Diane T. Ashley (3 page)

Tapping her foot in rhythm to the music, Jasmine swept out onto the floor with all the enthusiasm she could muster. As she and her partner neared the far end of their square, she held out her left hand for him to grasp. His right hand rested lightly on her waist as they executed the turn. In perfect coordination, they crossed the center once more to return to their original position. Then it was time to promenade.

Mr. Smalley was an excellent partner. Jasmine was beginning to enjoy herself in earnest, her gaze sweeping the room for sight of either of her older sisters. Both Lily and Camellia were dancing in another square, their husbands at their sides.

The turn of a man’s blond head drew her attention. David! He was leaning toward another female and smiling. His eyes crinkled in the way she remembered. The way they should have crinkled when he was smiling at her.

Betrayal swept through her like a spring flood. Jasmine missed her next step and stumbled. If not for Mr. Smalley’s tightened grip on her waist, she might have actually fallen to the floor like a graceless child.

“Are you all right, Miss Anderson?” His whispered question brushed past her ear.

She answered him with a nod. “Thanks to your quick thinking, sir.”

“It’s kind of you to say so.” His face beamed, and his chest expanded with pride and satisfaction.

“I apologize. I must have been distracted. I promise I’m not usually so clumsy.”

His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. “You’re never clumsy, Miss Anderson. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

They reached the point in their square where they had begun, and Jasmine breathed a sigh of relief. Concentrating on the other dancers, she refused to let her mind wander to what she’d seen David Foster doing. It was none of her business anyway. Let him flirt with whatever girl he wished. He’d made it quite clear when he moved to Chicago what their friendship meant to him—nothing. He may have hinted at returning for her, but he’d never done so. And her heart had mended.

The quadrille came to its conclusion without further mishaps, and Mr. Smalley escorted her from the dance floor. Jasmine was quickly inundated with other young men who wished to dance with her. Laughing with all the skill she could muster, Jasmine allowed one or two to pen their names to the empty spines on her fan. No green-eyed traitor was going to ruin her night.

By the time the orchestra took its first break, her feet ached and her lips felt cracked from all the smiling she’d done. She spied a pair of empty chairs next to a large vase of cut flowers and hurried toward them. Sitting down with a sigh of relief, she stretched her toes as far as her shoes would allow. It would be nice if she could reach down and rub her arches, but Camellia—ever the stickler for proper behavior—would have a fit of apoplexy if she saw her sister doing anything so gauche.

“You seem to be the belle of the ball tonight.” Lily’s voice interrupted her moment of solitude.

Tucking her feet away, Jasmine glanced up at her oldest sister. Lily’s light brown hair was pulled back into its usual bun, but it gleamed in the light of nearby candles. “Isn’t that what you and Camellia want? Both of you seem insistent on introducing me to suitors so I’ll wed and no longer be a burden to you.”

“Don’t be a goose.” Lily sat down in the chair next to her, the dove gray silk of her dress sighing like the flutter of birds’ wings. “You’ll never be a burden to me. All I want is for you to be as happy as I am.”

“And marriage is supposed to make that happen?”

Before Lily could answer, a shadow fell over their corner. Jasmine frowned as her other sister approached them. Camellia was resplendent as always. A true Southern belle, she wore a gown of light blue watered silk that matched the color of her eyes. Her golden hair was dressed in the latest style—pulled straight back to the crown of her head and allowed to cascade around her face in a profusion of ringlets. “Here the two of you are. I wondered if you were hiding.”

Jasmine sighed. If she tried to arrange her hair that way, it would have looked like a rat’s nest. But Camellia’s natural curls could always be depended upon to look just right. “I believe you can count your ball a success.”

Camellia’s blue gaze swept the ballroom. “Who would want to miss such a festive evening? Did I see David here awhile ago?”

“I saw him at the docks this afternoon and invited him to come.” Lily unfurled the fan each of the ladies had been given at the beginning of the ball—it was noticeably empty of partners’ names—and waved it back and forth. “He didn’t seem certain if he could make it. Did you speak to him, Jasmine?”

“Only for a moment.” Jasmine’s hands clenched in her lap. “I’ve been so busy dancing.”

Camellia frowned at her. “I hope you weren’t rude. David considers us his family, you know.”

“I don’t know why.” Jasmine rolled her eyes. “He and I may have been playmates as children, but he’s hardly been here since last summer.”

“I’m sure it’s been difficult for him. I wish his father had not died before David tracked him down.” Lily’s brown eyes moistened. “We all know what it’s like to be separated from our parents.”

Guilt assailed Jasmine. She grew up thinking her father had died in the same accident that took their mother’s life. When he had reappeared eleven years ago, all their lives had changed. Lily had let go of her bitterness, Camellia had focused on her future, and Jasmine had welcomed Papa into her life with an open heart. She had accepted his viewpoint on everything from river traffic to faith. Of course, she was an adult now. She still respected her father, but she was beginning to see that the world could not be viewed as simply as he had once taught her.

She nodded to a far corner of the ballroom where a knot of dowagers and middle-aged courtiers had gathered. “It looks like Aunt Dahlia is still holding court. No wonder she was so eager for you to have this ball.”

“I wonder where Uncle Phillip has gotten off to.” Camellia pleated the material of her skirt, her blue gaze fastened on something farther away than their mother’s sister. “I for one am glad to see her so animated. Since Grandmother died, she has become more frail somehow. Some days I worry that she will wilt like an unwatered flower.”

“I doubt Aunt Dahlia is going to fade away.” Lily’s voice was practical as always. “She’s as strong willed as ever. She may well outlive all of us.”

Camellia tilted her head and considered her older sister. “The two of you have always rubbed each other the wrong way. Can you not forgive her for trying to marry you to the wrong man?”

“You can’t think I would nurse a grudge like that.” Lily’s fan swept back and forth with enough speed to raise a breeze. “I forgave her many years ago. But she still expects me to go along with whatever strategy or plan comes to her fevered mind. Last week she told me that Magnolia needed to begin comportment lessons. My daughter is too young to be made to worry about such things. She’s only four.”

Deciding her two sisters might need someone to play the peacemaker, Jasmine cleared her throat. “And the two of you call me melodramatic?”

Both of her sisters stopped glaring at each other and turned to her. Lily was the first to respond. A smile broke through her frown. She nodded at Jasmine. “You make an excellent point.”

Camellia looked as though she’d like to continue discussing the matter, but Jasmine raised an eyebrow and glanced toward the other guests. After a moment her shoulders relaxed. “I should find Jonah. He’s supposed to dance with me after this break.”

Jasmine and Lily watched her move across the dance floor in search of her husband, her gown barely swaying in spite of all the hoops under it.

“I cannot believe how warm this room is.” Lily redoubled the speed of her fan and frowned at Jasmine. “Where is your fan? Has some lovelorn boy stolen it away from you?”

Jasmine’s cheeks heated. She had stashed it in a corner of the library earlier, unwilling to hold onto the evidence of her lie to David. “I … It’s around here somewhere.”

Her oldest sister raised her right eyebrow in a mannerism she had picked up from her husband. It conveyed her skepticism quite plainly.

Unwilling to admit the truth, Jasmine pushed herself up from her chair. “I believe the orchestra is ready to begin again.” Without another word she escaped Lily’s probing gaze, smiling widely at the young man she hoped was coming to collect her for the next dance.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of mazurkas, waltzes, and polkas. By the time the ballroom emptied out, Jasmine was certain she had danced away at least an inch of her height. Everything hurt—feet, legs, arms—even her head. She could hardly wait to pull the hairpins out, exchange her ball gown for a nightgown, and seek her bed.

Uncle Phillip and Aunt Dahlia led the way as they all headed upstairs for the night. Jasmine yawned and put a hand to her aching head. “Don’t expect to see me before noon.”

Camellia glanced back over her shoulder at her younger sister. “I’m sure all of us feel the same way.”

“
I’m
sure the children will have us up earlier than that.” Lily put her hand on Blake’s arm.

He laughed, the deep sound echoing in the quiet stairwell. “And I’m sure you’ll want me to keep them busy while you get dressed.”

“Would you? That would be grand.”

Jasmine heard her brother-in-law mumble something but didn’t quite catch what he said as she reached her bedroom door. It didn’t really matter anyway. Lily and Blake were always carrying on like children.

With impatient fingers, she jerked her hair free from the pins restraining it as a sleepy maid helped her undress. “Thanks for staying up so late, Lynette. Go on to bed now.”

The room darkened as the maid left, and Jasmine sighed her relief. She had gotten through the evening even though David Foster’s presence had made it a trial. Normally she wouldn’t have taken part in every dance, but because she’d told him that she had no dances open, she’d had little choice. A wry smile crossed her face. She supposed she had no one to blame for her aches but her own incautious tongue.

As she drifted to sleep, a Bible verse her father had once taught her floated through her mind.
“In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin: but he that refraineth his lips is wise.”
Her last thought was that she was not as wise as she thought … according to the Bible anyway.

I
think we should pay a visit to Anna and Jean Luc.” Blake Matthews pushed his chair away from the dining table.

“That’s a good idea.” Lily finished the last bite of her toast and washed it down with a sip of strong, dark coffee. “I noticed they weren’t at the ball last night.”

She wasn’t surprised at the absence of Blake’s sister and brother-in-law. They had only come back to Natchez last month, and she had hoped they might attend, even though some sticklers might have raised their eyebrows. Glancing toward her husband, she could tell he was thinking the same thing. So often their minds traveled the same pathways. Lily supposed it was a result of working together so closely … and of being married for ten years.

“It would have been a good opportunity to reintroduce them to the people here.” Blake tapped a foot on the floor. “But I suppose they were worried about keeping up appearances.”

Lily placed her napkin on the table next to her plate. “I tried to tell Anna that no one would think anything amiss if they were seen at a family party. I know they are still in mourning for Jean Luc’s father, but that doesn’t mean they have to avoid every social gathering.”

Aunt Dahlia frowned at Lily’s words. “I don’t know what this world is coming to. You young people don’t have any respect at all for traditions that have been followed for centuries.”

“It’s a brave new world, Aunt Dahlia.” Camellia handed a soft, warm biscuit to Amaryllis, her two-year-old daughter. “We’ve left the old ways behind.”

Lily was surprised at her sister’s agreement. In the past Camellia had always been determined to cling to rules and regulations, but her marriage to Jonah had brought about some much-needed changes in her sister’s personality. It was a pity the same could not be said for Aunt Dahlia. But she and Uncle Phillip still adhered to the practices that had been in effect prior to the war.

She sent a stern glance to her oldest child, Noah. “You need to practice your sums while we’re gone, young man.”

Jasmine rushed into the dining room at that point, her expression harried. “Good morning.”

She reached across Magnolia and grabbed a piece of dry toast.

“Why don’t you sit and break your fast like a real lady?” Disapproval filled Camellia’s voice and her face.

“No time.” Jasmine stood behind her niece’s chair and munched on the toast. “I’m already late.”

A harrumph from Aunt Dahlia showed her agreement with Camellia.

Deciding to allow her younger sister the benefit of the doubt, Lily frowned at the other two women before turning a smile to Jasmine. “Where are you off to?”

“The orphanage.” Jasmine dusted crumbs from her hands, her bread gone. “We have practice beginning at nine.”

Blake pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s 8:50. I’m afraid you’re going to be late whether you sit and eat or not.”

“I know.” Jasmine blew them a kiss. “Don’t expect me for lunch, Camellia. I’ll eat at the orphanage.” With that parting shot she left, disappearing before anyone had time to stop her.

“Phillip, don’t you agree that girl is allowed far too much freedom?”

Uncle Phillip didn’t emerge from his newspaper but gave a grunt that his wife took as agreement.

“I suppose that means Jasmine won’t go visiting with us this morning.” Lily picked up Benjamin, her baby, and excused herself from the dining room. She was eager to make her escape before Aunt Dahlia started in on one of her diatribes. She knew it would lead to her favorite list of deficiencies since the end of the war.

Like others of her age and social status, her aunt imbued the prewar days with a golden glow that had little to do with reality. If Aunt Dahlia had her way, slavery would be reinstated and Jefferson Davis would still be the president of the Confederacy. No matter what anyone said, she was not likely to change her opinion. Although Lily felt sorry for her, she didn’t want to be trapped into either arguing with the older woman or tacitly agreeing with her beliefs.