The Reluctant Debutante (2 page)

“You there! Stop!” Police shouted as women scattered in different directions in front of him, some of them screaming as they rushed by.

Joseph halted his horses in the middle of the clogged street and watched. A number of ladies ran directly in front of him, but he noticed only one. Her brown hair was shot through with dark red, reminiscent of a chestnut roan. Rather than being tied up in a chignon, her hair floated around her face in glorious disarray. The waist-length locks billowed out behind her as she ran. Joseph watched as she skittered just out of reach of the approaching policemen, glancing about for a means of escape. If this was what New York women were like, Joseph was glad he had agreed to come east.

She skirted around his horses to the opposite side of the fray.
Very clever
, Joseph noted,
using my horses as a shield from the authorities
. He began walking his charges, which now included the woman, slowly forward through the chaos.

Joseph nodded to her, acknowledging her presence. “Is this street always so crowded?” he asked the woman.

“It’s always busy with the open-air vendors on the sidewalks and all the street traffic, but not usually like this. My friend and I just staged a rally, which is why the police are here.”

“You are safe now, with me. Just follow my lead.”

The woman nodded her head in agreement, shielding her eyes from the sun as she walked beside the horses and stared up at him. Her other hand reached out to touch the withers of the horse nearest her.

“How handsome,” she said, not moving her eyes from Joseph’s face.

“The black?”

The woman seemed a bit startled, but continued to look at him. Joseph pointed with his chin to the dark horse nearest to her. “The black horse beside you. He is my favorite, too. I may have to keep that one. Take care, though. These horses are barely broken, and they are skittish in all this noise.”

At that very moment, a dog ran into the street, startling the black horse, and he lunged. Joseph held the reins tightly in his hands, but the horse reared. Joseph concentrated on controlling his horse and lost sight of the attractive woman. When the horse finally quieted, Joseph scanned the street for her again. She had backed off from the horse’s side, and was rubbing her forearm.

“Did he hurt you?”

“He only bumped me slightly. It was my fault for getting too close. I’ll be fine.”

Together, they made their way up the street. When they reached the livery, Joseph dropped from the horse’s bare back in a fluid motion and stood in front of the woman he had shielded from the police. He noticed she had a light dusting of freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. And even though she was not as small as she appeared to be when he was astride the horse, his large frame still towered over her.

“This is as far as I am going, miss. We have come a fair distance. You should be safe now.”

“Thank you for helping me evade the police.” The woman did not move from the livery doors as she craned her neck to look him squarely in the eyes.

“I think you would have managed quite well on your own, but I am glad I was able to help.” They stood in the door of the livery, their eyes locked for another long moment until one of the horses nickered.

Joseph gathered the horses’ reins again tightly in his hands. “I must take care of my horses. They will settle down once they are comfortable.”

Joseph spent the next few minutes getting the two horses safely into their stalls. When he finished, he was mildly disappointed to see that the bewitching woman had vanished. In a town the size of this New York City, he doubted if their paths would ever cross again.

But a man could hope.

Ginger rushed into the parlor, her hair loose around her face, still not quite able to catch her breath. She watched as her mother raised her eyes from the current edition of
Godey’s Lady’s Book
, which showed the latest fashions from France, and her sisters glanced up from their embroidery.

“Land’s sake, child, where have you been? The twins and I have been waiting for you for nearly an hour!”

“I’m sorry I’m late, Mother. I promised Amelia Bloomer I’d join her today.” Ginger decided to leave out the part about the rally and the dash away from the police. “We met Elizabeth Blackwell. Can you imagine? What an inspiration she is for young women — the first female physician in this country! How could I possibly have missed it?”

“That doesn’t explain why your hairpins are missing. And what did you do to your forearm? It’s all red.” Charlotte Fitzpatrick stood up from her chair and moved to her daughter’s side to inspect the injury more closely. “It will probably bruise. We’ll need a lot of Pear’s Almond Bloom to cover it up for the ball tomorrow evening. Whatever did you do?”

“I, uh, I was running back here so I wouldn’t be late and I bumped into a parked carriage, that’s all. It’s just a small bruise, Mother, and it will be mostly covered by my gloves.”

Ginger gazed down at the lower half of her arm, which still ached from the bump she’d received from the black horse. But it was the memory of the horse’s owner that made her stomach flip over. She hadn’t been referring to the black horse when she blurted out her outrageous comment about how handsome he was. She still could not believe she had spoken those words out loud.

“We have so much to do to get you ready for your big night, Ginger. I’ll have no more of your shenanigans,” Charlotte said in despair as she ran her hands lightly over her dark blonde hair. “What was Annie Schemerhorn thinking of when she came up with the idea of a fancy ball to introduce our daughters into society?”

Ginger picked up her needlework and settled into a chair opposite her sisters. Embroidery was yet another accomplishment Ginger needed to perfect in accordance with society’s expectations of how well-bred ladies should spend their afternoons. From the looks of the wretched piece of cloth, her poor mother had an uphill battle on her hands if Ginger was ever to become an accomplished embroiderer. Ginger glanced at her mother in surprise and decided to take advantage of the moment to press home her objection to the ridiculous dance one last time.

“I’d be happy to bow out of the Cotillion, Mother. It’s a stupid concept anyway. I know it’s been a tradition in Europe for years, but this is America and we don’t have any kings to whom we need an introduction! So, if it’s providing a hardship for us, I don’t see why we should bother.”

Charlotte stared at her unruly daughter. “Sitting out the Cotillion is not an option. We both know the only way to ignore an invitation from Annie Schemerhorn is if you are in confinement while expecting a child or mourning the loss of a loved one. This is a huge event for New York society, and we will attend and claim our rightful place.”

The twins, Jasmine and Heather, glanced up from their fine stitches.

Jasmine asked, “How can you not be excited about the Cotillion?”

Heather replied, “Just thinking about meeting my future husband at the ball makes me shiver all over.” She sighed dreamily.

Ginger glanced at her sisters and smiled. “I somehow doubt either of you will be looking for husbands for too long when it’s your turn. You’re both lovely girls.”

Ginger spent a moment comparing the twins’ beauty to her own appearance. Ginger’s light brown hair had these damnable reddish highlights, whereas the girls’ had such rich brunette coloring. Ginger’s eyes were an ordinary green, but the twins had beautiful dark brown eyes. And, curse of curses, Ginger had freckles. She was afraid the twins won hands down in the comparison.

Jasmine glanced at her older sister again. “Did you say you were with Amelia Bloomer today? Isn’t she the one who wears trousers in public? And holds public rallies in the streets?”

“They’re called bloomers. At least they are now, since Amelia Bloomer is such an advocate of them. They are a long undergarment divided into pants and cuffed at the ankle and are usually worn under a short skirt. The feeling of freeing your legs from the layers of petticoats and fabric is absolutely exhilarating.”

Ginger chose to ignore Jasmine’s second question. The less said about public rallies, the better. She continued. “It’s all part of the suffragette movement. Some of us want more from life than to chain ourselves to a man and do nothing more than bear and raise his progeny. We want to be on an equal footing. That’s why my work at the bank is so important.”

“You’ll change your mind when you meet the right man,” Jasmine replied, sure in her knowledge that a husband was the only goal worth achieving. “There must be no better feeling in the world than to know you will be cared for and made to feel safe from everything life throws at you.”

“I won’t say it’s beyond the realm of possibility, but I don’t think just sitting back and having children while my husband produces the income is going to be enough for me. I’m good at making money, and I want nothing more right now than to further my position at the bank.”

Charlotte glanced up from her fashion book. “For now, Ginger, I want no more talk of the bank or Amelia Bloomer. You are to nap, relax, and prepare yourself for the biggest night of your life. I’ll have no more of your wild ways. Tomorrow night will be monumental, and I want nothing to go wrong.”

The new maid Charlotte Fitzpatrick had employed for the season made a few final adjustments to Ginger’s hair. Each big curl on the top of her head was anchored with a pearl pin and a trio of sausage curls draped softly over her left shoulder.

“Colleen, I love it!” Ginger took the hand mirror and studied her new up-do from a variety of angles. “Who would have ever thought my hair could behave like this? You truly have a gift.”

Colleen beamed at the praise. “You have the most lovely hair to work with, my wee lass, so it’s easy to create a fetching hairstyle. It’s such a rich shade of brown, with these reddish highlights. I love how it gleams in the light of the candles.”

“I do sometimes wish my hair was the same color as yours, though. You have the most striking, gorgeous flame-red locks. I just have a bit of red. It’s like my hair couldn’t make up its mind.”

“’Tis the Irish in me, miss,” Colleen proclaimed proudly, flashing her lively blue eyes as she gave one final touch to Ginger’s hairdo. “But your hair coloring is beautiful. Now that we’re done with the hair, I’ll help you into your dress. Of all nights, you don’t want to be late tonight.”

Jasmine and Heather came flouncing into her room to examine their sister’s hair.

“Oh, Ginger, you look so grown up! Colleen, I want you to attend to me and Heather next year when it’s our season,” Jasmine said with a touch of envy as she ran her hand over her brunette curls.

“Let’s see the dress Mother has been talking about for weeks,” Heather chimed in.

Together, they held their breath until Colleen stripped away the final wrappings and, with a flourish, revealed the white-and-cream gown. Jasmine and Heather sighed.

Ginger smiled at their enthusiasm. “Soon enough, it will be your turn. I’d give anything to trade places with you tonight.”

They stared at her in dismay.

Heather gasped, “You truly don’t want to go to the ball? Oh, Ginger, it should be the most important night of your life!”

Jasmine added. “Don’t you feel like you’re about to step into your adulthood? Just think, you might meet your future husband tonight. I’m so jealous.”

Ginger smiled, ruefully. “It’s just not that big of an event to me, for goodness’ sake. It’s a silly ball, and I have to get elaborately made up for it to please Mother. That’s all. I have no more aspirations of meeting a husband tonight than I do when I walk down the street.” Briefly, she thought again of the tall, handsome stranger who’d helped her on the street the previous afternoon. Shooing away the memory, she said to her sisters, “You’re making much more of the Cotillion than you should.”

“Well, I know that we can barely wait until next year. Just think, Heather, men will be anxious for our attention every night that we’re out. And we will have hordes of invitations to events — not like this year, when we’re not invited anywhere.” Jasmine threw herself on the bed in a show of anguish.

“Hush, now, you two sprites,” Colleen intervened. “Soon enough, it will be your time. Don’t be upsetting Miss Ginger on her special night. You’ve seen the gown, now leave us be so I can finish getting her dressed. You can come back one final time to see her right before she leaves.”

• • •

Charlotte had tears in her eyes as she perused her daughter. “Why, Ginger, you’re lovely.”

“You sound so surprised, Mother.” Ginger smiled at their reflections in the mirror. “With all the money this gown and everything under it cost, I’d better look good!”

Even though her words were a bit sharp, Ginger’s fingers continued to fondle the luscious silk faille of her dress. Unaccustomed as she was to using her body to attract notice, even she could appreciate how much her appearance was enhanced by the quality of the workmanship in this gown. The skirt of her dress had three tiers of flounces, each a shade darker than the one above, ending with a patterned border of light cream silk. The low décolletage allowed a glimpse of her bosom. She had lost count of the numerous crinolines holding the skirt out in a dramatic wide fashion. The petticoats and the silk created a pleasant, gentle noise as she turned to study the back of the dress in the mirror.

Charlotte watched as her daughter preened. “I see the Pear’s Almond Bloom worked well enough in covering your bruise. Don’t forget your gloves, dear. And your fan. Your father has the carriage waiting for us. Come now, stop fussing.”

Charlotte ran a gentle hand over Ginger’s gleaming hair. “Colleen did a wonderful job tonight. I’ve never seen your hair lovelier.”

She reached for her daughter’s hands. “Thank you, Ginger, for doing this. I know how much you’ve despised the idea of this Cotillion and the high season to come. I truly appreciate the way you have carried yourself without so much as a whimper during all the shopping trips and fittings you’ve been made to endure.”

Ginger rested her head lightly on her mother’s shoulder. “Although most of it was more tedious than I had ever imagined, I didn’t really mind, because I was spending time with you. Have you heard yet from Basil? Has he made it home from St. Louis in time to attend tonight’s ball?”