The River Rose (16 page)

"No, I haven't. I've heard it's very grand."

"I suppose it is," he said carelessly, "but what I like about it is the excellent food and the quality of service. Every waiter treats you as if he were your own private butler."

"Really? What a treat for me. I've never seen a real live butler," Jeanne said dryly.

He studied her for long moments. "Mrs. Bettencourt, with your permission, I'd like to speak plainly to you."

"You have my permission."

"I would very much like for us to get past this class distinction," he said quietly.

"But that's ridiculous," Jeanne said instantly. "You're rich—apparently—and I am not. Those are just facts, and it would be silly for me to ignore them."

"And so that is how you define me, and how you define yourself. I am rich. You are poor. That's all there is to either of us."

"I didn't say that," Jeanne objected. "It's just that it's an obstacle."

"Only to you," he shot back. "Not to me. And I have to tell you, Jeanne, that I'm disappointed that you only see me as a sort of mindless puppet, going around spending money. I certainly don't see you as a 'poor' woman. You're intelligent and witty, you're intriguing, you have all the graces of a highborn lady. You are, in fact, a lady that I wish to know better. Couldn't you give me the same consideration?"

Jeanne thought for a few moments, then said, "As a matter of fact, I can, and I will. From now on I will treat you as a gentleman that I wish to know better."

"Good," he said with relief. "So let's start over again, shall we?"

"I'll start over again, there's no need for you to do so, you've been doing just fine. I have been wondering about you, and not just how much money you have," Jeanne said with a smile. "You've been residing in the hotel the entire holidays. Do you have any family?"

"I have an uncle who lives in Charleston, South Carolina," he said, "and some cousins. My mother died eight years ago, and my father died just this past June."

"That's not a long time to get over such a loss. Has the holiday season been difficult for you?"

"In some ways. But as I'm making a new friend that I find is excellent company, and also is lovely to look at, the holiday season is getting better all the time," he said, his blue eyes alight. "If I may be so bold."

"You may. I'm glad I can provide you some diversion."

"A lot of diversion," he said solidly. "Very welcome diversion, Jeanne. May I please call you 'Jeanne'?"

"Now that is bold," Jeanne teased, "and you may. Now tell me about your home. I assume you do have one besides the Gayoso House Hotel?"

George told her about his plantation, Morecambe, that was ten miles north of Memphis, until they reached the Courtier, a two-story stucco building with every window alight and a wide glassed double-door entry. In the foyer a heavy-lidded, disdainful-looking man standing at a podium came forward to greet them. "Mr. Masters, welcome. And madame," he said with a slight nod, looking Jeanne up and down with a jaundiced eye.

"Good evening, Martel," George said pleasantly. "I assume you have the table I requested?"

"Certainly, Mr. Masters. Please follow me."

The main floor of the restaurant had eight large round tables. Five of them were occupied by families with children, two of them had groups of well-dressed gentlemen engaged in earnest conversation. On each side was an enormous fireplace, six feet high and eight feet wide, with great roaring fires crackling hungrily. Along the side walls and back wall, one floor up, was a gallery. Martel led them up a curved marble staircase to the gallery, and indicated one of the walled alcoves with a small table and two chairs. The table was set up against the balustrade overlooking the main dining room. All of the tables were lit with long white taper candles, and along the velvet-upholstered walls were lanterns with golden yellow shades. The entire room glowed with soft light.

Martel took George's hat, coat, and gloves and Jeanne's cape and muffler. "Your steward will be here shortly, Mr. Masters," he said with a low bow and disappeared.

Jeanne looked around with appreciation. "This is lovely. It looks like the great hall of a castle, and we're in the minstrel gallery."

"I think that's what Kinley had in mind when he built it," George said. "But as I said, it's not the trappings I come for, it's the food. Tell me, what would you like? They have all kinds of roast joints, oysters, salmon, lobster, any kind of soup you can think of, and the vegetables are all fresh. They bring them in from Mexico."

"Really?" Jeanne said with delight. "Oh, how I miss fresh vegetables in the winter! I don't care for winter fare, cabbages and turnips, and I hate to admit it but I can't abide brussels sprouts."

"Then you certainly shall not have brussels sprouts. What about meat?"

"I like beef best of all. Any kind of beef."

"Then may I recommend we have beef Wellington? It's my particular favorite. Of course, many ladies say that it's too rich and heavy for them," he added deferentially.

"I don't know what beef Wellington is," Jeanne said, "but since it has the word 'beef' in it, I'm sure I'll like it."

"It's a very lean roasted joint, covered with
pâté de foie gras
and mushroom duxelles and then baked in a puff pastry," he said with animation. "Courtier's is the best I've ever had."

Their starter was a buttery oyster soup, then deviled eggs with a pickled pepper-and-celery relish. The beef Wellington arrived, along with sliced brown carrots, green peas, sautéed onions, and fresh rolls with sweet cream butter. Jeanne took her first bite of beef Wellington and her eyes grew round. "Oh, oh, this is the most delicious morsel I've ever put in my mouth," she said. "I'm afraid now I'll be spoiled, I won't want just plain roasted beef any more."

"Then we'll have beef Wellington all the time," George said. "That would be fine with me. So, Jeanne, I've been very curious about what you said yesterday, that you've had some good news, and you have some important decisions to make. If you feel you can talk about it, I'd be interested to hear."

"You know, ordinarily I wouldn't discuss my personal life with a comparative stranger, but I've been feeling very reckless the past few days," Jeanne said, her dark eyes dancing. "I just don't want to bore you."

"I don't think that's possible, Jeanne," he said gallantly. "Tell me all."

She told him about Deshler, and about Ira Hardin and inheriting the
Helena Rose
. "But one complication is that I'm a one-half partner with the most infuriating man," she said, her color high. "I'm beginning to see that a business partnership can be difficult."

He frowned. "You aren't speaking of an actual working relationship, are you? Surely you're going to sell the
Helena Rose
, so you're just worried about dealing with splitting the proceeds with this man, correct?"

"It's more complicated than that. You see, I lived on a riverboat with my parents until I was seventeen. My father owned the boat, and was the pilot and captain. It was wonderful," she said, starry-eyed. "My mother was my tutor, and my father taught me about the river. In fact, he taught me to pilot."

George's eyebrows shot up. "You can pilot a riverboat?"

"Yes, I can. It's odd, because the
Helena Rose
is so much like our boat, the
Pearl
; they're about the same size, with the same tonnage. Even the pilothouse and captain's cabins are similar. I think piloting the
Rose
would be much like the
Pearl
."

"Surely you can't be thinking of becoming a riverboat pilot!" George exclaimed.

"But I am," Jeanne said spiritedly. "That's the important decision I was talking about."

He sat back in his chair, his face a study in surprise. "I don't understand. It's unheard of, Jeanne, a woman piloting a riverboat. You would be subject to all kinds of abuse from rivermen, not to mention the scandal."

"I don't care about any of that! I'm a chambermaid, George, it's not like I'm a daughter of the Founding Fathers. And as far as abuse from rivermen, I know very well how to handle them. My mother taught me to read and speak and behave with dignity, but my father taught me the river. I can do this, George, and I can do it well."

Now Jeanne was herself surprised, because she realized that in the afternoon she had been arguing with Clint Hardin about selling the boat, and now she was arguing with George Masters about piloting the boat. But even as she reflected, she suddenly knew that she wanted her and Marvel to live on the
Helena Rose
, she wanted to get her pilot's license, she wanted to find out how to get freight, she wanted to know everything about making a living with a boat that she owned. "I'm going to do it," she told George with a bright smile. "Just now, I've realized that this is a blessing from the Lord, and I'd be crazy to sell the
Rose.
"

"Well then," he said, sitting up again and spearing a chunk of beef Wellington, "I think you should do it. If anyone can do it, you can. I've seen that already. And what's more, Jeanne, I'll help you."

"Would you?" she said with delight. "Can you?"

"I might be a stuffy old thing," he said ruefully, "but I've got a few tricks up my sleeve. I predict that within two weeks Captain Jeanne Bettencourt will rule the river!"

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

"Marvel, this is Mr. Clint Hardin that I've told you about," Jeanne said.

Marvel made her little curtsey-bob; Clint instantly went down on one knee so that he would be eye-level with her. "Marvel, I'm pleased to meet you," he said. "Welcome to the
Helena Rose
. I hear you're going to be our captain?"

Marvel giggled. "I'm not the captain, my mama is. Do you remember me? I remember you, you're the Singing Man. You winked at me."

"I sure do. You and your mama were at the Christmas Regale, and I saw you. You had holly and ivy garlands, and I thought you looked like beautiful fairy spirits of Christmas," he said. "I winked because you have to let the fairies know you see them when they magically appear."

"We're not fairies, we're real," Marvel said gravely.

"Ah, I know that now, but I didn't on Christmas Eve," he said. "So just to be safe I had to wink."

Marvel nodded knowingly, then held up her doll. "This is my doll I got for Christmas. I named her Avaymaria."

"Did you? That's a very pretty name."

"I named her after your song," Marvel said earnestly. "I think that song was the best song I ever heard. Would you please sing it to me?"

"Not now, little one," Jeanne said hastily as Clint rose, grinning. "You haven't met the rest of the crew yet. This is Mr. Ezra Givens, our fireman, and Roberty, our deckhand."

Marvel and Ezra Givens exchanged hellos, but Marvel immediately went to Roberty's side. "Mama said you've been bringing us wood this winter. That's good because it's cold. How do you know how to be a deckhand?"

"Ezra's teaching me," he said shyly. "It was nice of your ma to give me a job."

"She is nice," Marvel said. "Where's Leo? Mama's told me all about Leo."

"We can go wake him up, if your mama says it's all right." Roberty looked up at Jeanne. "He's asleep in the boiler room."

"Marvel, do you want to see Leo before you see our cabin?" Jeanne asked doubtfully.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm so excited we have a dog! Where did you say he is?" she asked Roberty.

"He's in the boiler room, but on the river we call it the firebox," he explained, now with a slightly superior air.

With amusement Jeanne said, "Well, Roberty, since you probably know more than I do about the boat, why don't you show Marvel around? Mr. Hardin and I have a lot of business to discuss. Ezra, you'll keep an eye out, won't you?"

"Sure thing, ma'am. She's a purty leetle mite, no bigger'n a butterfly," Ezra said. "I'll watch out for her." They all went into the boiler room, and Marvel squealed as soon as she saw Leo, threw herself across him, and kissed him right on the mouth.

"I didn't see her kiss that dog on the mouth, did I?" Jeanne said darkly as they went up the stairs to what was now Jeanne's cabin. "That does it, I'm going to wash her mouth out with carbolic soap."

"Aw, a little dog slobber never hurt anyone," Clint said. "I think you're joshing anyway. You are, aren't you?"

"Of course, I would never do that to Marvel." They went into the cabin and sat down at the desk, for Jeanne had mentioned that it would be nice for them both to be able to sit there, instead of her craning her neck up to look at him all the time. The next time she'd come to the boat, a second plain straight chair had appeared. Jeanne had forgotten to ask Clint about it, or to thank him.

"I was beginning to wonder if I still had a partner," he said. "It's been a week since I saw you at Deshler's." They had met the previous Thursday at Deshler's office to sign all the papers, go through all the legal documents, and get their cash. Jeanne had told Clint then that she had indeed decided to pilot the
Rose
, and she would let him know when she and Marvel would be moving in.