‘Oh,’ Claudine said. ‘But you are divine.’
Jerry bowed over her hand. Actually, with his size and wearing his naval full dress uniform, a glitter of blue and white and gold, and with a sword at his side, he made a very handsome figure, but her remark was none the less disconcerting for Rod. He looked at Marguerite, and she gave him an enigmatic smile.
‘Lieutenant McGann.’ Wilbur Grahame shook hands. ‘Any friend of Rod’s is a friend of mine. Say, but you’re a big fellow.’
‘Runs in the family,’ Jerry pointed out, with his invariable easy confidence.
‘And you fought a battle against pirates with Rodney,’ Antoinette Grahame said, admiringly. Because for all her husband’s suggestion that she might oppose the wedding of her daughter to a heretic foreigner, at least secretly, as far as Rod was concerned she had maintained the mood of that first luncheon together, and seemed genuinely happy — it might almost have been called relieved — to see Claudine’s future so settled to the girl’s satisfaction.
‘Well, not exactly a battle, ma’am,’ Jerry said. ‘I guess you could say we were companions in distress.’
Rod wondered what Jerry made of the Grahames. Certainly he was impressed by the house and the plantation. ‘You really going to inherit all of this?’ he asked, on one of the rare occasions he and Rod found themselves alone.
‘Could be,’ Rod said. ‘You don’t like the idea?’
‘Me, not liking the idea that you’ll be a millionaire?’ Jerry laughed. ‘I’ll know where to come when I need help. I’ll admit I just wish it could be done without slavery. But what a beautiful girl your Claudine is. And her sister,’ he added thoughtfully.
‘So tell me about Long Island, and the family, and the Navy,’ Rod said.
‘All prospering, it seems. I’m to get a new posting early next year.’
‘Promotion?’
Jerry pulled a face. ‘Not so fast. Maybe they don’t like the idea of having two Captains McGann afloat at the same time. No, I’m to be executive officer on one of our new frigates. But at least it’ll mean getting back to sea. And real ocean stuff, too. We’re to be stationed in Europe for a couple of years.’
‘Oh,’ Rod commented. He would not then see his friend for some time. And how he wished he could be sailing for Europe as executive officer on board a new frigate, English or American. But then he reminded himself that almost every executive officer in either navy would give ten years of his life to change places with him.
Having Jerry on the plantation, or showing him New Orleans, was a treat. And if Claudine had called him divine, it appeared that was just a word she was fond of using; she showed no diminution in her adoration for Rod. The four of them often went out together, picnicking on the plantation or visiting New Orleans, when Jerry would naturally escort Marguerite, an attention the girl accepted with quiet pleasure — which she took care to let Rod observe. Now, he thought, if Jerry were not so set against slavery, they might become partners in this vast enterprise — if Wilbur Grahame had welcomed him as a son-in-law, how much more eagerly would he accept the strength and vigour of Jerry McGann ... and Jerry was a Roman Catholic, so there would not even have to be a music-less ceremony, or special arrangements for the children.
Then he wondered at his sudden distaste for the idea. Because it would mean sharing his future with a more able man? Or because of the thought of Marguerite in another man’s arms — even if the arms might belong to his best friend?
But now the wedding was upon them. The Grahames, as a family, had spent the long summer evenings wrangling over the invitations, arguments in which Rod took no part; Claudine and Marguerite had spent weeks at their dressmaker’s, or having her attend them at the house to make last minute alterations to their gowns; Rod had spent an equal amount of time with his tailor, being fitted out with the white pique waistcoat which would go with his tail suit and his tall hat; Madame Consuela had had her girls and footmen cleaning and dusting until it might have been possible to eat a meal off the floors, while she had supervised the stocking of enough food and drink to feed an army; Antoinette Grahame had sat on her patio and allowed herself to be fanned by two Negro boys, sipping mint juleps and offering advice which no one took; Wilbur Grahame had rushed here and there, commanding Jacob regarding the arranging of the chairs in the ballroom — where the ceremony would take place — allotting guest rooms, and shouting at everyone who got in his way; Father Alain had come out for the rehearsals, at which Marguerite played the part of her sister, and Jerry that of Rod, the pair smiling at each other almost as if it had been the real thing, Rod thought — and now the guest carriages started to arrive at the front doors and the downstairs reception rooms to fill with chatter and gossip.
Amongst the visitors, to Rod’s surprise and Jerry’s delight, was Stephen McGann’s old comrade in arms, Raphael Semmes, as stiff and spare as ever, with his waxed moustache and steely eyes. He greeted Rod warmly enough, and congratulated him on his good fortune, while being somewhat critical of his future. ‘From what I’ve heard, you’re too good a seaman to bury the anchor this early,’ he remarked. ‘Even on such a pleasant beach as this.’
‘Believe me, sir,’ Rod agreed, ‘I sometimes long for the smell of the sea myself. But as they say, man proposes and God disposes.’
‘I’ll say amen to that,’ Semmes acknowledged.
Then it was the morning itself.
‘Nervous?’ Jerry inquired, straightening his tie in the upstairs suite they had been allotted as a dressing room.
‘Sweating like a pig,’ Rod confessed, as Adam fussed about him, removing imaginary specks of dust, clucking his tongue over unsuspected wrinkles.
‘I guess I am too,’ Jerry said. ‘Just keep telling yourself, in an hour it’ll all be over.’
‘What you mean is,’ Rod corrected him, ‘in an hour, it’ll all just be beginning.’
‘Oh, sure. You’ll be beyond the reach of mere mortals like me,’ Jerry said with a grin.
They were summoned by Jacob, and went down the stairs, Jerry’s sword clinking on the marble from time to time. The assembled throng, and Rod estimated there could be three hundred people crammed into the room, turned their heads to gaze at them, and the whispering slowly stopped. Only Antoinette Grahame, sitting alone in the very front row, continued staring straight ahead of herself; Rod suspected she had already been at the mint juleps, early as it was.
The absence of music meant that every cough, every scrape of a chair, echoed like a pistol shot. Fortunately, Claudine was not late, and arrived at his side before the makeshift altar on her father’s arm within five minutes of the appointed hour. She wore white satin, several yards of it, and her train was carried by two little French cousins. Her face and head were entirely hidden beneath the voluminous white lace veil, but her auburn hair could still be seen, flowing past her shoulders, aglow against its pristine background.
Marguerite, immediately behind her, was in pale blue and no less resplendent; wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat, ribboned in a matching pale blue, her paler hair formed a magnificent shawl down her back. Rod was terribly aware of her, standing just beyond Claudine as the ceremony proceeded, far more indeed than of Claudine herself, even as she threw back her veil and stared into his face. Before he was properly aware of what had happened, he was being invited to kiss the bride, and realised that he was now married. To perhaps the most beautiful girl in Louisiana. If not America.
With one exception.
*
‘That was a delightful speech you made.’
Marguerite Grahame stood beside Jerry McGann to watch the after-luncheon dancing. She had discarded her hat and looked vaguely untidy, having just been dancing herself. Whereas Jerry had remained on the sidelines, once the speeches had been made and the toasts drunk. ‘You must know Rod very well.’
Jerry glanced at her with a slight frown. Although they had been fairly constant companions throughout the past fortnight, and had sat together during the mea
l, they had not before held an exclusively private conversation. Now her question took him unawares, not least because it was a point which had been occurring to himself as the day had proceeded. ‘Why, do you know, Marguerite, I actually hardly know him at all. He is constantly surprising me.’
‘By marrying my sister?’
‘That, certainly. But that is a very happy surprise. Especially for him, I should say.’
‘But you aren’t sure.’
He frowned again at her persistence. ‘It really is not for me to say.’
‘Will you take me outside?’ she asked, with devastating suddenness. ‘It has become very close in here.’
This time he raised his eyebrows, but gave her his arm, and they walked on to the outer terrace, where, if there was hardly any breeze, it was slightly cooler than inside the house.
‘He surprises me, too,’ Marguerite remarked, releasing him and walking to the balustrade, to look out at the drive and the lawns, on which the various children of the guests were romping with the dogs.
‘In what way?’
‘Simply that I cannot make up my mind whether he is a charlatan or a very genuine person.’
‘Surely not a charlatan.’
‘Because he once went to your aid? If that story is true.’
‘It is most certainly true, Marguerite. It is also true that he has repaid every penny loaned him by my family and myself, most honourably.’
She turned, leaning her hips against the stonework, to look at him. ‘Then, as you say, it must be plain good fortune, which he must deserve, that my father now looks upon him as his heir.’
‘Ah,’ Jerry said, beginning to understand.
‘Forgive me for mentioning the matter,’ Marguerite went on. ‘But I feel I know you so very well, not only from the last fortnight, but because Rod has talked so much about you, and your family, and your traditions, and your farm.’
‘From which you have drawn certain conclusions?’ Jerry asked, half cautiously and half banteringly.
‘He says you are wedded to the sea. As were all your forebears.’
Jerry grinned. ‘Well, they had to have wives as well, or I wouldn’t be here.’
‘Of course,’ she agreed. ‘That was a silly thing to say.’
‘No, it wasn’t,’ he argued. ‘The Navy is a tradition in our family, to be sure. And always will be, praise God.’
‘Meaning that if Claudine had asked you to marry her, you would have refused? She did ask Rod, you know. With what encouragement I cannot say. But it was her move.’
‘Um,’ Jerry said, uneasily. ‘If you mean, would I have given up the Navy to marry her, or any woman, then the answer is no.’
‘Not even to be master of all this?’
‘Not even for that, Marguerite.’ They gazed at each other, and Jerry smiled. ‘So I guess that would have put me out of the running.’
Still she gazed at him, while a trace of colour crept into her pale cheeks. ‘I wonder if it would have done that, Jerry,’ she said. ‘Somehow I doubt it, very much.’ She half turned her head, before he could reply. ‘They are calling for me. I think Rod and Claudine are about to retire.’
*
‘Well, boy, you belong to Martine’s now,’ Wilbur Grahame said, shaking Rod’s hand.
‘Or maybe Martine’s belongs to you. All you have to do is make my little girl happy.’ It was a theme he had returned to too often during the past few months, Rod thought. But now his father-in-law’s mood was intense as he gazed into the younger man’s eyes. ‘She’s innocent. Remember that. Use her gently.’
‘I shall do that, sir,’ Rod agreed.
‘I have no doubt of it. Well, then, go do your duty.’
There was a crowd of men around to shake his hand, Adam having arranged him in his brand new linen nightshirt. At least there was to be no ceremonial consummation of the marriage, he thought with relief. But he was terribly aware of the responsibility that lay ahead of him, enhanced by Wilbur Grahame’s words.
Jerry was a reassuring factor. ‘You’re a lucky fellow,’ he said. ‘In every way. But you deserve it, after your misfortunes in other fields.’ But even Jerry seemed remote, preoccupied, perhaps, with problems of his own. Or was it he who was really remote, Rod thought.
He was escorted along the corridor, now having to pass the women, who were lined up to clap him, and give him advice, some of it quite obscene. He smiled at them without seeing any of their faces, and was then shown into the huge bedroom which was to be his nuptial chamber. Here waited Antoinette Grahame and Marguerite, and Claudine, who was already in bed, wearing a white lace nightgown, and sitting up with her hair arranged around her on her pillow; she looked quite remarkably beautiful. And not the least nervous, he observed with relief.
Antoinette Grahame took his hands and drew him against her, somewhat more fervently than was required, he felt, especially as the sight of Claudine in her very revealing nightgown had started to arouse him, and he wore nothing but the thin nightshirt. ‘I give you my daughter,’ she said theatrically, embracing him in a close hug.
Then she left the room, and he faced Marguerite. Her gaze drifted down the nightshirt for a moment, then returned to his face. ‘I will wish you good fortune, brother,’ she said, and stepped past him.
He caught her arm, why, he wasn’t sure, save that he suddenly felt she had teased him long enough. ‘Should brother and sister not kiss goodnight?’ he asked.
She hesitated, then pointed at the open windows, through which the afternoon sunlight still flooded. ‘It is still a long time to darkness, brother. But if you will ...’ she kissed the palm of her hand, blew it at him, and freed herself. A moment later the door closed.
‘She is angry,’ Claudine said. ‘She is jealous of me, as she is the elder.’
‘You mean I should have married her instead of you?’ he asked, trying to be humorous. ‘I should imagine she’s thanking her lucky stars itis you in this bed, and not her.’
‘You should not be so humble,’ Claudine reproved him. ‘You are one of the family now. You must act the part.’
He sat on the bed beside her. ‘I shall be happy to do that, believe me. Are you happy to be my wife?’
‘I wanted to be your wife from the moment we met,’ she said.
He felt more humble than ever. Because he still did not know for certain whether he loved this girl, or her sister. Thus he still could not be sure that he had not been an utter scoundrel in agreeing to marry her, and accept all of this wealth and position, as well as all of this beauty. But, as her father kept reminding him, he was apparently what she wanted, and it would be foolish of him to turn away from that. Besides, now the die had been cast; she was his wife. He leaned forward, held her shoulders, and kissed her on the lips. She sighed into his mouth, and when he released her, her eyes were tight shut.
Gently he released the straps of her nightdress from her shoulders, allowing the silk to fall away and uncover her breasts. And caught his breath, because they were even more beautiful than he had anticipated. He lowered his head to kiss one of the huge pink nipples, and she gave a convulsive start, opening her eyes and folding her arms as she did so.
‘I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he said. ‘They are so beautiful ...’
She was staring at him, her eyes enormous. ‘That was ...’ she hesitated. ‘Don’t do it again, please. Ever.’
Rod scratched his head. ‘But ... didn’t you enjoy the sensation?’
‘I want us to be happy,’ she said, as if he had not spoken. ‘We can only be happy if we respect each other, at all times.’ She pulled the straps back over her shoulders. ‘I am so happy with you, Rod. Don’t spoil it for us. Kiss me. Oh, kiss me. Again and again and again.’
He obliged, while a terrible suspicion began to roam through his mind, that she might never have had a sexual thought in her life. When he had kissed her several times, he released her, and went round the bed. He was going to have to tread very carefully here.
&nbs
p; ‘Are you a restless sleeper?’ she asked. ‘We have the bolster.’
He got beneath the sheets. ‘I don’t think we shall need the bolster,’ he said.
‘I sleep very still,’ she agreed. ‘But there have been occasions when I have had to share a bed with Marguerite, and she kicks so. I hate being kicked.’
Rod raised himself on his elbow to look at her, and she smiled at him.
‘Anyway, it is so early we won’t be sleeping for a while, will we?’
‘No,’ Rod agreed.
‘I think it is so silly that the bride and groom should be packed off to bed like this, while everyone is still enjoying themselves,’ she said. ‘But I have brought a pack of cards. We can have a rubber of whist until we are sleepy.’
Rod lay down with his hands beneath his head.
‘Have you and your mother never, well ... spoken about married life?’ he asked.
‘Of course.’
Rod raised himself on his elbow again. ‘Well, then ...’
‘Mama is old-fashioned,’ Claudine explained. ‘And, well ... perhaps she regretted having opposed Grandpapa’s wishes. So she regards marriage as a necessary misfortune women have to undergo. But I want to be married, to you. And Mama and Papa approve of you. So there is nothing for you to be concerned about.’
‘And I am so happy about that.’ Now he sat up. ‘Well, then, my dearest, darling Claudine, as weare now married ...
‘I know, Rod,’ she said. ‘I am so happy.’
‘So am I,’ he said, suddenly telling the truth for the very first time. He was in bed with an incredibly beautiful woman, who was his wife, and who loved him. And who he loved. Or certainly, at this moment, desired, more than he had ever desired anything in his life before. He threw back the covers, rose to his knees, and swept his nightshirt over his head.
Claudine gazed at him with her mouth open, then her eyes dropped, and she gave a little shriek of alarm, at the same moment hastily rolling onto her side, away from him. ‘Put your gown back on, please,’ she begged.
Rod knelt at her shoulder. There could be no stopping now, however odd her behaviour. If his earlier suspicions seemed correct, then she would have to be taught the facts of life, immediately. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I wish you to take yours off as well.’
Iron Ships, Iron Men Page 11