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.
Chapter Ten
Blake 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.
“You sure can make that saw sing.” Jensen’s shout interrupted his thoughts.
Blake pushed down once more, surprised when his saw m
et little resistance. He’d nearly sawed the plank in two without realizing it. With another quick pull and thrust, he finished. Standing up, he rubbed his back and grinned at Jensen. “It’s funny you say that.”
“Why?” Jensen’s unscarred eyebrow rose. “You was working harder than a lumberjack trying to meet his boss’s tally.”
“Back home, some people use saws like this to make music.” He held the tool to his chest and pretended to drag a bow across its back. “They can make a saw sing with a voice as clear as an angel.”
Jensen’s face was a mixture of curiosity and doubt. “Are you trying to humbug me? I know I don’t have much learning, but I’m not a daft old coot.”
“Not at all. When you can’t afford to buy fancy violins or pianos, you look around for alternate ways to entertain during a long winter’s night.”
“Well, if that don’t beat the Dutch.” Jensen scratched his head. “I heard of blowing into a bottle, and I’ve seen men beating out a rhythm on an upturned washbasin, but I’ve never seen nobody making music with a saw.”
The floor shifted under Blake’s feet. “I wonder who that could be. Maybe the captain has decided to return.” He set his saw down and strode outside. “Lars, is that you?” Only silence answered his call.
From his vantage point on the second floor of his boat, Blake had a wide view of the dock and the first-floor decks. As far as he could see, no one had come aboard. He looked out toward the river, wondering if they’d been jostled by a passing boat, but saw no sign of recent activity. He shrugged. Maybe a gator had nudged them.
He looked around at the curtain of trees separating them from civilization. As soon as he’d taken possession of his boat, Blake had decided to move it away from the bustling dock at Natchez Under-the-Hill. He would need to make major renovations to Hattie Belle to meet his needs, and he wanted peace and quiet while he worked. Shaking his head, he walked back inside.
“Who was it?”
“No one as far as I could see.”
Jensen’s face whitened. “There’s spirits living in some of these backwaters.”
Blake would have laughed, but he could see his friend was serious. “I imagine it was more likely an alligator. You’ll find a lot more wildlife than ghosts out here. Besides, it’s not even noon. No self-respecting ghost would be out in broad daylight.”
“Go ahead and make fun of me, but I’ve seen things on this river that would make you stop and think.” Jensen nodded in emphasis. “Many a unsuspecting traveler’s been attacked on the Natchez Trace, robbed and killed and left without a proper burial. What’s to stop them from rising up and wandering around out there in the woods?”
“Death would do it, I’d think.” Blake stacked the planks he’d sawed and grabbed another.
Jensen shook his head. “One of these days you’re gonna see something that’ll make you stop and scratch your head.”
“Maybe so, but until then I prefer to put my faith in the natural world.” Blake sent Jensen downstairs to fix some lunch and got back to work on his final project. As soon as he had his bar finished, the gaming room would be complete. Then he’d move back to Natchez and open up the most amazing gambling hall this part of the world had seen. He hoped it would become so famous they’d hear about it upriver, all the way up in Hannibal. A tight smile twisted his lips as he imagined the reaction of one man in particular—the Reverend William Matthews.
Chapter Eleven
I don’t know if this is a good idea, Lily.” Grandmother pulled out a stack of golden coins, each valued at fifty dollars, from the safe Grandfather had installed in his study years earlier.
“The money will be safe in the bank and earn interest.” For the past half hour, Lily had been trying to convince her grandmother to let her deposit her dowry at Britton’s Bank.
“And what if the bank has to close its doors before you are ready to collect your dowry?”
Lily understood her grandparent’s distrust. In the past, banks had closed, and people’s banknotes had become nothing more than worthless paper. She remembered hearing of two such disasters from Grandfather.
If she had been planning on depositing her dowry with Mr. Britton, she might have had second thoughts, too. But she intended to spend the money as soon as she could. On a steamship. Telling her grandmother her real plans, however, would result in a bigger argument if not an outright refusal.
Wishing she could be honest with her grandmother, Lily sighed. “Things are different now, Grandmother. My money will be safe.”
“It is your money, even though your grandfather intended it for your dowry.” Grandmother closed and secured the safe. “I only hope nothing happens to it before you wed. Once you are safely married, your husband will be the one to decide how to keep it safe.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Speaking of husbands, what did you think of Mr. Marvin?” Grandmother opened the top drawer of Grandfather’s desk and pulled out a leather pouch.
Lily shrugged. The last thing she wanted to discuss was Adolphus Marvin. He’d become a veritable nuisance in the last few days, sending notes or dropping by to pay a call. It had taken all her ingenuity to avoid him, and she had the feeling her efforts would soon be curtailed by her uncle. “He seems to have many virtues.”
Grandmother nodded. “But?”
Another shrug. “I don’t know, Grandmother. I’ve always dreamed of meeting a special man.” She chose her words with care. “The Bible says God made Eve from one of Adam’s ribs—that He designed her as Adam’s mate, a woman he would love above all others.”
“And that’s what you hope to find?” Grandmother sighed. “That’s your youth speaking. Once you have met a few more eligible bachelors, you will realize any one of a number of men can love you and care for you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lily folded her lips together. Even if her grandmother was right about there being more than one man she could love, there had to be someone much better suited to her who would allow her to follow her dreams. She would wait for him to find her … even if it took the rest of her life.
Grandmother scraped the money into the leather bag and handed it to Lily. “Is Dahlia going with you to town?”
“No, ma’am.” Lily’s attention was on the heavy pouch. Her future—and her sisters’ futures—were represented in its contents.
“I hope you are not planning to go alone.” Grandmother pointed a finger. “It’s not safe for a young girl to gad about alone, especially with all that money.”
“Tamar will be going with me.” Lily leaned over to kiss her grandmother’s cheek. “Thank you so much.”
“I don’t know what your uncle is going to say.”
“He won’t say anything if you don’t tell him.” Lily adopted the most innocent expression she could manage. “It’s not like I’m stealing something that belongs to him, after all.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
As she left the room, Lily felt a pang of guilt. Grandmother had always been accommodating. But since Grandfather’s death, she had become as easily swayed as a rudderless boat in a hurricane.
Hardening her heart, Lily told herself it was necessary to use her grandmother’s kindness to achieve her goals. Aunt Dahlia and Uncle Phillip were influencing Grandmother with their ideas—ideas that would ensure a bleak, loveless future for Lily. She had a different future in mind. One that would include hard work and sacrifice, but that would come with many rewards such as pride, wealth, and freedom.
Lily took a moment to dream about one day landing at Natchez Under-the-Hill, happy and successful. She would smile patronizingly at her uncle when he looked with envy on her beautiful boat. Everyone would heap praise on her for her daring. Her sisters would be happy with their exciting lives on the river. Her breath caught as she imagined a man standing beside her. Her husband—tall, handsome, and kind—a man who made women swoon, a modern-day David with a heart for the Lord.
Yes, once she bought a steamship and moved her sisters
aboard, no one would be able to force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. Until then, she had to keep her plans hidden. She had no doubt Uncle Phillip would put a stop to them if he found out.
A shiver of dismay whispered down her spine. What would God think of her deceit? But she wasn’t deceiving anyone. Lily was going to tell them the truth … later. The Bible didn’t say it was wrong to choose one’s timing. She truly believed buying the steamboat was God’s will for her and her sisters, to give them freedom from society’s dictates. She would have to tell her grandmother as soon as she could.
Feeling better, Lily asked one of the footmen to call for the carriage and hurried upstairs to get her bonnet and gloves. Her sisters were in the classroom, working hard on their lessons. She peeked in but didn’t want to break their concentration, so she put a finger to her lips and shook her head at the tutor.
Grandfather had been insistent all three of them learn to read and write, as well as have a strong grounding in literature and history. He had always told her to study the past or be prepared to repeat its mistakes. Once they moved onto their steamship, she would never be able to afford to pay the fussy little man who was currently teaching her siblings, so Lily would have to teach them what they needed to know.
Tying a large bow under her chin and pulling on her gloves, Lily checked her appearance in the reflection of her bedroom window. She needed to present a professional image and impress Mr. Champney.
Lucretia Mott would be her model. The Quaker woman had been so outspoken in her views about women’s rights, the abolition of slavery, and other important issues. She could be as strong as that lady. These were modern times, after all, even if things changed more slowly in the South. Lily would not be hindered by others’ views of a woman’s proper duties. She would bring change to Natchez and the other ports along the river. Perhaps one day people would read about her crusades in the newspaper. Perhaps other young women would strive to be like Lily Anderson—strong, fearless riverboat captain.
Lily (Song of the River) Page 7