After acknowledging Joseph briefly, Elizabeth returned her gaze to Basil, and began to bombard him with questions about life in the West.
Charlotte and George Fitzpatrick arrived on the balcony and halted the girl’s deluge. They hugged and kissed Basil, whom they hadn’t seen in more than a year. As they all returned to the ballroom, the orchestra struck up a waltz.
Ginger pulled on her brother’s arm. “Dance with me, and tell me all about your life on the frontier.”
“Ginger, dear, you already have a young man on your dance card for this number, and he’s coming this way right now,” Charlotte reminded her.
“Oh, bother,” Ginger replied under her breath, as the gentleman who had claimed the dance appeared by her side. “Don’t you dare leave, Basil. I want to talk to you some more about St. Louis.” She turned to her dance partner. “Mr. Gray, I’d like to reintroduce you to my long-lost brother Basil. Bas, you remember Quentin Gray, don’t you?”
The two men shook hands just as the music began.
Ginger took the hand of her suitor and glided out onto the floor with him. Her mother had pounded the rules of society into her head over the last two months so, in keeping with her etiquette training, she smiled up at her partner encouragingly. She watched Quentin Gray’s Adam’s apple bob before he spoke.
“So, Miss Fitzpatrick, remind me again. How long has it been since you’ve seen your brother?”
“He’s been in the West for over a year. He looks completely different. I mean, he was always charming and handsome, but he was rather pasty-faced and not so rugged ... ”
Her voice tapered off when she realized she was describing the same characteristics that Quentin possessed. She cleared her throat and decided to wait for him to ask the next question instead of digging a deeper hole for herself. She glanced around the room while waiting for Quentin to pick up the reins of the conversation, and spied Joseph standing beside Basil.
Her gaze flickered from Joseph to Quentin as she assessed the two men. Joseph had beautiful light brown skin; Quentin’s pale white flesh hadn’t seen sun in months. Joseph’s strong black eyebrows arched above eyes that were like pools of dark chocolate; Quentin’s unruly brows met in the middle over pale blue nondescript eyes. Joseph had lips she wanted to kiss; Quentin’s protruding lips made her skin crawl. Joseph’s touch left her weak in the knees; Quentin’s sweaty palm made her want to pull back. Her head swiveled back and forth as Quentin made no further attempt at conversation and merely moved through the steps of the dance. She thought the waltz would never end. The moment the music stopped, Quentin deposited Ginger back at her mother’s side and quickly walked away.
Ginger turned to her mother in exasperation. “I don’t care if my dance card is filled for the night. I want to talk to Basil. It’s been forever since we’ve seen each other. And we should welcome his friend into our midst, don’t you think?”
“You will have all night to talk to your brother, not to mention the next few months during his visit here with us. It is such a coup to have your card filled so early in the evening of your first ball and you need to honor the requests of these fine gentlemen. Glance around the room and see all the women who are sitting by the walls, unable to find a partner for even one dance. You are an extremely lucky young lady, and I won’t have any of your foolishness. However, you’re right. We should welcome Mr. Lafontaine. I will let you have one dance with him. He’ll replace Halwyn on your dance card.”
A shiver crept up Ginger’s spine. A dance with Joseph! She ducked her head as she replied, not wanting her mother to see her excitement. She willed her voice to be calm as well. “As you wish, Mother. One dance with Mr. Lafontaine. Basil can wait.”
Charlotte and Ginger approached the two men at the edge of the family gathering, Charlotte spoke, “Mr. Lafontaine, we wish to welcome you to our town and into our family. I told Ginger she can have one dance with you this evening.”
Joseph and Basil exchanged glances before Basil smiled slyly. “You’d best do what our mother says, Joseph, if you value your life.”
Joseph took Ginger’s hand, and they took their place among the other couples on the ballroom floor. The crowd hushed as the strings of the violin and harp plucked out a gentle rhythm. As the dancers began moving around the floor, Joseph placed one hand on Ginger’s waist. She gulped and put her hand on his shoulder. And promptly tripped over her feet.
She glanced up at him, horrified. He smiled slightly.
“Calm down, ma petite. I will not bite. Just follow my lead.” His voice was soothing.
She took a deep breath and raised her eyes to him again. “That’s exactly what you told me when we met yesterday. ‘Just follow my lead.’”
“And by doing so you were spared the experience of going to jail and missing your ball. How is your arm?”
“Oh, it’s fine. A little Pear’s Almond Bloom was all it took to hide the bruising.”
“And your friend? Have you heard of her fate?”
“No, I read in the paper that she had been arrested, but I haven’t had a moment to myself to talk to her. She gets arrested frequently,” Ginger said with a smile.
Ginger settled into the dance, allowing Joseph to set the pace and the steps. After a few moments, her heart stopped galloping and she risked glancing at him. He was staring straight ahead and didn’t catch her gaze. She lowered her eyes again. What was it about this man that set her heart racing so wildly? Why could she not even steal a glance at him without her legs turning to jelly, making her trip foolishly all over herself? Why could she not think of one thing to say to him, whereas she could take to a soapbox in support of the rights of women and talk to anyone who happened to be willing to listen?
She’d overheard her sisters giggling to each other about how watching gentlemen made them feel, but men just didn’t affect her in the same manner. She cleared her throat as her mother’s rules of etiquette floated through her mind, screaming at her to say something to him, anything.
“This is quite elaborate attire you are wearing tonight.”
Joseph smiled slightly. “Basil told me to pack my good suit, because we were going dancing.”
“How did you and my brother meet?”
“We met in a bar on his first day in St. Louis. I will let him tell you the full story.”
He gazed into her eyes, and her throat suddenly went dry. She ran her tongue lightly over her lips and watched as Joseph’s eyes followed her tongue’s movement. His observation rattled her even more, as she attempted conversation again.
“Did you tell Basil about our previous meeting?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I assumed you were involved in something you were not supposed to be doing, and telling your brother about it would have tipped your hand. It will remain our secret.”
“Oh.” She fell quiet as she digested this information. Now they were sharing not only a dance, but a secret! She shivered in delight. “I appreciate your concern for my privacy. And, I apologize for nearly fainting when I saw you earlier. You can imagine the scenario that raced through my head. I thought for certain my involvement in the rally was about to be exposed. But, I’m puzzled at my reaction. I’ve never in my life fainted.”
“It is a big night for you, so it is understandable.” His steps were sure as he moved her around the floor.
“Are the horses I saw you with yesterday some of the ones you’ve brought to sell? I’d like to look at them more closely.”
Joseph raised one of his magnificent eyebrows at her. “What do you know of horseflesh?”
“I know how to ride. I’ve been doing so my entire life.”
“And that makes you a qualified expert in the field?”
“I didn’t say I was an expert, for heaven’s sake,” she replied in exasperation. “I was merely making polite conversation.”
“You know, as I was watching you on the dance floor before with your partner, I began to compare you to horseflesh
myself.”
Ginger bristled. “How dare you!” She tried to pull her hand away from his, but he held her tightly in place.
“Yes, I thought you were like a thoroughbred, finely boned and high-spirited, and he was a plough horse holding you back.”
“Oh.” Ginger inhaled sharply at his words. She was still struggling for breath as the last strains of the song ended, and he led her back to her family. When Joseph released her hand at the edge of the dance floor, her body deflated like a balloon that had suddenly lost all of its air.
The night continued with Basil and now Joseph, taking to the dance floor as a crowd of eager young ladies circled around them, all with dance cards that suddenly had empty spaces on them. Ginger performed her duty of dancing with each and every man who had claimed a place on her card. She tried to keep track of whom Joseph danced with, but even though he towered over most everyone else in the room, she still lost sight of him in the crowd frequently. She felt dizzy from all the swirling about.
• • •
Several hours later, Joseph watched as the Fitzpatrick family gathered together when the party began to wind down. Basil wandered over to him as he left the dance floor.
“So what do you think of my boisterous family?”
“They are not so different from my people, Bas. A bit pale, perhaps, but nothing else.”
“You’ve been pretty quiet all evening. I thought perhaps meeting most of my family at once was too much. They do have a tendency to overwhelm people.”
“Not at all. They are enjoyable.”
“Well, we have managed to keep Ginger on her best behavior for one night, anyway. I know my parents are breathing sighs of relief. Thank you, my good friend, for providing a diversion.”
“Judging from the crush of people who spoke to us, I would say you are the diversion, not me. Do you know every last person in New York? They all seemed to be eager to welcome you home.”
“I’m the excuse for everyone coming to greet us. You’re the reason. All these young ladies wanted to dance with you — you’re someone new in their midst. I can’t wait to read the society pages in tomorrow’s paper.”
“Let us hope these young ladies never find out their dance partner was an Indian. I still think inviting me to come with you to New York was a huge mistake.”
Chapter Five
Basil let himself into the family brownstone the next afternoon and followed the sounds of voices and tinkling china cups into the parlor. On every table throughout the house sat a bouquet of flowers. Their cloying scent made Basil groan inwardly. So many flowers meant one of two things: either someone had just died, or Ginger’s debut into society was an overwhelming success. No one he knew had passed away, therefore the flowers meant he would have his hands full keeping Ginger and her various suitors in check for the remainder of the season. That made his mission today even more crucial.
As he strode into the room, all conversation stopped and every pair of eyes in the parlor turned to him. He wore his usual western casual attire. His duster coat was draped over his shoulders and open in the front to reveal a pair of deerskin trousers. The pants hugged his thighs, which had turned into hard muscle during his year in the West. He spent his free time with Joseph, learning how to round up and break horses. Well-worn boots came up to his knees. His mother smiled and set down her teacup.
“Basil, you’re here!” She stood and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Did you bring your suitcase so you can move back into your room and get out of the hotel where you spent last night? And where is your friend, Mr. Lafontaine?”
Basil gave his mother a hug, lifting her off her feet. She giggled like a girl. Several of the young ladies who had been talking to Ginger sighed.
“Joseph is at the livery, taking care of his horses. Some men have already expressed interest in them, so he’s adamant that he should be the only one to care for them and make certain they are in prime form.”
Ginger hugged her brother too, and tugged on his sleeve. “You and Mr. Lafontaine will be moving in here for the season, though, won’t you?”
“I don’t know, Ginger. Joseph and I may not want Mother to know what we’re doing in the evenings.” Basil grinned at his mother.
The girls in the room sighed again. They were all Ginger’s closest friends, along with their mothers, and were discussing last night’s Cotillion in elaborate detail.
Basil asked, “Mother, may we talk privately for a moment? Is Father in his library?”
Charlotte glanced around the room at her guests, seemingly befuddled at this lapse in etiquette. “I suppose so. Ginger, please take over the hostess duties for me, if you don’t mind.”
“But ... ”
“Hush, Ginger. I’ll only be a minute. Colleen can help you with the tea,” Charlotte replied as the Irish maid wheeled a fresh teacart into the room.
Basil turned back to the group. “Ladies, please forgive me for interrupting your tea party.” He bowed at the waist, but raised his eyes, taking in each face.
He followed his mother down the hall and into the library. George Fitzpatrick was sitting behind his large mahogany desk, smoking his pipe. His slippered feet were propped up on the desk and he was engrossed in the newspaper. He folded the paper down over his knuckles and gazed above it as Charlotte and Basil entered. His blue eyes crinkled in pleasure at seeing his son.
“To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”
“I know it’s your day off from the bank, Father, but I feel I must discuss a matter of the bank’s business with you most urgently. I have to be totally honest with you and Mother before another evening’s entertainment begins. I may have inadvertently stirred up a potential disaster for us.”
They stared at him quizzically. He cleared his throat.
“The reason I came to you today is to tell you about Joseph. I’m afraid I left out some vital information about him.” Noticing that he now had both parents’ rapt attention, he hurried the conversation along. “He’s part Indian, common enough in St. Louis, but not on the streets of New York.”
His father set the paper down on the desktop. “You mean to tell me you brought an Indian home with you? A savage?”
Basil grimaced. “Indian, yes. Savage, no.” He stared at his father. “Joseph is half Indian. His father is as white as you are.”
He studied his mother, whose eyes had grown enormous. She clutched her hand to her heart and collapsed in the nearest chair.
“Oh, dear. Ginger’s reputation will now most certainly be ruined. For goodness’ sake, I’m the one who gave her permission to dance with him last night. And, after she danced with him, so did many other young ladies. Oh my gracious, their reputations will all be jeopardized, too!” She glared at her son. “Why did you not warn me?”
“Because I don’t think of him as an Indian. At least not most of the time. His father is a French-Canadian, his mother is an Ojibwa from Canada, and the family is a mix of both cultures. The entire family can read, write, and speak English, as well as Ojibwa and French. When I first set foot in St. Louis, I stopped into a tavern to get a meal. I must have been viewed as an easy target, being a soft young man just off the train from back East. Several men hauled me outside and began to attack me.”
He listened to his mother’s quick intake of breath.
“You never told us you had encountered trouble.”
“Well, I was just a bit embarrassed about it, since I hadn’t been in St. Louis more than a couple of hours. I felt certain if Father discovered what had happened to me he’d force me to return without ever opening the bank.”
George smiled and took up his pipe. “You were wise not to tell us, son, because I probably would have brought you back home. But, please do continue.”
“They were doing a good job of pummeling me. I’m quite certain they would not have stopped until I was dead, or at least mortally wounded, and they had stolen what money I had on me. And then, suddenly, they ceased and disappeared. Joseph only had to raise
his voice and they ran off. He helped me to my feet and we’ve become best friends. I thought bringing his horses here would open up new business for him, and I owe him that much at least for saving my life. And, I’m proud to say our bank funded his family’s recent excursion into the West to capture ponies for the settlers and to purchase saddles.”
His father’s eyebrows shot up. “He’s Tall Feather Enterprises?”
“One and the same. They named the business after his mother, Mary Tall Feather. I thought he’d be able to pass as a French-Canadian among New Yorkers, but I wasn’t thinking clearly about the ramifications of bringing him to the ball last night. The situation kind of mushroomed out of control as one lady after another danced with him — I never expected so many of them to line up for a dance. So you see, I’ve put you into a precarious predicament. If anyone were to find out his true identity it would damage our standing in the community, for we have tattered so many ladies’ reputations by allowing them to dance with him. If you want us to turn around and head back to St. Louis right now, we will.”
Charlotte took a deep breath and held her hand to the side of her head. “Let me think for a moment. I know there’s got to be a way to fix this.” She studied the floor. Suddenly, her face brightened and she stood up. “You will not turn tail and run back to St. Louis, Basil.” She tapped his arm with her fan. “Even though we have done something totally inappropriate, your retreat would only compound the problem. After all, Mr. Lafontaine is one of our bank’s clients, a point we must bear in mind. But, you are correct in thinking we would be ostracized from New York society if we let his true heritage be known. What we must do is merely alter the story a bit so as not to put a blight on the reputations of all those fine young ladies. And ourselves.”
She began to pace the room as her plans took shape, her small feet tapping out a quick staccato rhythm, matching her thinking.
“How many of our friends have come into contact with a true French-Canadian? I can’t imagine it would be many. So, we, the Fitzpatricks, pillars of society that we are, are quite excited to have a real, live exotic French-Canadian in our midst. We’ll be an even bigger hit this season. Ginger will be invited everywhere with you and Mr. Lafontaine accompanying her.” She clapped her hands together in excitement.
Becky Lower Page 3