CHAPTER FOURTEEN
T he SS Danish Dowager was to be the flagship of a new fleet. She was a luxury craft designed to carry passengers, as well as cargo. Lucien thought of the Dowager and the other ships that would follow as living memorials. Le Danois translated as The Danish. The next ship was to be the Danish Diva, the next the Danish Dancer.
Aurore had learned that the company’s board of directors was less than enthusiastic about the Dowager. The expenses were huge. Nothing was too good for Lucien. The Dowager was to be the finest ship operating out of the port. Though she had been built and launched in New York, Lucien had insisted that she be finished in New Orleans so that he could oversee all the interior work. He had made periodic inspections at the outfitting pier. Once, distressed by the pale gold chosen for the grand saloon, he had insisted that all the paint be thrown overboard so it wouldn’t be used elsewhere on the ship.
The Dowager ’s route had been carefully planned. In the winter tourist season she would travel between Havana and New Orleans; for the remainder of the year her destination would be New York. She was four hundred and twelve feet long and fifty feet abeam. She was to carry a crew of over one hundred and just as many passengers, and she was to travel at a speed of sixteen knots.
Compared to the monumental Atlantic ocean liners of the Cunard and Hamburg-America lines, she was not a large ship, but she was just as luxurious. Aurore had asked repeatedly to see the work in progress, but her father had brushed aside her requests. Like a small child with a toy he didn’t want to share, he had even begrudged the board of directors their right to a tour and made excuses not to be present for it. If Lucien had gotten his way, Aurore wouldn’t have seen the ship until it was completed.
But Lucien could no longer control Aurore.
In December, just before Christmastime, Aurore waited in the shadows fifty yards from the ship. The day had been pleasantly warm, but the evening was growing chilly. She held her cape shut, but the wind danced beneath it. Fantome had driven her here; tight-lipped and eagle-eyed, he waited not far away, in her father’s carriage. He had promised not to tell Lucien, but she felt his disapproval even at a distance. It would be even greater when he saw whom she was meeting.
She heard footsteps and withdrew farther into the shadows. The riverfront was dangerous at night. Nearby Decatur Street was lined with bars and sailors’ dens. In an effort to clean up the city, the city fathers had established boundaries for a red-light district, but crime couldn’t be contained so easily. The riverfront was removed from the district, but the river drew its own brand of sinners. Wharf rats were said to live under the wharves, thieves who slit sacks through the gaps between the widespread planks and neatly drained their contents.
A man came into view, cutting a striking figure against the winter sky. “étienne.” Relieved, she started forward. “I’m glad it’s you.”
“Why didn’t you wait in the carriage?”
“I was afraid I might miss you.”
“You might have missed me entirely, if someone else had found you here.” He stepped into the shadows, and she went into his arms, as naturally as she had for months.
His lips were warm against hers, and familiar. But familiarity was as exciting as curiosity once had been. Now she could anticipate each kiss and know exactly how his lips would feel.
She lived for these stolen moments, moments that were growing increasingly dangerous. Lucien had questioned her twice about her whereabouts on afternoons when she had been with étienne. He was at home more often now, as if his suspicions were aroused. When he was with her, he encouraged her to tell him about her days, and he listened carefully to her responses.
Once, Lucien’s attention would have meant everything to her. Every minute he spent with her had been the axis around which her world revolved. Now his attention added weight to her guilt. It was harder to go against him when he seemed so genuinely concerned for her welfare. It was harder, perhaps, but more necessary, because for the first time in her life, she had found a man whose attention mattered more.
étienne moved just far enough away to see her face. “Are you ready to board?”
“You’re certain no one will come after us?”
“I’ve made arrangements. No one will bother us.”
She slipped her arm through his.
The ship’s watchman appeared on the deck when they approached; without a word, he let down a temporary gangway. They boarded, and with a tip of his hat he departed. étienne pulled up the plank again, and they were alone.
“It’s ours until ten,” étienne said. “Then he’ll be back.”
“Ours.” She liked the sound of that.
“What shall we do first? Shall we dine? Dance? Have a tour?”
She had come for the last. Since they were the only people on board, the others were impossible. “A tour.” She whirled, and her cape flew around her. “Definitely a tour.”
He held out his arm. She took it, snuggling against the wind. “Where shall we start?” she asked.
“We’ll start with a lantern. There’s no electricity while she’s at dock.” They walked along the deck. She could envision it crowded with chairs and the colorful clothing of passengers. It had recently been varnished, and the smell added a pleasant tang to the air.
étienne found and lit a lantern. “Let’s start on the boat deck, while the sun is setting.” He led her up a stairway with brass railings that squealed as her hand dragged across them. At the top, he watched as she ran to the side to look out on the river.
“Look, there’s a tug passing.”
He came to stand beside her. “Your father’s spared nothing. This deck will be equipped with a dozen lifeboats.”
“Why? The Dowager won’t go down. I know ships wreck, but not ships like this. It’s a new era.”
“You forget about acts of God.”
Aurore chose to ignore the act of God she and étienne had both endured as children. “The newspapers have talked of nothing but Mount Vesuvius and the San Francisco earthquake since spring, but that was land and this is water. How could a ship as perfect as this one go down? I refuse to believe it.”
“Your father says the same thing, but even he sees the need for lifeboats.”
“My father has faith in his ships because he can build to his own specifications. He thinks if he spends a fortune he can bend anything to his will. But he doesn’t have faith in the river or the Gulf, because nothing he can do will tame them.”
“Eads tamed the river when he built the South Pass jetties.”
Until 1874, large ships hadn’t been able to pass through the shallow mouth of the Mississippi. James Eads, a remarkably capable engineer, had been so certain that he could use the river’s own current to carve a deeper pass that he agreed to absorb the expense if his plan wasn’t successful.
“Eads didn’t tame the river,” Aurore said. “He catered to her whims. In return, she allows us to pass through her mouth into the Gulf. It’s a favor she grants us.”
“She?”
She tossed her head, and soft curls bounced engagingly against her cheeks. “Of course. The river is a woman.”
“On the riverfront they call the Mississippi Old Man River.”
She turned her back to the water and leaned against the railing so that she could see his face better. “A woman gives life.”
He raised a brow. “A man has something to do with it.”
“Most men don’t seem to remember that. But even so, it’s the woman who nurtures her child and nourishes it, the way this river nurtures and nourishes us. She responds to the seasons, the phases of the moon, rising and falling, and always carrying with her the gift of life. How could she be anything but female?”
“The river also floods and destroys everything in its path.”
“Woman is capable of that, as well.”
“Man is the destroyer.”
“Woman is every bit as mighty, as commanding, as this river, when she’s forced to be.”
His expression was inscrutable. “How do you know? What have you ever been forced to destroy?”
“It’s a mistake to think that a woman’s feelings are less powerful than a man’s, étienne.”
“All her feelings?” He touched her cheek.
She could feel each separate fingertip against her skin. When étienne touched her, she felt as if something had been completed, as if something that had always been missing had now been returned to her. She closed her eyes and kissed his palm. “All,” she said.
Hand in hand with her, he showed her the bridge, equipped with the most modern technology, and the crew’s quarters. They stared down through stained-glass skylights to the smoking and drawing rooms below. As the sun dipped behind the horizon, they went down to the promenade deck and patiently strolled the circumference of the ship.
The smoking room was luxurious, with ornately carved walnut paneling, burgundy carpeting and comfortable leather chairs. Tables were set up for dominoes or a rowdier game of cards, and a bar extended along one side to cater to a gentleman’s whim. Beside the drawing room, in the center of the deck, was a small writing room for ladies, with gilded mirrors on the walls and delicately carved plaster ornaments adorning the ceilings.
“If I was traveling on this ship, I would adjourn here every day and write you a sad, sad letter,” she said, dragging a gloved fingertip along the surface of a Queen Anne secretary.
“What makes you think I’d let you come on board alone?”
Her voice grew softer. “Wouldn’t you?”
He moved closer. “And have you so far away? A letter wouldn’t be good enough, Aurore. Not even a sad, sad letter.”
She was afraid to believe what she saw in his eyes. She had yearned for love all her life, even as she had grown accustomed to living without it. Now she couldn’t think of anything else. Her waking moments were filled with thoughts of étienne; her dreams were the same. She lived for the hours they spent together.
“I wouldn’t want to leave you behind,” she said. “But what a scandal we’d cause if we took a room together.”
“Not if we married.”
She looked down at the secretary. “What a scandal we’d cause if we married.”
He lifted her chin. “Would the pleasures be worth it?”
“My father has plans for my life. He’d be furious if I married you.”
“I’m good enough to work closely with him, but not good enough to marry his daughter?”
“No,” she said honestly. “But those are his thoughts. Not mine.”
“And what are yours?”
She looked away. “Do you understand that if we married, my father would do everything in his power to leave me penniless? Even the law couldn’t protect me. He would give away everything, just to be sure I received nothing after his death.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I’ve never claimed to understand my father, but I do know he expects total obedience from me. He’d crush us both if I strayed too far from his plans.”
He dropped his hand. “Then why are you here? To pass a little time? To stray just a little?”
“Why are you here?” she countered. “Did you think you might better your prospects by seducing the daughter of your employer and making an advantageous marriage?”
She expected him to turn away; most men would have. But étienne didn’t. “I’m here because I want you.”
“Even without my money or my name? Even without a single share of Gulf Coast Steamship stock?”
“I’ve never wanted your name! And I have money of my own.”
She had held herself erect throughout their exchange. Now she sagged a little. “Then why do you want me?”
“The first time I saw you, I knew you were going to be mine.”
“There are more beautiful women, cleverer women.”
“None of them is Aurore Le Danois.” He took her hands and clasped them in his own. “But tell me if I’m wasting my time. If you’re bound by what your father thinks or says, then you have to tell me now.”
“He’s your employer.”
“There are other shipping companies on the river. Other companies in other places.”
“You would give up what you’ve worked so hard to achieve?”
“My goals aren’t as narrow as you seem to think.” He pulled her closer. Their faces were only inches apart. “I’ve never expected to stay at Gulf Coast forever.”
She gave herself up to a kiss that said more than words ever could. With his arms around her, she felt surrounded by his warmth and strength. She had never thought of love as a refuge, but now she escaped into the world he was creating. For the first time, she really allowed herself to imagine a life with étienne, a life far from the demands of her father.
His lips moved over hers, insisting with passionate grace that she had nothing to fear and everything to anticipate. She swayed against him and wished that her clothes weren’t a barrier to the hard pleasures of his body.
“I have more to show you,” he said at last.
Her breath was coming quickly. She had learned the joys of intimate kisses, of tongue dancing with tongue and hearts beating together. “You’ve already shown me so much.”
He took her hand. Hers was trembling, and his was not much steadier.
He led her to the stairs and down to the saloon deck. She had forgotten about the tour, but he pulled her into the grand saloon and left her by the door. “Wait here.”
She didn’t know what to expect; she hadn’t known what to expect since the day étienne had walked into her father’s office. A small flame flickered in the corner, then another. As she watched, the darkness turned gradually lighter, until she could see dozens of candles set against huge mirrors. She clapped her hands as étienne circled the room. When he had finished, he joined her and held out his hand. She let him lead her to a table in the center.
“Mademoiselle Le Danois.” He gestured to the table. “Your host requests the pleasure of your company at his table tonight.”
The room was an enormous octagon, a fairy-tale ballroom with a vaulted ceiling that rose two decks. Between the many mirrors were beautifully rendered figures from Greek mythology. She recognized Apollo and his twin sister, Artemis.
A balcony circled the room a floor above them, and tall windows behind it let in the soft glow of moonlight. The table étienne had chosen was one of more than twenty, octagonal, like the room. Although the others were bare, theirs was covered with fine linen and set with china adorned with spidery letters: intersecting D s, the insignia of the Danish Line.
Pale golden roses bloomed in crystal at the table’s center, and sterling shone beside the plates. “étienne?”
“Mademoiselle.” He pulled out her chair. She let him seat her. Before she could ask another question, he disappeared into the shadows at one side of the room. She had eaten a light meal, because she hadn’t expected to eat again. But now she realized she was famished.
He returned with a silver platter. As she watched, he lifted a dome and displayed two small, glistening roast ducks. He set the platter on the table and disappeared again. When he had finally returned for the last time, the table held a salad of colorful vegetables cut into thin strips and dressed with a pungent sauce, a dish of fragrant oyster dressing, spinach garnished with hard-boiled eggs, and a fruit compote with its own pitcher of heavy cream.
“How did you arrange this?” she asked.
He seated himself beside her. “It’s better not to ask.”
“It’s wonderful. You’re a magician.” She spread her hands to encompass the room. “And this is truly magic.”
“Shall I carve?”
“Please.” She watched as he expertly sliced one of the ducks. She passed her plate, and he presented the tender fowl to her on a slice of toast. Together they served up the remainder of the meal, passing and receiving plates. Her eyes rarely left his. They ate, and although she knew the food had been prepared by a talented, if mysterious, chef, she hardly tasted a bite.
The candlelight flickered in étienne’s eyes. He had taken off his hat, and his hair brushed his forehead in a way that made her want to test its curl with her fingers. She watched the planes of his face shift and change in the soft light. She could imagine watching him this way forever. Until tonight, she had not dared to imagine watching him grow older, to imagine children they might have together.
He smiled, and she saw possession in his eyes. It was not the careless ownership she saw in her father’s. It was darker and more intimate. It hinted at secrets, at whispered words exchanged in candlelit rooms, at kisses more passionate than those they had exchanged.
étienne pushed his chair back and stood when she had finished. “Is Mademoiselle ready to dance?”
“Can the magician produce an orchestra?” She stood, too.
“The magician can produce music.”
She watched him vanish into the shadows again, but this time her eyes were more accustomed to the darkness. She could see him stooping at a table on the far side of the room; then a man’s voice began to sing. She clasped her hands. “A gramophone. étienne, you think of everything.”
He returned. “May I have this dance?”
“I’m not sure you’re on my card for this one.” She pretended to check, holding the imaginary card up to the candlelight. “You are at that.”
He took her in his arms. They waltzed between tables to the strains of “Let Me Call You Sweetheart.” The gramophone scratched at the words and distorted the melody, but she was as entranced by the sound as if it were a full orchestra.
She closed her eyes and let him guide her between the tables. He had a sure sense of rhythm, and waltzing with him was like floating. He pulled her closer, and she could feel his signals—turn, two, three, turn again—through her whole body.
He left her for a moment when the song had slowed to nothing, then returned to take her in his arms for a Strauss waltz that continued long after silence filled the room. By the third waltz she was no longer thinking about the music, only about the delicious freedom of standing so close to him. When he kissed her, she wasn’t surprised. They waltzed on, slowing their steps until they were no longer dancing at all.
She clung to him, too aware that their evening was ending. She didn’t want to let him go. She had found love, and she never wanted to live without it again.
“Aurore.” He held her tighter and rested his cheek against her hair.
“I don’t know when I can get away again,” she said finally, moving away to see his face. “My father seems suspicious. He couldn’t avoid attending a meeting tonight, but most nights he stays home and expects my company.”
“We’ll find a way.” He framed her face with his hands. His eyes burned with emotion. “Shall I show you another room in the time that’s left? One you haven’t seen?”
“Yes.” She didn’t ask where.
The cabin to which he led her was on the promenade deck. It was the largest and most luxurious on board, a muted blue-and-green suite with its own connecting bath. The bed was wide and soft, dressed in fresh linens. Moonlight floated in from a wide window.
She didn’t pretend that this was a stop on the tour. It was the end of one thing and the beginning of something else. She knew so little about love, but she did know that when love appeared it was to be held close and cherished.
étienne didn’t touch her. He stood in the doorway with the lantern as she wandered the room. She parted the lace curtains and looked out over the river. “I’ve always been alone,” she said. “I think you have been, too. How do we learn what we need to know to be together?”
“We teach each other,” he said.
“Will you begin?”
“Only…if you’re sure.”
She faced him. “I love you, étienne. I think I have for months. Would I be here if I didn’t?”
He came forward and set the lantern on the vanity, but he still didn’t take her in his arms. “Do you say that easily?”
“Are you asking if I’ve said it to other men?” She rested her hands on his shoulders and looked for answers in his eyes. “There’s never been a reason to.”
He seemed to struggle with himself. “This will change your life,” he said at last.
“I hope so.” She rose on tiptoe and tested her mouth against his. “Dear Lord, I hope so,” she whispered against his lips.
His arms came around her, and he crushed her against him. Her body curved into his, as pliant as her will. She helped him find the hooks and buttons of her dress, the ivory pins in her hair. She slid his coat from his shoulders and smoothed away his shirt. She learned the feel of his bare chest, the mysteries of a heart beating against hers, the heated slide of his lips against her breasts.
On the bed, she let him teach her the secrets she had never expected to learn. She took him into her body and gave herself in return. And when at last he held her quietly in his arms, she knew that he had been right.
Her life had changed forever.