Lily (Song of the River) (9 page)

“Let her go, Dahlia.” Grandmother smiled. “Don’t you remember what it was like to look to your older sister?”

Aunt Dahlia sighed. “Well, be quick about it, Lily. We don’t want Mr. Marvin thinking you are trying to avoid him.”

Lily made her escape and hurried up to the nursery. The normally tidy room had been turned upside down. Toys lay scattered about, and several pieces of furniture were upturned. “Did an army invade while I was eating?”

“Near enough.” Tamar righted a chair. “It’s those imps whose father is courting you. I don’t know what he’s taught them, but it wasn’t company manners. They fair terrorized your sisters before Camellia told them to leave.”

Lily could hear faint sobbing coming from the bedroom attached to the nursery and hurried inside to find Camellia sitting next to her younger sister’s bed. Jasmine lay facedown across the bed, her pillow muffling her sobs.

Lily sat on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through Jasmine’s thick hair. “What happened?”

Jasmine sat up and threw herself into Lily’s arms.

“Master Samuel Marvin bit her.” Camellia took Jasmine’s hand in her own and held it so Lily could see the circle of teeth marks.

“How barbaric.” She rocked back and forth, whispering words of love and sympathy.

Jasmine’s tears slowly abated, and she hiccuped.

Lily put her hand under Jasmine’s chin and tilted her face upward. Dark eyes ringed by darker lashes stared at her. “I’m sorry, Jasmine. Do you think we should bandage it?”

Jasmine’s eyes grew larger. She nodded.

“Tamar, go see if Alice has any bandages in the housekeeping supplies.” Tamar turned to do her bidding. “And check with Mary about the strawberry-rhubarb tarts she fixed for tea yesterday. If she has any left, bring them back with you. I know how much better I feel when I eat one of her fruit tarts.”

Camellia hovered around them, alternately patting Jasmine’s shoulder and fussing with the bows on her own dress. “Those boys ought to be whipped. They were nasty to Tamar, and they rushed around the nursery, pulling all our things onto the floor.”

“I don’t like the way they acted.” Lily got up and dipped a cloth in the washbasin next to Jasmine’s bed. She handed it to Jasmine before turning her attention to Camellia. “But perhaps they have some excuse since they have no mother to care for them.”

“We have no mother,” Camellia declared. “But do you see us tearing up our rooms or terrorizing little children?”

Was this a foretaste of what her life would be if she allowed her family to coerce her into marrying Mr. Marvin? Lily wondered. Her resolve hardened. She would not bend, no matter the cost. But for now, she needed to calm her sisters. “We are blessed to have Grandmother and Aunt Dahlia to teach us how to behave.”

“Lily, I know why they’re so bad.” Jasmine’s voice was dreamy, like she was about to fall asleep.

“Why is that, little one?”

“Cuz they’re made of ‘Snips and snails and puppy dogs’ tails.’”

Laughter bubbled up. “That’s right.” Lily hugged her sister close. She glanced up at Camellia and saw her lower lip protruding. She no longer looked like she was on the cusp of becoming a woman—she looked like a little girl who needed comforting. “Come over here, Camellia. You’re too old for cuddling, but I think Jasmine would appreciate an extra hug, and I know I would.”

For once Camellia forgot her dignity. She crowded onto Jasmine’s bed.

Silence filled the room, and contentment spread through Lily as she put an arm around her middle sister. She wanted to save this tender moment for future remembrances. It had been far too long since the three of them had sat together with their arms wrapped around each other. Although Lily was sorry for the trouble that had arisen, she would much rather be up here than downstairs with the adults.

Tamar bustled in with a tray laden with treats and bandages. “Those boys are in the kitchen running around like a couple of heathens.”

“I hope they’re not causing Mary too much trouble.”

“She has plenty of help down there. More than your sisters and I had when they attacked the nursery.” Tamar set her tray down on a piecrust table and handed the roll of bandaging to Lily.

Jasmine lay back against her pillows while Lily and Camellia cleaned the wound and wrapped it in soft cotton.

“Can I have a tart?” Jasmine’s eyelids looked heavy, as though she would fall asleep at any moment.

“Of course, dearest.” Lily nodded to Tamar, who took a plate from the tray and put a tart on it. “If you can stay awake long enough, that is.”

Camellia rolled up the bandaging while Jasmine took a few bites from one of the treats.

“Thank you, Sissy.” Jasmine handed the plate to Lily before settling back against her pillows once more.

Lily pulled her coverlet up to Jasmine’s chin, relieved to see the returning color in her cheeks. Putting a finger to her lips, she signaled Tamar and Camellia toward the nursery. They spent the next half hour discussing the day, ending with the earlier disaster.

Camellia wiped her mouth after finishing one of the delicious tarts and folded her hands in her lap. “I couldn’t believe it when that boy bit Jasmine.” She looked toward Lily, tears welling up in her blue eyes. “I was trying to get the other one to stop tearing up our things, but I should have been protecting Jasmine.”

“It wasn’t your fault, dearest. You did what you could. And you had Jasmine mostly calmed down before I got here. I’m sure that’s why she fell asleep so quickly.”

Looking pleased, Camellia stood up. “I suppose I shall go to bed, too. Is your dinner party over?”

Horror overcame Lily. “I forgot. As soon as I help you straighten up in here, Tamar, I’ll go back down and see if Mr. Marvin is still here. I hope he is. I have some hard words for him about his children.”

“You go on down, Miss Lily.” Tamar returned their dishes to her tray. “I can clean up this mess in no time.”

Camellia added her voice to Tamar’s. “I can help her, Lily.”

“Are you sure?”

Both of them nodded, so Lily shook out her skirts. Checking to make sure there was no rhubarb on her skirt, she left them working and went downstairs.

On her way to the parlor, Lily noticed the door to Grandpa’s study was open. Certain the men had joined the women in the parlor by now, she stopped to pull it closed. But with her hand on the doorknob, she heard a voice. Someone was inside! Who could it be? The terrible Marvin boys? She leaned closer to make sure before going in to confront them.

“I tell you steamboats are what you should be investing in.” She recognized Uncle Phillip’s voice and realized the men were still discussing business. “They are the easiest, fastest, safest way to transport people and goods. If you’ve never seen the inside of a steamship, you should do yourself the favor of taking a trip, say to New Orleans or Memphis. You will be amazed at the luxury to be had. The quarters are comfortable, the food is as good as our cook prepares, and the scenery is astounding.”

Knowing she should turn away, Lily couldn’t. Would Mr. Marvin be interested in purchasing a steamboat and raising a family on the river? She might change her mind about the man if she could be assured of living on the Mississippi River.

“I don’t know, Phillip. I’m not a man to take risks.”

“I tell you there is no risk, no risk at all. Everyone connected to a riverboat makes money—from the shipwright to the crew, not to mention the planters, farmers, and shipping tycoons who rely on the river to deliver their goods.”

Lily closed her eyes as she imagined the scene in the study. Her uncle would be sitting in Grandfather’s leather chair, a cigar in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other. Mr. Marvin would be sitting on the other side of the desk, leaning forward with eagerness to learn more of her uncle’s ideas.

“I’m not saying I’m ready to take the plunge, but if I was, how would I proceed?”

Lily leaned closer.

“I normally wouldn’t tell anyone this, but since you are so close to becoming a member of the family, you should go to Dashiell Champney.” Her uncle’s voice was quiet, confidential, like he was sharing a deep secret. “He owns several boats and would likely have one or more for sale. It’s better than having money in the bank. I don’t know how your finances are, Adolphus, but it never hurts to have a goose to lay a few golden eggs, eh?”

“I don’t know if you should be so hasty to consider me a part of your family.” Mr. Marvin coughed. “Your niece is less than receptive to my overtures. She seems more concerned about her sisters than finding a husband.”

“You let me worry about that. As long as you would like to have her as your bride, all you have to do is propose.” Uncle Phillip chuckled. “I’ll make certain Lily says yes.”

Mr. Marvin’s laughter joined her uncle’s, creating a revolting noise. Uncle Phillip was supposed to be her protector, not someone willing to pawn her off on the first man who approached. Or had Uncle Phillip approached Mr. Marvin? Either way, she would not stand for it.

All thought of rejoining the dinner party evaporated. She could not abide the idea of being polite to either Uncle Phillip or Mr. Marvin. Lily picked up her skirts and fled to her bedroom. Shutting the door with a firm click, she flung herself across her bed. Hot tears flooded her down pillow as she fell victim to despair.

What would she do? What could she do? She was only a girl, a girl who had inherited nothing more than an adequate dowry. The same amount of money each of her sisters had inherited. If there was some way to put all their money together, she might be able to come up with a solution. What she needed was a way to take care of all three of them.

Inspiration struck. Mr. Champney was Jean Luc’s father. He had seemed interested in her when they danced. He could use his influence with his father to allow her to purchase one of his steamships. All she had to do was convince Grandmother to let her have her dowry now. It might be sufficient to buy a boat, but if it wasn’t, perhaps Mr. Champney would sell her the boat if she promised him a large percentage of the riches she would earn transporting goods along the river.

Lily sat up in bed, her tears drying as she considered the idea. She would take Camellia and Jasmine with her. They could make a home for themselves on the river. It would be unconventional, but it would also be free of the restrictions they faced here. No one would be able to tell them what to do or whom to marry.

The more she thought about her idea, the more excited Lily got. When Tamar entered to help her get ready for bed, she could hardly contain her emotions.

Tamar combed out her long hair and braided it. “It seems someone has stars in her eyes. Are they stars of romance?”

Lily rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her plans were far too vague to share with Tamar. Perhaps in the days to come, but tonight she would keep the information secret. “I didn’t speak to him after I left you and Camellia. The idea of being polite to him after seeing what his child did to Jasmine was too much to bear. I hope he understands I’m not at all interested in him.”

Tamar cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe the child needs a mother to teach him how to act.”

“Maybe so, but I don’t plan to take on that job, and I pity the woman who does.”

“I thought your aunt and uncle were in favor of a match.” Tamar pulled back the covers and waited for Lily to climb into bed.

“They may be, but Grandmother assured me I do not have to marry anyone I don’t wish to.”

Lily thought she would be too excited to sleep, but her eyelids grew heavy as soon as Tamar blew out the last lamp. Schemes and dreams blended, and she barely had the energy to bid Tamar good night before sleep claimed her.

B
lake wiped his forehead with a grimy sleeve. “I’m not used to this kind of work anymore.”

Jensen grunted. “I thought you never worked with your hands.”

A laugh burned his throat. “There was a time all I knew was physical labor. Every bite of food I put in my mouth came from hard work.”

“I never heard you talk about your past.” Jensen gave a final tug to the drapes he’d spent the past hour hanging. “You were a farmer’s son?”

How he wished the days of his youth were so easily described. Blake shook his head. “Ma taught us how to plant a garden, or we’d have perished from starvation.”

He leaned over the wood he’d been sawing and started work again. His mind, however, had been primed like a pump. Memories flooded through—cold nights, empty stomachs, his baby sister crying for milk. No longer able to bear her pitiful sobs, he’d stolen out of the house after dark, climbed a fence to get into Farmer Weems’s pasture, and squeezed nearly a quart of fresh milk from one of his cows. Of course his father caught him feeding Ada and had rained down the punishment prescribed in the Bible for spoiled children.

Blake had taken the whipping without a sound, focusing his attention on the way Ada had looked when her hunger was satisfied. Afterward, his father had tried to comfort him. Blake still remembered the hatred and shame he’d felt. Not because of what he’d done, but because his father insisted on relying on God to feed his family. What kind of God demanded starvation and poverty? Not the kind of God he wanted to worship. Blake hadn’t darkened the door of a church since he’d left home. And he was much happier for it.