare do a thing like that.”