Devereaux was furious beyond belief. He was irate at the banker, at Sam, who should have taken him to his room, and even at himself for failing to transfer the envelope. He raced the carriage through the streets like a man possessed. He ran up the stairs to his bedroom, only to find the dirty clothes gone. He started screaming, “Peg, Peg, where are my clothes?”
When she did not answer, he continued to scream her name as he ran through the house. He found her singing a soft gospel song as she hung his laundry out to dry. He pushed her rudely out of the way and jerked his wet coat from the line. Feeling in the pocket where it should have been, he found nothing. He checked every pocket in the coat, then in the pants and vest. Nothing.
“Where is it, Peg? What did you do with my letter?” His face was red and his voice was hard.
Peg was not intimidated, having served his family since he was a child. “Now, Mr. Devereaux, you better calm youself afore you bust you heart in half and bust a blood vessel. Ain’t no letter in any of you pockets, sir. Jist a few coins and you comb. I left ’em on you dresser. I dona find ena letter.”
Chapter 66
“I cannot believe it. How could you have given that man permission to know anything about your finances? What were you thinking? Or were you thinking at all? Lucretia Lucinda Sawyer, he is a crook—a scoundrel. I know you are naïve and innocent, but I never thought you were without common sense. He wants your money, and your body, mark my words. He will try his damndest to wed you and if that fails, only God knows what he will try.”
Ruby had never yelled at Lucretia before. Actually, Lucretia doubted that Ruby had ever yelled at anyone. She hung her head, knowing that Ruby was probably right. She did not even try to make excuses for her actions. Devereaux Benoit LaClaire the Third had wined and dined her and charmed her into doing exactly as he wanted.
They were enjoying their breakfast on the balcony when she casually mentioned that Devereaux would be calling for them in a couple of hours to show them houses in their price range, when Ruby asked how he could possibly know what Lulu’s price range was.
“Well, I gave him a letter for Mr. Duval at our bank.”
Ruby had looked at her for a long time before she jumped up and paced up and down the balcony, ranting and raving at cowed Lucretia. Lucretia realized the older woman was correct that she should not have given Devereaux permission to know their money situation, but she did doubt the man would ask her to wed, or any such thing. It was apparent to Lucretia that Devereaux was a man of society and surely had money of his own.
Finally, Ruby’s tirade died down. She knelt before the chastised girl and took her hand. “Honey, I am sorry I yelled at you. Actually, I was yelling at that devious man and at myself for not taking better care of you. And honey, what kind of money you have or do not have is no one’s business but your own and your banker’s. Not even I need to know and I do not want you to ever tell me. Do you understand?”
Lucretia put her head on Ruby’s shoulder and hugged her. “Yes. Oh, Ruby, I love you. What would I do without you?”
“You will probably have to find out, Lulu, if that blackguard LaClaire has his way. Mark my words—he will do his best to have me gone so he can get to you without any obstacles. But I will not let that happen. I promise. No, let us dry our tears and get on with searching for a home for you.” They hugged again and took the elevator to the ground floor, where they ordered a carriage.
As they waited in front of the hotel, Devereaux arrived with his carriage. He looked distressed and angry. When he saw them, he forced his face into a smile and jumped to the ground beside them. “I am sorry I am late, lovely ladies. I did not forget our promised meeting time, Lucretia. I ran into some small problems that I had to take care of first. So, are you ready? Shall we go to the bank first?”
Ruby stepped forward as he tried to take Lucretia’s hand. “It will not be necessary for you to drive Mrs. Mills and me anywhere.” She emphasized the Mrs. Mills, pointing out to him that he should not have called her by her given name. “We have our own carriage…here it is now. Good day, sir.”
“Oh, Ruby, you were so stern and rough on him. He only wants to help.”
“Help, oh, yes, he certainly does. He wants to help himself to your money and your body. We will ask Mr. Duval about him so that any doubts you might have about my protectiveness are well founded.”
They were escorted immediately to the banker’s office and offered refreshments that awaited them on his desk. Ruby demanded she be excused while Lucretia and the most astute gentleman discussed Lulu’s finances—even over the younger woman’s pleas that she remain.
Mr. Duval gave Lucretia an envelope to show the property brokers in search of what he called an “estate” for Mrs. Mills (whom he knew as the former Mrs. Sawyer). When Ruby returned to the room and asked for background on Mr. LaClaire, the banker’s face changed.
“It is not my place to pass judgment on my fellow man, but in his case, I think a mild warning might be in order. I do know he is a gambler and lives far beyond his means. His parents left him well off, but demon rum and the casinos took most of it. He has made no secret of the fact that he is seeking a wealthy wife. You are free to make your own decisions, but as a fatherly figure, I would suggest he might not be what a dainty young lady should look for in a husband.”
Chapter 67
The women left Devereaux standing alone, boiling with hate for that Redstone bitch, as he thought of her. She had to go. No doubt. It should be easy to have her run over by a team of horses or struck by a falling flowerpot from a Bourbon Street balcony, or to disappear into the bayous. And the sooner, the better.
He turned his carriage toward the bank, positive that was the destination of the women. They were just climbing into a carriage, this time with a tall, well-dressed man whose name he did not know, although he recognized him. Well, he would find out who he was.
He did so by blocking that vehicle with his own. He jumped down from his and walked casually to the blocked one. He put out his hand to the man seated across from the ladies. “Hello, sir, I am Devereaux Benoit LaClaire, at your service. I plead guilty to the charge of tardiness, as I was supposed to drive the ladies today.”
The man looked at him with distaste evident on his face. Only good manners forced him to accept the outstretched hand. He shook it without removing his glove, a slight not missed by Devereaux. “I am an associate of Melvin Charles Duval, Esquire, owner of this banking establishment.” He tipped his head to indicate the building beside them. “If you would please move your carriage, we would appreciate it. We are on a tight schedule and do not wish to be delayed further.”
Devereaux seethed. He had been slighted with the glove, and now the man did not identify himself. Another social insult. He had no choice but to move his carriage when he would rather have pulled the pompous man out and hit him or, better yet, challenged him to a duel. Instead, he removed his hat and bowed to Lucretia and Ruby. “It is nice to see you both and, again, I apologize for my lack of punctuality.” He turned without waiting for a reply. Instead, he smiled as he climbed into his vehicle to take the reins. He drove away, turning left at the next corner, where he circled around to the right and hid his carriage behind an overgrown bougainvillea with crimson flowers. He could see through it, but they could not see him. He planned to continue following them until he determined who the man was and where they were going.
It did not take long for him to realize that they were looking at houses. The man was a broker and he dimly recalled having seen him around town on several occasions, but they did not travel in the same circles. Damn! With Lucretia’s money, he could travel in any circle he chose. Oh, how great it would be to get even with the snobs who had looked down their patrician noses at him for so long.
After the death of his parents, he had a noble house and an upstanding position in society. His bachelor status had made him a target for unmarried females and their matchmaking mothers. What he had failed to acknowledge w
as that he, himself, was to blame for the circumstances. He had gambled and whored it all away until he was a seedy shell of the man he had been.
The afternoon was long for him, following the two women and the real estate agent, who appeared to be having a gay old time together. Some places they stayed only a short time, some a bit longer. The last one was in the French Quarter, a four-story mansion with carriage buildings, wrought-iron fencing, and a massive porch that seemed to wrap itself completely around the house. The white clapboard had cheerful yellow shutters and endless decorative gingerbread. Begrudgingly, Devereaux had to admit, it seemed the perfect place for Lucretia.
Still nursing his hangover, he was slow to realize that the dwelling was incredibly expensive. “Hell, if she has that kind of money, I am not letting her get away. Besides, a body like that…well, no sane man would want to lose the opportunity to have it as well. Yes, I will have her and her money.” He looked around, realizing that he had spoken aloud. Fortunately, no one paid him the least attention, even as he smiled broadly and turned his carriage toward home.
Chapter 68
“The house is perfect,” bubbled Lucretia. “And empty is even better. I am sorry the owner decided that New Orleans weather was not to her liking anymore, but on the other hand, I am delighted. Mr. Duval said he would take care of everything if we found the place we liked. Tell him, please, to do his magic and let me know how soon we can move in.”
The broker could practically feel the dollar bills in his hands, but he kept his smile businesslike. “I am sure it will be only a matter of days before you can take possession, as the lady is very motivated to sell. Now, about the furnishings—”
“Yes, we want everything just as it is. Even down to the servants, if possible. I can think of nothing right now that is not perfect for us. What do you think, Ruby?”
Ruby hugged her little friend. It was wonderful to see her smile again and laugh with pleasure. “Well, I think perhaps the hunting wallpaper in the formal dining room is a bit much. Deer being shot and dogs chasing them would give me an upset stomach if I had to look at it while eating.”
They all laughed. “We can have that taken care of immediately. I will send a decorator to your suite this afternoon for you to select your new paper. Something a bit…well, you will surely make the right decision. Now, I will return you to your hotel before I go to my office. The decorator will be there within the hour.” The agent knew that ordinarily it would take weeks to get an appointment with a decorator, but with her kind of money, all things were possible.
The ladies went straight to the hotel desk and requested another room. One on a lower floor for just a few days. No view necessary, no amenities, and no daily laundry or maid service. Just the bare necessities. Ruby explained their needs to the man behind the desk. “We feel that we have taken advantage of Mr. LaClaire’s kindness enough.”
“But madam, he has paid in advance through the end of the month and we have a no-refund policy for long-term visits.”
“Sir,” said Lucretia. “Here is what we will do. From this day forward, you will keep a running total of our expenses and we will stay in the suite. At the end of the month, we will give you a bank draft for that amount in the name of Mr. LaClaire, and you will see that he gets it. You will have your money and so shall he. Moreover, we will continue to enjoy the suite. How about that?”
The man nodded, pleased that the situation was resolved. “Also,” she continued, “please send up a bottle of your wine cellar’s best champagne. We are celebrating the purchase of our house here in the French Quarters. We will practically be neighbors. And be sure it is on our account, not Mr. LaClaire’s.”
“Sometimes, Lulu, I think you are just too kind. That man is a dismal excuse for a human being and deserves what he gets.”
“Oh, Ruby, he is a sad, lonely individual. And it costs us so little to give him a bit of respect.”
“Not that he deserves any,” Ruby mumbled as she turned and nearly ran into the approaching LaClaire.
“I say, what good luck seeing you here. I came to invite you to have dinner with me. Antoine’s is one of my personal favorites and I—”
“No, Devereaux, I am afraid we must pass. We are meeting a decorator in a few minutes and will be involved all evening,” said Lucretia as she smiled sweetly. “Perhaps another time.”
He once again had no choice but to nod and smile as he moved away. “Yes, perhaps another time.” Rage built inside him again. He had overheard most of their conversation and knew that he must get rid of the older woman. Without her, he was sure he could handle Lucretia.
By the time the elevator arrived at their floor, they had forgotten Devereaux. They shared the ride with the wine steward, who poured for them and left them to enjoy the perfectly chilled champagne and the incredible views from the balcony.
“To us, Ruby, and our beautiful new home. We will be so happy there. We can begin our lives anew, just as we talked about on the train.”
“Listen to me, Lucretia. Yes, it is a beautiful home and we can begin our lives, as you said. But, remember, always remember, that it is your house, not mine. I have nothing to contribute to it but my love for you. I am penniless and would probably be whoring in the worst places in the city without your kindness. Do not think I am not appreciative, because I am forever in your debt. But I am a relic from your past, nothing more.”
Lucretia started to cry silently. Tears ran down her cheeks onto the silk of her dress, turning the soft yellow into dark, ugly spots. She did not say a word, just arose and went to her bedroom, where she sat at the desk and wrote a letter to Mr. Duval. She sealed the envelope and returned to the living area, where she pulled the call cord before returning to her seat beside Ruby.
When she returned to the balcony, she stopped behind Ruby and bent to encircle the woman’s neck and to pull her head back against her chest. “Ruby, now you listen to me and listen carefully. I never again want to hear the drivel you said a few minutes ago. We are partners…no, we are mother and daughter. I love you and, as of this moment, adopt you as my mother.”
Which is exactly what she did. The letter to Mr. Duval at the bank instructed him to locate a judge who would make Ruby her mother. Yes, she would adopt Ruby, with or without the older woman’s involvement, until she was legally Ruby Clanton Sawyer, mother of Lucretia Lucinda Sawyer.
Mr. Duval read the letter twice, not quite believing what he was in it. He called for his carriage and drove to the courthouse, where his friend Judge Franklyn Carter Mountebank was between trials. He gave the letter to Mountebank, who laughed aloud as he read. “This is the first such request like this I have ever seen, but there are precedents. I see no reason to deny this request. Consider it done. I will have the paper delivered to the young woman today. She should have them within the hour.”
Mr. Granger, the decorator, was definitely not a ladies’ man. He seemed averse to even shaking hands with them. Ruby smiled through her veil, which she wore at all times, except in their suite and when only Lucretia was present. Mr. Granger, no first name offered, asked a few questions about the house, including its past owner. When he heard the name, his manner changed from irritated and put-upon to subservient and gushingly pleasant.
“Oh, yes, lovely ladies. I do remember that hideous paper. The matron’s husband insisted on it, as I recall. Definitely not suitable for ladies of your breeding and status.” He chattered on as he showed them page after page from his sample portfolio.
“Here, Mr. Granger, this is the one. Do you like it?” Lucretia handed the sheet to Ruby, who nodded. It was in pastels, showing couples in formal dress walking through gardens. “Then, we want this. How soon can it be done? Within the week, I hope.”
“The perfect choice, Mrs. Mills. A week? Hardly. It must come from Boston and that will take at least a month via ship.”
Ruby spoke for the first time. “It seems to me, Mr. Granger, that for what you will charge, you can arrange its arrival sooner than th
at. Have it sent by train instead. It must be complete before we move into the house. If this is not acceptable, perhaps we should find another decorator.”
Mr. Granger could not see her face, but prudence told him not to disagree. “Of course, madam, but that will be more costly. I always try to save my clients as much money as possible. However, if that is your desire, most definitely, by rail it shall be. I will telegraph the factory immediately.”
When he was gone, the women began laughing. Soon they were in the throes of near hysteria. Finally, Lucretia said, “I have never met anyone like him before. Why, you would have thought I had leprosy, or some other dire disease. What was the matter with him?”
“He is part of a group of males who like other men instead of women. I had no customers like them, so you never saw them in action. I know you found women who like women distasteful, and the same can be said of these men. I can tell you more about them, if you like.”
Lucretia shuddered. “I think my imagination is enough, thank you very much.” They laughed again. A knock interrupted their merriment. The bellman handed a letter to Ruby, who answered the door. Although she could read little, her lessons from Lucretia were improving that ability, but not enough to decipher the words scrawled on the paper. The envelope was addressed to “Mrs. Lucretia Sawyer and Mrs. Ruby Clanton Sawyer.” She looked askance at Lulu, who nodded and told her to open it
She did so, but it might as well have been Greek to her. “All these fancy words. I cannot read it at all.” She handed it to Lucretia, who skimmed it and grinned from ear to ear.
“It says, simply, that from this day forward, you are Ruby Clanton Sawyer, my adopted mother. It is all legal and signed by Judge Franklyn Carter Mountebank. See the signature.”
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