What the hell would Ginny say?
9
“William, I do wish you would find a way to talk Ginny out of going to Mexico.”
William Brandon frowned slightly. “I agree it is unwise of her to go, especially now, with Díaz threatening to take over the presidency. Damn him, it could ruin everything I’ve worked for this past year if he does manage to overthrow Lerdo. Another revolution endangers my new investments.”
Sonya paused in brushing her hair, her arm still lifted and lamplight gleaming on the silver-backed hairbrush in one hand. “You have investments in Mexico as well?”
“Of course. It’s legal, and quite profitable. Since Congress passed laws allowing railroad access into Mexico, it’s smoothed the way to transport raw and smelted ore back into the United States. I stand to make more money than ever now that President Grant’s Specie Resumption Act has made greenbacks redeemable in gold or silver coin. Dr. Durant’s lobbying has paid off for all of us, it seems.”
In the sudden silence, he laughed wryly. “Don’t tell me you disapprove? But my dear, that would be so hypocritical of you. It’s the money I’ve made from Mexican mines that purchased the Delery plantation, and even that hairbrush you’re using.”
Sonya dropped the hairbrush as if burned, and whirled to face him, her pale face rigid with distaste. “Do you have any scruples at all, William?”
His tone hard, he said, “More than you at times, my dear. After all, it was you who slept with your son-in-law, wasn’t it?”
“Damn you! You know very well that was a long time ago, during the war when you were so far away and he…he was so persistent. And that was before he’d even met Ginny, so don’t pretend otherwise.” Hugging her arms around her body, clad in a silk peignoir that floated around her like soft ivory mist, Sonya turned away again and moved to the long windows that looked out on a small balcony. “Oh God, it seems that my penance for it is to be forever haunted by him. I wish he would go to Mexico and stay there! It would be better if I never had to see him again, hear him call me Belle-Mère in that drawling contemptible voice, and know that he remembers everything—”
Halting abruptly, she whirled back around to face her husband, still seated in a straight-backed chair near the fire. “You have no excuse, William. Whether you want to admit it or not, the world knows Ginny as your daughter. You still love her, I think, though at times I wonder what you really do love. Did you ever love me, I wonder….”
“You’re talking rubbish.” He stamped a foot irritably on the thick carpet spread near the hearth. “Plain rubbish.”
“Am I? I don’t think so.”
“Do you think it’s easy for me, constantly walking a fine line between factions that are out for blood? And I do not mean just a figurative manner of speech, but a literal one as well. Steve Morgan is one of the most ruthless men I’ve ever met in my life, and God only knows what drives him to do the things he does, or why Virginia keeps coming back to him. Christ, after that debacle two years ago, then the rumors that nearly ruined me before, in San Francisco with her Russian prince…I do what I have to do to survive, my dear, as you should appreciate instead of condemn.”
Sonya shuddered lightly and turned back to the window. Rain slid down glass panes, tiny rivulets like crystal, forming spidery tracks. She thought of the Beaudine plantation that she had inherited from her first husband, wild and impetuous Raoul, whom she had loved so much. She could hardly bear to go there anymore. There were too many memories, first of Raoul, then of Steve Morgan, the young Union captain who had taken what she’d so freely given, hating herself at the time but unable to resist the urges of her own body.
Yes, she had told William she hated Steve Morgan and she thought she must. He had humiliated her, preferring a quadroon girl to her, even fighting a duel over the girl! And then, even worse, he had married her stepdaughter so that she could never be completely free of him.
So why did it suddenly matter to her that Ginny not go to Mexico? Why should she care if the girl endangered herself?
Perhaps because, despite their differences and the frequent times she didn’t even like Ginny, she recognized in her a resilience and courage that was to be admired. It was a grudging admiration, for after all that had happened to her over the years, Ginny had survived. Some of the stories of her past were too horrible to contemplate, the indignities she’d endured far more humiliating than anything imaginable. Yet Ginny didn’t surrender. She kept her head up and her eyes on the future.
It was, in a strange way, inspiring.
Some of the despair of the past weeks began to lift, and Sonya turned away from the window. Even after William had fallen asleep beside her, she could not sleep for the restless thoughts spinning in her head. Memories of the last time Ginny had been in New Orleans summoned all too familiar premonitions.
Something terrible was going to happen. It always did when Steve Morgan was involved. If only Ginny had stayed safely in London with her children. Disaster loomed, and there was nothing Sonya could do to prevent it….
“Really, Sonya,” Ginny said with a lift of her brow, “I am capable of making my own decisions. While I appreciate your concern, I assure you that the situation isn’t nearly as bad as you may think.”
It was quiet in the drawing room, the servants having already brought a tray of hot Louisiana coffee and the small pastries that Sonya loved. Dustings of sugar frosted steamy pastries, the sweet smell almost cloying. A low fire burned, and the sharp light of late summer streamed in through floor-to-ceiling windows that
