Despite his low spirits and depression, Hugh was moved to listen to his friend, albeit dully.
“Mannion took some loans out this spring, and guess who holds the notes?”
“Wilmot,” Hugh said flatly.
“How did you guess?”
Hugh snorted. “I’ve known that since Wednesday."
"Wednesday! That was nearly a week ago. Why didn’t you tell me?” Trevor expostulated.
“I believed the information to be given into my trust in strictest confidence.”
“But how? Who would know such a thing?”
“Richard himself.”
“Richard!”
“Please, Trevor, must you continually sound like an echo? Soon you’ll have me believe I’m back in the Alps."
"The Alps!”
“See what I mean?”
Trevor shook his head, his mouth set in a grim line. “This is not a time for levity.”
His friend sighed. “If I don’t laugh, I vow I shall be consumed with a burning anger or quaking sadness.”
“This maudlin mantle you wear is not like you, Hugh."
"I don’t think I know what is like me anymore,” he responded whimsically.
“Hugh!”
“All right. All right,” he placated. “Tell me. There is a chance Richard did not disclose all, and there may be more to be gleaned from the matter.”
Trevor pulled a chair around in front of Hugh and straddled it, resting his forearms on the gracefully carved wooden back. “Word has it Mannion’s invested almost all of his blunt on this year’s cotton harvest. He overextended himself, so he was forced to seek loans. Wasn’t from the gull gropers, but might as well have been for the rates he’s to pay are usurious. They say he didn’t borrow conventionally because he wanted his dealing kept private to instigate some sort of coup in the marketplace come fall. Funny, I’d never have taken Mannion for that type of gambler. Thought he was a straight, conservative fellow, actually.
“Anyway, it seems Wilmot somehow found out about the loans and bought them up, paid top dollar, too, I heard. Now he’s using his possession to put some sort of pressure on Richard. It’s true he wants to marry Vanessa, but it’s not as if he’s possessed of a grand passion for her or anything. They say he’s got a quadroon mistress in a nice house on Rampart Street that he’s not about to give up. Evidently, she’s pure class. But back to Vanessa. For some reason, Wilmot’s blackmailing Richard to try to force him to grant him Vanessa’s hand in marriage as a willing or unwilling bride. I’ll tell you, though, several heads are being scratched to figure out just why. I mean, it’s known Louisa’s dowry was hefty, but there are plenty of other debutantes whose dowries are plumper. Vanessa’s can’t be that different from her sister’s.”
Hugh laughed shortly. “Ah, but that’s where you and all your contacts are wrong. It is quite different.”
“What do you mean?” Trevor asked, straightening in his chair.
“Mannion’s settled half his business on her.”
“What!”
“My sentiments exactly. It is a long story, so I won’t bore you with all the details. Suffice it to say, one other gentleman in New Orleans knew about the arrangement and has held it over Richard’s head for four years. And he’s the only one Wilmot could have learned it from.”
“Who?”
“Jean Laffite.”
Trevor swore viciously. “I suspected Wilmot’s overnight success in business might be due in part to that pirate. They must have been working far closer than I ever imagined, to share that kind of knowledge.”
Hugh shrugged. “‘Whether they were close or not, there is no honor among thieves and, from some things Richard’s said to me, I’d be willing to bet a pony Laffite has no notion of Wilmot’s machinations.”
