“No. Of a certainty, he must also possess wealth.”
“Consider: if he was raised so, and possesses wealth, he is also probably possessed of a high degree of arrogance,” Vanessa said dryly, laying the untangled silk next to Paulette.
“Merci. I mean, thank you,” Paulette corrected herself, casting a smile in Mrs. Mannion's direction.
“Oh, surely he cannot be so arrogant if he is a friend of Mr. Danielson, the most considerate gentleman of our acquaintance,” Adeline gently protested.
Paulette handed Vanessa more tangled strands. Vanessa raised her eyebrows in wry acknowledgment of the way Paulette was putting her to use; nonetheless, her slender fingers began sorting the strands as she turned to answer her sister.
“Remember, Mr. Danielson lived in England for several years and only returned to the United States eight years ago, after he married Julia. I doubt he has seen his friend since then, and memories have a way of changing with time. Witness our father,” Vanessa finished dryly.
“That is beneath you, Vanessa,” her mother said.
She bit her lip in consternation and tried to look contritely at her mother. “I’m sorry, Mama,” she murmured.
Mrs. Mannion's lips quirked, but she kept her gaze sober as she accepted the apology with a little nod before she turned her attention to Paulette. “My dear, if you are looking for birth and wealth, I am surprised you have not cast out lures to Mr. Danielson. After all, his mother was part of the English aristocracy, and after his parents’ death he went to live with his mother’s people. Wouldn’t that make himto the manor born?"Her needle flicked swiftly in and out of the fabric of the quilt as she spoke.
“Oh, Mrs. Mannion, me, I am notstupide.He has, I think, a-a-tendre for Vanessa. No,if he is suitable, I shall, how do you say it,set my capfor Mr. Talverton. Vanessa!” she said, excitedly turning in her seat and shaking her finger rapidly back and forth between the two of them. “We two are friends,n’est ce pas? It would betres convenablefor us to marry friends,oui?"
“Paulette!” Mrs. Mannion’s tone was a cross between exasperation and good humor.
“I know, I know, Mrs. Mannion, English only. I am sorry. When I am excited, I forget. And it would be truly wonderful, wouldn’t it, Vanessa?”
Vanessa roused herself from the stunned state she’d fallen into at Paulette’s breezy assurance that Mr. Danielson was a suitor for her hand. She had known him the past five years; her family had even taken his two small children into their household when his wife, Julia, was ill with yellow fever. For a long while after Julia died, their invitations to dinner were the only social invitations he would accept. She had come to think of him as a friend of the family, someone with whom she could talk easily, without artifice. Had their relationship been changing, becoming something deeper? She did not think it had for her, but what of him? How could she talk to him now with the easy friendship they’d shared in the past? No. Paulette had to be wrong-- or did she? Suddenly, Vanessa felt a variety of confusing feelings, and she had no idea if she wanted Trevor Danielson as a suitor or just a friend.
“I don’t know, Paulette,” she said slowly, gathering her scattered thoughts. “I have never thought of Mr. Danielson as a possible husband.”
A tinkling little laugh escaped from Adeline. “Oh, Vanessa, why do you think Papa invites him here so often?"
"Business, I assumed.”
“And you, with your professed interest in business, have not wondered just how much business a cotton factor might have with a trading merchant? Particularly a trading merchant who deals primarily in finished goods and luxuries, such as the ones you asked about at dinner?” Adeline teased, shaking her head woefully at her older sister.
Amanda Mannion studied Adeline a moment, then smiled, her lips faintly twitching. When she turned to look at Vanessa, her expression was carefully neutral.
Vanessa’s mouth dropped open slightly while her eyes glazed over in thought. Then she blinked and snapped her jaw shut. A blush rose to stain her cheeks, though her lips curved upward to a wide grin. “You’re right; I have been ludicrously blind. I knew Mr. Wilmot considered himself a suitor, but I had no idea Mr. Danielson did as well.”
“Be careful, my dear, that you do not play one off the other,” her mother warned.
“And do not think to add Mr. Talverton to your list,” warned Paulette, “for he is mine!”
“But you don’t even know what he looks like, or if he possesses wealth,” protested Adeline good-naturedly.
Paulette shrugged. “The looks,n’important pas.If he fails to possess wealth, however, then I say Vanessa, you may have him, too.”
At that, the three Mannion ladies fell to inelegant whoops of laughter, followed reluctantly by Paulette.
Finally, Mrs. Mannion wiped her streaming eyes with a handkerchief, swallowing another chuckle. “Hush, girls, hush. I think I hear the gentlemen approaching,” she managed in a choked voice. She tucked her handkerchief away and sat straighter before her quilting frame.
Quickly, Vanessa, Adeline, and Paulette composed their features and resumed their tasks, not daring to look at one another lest they resume their laughter as well.
“Ring for tea, please, Vanessa,” Mrs. Mannion serenely requested as the double doors to the parlor opened, and the gentlemen entered.
* * *
In the mirror above her vanity table, Vanessa absently watched Leila’s long dark fingers wind some of her hair in curling paper and secure it in place. The tedium of the procedure vexed Vanessa, though she was glad it was only done to the strands in front of her ears. The rest of her glossy light brown hair was long and plaited in a thick braid for the night.
Leila was so slow. Vanessa inwardly moaned, but she suffered her efforts with forbearance, for indeed the woman was a wizard with hair. Her mind wandered as Leila picked up another lock of hair, combing it out. Vanessa thought of Trevor Danielson. She liked the man. He was pleasant company, and his two children were darlings. Unfortunately, though she searched her mind and heart, she could find no hint of deeper stirring within her. She did not love him, or at least not as she intellectually understood love. It seemed to be a state characterized by intense feelings, feelings that were alien to her in all ways, save for her temper.
