Sabrina's Man

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Hello, Franklin. This is Miss Sabrina Warren. She’s a visitor in our city, and I brought her to the best restaurant in New Orleans.”

  “Kind of you to say so.” Franklin beamed. “Come. I’ll give you your usual table.”

  A few minutes after they were seated, Franklin extended a menu, but Blakely said, “Just bring us the best you have. It’ll be good.” He leaned forward and said, “I’ve never gotten a bad meal yet.”

  “Thank you,” Franklin said. “Your food will be out very quickly.” He turned and left their table.

  “Well, now. Tell me about yourself, Mr. Blakely,” Sabrina said. “If you don’t work, what do you do?”

  Blakely turned his head to one side and seemed to think. “Well, I suppose my chief occupation at the present time is looking for a bride. As a matter of fact, I’ve got a list of prospects for the job. My mother and father made it out. The usual things for a rich wastrel like myself. She must be not hideous, have lots of money, come from a good family, and be respectable. As I say, my parents made it out. I’d like to add you to the list.”

  “It would never work, Mr. Blakely.”

  “Just call me William. Now, why wouldn’t it work?”

  “Because we’re both used to getting everything we want.”

  “Well, that doesn’t matter. We’ve got money enough between us to take care of that.”

  “We’d fight constantly.”

  “I’d rather like that. Every couple needs a good fiery argument at least once a week. Then they can have fun making up. What about you, Sabrina? Has your family tried to marry you off to a suitable candidate?”

  Ordinarily Sabrina would not have spoken to a stranger about her life, but something about William Blakely made her open up. She said honestly, “My family feels like yours, except they’re looking for a suitable husband.”

  “Well, this is going to work out fine.” Blakely smiled. He leaned forward and whispered, “After we eat we’ll go to my house. You can apply to my parents for the position of my wife. I think they’ll give you a high rating. I’m afraid,” he said sadly, “they’re trying to marry me off to Emma Gibbons.”

  “What’s the matter with her?”

  “Well, she’s rather homely, to be truthful. Stacks of money. Comes from an old-money family, and lots of poor men without money are after her. Oh, I think you can beat Emma out.”

  Sabrina laughed and said, “That’s very tempting, but we’re too much alike. Both spoiled to the bone.”

  “Well, I like being spoiled, and I expect you do, too, right?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Any brothers or sisters to inherit the money?”

  “I have one sister, but she’s younger than I am. As a matter of fact, she’s very romantic, which I am not.”

  “Oh, Ithinkyoumightbeifyouhadtheproper. . .encouragement.”

  “No, I’ve had the proper encouragement. I’m very practical. My sister is expecting a white knight to come riding in and carry her off. She’s being courted by a handsome one right now. My parents are afraid of him.” She went ahead to explain the situation, and finally she shrugged. “My parents are worried sick, but I can handle it.”

  “What will you do, shoot the poor man?”

  “Oh, there are ways of getting rid of fellows like that. I’ve had quite a bit of experience.”

  Blakely smiled and stroked his mustache. “Well, it occurs to me maybe I could go back with you for a double purpose. I could shoot the fellow, maybe not kill him, just wound him and persuade him to leave. Then I can persuade your parents that I’m just the sort of son-in-law they need.”

  “I don’t think that would work out. My mother’s not very astute, but my father’s sharp. He got rich by knowing men. He’d see you, William, in a minute as a poor choice for a son-in-law.”

  “That breaks my heart, Sabrina, but let’s at least enjoy the lunch. Then tonight we’ll go out together, and I’ll have another chance with you.”

  Sabrina enjoyed the lunch and enjoyed the chatter, but immediately following the meal she said, “Good-bye. It’s been nice talking to you. You’re a charming fellow, but I’m looking for a man with a little bit more backbone.”

  “I don’t have much of that, I’m afraid.” Blakely shrugged. “If you change your mind”—he reached into his pocket and gave her a card—“here’s my name and address. Just write me, and I’ll come on that white horse to carry you off.”

  Sabrina took his hand. He offered to accompany her, but she said, “No. This is good-bye forever, William.”

  When she got back to the hotel, Dulcie was waiting for her. “Well, did you get rid of that triflin’ man?”

  “Why, he’s rich, handsome, and charming.”

  Dulcie said sourly, “He’s a trashy man. You don’t need no trashy man, Miss Sabrina. You needs a good man.”

  “Well, I’m trying hard. I seem to have run through the available list in Memphis.”

  “But there’s plenty of good men out there, and one of them would be a good man for you, but you is too picky.”

  “Well, let’s look at these dresses now.” She threw herself into the task of trying on dresses again, knowing full well she would send some of them back.

  The following day, Sabrina was awakened early by Dulcie, who said, “There’s done been a telegram come for you.”

  “A telegram?” Sabrina sat up in bed and blinked her eyes, trying to come awake. “Where is it?”

  “It’s right here.” Dulcie handed her a single slip of paper.

  She peered at the signature. “It’s from Father.”

  “What does he say?”

  Sabrina scanned the telegram. “It says: ‘Sabrina, Marianne insists on marrying Gerald Robbins. It’s a tragedy. Please come home at once and help us change her mind.’ ”

  Sabrina threw off the bedcovers and got up. “Help me get dressed, Dulcie,” she said. “We’ve got to leave today.”

  “I told you so! Didn’t I tell you? You didn’t have no business leavin’. Now you got to go home, and I don’t think you can do nothin’ about Miss Marianne.”

  “Yes, I can. Now help me get packed.”

  “Gonna take an extra railroad car to get all this junk back,” Dulcie muttered, but she began stuffing dresses into suitcases and trunks.

  As the carriage drew up to the front door of her home, Sabrina got out. The footman was there to help her. She turned and said, “Dulcie, you take my things. See that it’s all hung up.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Dulcie said.

  Sabrina was met by her mother, who threw herself at her daughter. Sabrina held on to her, patting her back and saying, “Now don’t cry, Mother. It’s going to be all right.”

  “No, it’s not going to be all right. It’s going to be awful. She won’t even listen to her father and certainly not me. You’ve got to change her mind and tell her about this man.”

  “Well, I haven’t even met him.”

  “He’s not a man for her. You’ll find that out.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s up in her room. We had an awful fight. She went off and told me she didn’t want to see anybody.”

  “Well, she’ll see me,” Sabrina said grimly. She released herself from her mother’s embrace and headed up the stairs. As she did, she tried to make up a speech. I’ve got to be firm. She’s too young to get married. She’s not mature enough to marry anybody. Not this knight in white armor she’s been looking for. She had already formed a poor opinion of Gerald Robbins without having met him. She had heard him described well by her parents and ecstatically by Marianne, and none of it pleased her. She reached the top of the stairs, went to the door of Marianne’s room, and knocked. “Marianne, I need to see you.”

  “Go away!”

  “I’m not going away.” She opened the door and saw Marianne lying across the bed.

  Her younger sister raised her head. Her eyes were red with weeping. “Leave me alone, Sabrina.”

  “I�
��m not leaving you alone. I’m going to talk sense to you.”

  For the next ten minutes Sabrina did her best to “talk sense” to Marianne, but it was like talking to a dead stump.

  Marianne would do nothing but shake her head and say, “I love him, and I’m going to marry him.”

  “You’re not going to marry him. Why, I haven’t even met him.”

  “Your mind is made up against him. So is Mother’s and Father’s, but I don’t care. I love him, and I’m going to have him.”

  Sabrina was set back somewhat. Marianne had always been the gentle, easily led one of the two. Sabrina had been the bossy, demanding type, but now she had run up against a problem she had never encountered before. Marianne was obstinate; her mouth was set in a stubborn fashion, and she was glaring at Sabrina with resentment and anger. “We don’t really know this man,” Sabrina said. “We don’t know anything about his family.”

  “I know one thing. I know I love him.”

  “You’re just in love with romance.”

  “Don’t start on me, Sabrina. I’m not going to listen.”

  That, in essence, was Sabrina’s effort to cause Marianne to listen. But after ten minutes of total silence from her sister, Sabrina gave up. “We’ll talk about this some more when you feel better.” She waited for Marianne to answer, but when she still refused to speak, Sabrina got up and left the room. She went downstairs and found her father and mother waiting for her.

  “What did she say?” her father demanded. His face was lined with care. He obviously expected her to have a good word.

  “She won’t listen to me now, but I’m not through yet. We can’t give up.”

  “She’s like a different young woman,” Caroline Warren said. Her face was swollen from weeping, and she said, “Can’t we just bundle her into a carriage and take her away?”

  “She’s not a child,” Charles Warren said.

  “She is behaving like a twelve-year-old,” Sabrina said angrily. She was disturbed at having failed in her first attempt. Always before, whatever she pleased, she could get Marianne to agree to it, but this was a different young girl, and Sabrina’s mouth set in a stubborn line. “I’m going to stay here and not let her out of my sight. And I’m going to meet this Gerald Robbins. I’ve got a word or two to say to him.”

  “We’ve said everything we can think of to him and to her,” her father said. “It’s a hopeless case.”

  “No, it’s not hopeless. I can fix it,” Sabrina said stubbornly. She turned and walked out of the drawing room and up the stairs.

  She found Dulcie sitting in the midst of a pile of her clothes, waiting. “Did you talk her out of marrying that scoundrel?”

  “You don’t know he’s a scoundrel.”

  “I bet he is. He ain’t no good man.”

  “You wouldn’t think any man was good enough.”

  “That doesn’t change that he’s a scoundrel. You mark my words on that.”

  “I’ll make up my own mind on that,” Sabrina said. “I’m going to see him tomorrow.”

  “You might have met your match this time. I don’t think the Good Lord Himself could change Miss Marianne’s mind.”

  Sabrina could not sleep well that night. She woke up late. Dulcie was not there, so she put on a simple dress, brushed her hair, and started down the stairs.

  She was met halfway down by her father, who had a sheet of paper in his hands. His face was pale.

  “What is it, Father?”

  “Read this.”

  Sabrina took the paper and read it in one glance. It was in Marianne’s handwriting, but where her handwriting was usually neat, this was obviously scratched at a moment’s notice.

  I know you’re all going to hate me, but I can’t help it. I love Gerald, and I’m leaving with him. I would like to be married here, but he says we can be married after we get to his home, that he knows a good parson there. Please don’t try to find me. Gerald is my life. I love you all, but I must do this.

  Marianne

  “When did she leave, Father?”

  “Nobody knows. She went to bed early, and she was gone this morning. She must have made arrangements for Robbins to take her in the middle of the night.” He slumped over against the rail and looked as if he were about to fall.

  “Don’t worry, Father. We’ll find them.”

  “How? We don’t know where she’s going. We know very little about the man.”

  “We’ll find him. Don’t worry. This isn’t the end of this thing yet.” But even as Sabrina spoke, she knew that somehow something had ended in the life of their family. It was almost like a death, and Sabrina, for the first time in her life, felt helpless.

  She had tried her best to change Marianne and failed. Now the thought that if she had stayed it might have been different came to her. She slowly descended the stairs, determined to give her mother all the comfort she could—which wasn’t a great deal.

  CHAPTER 12

  Caesar was sitting in the kitchen eating a huge piece of cake, stuffing his mouth full.

  Dulcie glared at him. “You eat like a hungry dog. Take little bites.”

  “It’s so good I can’t hep it. You the best cook there is in addition to being the best-lookin’ one around.”

  “Don’t you come at me with none of your ways. I ain’t gonna stand for it, Caesar.”

  Caesar’s eyes opened wide. “Why, I was just being appreciative. You is good-lookin’, and you is a fine cook.”

  Dulcie did not object to these two descriptions of herself, but she plopped herself down, and her head drooped. “This place is a madhouse.”

  “Sho’ enough is. They all act like Miss Marianne died. She didn’t die.”

  “About the same to them. She says she’s going to marry that man, but he ain’t said one word to Mr. Charles ’bout marryin’ her. I don’t think he’s got marriage on his mind. He didn’t look like a marryin’ man to me.”

  “Well, he was a fine dresser and good-lookin’ gentleman.”

  “Gentleman? He ain’t no gentleman.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “I’ve been around enough gentlemen to know one when I sees one. Mr. Frank Morgan, now he’s a gentleman. Mr. Charles, he’s a gentleman. Even that Mr. Lane Williams that been courtin’ Miss Sabrina is a gentleman. But that fellow Robbins, he wasn’t no gentleman. He’s gonna ruin Miss Marianne, that’s what.”

  Caesar took a small portion of the cake and put it in his mouth. At once it was gone, and he took a larger portion. He washed it down with a glass of milk and said, “Miss Sabrina, she’s plumb upset. I took her downtown today, and she snapped at me like I wuz a snake.”

  “She’s worried. First time she’s ever been worried about anything.”

  “She knows it’s her fault.”

  “How could it be her fault? It was her sister who run off.”

  “If she had stayed here and helped, she could have done somethin’. No, she had to go to New Orleans and spend a lot of money on clothes that she didn’t need nohow.”

  “She surely was upset. She didn’t even look like herself.”

  “Her father is going to have to have a doctor for his wife. She about to lose her mind.”

  The two sat in the kitchen, continuing to discuss the plight of Marianne.

  Downstairs in the larger of the two parlors, Charles was trying to comfort Caroline, who was weeping. “Dear, you simply must get ahold of yourself. I think we’d better have the doctor.”

  “What could he do?” Caroline wailed. “He couldn’t bring Marianne back.”

  “No, but he could give you something for your nerves.”

  “What are we going to do? What can we do?”

  “I tell you what I’m going to do right now. I’ll leave Sabrina here to care for you. I’m going down to the police.”

  Caroline’s eyes widened. “Do you think he kidnapped her?”

  “I’m sure we couldn’t charge him with that since she went willingly enough, but at le
ast the police will know how to find her. . . I hope. I’ll go get Sabrina. You try to lie down and get some rest.”

  Charles Warren left the drawing room and went at once to Sabrina’s room. When he knocked on the door, she opened it up. “Sabrina, I’m going to town. You stay with your mother. Try to keep her calm as you can.”

  “Why are you going to town, Father?”

  “I have no idea how to find my daughter. I’m going to the police.”

  Sabrina at once said, “That’s a good idea. Let me go with you.”

  “No, you stay here with your mother. I don’t know how long I’ll be. If your mother gets worse, call Dr. Simpson. Have him come. Have him give her something that’ll make her sleep. And make her stop worrying so much.”

  “I’m not sure there is anything like that.” Then she said bitterly, “I need some myself.”

  Warren looked at his daughter and saw with surprise that her face showed signs of tears. “I haven’t seen you cry since you were seven.”

  “It’s all my fault! I should have stayed here.”

  “I don’t think it would have made any difference, but you do what you can now by taking care of your mother.”

  “Come back home as soon as you find out something.”

  “I’ll do it, daughter. Try not to worry.”

  “I won’t do that. I should be worrying. I should have been more careful.” It was an admission that his strong-willed daughter did not often make.

  As Charles left the house he thought, This thing has broken Sabrina. That shows how bad it is.

  “I’m sorry that we’re not able to do more, Mr. Warren.”

  The chief of police was a personal friend of Charles Warren. His name was Louis Stone, and he was a good policeman.

  It was the day after Warren had come and laid his problem before the chief. Now Stone shook his head. “I’ve had my best detectives out, and they can’t find a trace of the man. Nothing solid. I don’t think Robbins is his real name.”

  “Any leads at all?”

  “Well, they found the hotel where he lived. Several people knew him, but he didn’t talk about himself. We did find out one thing…”