Appetites & Vices

by Felicia Grossman

  Ursula sucked in her snickers so hard she had to cover her choking with coughs. Lydia might want to study harder if a single word from Jay Truitt turned her into a giggling ninny.

  Three heads swiveled towards her, with expressions ranging from Rachel’s anxious triple blink to Jay’s suspicious squint. Well, a smug, knowing sort of suspicious.

  “Must be dust from the road,” she stammered.

  The corner of Jay’s mouth twitched, but his face remained earnest as he refocused on the girls. “And what do you most enjoy studying?”

  “Well, Rachel has such beautiful penmanship, and I’m known for my recitations.” Lydia flapped her fan and batted her lashes. The combination though was a bit difficult for the girl and soon her eyes opened and shut at different intervals, giving her a daft affect.

  Snickers were easier to cover than snorting, unfortunately. Jay solved the issue by stepping on her toe. Hard. Her yelp of pain did the trick.

  Ursula studied his face: no amusement whatsoever, and yet, the gleam in his eye said something different. How was he so good at this game? Moreover, why could she never be anywhere near that good?

  “They’re wonderful, Lydia.” Rachel’s melodious, serene voice warmed the space. She squeezed her friend’s hand.

  Her amusement fled as pressure filled Ursula’s throat. No one outside her parents ever touched her in such a kind way, not even Hugo, certainly no other girl her own age.

  “You’ll have to recite some for us later. You like poetry, don’t you, Ursula?” Jay’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “Yes, poetry is lovely.” She forced her voice steady and vague. Her tone and words must reveal nothing. She couldn’t make a mistake that way.

  Poetry wasn’t an interest, though she knew her way around popular verses if pressed. She dug her nails into her palms.

  Rachel’s friend was probably an expert and, based on some previous, painful experiences, angling for a competition, one designed for Ursula to lose. She needed to prepare. When it happened, she wouldn’t get mad. Or worse, cry.

  She brought food to her lips and tasted nothing. A constant cycle of déjà vu.

  Lydia clasped her hands together. “I adore Coleridge, Lord Byron, and Tennyson. Of course, there’s also our Jewish studies. I know all of David’s psalms by heart, though I don’t suppose either of you are familiar. Rachel and I are both in Ms. Gratz’s new Sunday school. It’s such a shame you don’t have any real education that way.”

  She shot Ursula a pitying look.

  “Yes. It’s unfortunate I don’t live in Philadelphia.” Ursula stared at her hands.

  Was it? If she’d been raised around her cousins and their ilk would she fit, make sense?

  Jay’s eyes were on her, but she couldn’t look up because if she did he’d see—everything.

  Lydia nodded. “You might have met some of our lovely young Jewish men instead of meeting who you met. I mean no offense, Mr. Truitt, you seem very nice.”

  Ursula swallowed. Her arrangement with Jay wasn’t secret. Well, not from her father, but the way Lydia spoke...would it be better if she did or didn’t know? Also, how did Lydia get away with saying things like that and still have friends? Even she wasn’t that inept but had no one. The tears burned just below the surface. Why had she even come?

  “I’m really not, at least not until Ursula.” Jay’s voice cut in, making the decision for her. “Just one look at her and I was forever lost. I’m a completely changed man, with nary a hint of my previous lifestyle.”

  He grasped her hand and stroked her fingers, as if he liked her instead of just aiming to use her to further whatever his real goals were.

  Her stomach tingled. He was wonderful, at least in that moment. Why was he being so kind? Moreover, how was he so good at saying the exact right thing in every situation? The man could deflect like no one else. If only she could have a little of his sorcery for once.

  “Your previous lifestyle?” Lydia scrunched her nose. “Pray tell, what’s that?”

  Jay launched into a rather scandalous story regarding riverboat gambling on the Mississippi.

  Sweat dripped below her hairline. Why was it still so hot this late in the evening? Ursula picked at her food. They should’ve served something cold. How could she escape, call for Rose to undress her and tell her everything would right itself in the end?

  Her younger cousin, Isaac, slipped across the back of the room carrying pegs and a board. His head was down as if he didn’t want to be noticed. She wet her lips. Who’d have expected her rescuer would be a fourteen-year-old boy with slumped shoulders and floppy curls?

  She shot to her feet, tilting away from Jay. The conversation halted, but she ignored everyone in the room and instead rushed after Isaac. “Is that a cribbage set?”

  He stopped in the arched doorway to the dining room, his back towards her. “Yes. Do you enjoy the game?”

  There was so much hope in the single question that her heart ached for him. The way he asked almost reminded her of, well, herself. She drew in a breath.

  “I do, though it’s better with two people.”

  She bit the tip of her tongue, her eyes on his back, willing him to hear her.

  He didn’t turn, but his head bowed in a nod. “It is. Do you really want to play with me?”

  She could dance. She was saved.

  “I’d love to.”

  Where had Ursula gone? And Judah? He could wring both of their necks. He’d had worse meals, Rachel and Lydia were pleasant for a spell, but he could only do so much goalless flattering. Jay wrinkled his nose. Though both were bright, besides being exceedingly too young, they were, well, not clever. Intelligent, yes, but not clever. Not his taste by any stretch of the imagination.

  He rose and gave an exaggerated yawn. “Ladies, it’s been lovely, but I should retire. It was quite the journey, especially as your cousin and I have a social engagement tomorrow evening.”

  Jay searched for a servant to direct him to his room for the evening. As he passed the dining room Ursula’s rumbling laughter floated through the doorway. His stomach, well, not his stomach, a much lower area, sprang to life. He stopped, ear against a curio.

  “In your parents’ bed? You’re terrible, Isaac.” Ursula devolved into giggles.

  “The flies loved it though.” His volume matched hers, a shy pride in his tone. “The servants, not so much. I believe it took four washes and there’s still a faint scent.”

  Jay grinned and peeked around the side. She’d thrown back her head, long curls cascading downward as she slapped the carved oak table.

  “Just terrible, though I am fond of honey.” She snorted and the two laughed harder.

  Why couldn’t he make her laugh like that? Wasn’t he amusing?

  Nonsense. What was he even thinking? Her opinion shouldn’t matter. In a month or so, he’d be gone and never see her again.

  Still, she was a curious case. Why could Ursula be so confident cutting him with her sly wit, but silent with her own cousin and a mousey little lawyer’s daughter, two years her junior? Why instead of spending time with him, did she tease and joke with a child?

  It was of no consequence. He just needed to uphold his end of the bargain, assist with her plan and she’d do the same.

  He’d sleep. Sleep would be the best course of action. Though he should’ve snuck some whiskey in one of his bags. Mere spirits were never enough and not what his body craved, but the stronger ones did take the edge off.

  Jay swallowed. Paris. He’d go to Paris for several months, and to the new gambling casino in Monte Carlo. In Europe, he could forget or find something else, something that wouldn’t land him back in that awful place his parents stuck him last time.

  He moved through more rooms until he revisited the staircase. Voices floated from the landing, or more one voice—Lydia’s.

&nb
sp; “Did you spy her dress? Can you believe her father permits her in public? She clearly knows nothing of modesty and is utterly ridiculous. Imagine what people say about her? Someone should tell the poor dear. Also, what sort of education did you say she had? Tutors? I don’t believe she reads anything, or at least nothing of any quality. No wonder they live in Delaware and don’t visit.”

  Jay gritted his teeth.

  No wonder they lived in Delaware indeed.

  The story she told back in the carriage—why couldn’t any of them give her the benefit of the doubt? True, she didn’t help herself, and yes, as he’d said, life wasn’t fair; however, having to sit next to her giving one-word answers crushed his soul.

  “Mr. Truitt.”

  He quaked at Judah Nunes’ unexpected interruption and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “I was just looking for someone to direct me to my quarters.” Jay stammered the words.

  Eyes so dark they were nearly black bore into him from beneath the two mustaches on the man’s forehead. “Four floors up and two doors to the left, across from my nephew.”

  “He seems like a nice boy.”

  “He’s a child, shy but bright and more fire in him than expected. That’s all Nunes, not Levy.” Nunes cracked his knuckles.

  “Like your daughter.”

  Judah’s eyes widened for a moment before they returned to their natural, suspicious state. Had he imagined it? What was this family about? Something was off.

  The older man clucked his tongue. “There certainly is fire there, yes, plenty of it, strong and hot. Though fire still needs kindling to stay lit.”

  Jay’s heart leapt into his throat. He had no idea what the phrase meant, but the tone and the moment—he shivered despite the heat.

  “Mr. Nunes?”

  “Good night, Mr. Truitt.” The man’s voice held a note of finality.

  He brushed past Jay towards the stairs, his footsteps echoing long after he retired and after Jay was able to make his own feet move.

  Chapter Five

  Ursula yanked at the top of her new orchid taffeta ball gown. Why, even with the best dressmakers, were bodices lower on her than on all other women? The dip in the front, coupled with the sleeves that started a hair below her shoulders, gave her pause. Even with jewelry a rather large swath of skin was exposed.

  She tugged again. Isaac’s wide eyes, Rachel’s lowered gaze, and Lydia’s smirk flashed in her mind. At least her uncle made himself scarce during their departure, or he, for sure, would’ve had a verbal criticism. Every word out of the man’s mouth dripped with condescending disapproval as it was.

  Ridiculousness. She’d had six fittings and the layers fell just right, but the reactions gave her the urge to run back and cuddle under the covers with Arte. She stared at the black and white of their hosts’ painted wood floor until the colors blurred.

  Shiver dimples rose on her flesh as Jay’s palm connected with her waist.

  “We’re supposed to be happy and in love,” he whispered.

  “I’m smiling.” She forced the words through her clenched jaw.

  “Try to make it a bit more obvious, maybe laugh like I said something funny.”

  “You’ll get laughter if you earn it.” She squeezed her fan. Why was she always so harsh? And more, how was Jay always so affable? They were entering the lion’s den, their futures at stake, and he grinned as if he was on a pleasant spring stroll.

  To top that, instead of being offended by her remark, he threw back his head and laughed, a sincere laugh.

  Flips. Her gut engaged in acrobatics now. She really needed refreshments. Did these people have tartlets? Made without lard?

  “Excellent idea, a challenge for the evening.” He bent to her ear again. “We’ll be successful. We can charm these people and be the couple to envy. Hugo and everyone here will be wildly jealous. Follow my lead.”

  Ursula clutched the fan so tight the guard cracked.

  He brushed her back. “I’ll get us some liquid courage.”

  Before she could tell him that she would not be having spirits, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving her alone. She sighed. So much for rising to the challenge. Where to wait? She glanced around for a space to occupy, where she could plan. She’d need to have her own because Jay—

  “Who died?”

  Why? Why did Priscilla Reed have to be here? This was Philadelphia, not Wilmington. Ursula bit her tongue. Could she not just start over, be someone new here instead of having everything—and—everyone from her past follow her?

  “What?” Ursula managed to stammer.

  “The purple. You aren’t still in mourning for your mother, are you?” Priscilla rolled her eyes.

  Ugh, she should’ve listened when Rose warned her about the color. Ludicrousness. What was wrong with these people? Also, how did one respond to that?

  Fortunately, she didn’t need to answer. Priscilla wagged a finger close enough to make Ursula flinch.

  “You’re engaged to Jay Truitt.” Not a question, not a statement, the remark was an accusation.

  “Yes.” Ursula tucked in her shoulders as the girl stepped closer. If only she’d hid behind the drapery. Priscilla was no mere garter snake. Her family was connected, and, for unfathomable reasons, all their peers adored her. Whatever Priscilla did, the other girls copied. Everything she liked was what they liked and everything or person she didn’t...

  “Where is he?” Priscilla sniffed and glanced to her side, her eyes darting.

  “Oh, just going to get some refreshments.”

  Hurry. Please let Jay hurry. Or, Hugo. If only Hugo was around, they could disappear somewhere quiet. He’d have one of his books to share, and she wouldn’t have to be stuck waiting for whatever hideous thing Priscilla was going to say or do. At least there weren’t any tempting items within reach. She’d not throw her fan, she wouldn’t.

  “It’s so sweet that you trust him. You must really be in love,” Priscilla continued.

  Ursula clasped her hands behind her back to prevent herself from drumming on her leg. Where was her out? If only she could duck behind the potted fern near the stairs.

  “Of course, I’m in love with him and trust him. We wouldn’t be engaged if I didn’t.”

  “Well...” Priscilla drew out the word, so it had at least three syllables.

  “What?” Oh, for goodness’ sake, she was treading into a trap, wasn’t she?

  “We—come join us, Agnes, Katherine.” Priscilla motioned to two other women about her own age. The first was a distant cousin of Priscilla’s. There had been an incident years ago.

  Officious fool with the creativity of a dead squirrel, might have been the line she used. Her mother had been punished after that one too, never asked to join a committee again. The evening was just becoming better and better.

  The second girl, the pale brunette between the two redheads, was an unknown quantity. Likely a Philadelphia socialite who wielded inordinate amounts of power the cousins would use to blackball Ursula. At least Jay would be useful for something. There wasn’t much the Truitt name couldn’t conquer, in or outside Delaware.

  “Jay Truitt has a reputation. I suppose his name and money can make a great deal of women, especially those less fortunate, ignore certain behavior,” Priscilla almost sang.

  Ursula dug her nails into her palms so as not to use them. Who did Priscilla think she was? Yes, Jay enjoyed certain activities, but what made Priscilla think he would be so unsatisfied with her already? She gritted her teeth.

  “How fortunate it is that the Nunes banks don’t need more money, and the name holds cachet in certain circles.”

  “Not in these circles.”

  Goodness, Agnes was bold. Ursula squinted. Right, she’d slapped the girl too, but only after Agnes mocked the way her mother held her utensils.

&nbs
p; “Who said I desired cachet in these circles? This has been a lovely party so far, but just as lovely as anything in Wilmington. Jay has been so many other places too, New Orleans, Paris—”

  “Yes, I’m sure he’s still carrying some of those experiences with him.” Priscilla smirked.

  Ursula nibbled her tongue. What was she talking about—bloody Hell. Possibly true, but coming from Priscilla’s mouth it was just odious and unfair.

  If only she was a man. She could ask the two to step outside and prevail with a single punch. Or better yet, yank out every single strand of overdone hair on the woman’s head. Now though, she had to think of something to say, the right thing to say, and she was failing.

  Ursula peered into the sea of bodies and caught sight of the back of Hugo’s head. Finally, someone answered her prayers. She wrinkled her brow to appear quizzical.

  “I’m sorry, I was distracted. I’m not sure what you intended.” She waved a hand in her most dismissive manner. “We’ll have to discuss it more, later. I just saw—I have to go.”

  Ursula pressed through the crowd, impolite or not, until she was at Hugo’s side, where she belonged, matching his strides.

  “Please tell me you found something to make this evening bearable?” she whispered.

  He spun to face her and his countenance brightened. “Mercy me, you’re here. How did you manage an invitation?”

  She hooked her arm into his. “We’ll talk about that later. I have a story and a plan to solve all our problems. Just take me somewhere—anywhere in this place that’s not more of the same.”

  “I know just where we can go.” He led her to the staircase.

  She closed her eyes for a moment and let her heart settle to normal. Everything would be bearable now.

  * * *

  Where in tarnation had Ursula disappeared to? Again. Jay’d turned his back for one moment and she was gone. It was almost as if she didn’t like him. Or worse, forgot about him if he wasn’t in her line of vision.

  Had she already found Hugo? Did she just make a beeline for the man?