Time After Time

by Elizabeth Boyce

  It was Ginger’s turn to grimace. “Yes, Mother. As if I could forget.”

  Joseph decided to take some of the pressure off by asking his own question.

  “Mrs. Fitzpatrick, your children are all named for herbs and spices, I have noticed.”

  Charlotte took her husband’s hand as she replied. “Yes, we did get carried away, it seems. We began with Halwyn, which is a family name on George’s side. When we discovered it is also a name for salt, it seemed only fitting we name his twin Pepper, especially with her head of black hair, and Halwyn was so blond. We gave Basil his name just because we thought it was a nice name for a man. But then our next child appeared, with her mop of reddish-brown hair, and we had no choice but to name her Ginger.”

  Charlotte patted Ginger’s finely coiffed hair, and then ran her hand down her daughter’s arm. The small pause in her speech gave Joseph the chance to glance at Ginger. She wore a dinner dress with a wide skirt; its green velvet set off her emerald eyes and complemented her skin and hair. The sleeves were flounced in three sets of gathers, ending in wide cuffs of Maltese lace that fell from her elbows to just above her wrists. Her fine dress mattered little to Joseph — she could be dressed in a feed sack and still take his breath away. He reluctantly turned his attention back to Mrs. Fitzpatrick, who continued with her discussion of her children’s names.

  “Then came more twins, who were identical girls, so we gave them each the name of a scented herb — Jasmine and Heather.” The girls giggled at their mother’s words. “By then were locked into this pattern, and we finished off our children with Rosemary, Valerian, and Saffron.”

  The younger children preened as their names were announced. Rosemary was a quiet girl with lovely gray eyes, which perfectly matched her soft gray velvet dress, trimmed in a black braid that encircled her tiny waist and shoulders. Charlotte had insisted Rosemary put her book away before joining the dinner party. Otherwise, Joseph was convinced she would have read through the entire meal without lifting her lovely eyes to the family gathering once. A few times, she looked at Joseph covertly, but the minute his glance moved her way, she quickly ducked her head.

  Valerian was the next in line, a raucous boy of thirteen. Even though this dinner was a family gathering, Joseph noticed Charlotte had sent Val back to the washroom to scrub his hands and face again before sitting down to the meal. His sandy brown hair and big brown eyes did remind him of his own brother, Gaston.

  Charlotte asked her guest, “Do you miss your family, Joseph?”

  He looked up at her, surprised she could read his thoughts. His years of living between two cultures had taught him to conceal his feelings, but Mrs. Fitzpatrick had cut through his mask.

  “Yes, I do, for most of us still live and work together on the ranch. Raoul is the only one to have left home so far. We have many family dinners just like this in our household. But I have enjoyed this evening and getting to know your large and lively family.”

  He let his gaze fall on each person, and rewarded himself by letting his last look be of Ginger. Her eyes lifted as he looked at her and she ran her tongue nervously over her lips, like she had the previous evening. He mentally groaned as he watched her, and his body involuntarily clenched.

  Chapter Eight

  The next evening, the long table in the Fitzpatrick’s formal dining room gleamed in readiness. The head housekeeper gave the place settings for twenty people a final adjustment. Charlotte positioned the centerpiece of flowers and stood back to make certain everything was in place. She clapped her hands together softly as she surveyed the room, looking for any dust motes at the corners or dried food on the silverware that may have escaped the housekeeper’s attention. Everything was done, except to seat the guests to her liking.

  Charlotte had been correct when she predicted this dinner would become the most talked-about event of the week. Not one person on the guest list had begged off. Now she just had to arrange the guests at the table, so as not to offend anyone.

  She picked up the name placards and placed the ones she didn’t need to think about first. George at the head of the table, herself at the foot. Annie Schemerhorn and her husband were on either side of George. Cornelius Vanderbilt, the railroad tycoon and his wife Sophia, were next. Her husband’s best friend, Charles Gray, the wealthy industrialist who was also Quentin’s father, and his wife, Eleanor, were seated on either side of Charlotte.

  Then, she placed Basil, Joseph, Ginger, Halwyn, Pepper and Michael, Ginger’s best friend Elizabeth Martin, and Elizabeth’s parents. The three remaining spots at the table were assigned to Ginger’s most ardent suitors — Quentin Gray; Richard Douglas, second son of an English duke who was visiting America; and William Davenport, an officer in the Army who had recently graduated from West Point.

  Last night’s meal was all about family. Following the meal, Ginger exposed the twins’ bad behavior as she told Charlotte of their visits to see Joseph in the library. As the twins cried and howled at Ginger for tattling on them, Charlotte wrung her hands in dismay. She might have problems with Ginger this year, but she would really have her hands full next year, trying to keep her lively twin daughters in line for an entire social season, and keep the threat of scandal from their door.

  Already, the danger of censure from society loomed close by, should Joseph’s true identity be discovered. She hoped she, George, and Basil could put it to rest this evening with some fine acting.

  Charlotte thought briefly of Ginger’s behavior the previous evening. She had been excited for the entire day, waiting for the two men to arrive. She even helped plan the meal and arranged the centerpiece for Charlotte, which was totally out of character for her. But the minute Basil and Joseph set foot in the room, Ginger became subdued.

  Charlotte kept watching her daughter throughout the evening. She seemed to have a fever — bright eyes, flushed cheeks, a shortness of breath. Charlotte had even suggested she might want to retire early if she wasn’t feeling well, but Ginger had elected to remain downstairs. Charlotte now realized Ginger had stayed in order to keep check on the twins until Basil and Joseph left to return to their rooms at the hotel on Broadway.

  Well, tonight Ginger would be animated, if Charlotte had to prod her with a stick! This evening’s dinner was meant to impress. Charlotte had arranged for the most handsome and available men of the season to be here and to have ample time with Ginger. She would not tolerate any of Ginger’s antics this evening. Pleased with the way the room looked, she returned to her bedroom to finish dressing.

  • • •

  Ginger looked at herself in the mirror as Colleen fussed with her hair. Her face flushed, just thinking about seeing Joseph again. He was, without a doubt, the most handsome, masculine, well-muscled man with whom she’d ever come into contact, and just looking at him made her lose her breath.

  Even though Elizabeth had shared with her how madly in love she thought she was with the Englishman Cedric Smith, Ginger hadn’t yet said anything to Elizabeth about how Joseph made her feel — or that they had met before the night of the Cotillion. She wanted to keep her emotions to herself for the time being, at least until she sensed some spark of interest on his part. She was glad she was sitting down last night, when he raked his eyes over her. Otherwise, she knew her knees would have buckled, making her look foolish in front of him. Her color rose as he gazed her way, and her mouth suddenly went dry as the desert.

  She’d tried wetting her lips with her tongue, and then grabbed for her water glass instead, only to spill its contents on the tablecloth, causing a scene at the end of the evening. She had discovered over dinner he was French-Canadian. That explained his “Enchanté, mademoiselle” remark, which had caused her to swoon like a feckless female the night of the ball. If he was any indication of what French-Canadians looked like, she was going to have to rethink her idea of moving to St. Louis, and instead maybe travel to Montreal.
/>
  She examined her reflection in the mirror. Her dress was cut dangerously low in the front and off-the-shoulder. The swell of her breasts above the deep neckline was almost scandalous — she was amazed her mother had approved of the final version of the dress.

  “You look wonderful this evening, my wee lass,” Colleen answered Ginger’s unspoken question. “I believe this is my favorite dress of the season so far. You’ll surely be able to entice a man to become your husband in this one.”

  “Heather and Jasmine certainly agree with you. They both wanted to try it on before I donned it.” Ginger giggled slightly. “Of course, I didn’t let them. They can have their fun with it tomorrow — Lord knows, I won’t be able to be seen in it again this season.”

  The copper-colored silk brocade caught the candlelight when she moved, and her layers of underskirts rustled as she stood and fiddled with last-minute adjustments to her attire. The fabric, draped in a crisscross pattern over her stomach, made her tiny waist look even smaller. Her earrings and necklace were a matched set of sparkling topaz stones, and her hair, piled on the top of her head, gleamed in the soft light. Surely, Joseph would notice her this evening, and give her some indication he was as interested in her as “the gnats” appeared to be.

  “Thank you, Colleen. My hair looks quite lovely this evening, too.”

  “It’s because we have been brushing it one hundred strokes each evening. That’s what gives it that shine,” Colleen announced proudly. “Well, that plus the fact that it’s such a delightful color to begin with.”

  “The gnats” — Quentin Gray, Richard Douglas, and William Davenport — would all be in attendance this evening as well, she knew. Her mother couldn’t resist providing them an opportunity to put themselves ahead of the pack in the quest for Ginger’s affections. Although the rules of etiquette at any formal function dictated they not have more than two dances per evening with any one lady, those rules would be set aside for tonight’s dinner. Which meant each would be given even more time to bore her senseless. She rolled her eyes and promised herself to get through the tedious evening on the horizon. Every time one of “the gnats” got on her nerves, she’d give herself the present of stealing a secret glance at Joseph.

  She drew in a long breath as she gazed at her reflection one last time. She daubed a bit of lilac water behind her ears.

  “Okay, I guess I’m ready,” she whispered to Colleen.

  She ran a hand over her quivering stomach as she stood at the top of the stairs listening to voices coming from the salon, where the guests were gathering prior to dinner.

  “You’re more than ready, miss. Don’t forget to have some fun this evening, too. Go on with you, then, down the stairs.”

  • • •

  “Basil, you look so handsome tonight,” Ginger gushed as she entered the room and took hold of her brother’s hands.

  He leaned down and kissed his younger sister on the cheek. Then he whispered in her ear, “And you look like you forgot the top half of your dress. What are you thinking?”

  She smiled up at him. “Don’t be such an old fuddy-duddy, Basil. You know this doesn’t begin to compare with the some of the shocking attire your actress friends wear. Besides, Mother approved of this dress.”

  “Well, then, I guess she does intend to marry you off this season. From the looks of the eager young men in attendance tonight, she’ll have little to worry about.”

  “And where is your friend, Joseph?”

  “I am here, Miss Fitzpatrick,” Joseph said quietly from behind her.

  Ginger turned around with a start, and looked up into his warm, brown eyes. His hand found hers. He wore a finely cut, short black wool coat layered over a silk brocade vest. The white ascot seemed to glow against his brown neck. Striped pants stretched over his muscular thighs and his boots were polished to a high gleam. His long black hair was sleeked back from his face and tied at the nape of his neck, bringing his exotic features into high relief. She caught her breath.

  “Please, Joseph, call me Ginger. There’s no need for such formality when we’re in a private setting.” He continued to hold her hand, and his eyes locked with her own. “You cut a dashing figure tonight.”

  Joseph’s eyes left her face for the first time, and drifted slowly over her body. “As do you, Ginger.”

  The way he said her name made it sound almost like a caress. Ginger shivered slightly as his hand finally released hers. She closed her eyes briefly, to embed this moment forever onto her senses.

  “There you are, Miss Fitzpatrick!”

  The mood was broken abruptly as William Davenport muscled his way into the small group. Every society columnist in New York considered William to be the best catch of the season. The columnists even had ventured a guess he had already laid claim to young Miss Ginger Fitzpatrick. They did make a most handsome couple, with her unique hair coloring and small build and his blond hair topping his tall military-trained physique. He captured her hand, so recently warmed by Joseph, and kissed her wrist.

  “Your dress is perfection, Miss Fitzpatrick. If I were proficient with verse, I’d write a sonnet about this gown.” His eyes raked over her as he made his pronouncement. As he straightened he looked squarely at Joseph, whom he had met at the Cotillion a few nights back. “Oh, Lafontaine, you’re here. Rumor has it you brought some horses to New York from the frontier. I’d like to see them.”

  Basil clamped Joseph on the shoulder as he answered William. “Yes, Joseph did indeed bring some horses with him. I’m not really a qualified judge of horseflesh, but these are fast, beautiful animals. Are you interested in buying a new one?”

  William snorted at the suggestion. “My steed is the best money can buy. My father decided an Army horse wasn’t good enough for me, and presented me with a thoroughbred Arabian horse when I graduated from West Point. Perhaps we could race my horse against one of old Joe’s here and see who comes out ahead.”

  Basil rose to the bait. “I think a horserace would be a capital idea! Why don’t we plan on it in July, when we all go to the country?” Basil continued.

  “Why wait? We could meet tomorrow at Hangman’s Tree and race through the park,” said William.

  Joseph objected. “The park is crowded during the day with buggies and people. It would be foolish to race there.”

  “Are you calling me a fool? I think you’re afraid you might lose.”

  Basil replied anxiously, “Joseph makes a good point about the park. It is generally packed during the day. In fact, I know Ginger and Mother are planning to take the carriage out tomorrow. Perhaps, if you were exercising your mount in the morning, you could meet up with them? I’m certain Mother would be happy to give you some insight on the route they plan to take.”

  As they took their seats for dinner a few minutes later, Ginger’s gaze flickered over William briefly, and then settled on Joseph. Her lips parted briefly and her cheeks flushed. She moved her eyes away, and then back to him again.

  William forced her attention away from Joseph as he began to speak to her. “Miss Fitzpatrick, it is settled, Joe here and I are going to race our horses. It should be the highlight of the Independence Day weekend at the Hamptons. Perhaps we could raise the stakes even further to include a private dinner with you for the winner?”

  Ginger had read the society columns that claimed William had already selected her as his bride. And, considering his rivals, Quentin and Richard, he was probably correct in his thinking. After all, he had a solid career as an Army officer. His uniform accented his hardened physique, earned by years of discipline and exercise at West Point. But then Basil arrived with Joseph in time for the ball, and diverted her attention. Now William was forced to endure this dinner in Joseph’s honor, and to watch as he was toasted and fawned over. Ginger almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

  “I’ll confer with Mother on t
he proper etiquette of a private dinner with a single man and let you know, Officer Davenport.”

  “Did you know the Opera House is putting on a performance this weekend?”

  Ginger answered, “Yes, I am aware of it. The family plans to attend on Friday evening.”

  “Perhaps you’ll have room in the family box for me? I have not been able to procure a ticket. It’s sold out, I’m afraid.”

  “I, uh, I’m not sure. Mother?”

  “Of course we have room in our box for a military man, Officer Davenport. We would welcome you, if you’d like to attend with us.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, for your generosity. I’ll plan on it.”

  William nodded slightly at Joseph. But Joseph merely raised an eyebrow. Ginger caught the exchange between the two men, and wondered what was going on. William had annoyed her long enough, though, so she gave herself the prize of looking at Joseph, just for a moment. When her gaze flicked back to William, he had a sour expression on his face. Uniform or no, there was no comparison between the two men.

  She then turned her attention to Richard Douglas, the duke’s son, who was regaling the guests on either side of him with a description of his father’s land holdings in England. Ginger supposed he was pleasant enough to look at, with his light brown hair, blue eyes, and dashing clothing, but his body reflected his aristocratic upbringing — thin and pale. His melodious voice and accent, however, highlighted the culture and fine education he had been privileged to receive. But it’s not as soothing as Joseph’s French-imbued speech. She sighed softly and stole another glance at Joseph.

  And then, there was Quentin. She let her eyes wander to him. She much preferred talking to his father, Charles Gray, who sat on her left. It was a shame Quentin had inherited none of his father’s cleverness or personality. Or his backbone, for that matter.

  She turned to the elder Mr. Gray. “Mr. Gray, how are your railroad investments holding up?”