The Hidden Gold. Sarah Masters Buckey

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СКАЧАТЬ so fancy in all my life.”

      “It is pretty,” agreed Marie-Grace, smiling as she led the way through the main cabin. The back of the room was set aside as the ladies’ sitting area. It looked like a fashionable parlor, with a grand piano, velvet-covered sofas, and fine carpets. The forward part of the cabin was designed for gentlemen passengers. It had polished wood floors instead of carpets, and it was furnished with mahogany tables and chairs. During most of the day, the gentlemen’s area was filled with men playing cards.

      Now that it was mealtime, the tables in the center of the room were covered with white linens and set with bowls and platters of food. There were a dozen passengers at each table, and the room was humming with conversation.

      Marie-Grace saw Mrs. Rumsford and Annabelle at the far end of the room, and she waved to them. Then she and Wilhelmina joined the table where Papa was sitting with Sister Catherine and Sister Frederica. Papa had saved two chairs for the girls, and they sat down just as the other passengers at the table were introducing themselves.

      Marie-Grace recognized Mr. Zachariah Hopkins as the man with glasses whom she had almost run into earlier. His blond hair was slicked back neatly and parted in the middle, and his white shirt was freshly pressed.

      “I recently finished school in Virginia,” said Mr. Hopkins as he helped himself to roast chicken. “I’ve always wanted to see the Mississippi River, and I thought a ride on the Liberty would be a grand experience.”

      Sister Catherine studied his face. “You’ve been to New Orleans before though, haven’t you?” she asked.

      “No, ma’am,” Mr. Hopkins replied with a smile. “My family is from Virginia, and I attended the College of William and Mary there.”

      “How peculiar!” said Sister Catherine. “You look so much like a young man who visited our hospital during the yellow fever epidemic last summer. That young man did not wear spectacles, though.”

      “Well, I’ve had to wear eyeglasses since I was a little boy,” said Mr. Hopkins as he pushed the wire frames back up on the bridge of his nose.

      The painter Marie-Grace had seen on the deck was at the table, too. He was a dark-haired young man with sad-looking brown eyes, and he spoke English with a French accent.

      “My name is Jacques Paul André,” he said. He gave a little bow to the table and explained that he had traveled all the way from Paris so that he could paint pictures of America.

      “If anyone would like to have a portrait painted during this trip, I will be happy to oblige.” He smiled and then added, “For a small fee, of course.”

      “Oh, I’d love to have my portrait painted!” said the plump, middle-aged woman that Marie-Grace had seen on deck when Wilhelmina first came on board. Now the woman and her husband, a bald man who was equally plump, introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Reginald Montjoy. They said that they were on their way to perform at a theater in Chicago.

      “Reggie and I travel all over the country,” said Mrs. Montjoy, whose red-rouged cheeks looked like bright apples against her pale skin. “We do theater, magic, music—almost every kind of show.”

      Mr. Montjoy looked up from his plate of venison, fish, and potatoes. “We’re known as the Magnificent Montjoys,” he said proudly. “Captain Smith has asked us to put on a magic show tomorrow night, and all the cabin passengers will be invited.”

      How exciting! thought Marie-Grace. She loved music and theater, and she had never seen a magic show before. She looked over at Wilhelmina, but the girl was so busy eating that she didn’t even glance up.

      Marie-Grace reached for the gravy bowl. There was only about a teaspoon of gravy left, and she dribbled it onto her potatoes. A moment later, a tall, heavyset man with a mustache settled himself in the last available chair at the table, just across from Marie-Grace.

      The man looked at the empty gravy bowl and frowned. “Waiter!” he boomed. “Bring us some more gravy and be quick about it.” Then he nodded to the table. “Hello, everyone. I’m Jack Bold. I sell jewelry up and down the Mississippi River. Wedding rings, watches, ladies’ lockets— anything you need, I’m your man.” He smiled broadly. “Glad to meet you all!”

      While the others at the table greeted Mr. Bold, Wilhelmina dropped her fork and stared at him. “I remember you from Monsieur LaPlante’s hotel!” she said accusingly.

      “Yes, I was there—what a coincidence to see you here now,” said Mr. Bold, looking surprised. “I am very sorry about your loss.” He paused, and then asked, “Tell me, did you ever find what you were, ah, looking for?”

      “Not yet,” said Wilhelmina. She glared at him, and then she picked up her fork and bent over her food again.

      What was Wilhelmina looking for? Marie-Grace wondered. And why is she angry at this man?

      Marie-Grace helped herself to crispy fish covered with a creamy sauce. The sauce was delicious, and Marie-Grace saw that Wilhelmina was eating it hungrily, too. “It’s good, isn’t it?” Marie-Grace whispered.

      Wilhelmina glanced up, nodded, and then looked down at her plate again. When a waiter brought several pies and cakes to the table, Wilhelmina finished her fish and helped herself to a generous slice of pecan pie. She ate every morsel of the pie, and then she slipped away from the table without a word.

      Marie-Grace’s heart sank as Wilhelmina hurried out of the main cabin. She doesn’t want to talk to me at all, thought Marie-Grace.

      As soon as Wilhelmina was out of sight, Mr. Bold shook his head. “That poor girl!” he said with a sigh. “When I was at LaPlante’s hotel, I heard that her father had found a small fortune in gold out in California. Mr. Newman was bringing the gold back home when he got sick, and he died at the hotel while I was staying there. It was a terrible thing.”

      “That’s a shame,” said Mr. Montjoy sympathetically. His bald head shone in the chandeliers’ light. “But at least his daughter got the gold.”

      “I’m afraid not,” said Mr. Bold. He took a sip of his coffee. “After Newman died, his daughter arrived. She searched all through her father’s things, but she says she didn’t find any gold.”

      “Could Monsieur LaPlante have taken the gold himself—before Wilhelmina got there?” Mr. Hopkins asked. He pushed his eyeglasses up on his nose. “Innkeepers can’t always be trusted.”

      Papa spoke up. “I have heard of Monsieur LaPlante. He is well respected in New Orleans,” he said. “He’s known for being an honest man, and a good innkeeper, too.”

      “Yes, that’s why I stayed at his hotel,” agreed Mr. Bold. “I don’t believe old LaPlante would take anything that didn’t belong to him. Still, no one knows what happened to the gold. Everyone at the inn was talking about the mystery.”

      “Why didn’t Wilhelmina’s father leave a note saying what he’d done with the gold?” asked Mrs. Montjoy. She looked concerned. “That would’ve been the sensible thing to do.”

      “Well, you’re right, ma’am,” said Mr. Bold. He helped himself to another piece of pie. “And maybe he would have if he’d been well enough. But he was very sick. All I heard him talk about were fairy tales and nursery rhymes, and none of it made any sense.”

      Monsieur СКАЧАТЬ