Playing the Part

by Jen Turano

  Summoning up what he hoped was an innocent smile, Bram turned and found Lucetta and Millie standing right behind him. “Didn’t I tell you two to stay in the Pullman car until we got matters settled out here, and until we made certain it was safe?”

  “I thought you would have realized by now that I’m not a lady who takes orders well.” Lucetta looked around. “Where’s Stanley?”

  “He went to see about renting a carriage.”

  Lucetta blew out a breath. “He won’t be successful. He’s a Yankee through and through, and”—she smiled—“they can smell Yankee from a mile away down here.” With that, Lucetta closed her eyes for all of five seconds and drew in a deep breath. When she opened her eyes again, Bram found himself looking at a consummate southern belle, complete with fluttering lashes and a gloved hand that took to waving ever so precisely back and forth in front of her face.

  “Mr. Wilkinson, is that you over there?” Lucetta called in a voice that practically dripped molasses as she sashayed toward the gentlemen sitting on the depot porch, all of whom jumped to their feet and tore the hats off their heads.

  “Why, Miss Lucetta Plum. Good heavens, darlin’, I hadn’t heard you were fixin’ on comin’ home.”

  “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, Mr. Wilkinson, but tell me, how is that mama of yours? Is she still making the best sweet tea Virginia has ever tasted?”

  Mr. Wilkinson smiled. “Mama is doin’ just fine, Miss Plum, and her tea is as good as ever. I’m sure she’d appreciate seeing you while you’re here visitin’.”

  “You tell her I’ll try my best to make my way over to your plantation, but now, I’d like to introduce all of you to some friends of mine.” She turned and gestured Millie forward first. “This is one of my very best friends in the whole world, Mrs. Everett Mulberry.”

  Bram watched while southern charm practically oozed out of each and every gentleman as they took a moment to meet Millie, and exclaim over Lucetta time and time again. Irritation flowed freely as he watched Lucetta’s hand get kissed again and again—until he realized that a few of the older men were missing limbs, that telling state of affairs having Bram’s irritation evaporating into thin air.

  It had been seventeen years since the war had ended, but clearly, for men of the South, there were daily reminders of that war all around them.

  “Bram, come meet some of my old neighbors.”

  Moving to join Lucetta, Bram quickly discovered that while the gentlemen were more than willing to extend their southern charm Millie’s way, they weren’t willing to offer him anything but the most cursory of greetings. Until Lucetta rolled her eyes and plopped her hands on her hips.

  “Honestly, gentlemen, Mr. Haverstein is my very good friend, and besides, while he may currently live in New York, he was raised in Cuba.”

  That was all it took for Bram to be well and truly welcomed to the town of Greenville. His hand was shaken by everyone, and a few of the men even slapped him on the back. They were not as gracious to Mr. Skukman, Ernie, or Stanley, when he returned to join them, but since Lucetta had taken to narrowing her eyes at them as she made introductions, they did at least send a few nods around.

  “I’m afraid I wasn’t able to find a carriage to let,” Stanley said, moving up beside Bram. “And . . . the man running the depot didn’t have any suggestions as to where I might find one.”

  Mr. Wilkinson, who’d obviously overheard Stanley, frowned as he stepped closer to Lucetta. “I would have thought, even given the animosity you and Mr. Nigel Wolfe share, that he would have been agreeable to sending a carriage for you. Truth be told, it’s not proper that he didn’t, not proper at all.”

  A ghost of a smile teased Lucetta’s lips. “As I believe I mentioned, this wasn’t a planned visit, so Mother isn’t expecting me, which is why a carriage hasn’t been sent.” She glanced around at the gentlemen still surrounding her. “May I dare hope that one of you has a wagon or something else with wheels that we could borrow?”

  “Monty Morrison and his wagon are parked around the front side of the train depot,” Mr. Wilkinson said. “He just brought his aunt to town to catch the next train. I would imagine he’d be delighted to see all of you over to Plum Hill.”

  Lucetta gave another flutter of her lashes, the act so unlike her that Bram had to turn his head to hide the smile he hadn’t been able to stifle as she continued. “Thank you, Mr. Wilkinson, and do be sure to tell your mama I was asking about her.”

  After a chorus of pleasantries and invitations to visit one plantation after the next, Lucetta smiled and nodded to everyone before she took Millie’s arm, and with Bram falling into step beside her, and Mr. Skukman, Ernie, and Stanley falling into step behind them, they headed down the boardwalk that ran adjacent to the train tracks.

  “How far is Plum Hill from here?” Millie asked.

  “About forty minutes or so, depending on the speed of the horse one takes.”

  “And it’s an honest-to-goodness southern plantation?”

  “It is.”

  “And your mother will be happy to welcome all of us to this plantation?” Millie pressed.

  “Hmmm . . .” was all Lucetta said to that before she quickened her stride, waving a hand at a wagon pulling out onto the road.

  As the wagon Lucetta had been waving down came to a stop, and Lucetta arranged for Mr. Morrison, the driver of that wagon, to see all of them to Plum Hill, Bram couldn’t help but wonder why Lucetta hadn’t answered Millie’s question, or why her mother wouldn’t be pleased to welcome her daughter home.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he could only hope that Lucetta wasn’t about to experience yet another dramatic circumstance.

  23

  Sitting on the front seat of Monty Morrison’s wagon, with Monty sneaking peeks at her every other second out of the corner of his eye, Lucetta couldn’t keep from smiling as an image of a very young Monty, who was a good five years younger than she was, kept flashing to mind.

  He’d always been a bit of a scamp, never clean for longer than an hour, and had been the bane of his mother’s existence, or so the woman had claimed, but it was encouraging to hear him talk about the improvements that were being made on his family’s plantation.

  “We put in tobacco this year, Miss Plum, and have also taken to raisin’ some hogs. Mother finds them a little distasteful and smelly, but there’s a profit to be made with hogs, and we could certainly use the money.”

  “Did you ever get the repairs done to your house?”

  Monty nodded. “The major ones, but some of the smaller repairs that still need to be made will have to wait a little longer, hopefully just until we take our hogs to market, or if tobacco keeps rising in price.” He glanced out of the corner of his eye again at her. “You still taking to the stage up there in New York City, or have you come home to stay?”

  The word home had her nerves jingling, even though a part of her had always considered Plum Hill home.

  She just hadn’t felt welcome in that home since Nigel had wormed his way into her family a decade before.

  She had yet to understand why her mother had married the man, had done so almost the moment her two-year period of mourning for Lucetta’s father had passed. Susannah, Lucetta’s mother, hadn’t even given her only daughter the courtesy of seeking her opinion about the marriage before she’d gone ahead and tied herself to Nigel, even with Lucetta being the one who’d been given the task of keeping Plum Hill afloat after her father had died.

  Lucetta had known from the moment Nigel showed up at Plum Hill, claiming he was simply stopping in to pay his respects to Susannah, that he was trouble hiding behind a bushel of southern charm and manners. He’d been impeccably dressed, and had kept being impeccably dressed every time he paid Susannah a visit, even though Lucetta discovered he’d lost everything in the war. That everything included the plantation he’d grown up on in Georgia, a plantation that just happened to be right next to the plantation Susannah had grown up on—both of the regal
houses that anchored the plantations having the misfortune of being burned to the ground when General Sherman had gone marching through that state.

  Nigel had used their common past to burrow his way straight into Susannah’s heart. Their glory days were often the focus of their conversations, especially the glory days that centered around talk of Susannah being the most sought-after belle in all of Georgia. Every time he brought up her great success, Susannah fluttered her lashes like the debutante she’d been, instead of behaving like a widow and mother of a daughter who’d almost been old enough to make her own debut.

  Susannah had never seen past the flattery Nigel diligently tossed her way, had never seen that the war had changed him in ways that made him so different from the young man she’d known growing up.

  Lucetta had never seen the man her mother remembered. She’d only seen a man who was disturbingly broken, and a man who had the ability to break the very small and very tenuous bond that Lucetta and Susannah shared.

  Once he convinced Susannah to marry him and vows had been exchanged, Nigel had been able to get his hands on all the money Lucetta’s father had left behind, money he couldn’t gamble away fast enough.

  Lucetta shifted on the wagon seat as a memory she’d purposefully filed away in the deepest recesses of her mind sprang forward, a memory of her begging her mother to talk to Nigel about the money he was losing, large chunks of money that would just disappear into thin air, usually after he’d return from what he liked to call business trips.

  Susannah had brushed Lucetta’s concerns away as she’d walked out the door of Plum Hill, only interested in getting to an afternoon tea she’d been invited to, an event that was obviously far more important than listening to the concerns of her daughter—concerns that centered around the fact that their money would shortly run out and they’d be left with no roof over their heads.

  “Miss Plum . . . is something the matter?”

  Shaking herself straight from thoughts she’d believed she’d left in the past, although clearly that was not the case, Lucetta summoned up a smile and sent it Monty’s way. “I have no idea why you keep calling me Miss Plum, Monty. We’ve known each other for years.”

  “You’ve been gone a long time, so I wouldn’t claim to know you at all these days,” Monty countered. “But very well, Lucetta it is—only not when your mother is around, because she, I have to admit, still frightens me.”

  “She frightens everyone,” Lucetta muttered.

  “I sure did enjoy your father’s company, though, back when he was alive. Now, there was a gentleman who made a person feel right at ease.” Steering the wagon down a well-tended lane, Monty smiled again. “Just over that rise and you’ll be home.”

  Sitting ever so slightly forward, Lucetta kept her attention front and center, feeling a small ache settle in her heart the moment they crested the rise and Plum Hill was laid out before them.

  Monty slowed the horses to a stop, as if he knew she’d want to take a moment to enjoy the sight of her old home.

  The money she’d made in the market and on the stage had been responsible for keeping Plum Hill in good standing. The four pillars that guarded the portico were dazzlingly whitewashed and the cobblestone drive that led to the front steps was cleared of all weeds and looking as if it had been swept only that morning. The three stories of red brick had always lent the structure a rather regal air, and with the black shutters that framed the paned windows on the front of the house looking as if they’d recently gotten a fresh coat of paint, the house looked downright stately. The glass in the windows gleamed in the late-afternoon sunlight, giving testimony that this was a house that had a full staff to keep it looking spotless, and she imagined she’d find the interior looking just as impressive.

  “And to think you gave all this up for an attic room in a boardinghouse,” Millie said from her seat in the wagon directly behind Lucetta.

  “Where I spent many a happy year with you and Harriet.” Lucetta nodded to Monty. “You may drive on, Monty. While I’d love to linger here for the rest of the afternoon, I have matters to discuss with my mother.”

  “And since I think that may be your mother stepping out on the portico, you’re not going to have to wait long to discuss those matters,” Monty said, flicking the reins, which had the horses plodding into motion again.

  As they drew closer to Plum Hill, the woman standing on the portico came into focus, and there was little doubt that the years had been incredibly kind to Susannah Wolfe. Her hair was still a lovely shade of gold, although a shade darker than Lucetta’s was these days. Her figure was trim, showcased to perfection in a gown that had come directly from Paris, one that sported a small bustle in the back and one that had cost a small fortune, a small fortune Lucetta had been responsible for paying.

  For the briefest of seconds, Lucetta felt tears sting her eyes. But knowing her mother would not appreciate any type of emotional display, especially in front of people Susannah did not know, Lucetta drew in a deep breath, and by the time Monty pulled the wagon to a stop a bit of a distance from the entrance to Plum Hill—at Lucetta’s request so that she could have a few private moments with her mother—she was in complete control again.

  Hopping down from the wagon seat after she told Bram, Millie, and the others she’d be right back for them, she squared her shoulders and headed for the front steps. “Hello, Mother,” she said, climbing the four steps it took to reach the portico where her mother was waiting.

  “Lucetta Plum, do not tell me those are honest-to-goodness wrinkles in the skirt of that gown?” was the first thing to come out of Susannah’s mouth, even though she hadn’t spoken to Lucetta in months.

  “It’s a long train ride from New York to Virginia, Mother, and I’m afraid I didn’t think to bring a maid with me, or . . . Oh, yes, I don’t actually employ a lady’s maid.”

  Susannah completely ignored Lucetta’s response as she sashayed her way closer. “While this is certainly a lovely surprise, having you come to call on me and all, did it ever cross your mind to send me a little note, asking if today would be convenient for me to have you show up at Plum Hill?”

  Pushing aside the small bit of hurt over the idea her mother was clearly not ecstatic to see her, Lucetta lifted her chin. “There wasn’t time to send a note, Mother, and considering Plum Hill is my home, one would think I wouldn’t need to send a note to make certain my presence would be welcome here.”

  All hints of pleasantness disappeared from Susannah’s lovely face. “I know full well you hold the deed to Plum Hill, Lucetta. Must you throw that in my face every time we see each other?”

  Lucetta blinked. “I don’t believe I said a thing about the deed to Plum Hill, Mother, nor do I believe I’ve ever mentioned anything about me holding the deed to Plum Hill to you. Now, Nigel and I, on the other hand, recently had a very enlightening chat about the status of Plum Hill, a chat I find myself wondering if he even brought up to you.”

  “Nigel just got back from a business trip, so we haven’t had much time to chat about anything,” Susannah said before she suddenly smiled, every trace of unpleasantness disappearing from her face, as if she’d suddenly recalled that Lucetta had arrived with a whole wagon filled with people—those people, Lucetta was quite certain, being the only reason Susannah was currently smiling.

  “But speaking of your dear stepfather,” Susannah continued with a flutter of her lashes. “We’re expected to dine this evening at the old Kerr plantation, which was recently purchased by a family distantly related to the Vanderbilts.”

  Susannah gave a delicate shudder. “I don’t particularly care to socialize with Northerners, but the ladies we vacation with at White Sulphur Springs are itching to get some of our belles invited to one of those Patriarch balls that are held up in New York City. Those ladies are of the firm belief that cozying up to this new family will help us achieve that goal.”

  “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Mother, but the Vanderbilts have yet to be ac
cepted into New York high society.”

  Susannah blinked. “But . . . I’ve heard that the Vanderbilts are one of the richest families in the country.”

  “While that is certainly true, they’ve been deliberately kept out of high society—or what those in the know call the New York Four Hundred—by none other than Mrs. Astor.” Lucetta shook her head. “Even with all the money the Vanderbilt family possesses, Mrs. Astor believes them to be uncouth, which is rather amusing when you think about it.”

  “What in the world would you find amusing about that?” Susannah asked slowly.

  “Well, Mrs. Astor enjoys the high position she holds within society, but her husband’s grandfather wasn’t well-heeled in the least, and the Vanderbilts’ grandfather, Cornelius Vanderbilt, the founder of their fortune, wasn’t well-heeled either. So why is the Astor family accepted into society, while the Vanderbilt family is not? Quite frankly, I’ve seen Alva Vanderbilt out and about in the city, and I cannot imagine her eating her peas with a knife.”

  Susannah frowned. “I’ve never understood how you always have so much history at your fingertips, or why you’d even be interested in it, but . . . I find myself curious as to how you know all of this information about New York high society.”

  Lucetta shoved aside the tiny sliver of disappointment her mother’s words caused. Susannah had never understood Lucetta’s mind, or her father’s, for that matter. She’d even mocked Lucetta’s intelligence over the years, telling her time and time again that she’d never find a gentleman to marry, because gentlemen did not enjoy being around women who knew too much.

  Forcing a smile, Lucetta shrugged. “I hear and see things at the theater, Mother, especially since society does enjoy its amusements. But besides that, I have a very good friend who has been an accepted member of society for years.”

  “I really prefer not to discuss your ‘very good friend,’ if it’s all the same to you.”

  Temper replaced any hint of lingering disappointment as Lucetta hugged her arms around her middle—as if that would stave away the unpleasantness she’d just heard—and stared at her mother, who’d taken to looking affronted.