Enchante by rpgirl27.pdf

Enchanté by rpgirl27

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5676810/1/

~*~

"Edward?"

"Hmm."

"Are you even looking?"

"I don't understand the point of this father."

"The point? Does there have to be a point to looking at beautiful women?"

I looked up from the tiled floor, which had formerly held my bored gaze. My

father, Edward Sr., stood before me positively vibrating with excitement. He

wrung his hands together and his eyes danced about the room, flitting quickly

from one couple to the next before looking back down at me. Apparently, he was

expecting an answer.

"No sir, there does not. I just don't understand this particular custom. It seems a

bit peculiar. Why seek a woman to warm your bed in this way when there are

perfectly good whores just a short distance from here? And quite a bit less

expensive I might add."

"Because my dear boy, this is not Chicago and this is the way the gentlemen

operate here. And I will have your cooperation with this," he demanded.

"So now you wish to be seen as a gentleman? You've never shown such an

inclination before. I certainly have never claimed to be such," I replied with a

quiet snort.

"Chicago does not boast of its gentlemen but as I said, we are not in Chicago. We

are in New Orleans now and we will act accordingly. You know, 'when in Rome'

and all that."

He turned his back to me, and resumed ogling the ladies that flew past our little

corner of the room on the arms of their partners, as if they had wings sutured to

the heels of their tiny slippers. The house band played an up tempo waltz, and

the giddy laughter of a hundred lovely ladies filled the air. I returned to my

earlier analysis of the tiled floor, but I allowed for an infrequent glance towards

the dancing couples, and around the periphery of the room where other

unaccompanied gentlemen lounged languidly with their glasses of bourbon in

hand.

My thoughts wandered back to my father's speech in an effort to dissect his

motivations. I could not understand why he was being so insistent. He had never

desired to keep a woman before, and I simply didn't see where this change of

heart was coming from.

Once again my father turned to address me, "You know Edward; this doesn't

mean you have to give up your whores. I certainly don't intend to."

A light chuckle escaped me, and I shook my head back and forth slowly. "No

father, I never thought you would. Nor would I care to give up my favorite past

time."

"Mr. Masen." My head jerked up and I noticed a portly, blonde haired man about

my father's age, making his way towards our corner. Following closely behind him

was another, much younger blonde haired man who walked with an awkward gait

and seemed to be favoring his left arm.

"Mr. Masen, let me introduce you to my son, Major Jasper Whitlock. He's recently

returned from a stint out West."

My father quickly grasped the outstretched hand of the elder Mr. Whitlock, and

then his son. "Edward, come here and meet my dear friend, Mr. Whitlock and his

son," he called over his shoulder.

I arose from the chaise I had been relaxing upon, and stretched quickly before

sauntering over and proffering my hand to Mr. Whitlock, and then to his son.

Major Whitlock appeared not much older than my twenty-three years and was

well built and sinewy. Obviously his time spent on our western frontier had

included manual labor, as well as the leadership role his rank suggested. His

hands were rough and calloused, his face and neck bore the scars of battles past,

but the scars themselves did not mar the handsomeness of his features. They did

however add a hint of menace to his otherwise boyish face.

"Major Whitlock, Mr. Whitlock, a pleasure to meet you. I am Edward Masen."

"I hear you two may be staying on permanently since you've managed to get

yourself a plantation," Mr. Whitlock inquired.

"Yes, we hadn't intended to originally, but with the acquisition of Evergreen,

we've decided to make our home here and resume our shipping business," I

replied.

"Edward is quite skilled in games of chance, and while I was of the opinion before

that one could not win much more than pocket change in such activities, I have

been proven wrong. Though I do believe it is not every day that young men are

so foolish as to wager their entire estate in a game of cards," my father added. A

hearty laugh was had by all of us at the expense of the silly boy I had relieved of

his plantation.

"New Orleans is an excellent location for a shipping business. The port is the

busiest in the southern states, qualified workers are numerous, and the

ambiance," Mr. Whitlock paused and scanned the dance floor with a lecherous

smirk and a raise of his brow, "is like no other city in America."

"Are you both in the market for a new lady or are you only assisting in the

acquisition of one for your son, Mr. Whitlock?" inquired my father.

"Mainly I am here for Jasper, but who's to say what I might find for myself! And

you Mr. Masen, are you seeking a lady for yourself? I've never known you to keep

to just one lady."

"Ah, you should know Mr. Whitlock; one woman will never be enough for me. I'm

more interested in finding Edward a lovely young lady with which to set up

housekeeping. You see, he's entirely opposed to the idea of matrimony and I am

determined to have a legitimate grandchild one day soon."

With those words, the point of this whole ridiculous foray finally became clear to

me. My father, my dear father wanted me to learn the pleasures of having a wife

without actually being married, in hopes that I would acquiesce and allow him to

marry me off to some wilting southern belle and produce offspring to carry on the

great name of Masen. I flushed red with a mix of embarrassment and rage. Of

course this was just another one of his schemes, yet another way to goad me into

doing his bidding.

"Sir, you should know better than any man the many reasons why I am

particularly opposed to matrimony," I answered tersely.

"Careful there boy, your face is turning the same shade as your hair!" Mr.

Whitlock patted me roughly on the shoulder before breaking into what could only

be described as a fit of giggles. My thinly disguised sneer was the only reply I was

able to give which would be acceptable in polite society. As I attempted to

recover my usual stony countenance, Mr. Whitlock turned back to my father.

"Come Mr. Masen; let us find ourselves a soothing beverage and a quiet corner to

chat. I'm sure our boys here would enjoy each other's company without the

inconvenience of parental supervision."

"Very well sir, lead the way," my father replied jovially. Of course he'd be happy,

he thought he was getting his way, as per usual.

"It appears as though your father gets his way as often as mine does," Major

Whitlock remarked, as he made his way closer to me.

"You've heard my father's reasons for attending this event. What does your

father hope to achieve by saddling you with one of these lovely ladies?"

"As he said earlier, I have recently returned from Texas and have been

decommissioned from the Army due to my wounding at Devils River last July. I

am suffering from some…lingering issues and my father wishes me to have both

constant care and a companion until the time when I am well enough to seek a

wife," Major Whitlock explained.

"Why not simply employ a nurse?"

"Well sir, I'm sure you understand that there are certain activities you can not

expect a respectable nurse to engage in," he said with a wink and a small smile.

We both stood there silently for some time while surveying the dance floor. The

music had changed and the dancers now twirled past at a much slower rate,

allowing us to scan the faces of the passersby. All the ladies appeared quite

lovely in their flouncing gowns which displayed ample amounts of décolletage and

their soft arms embraced their partners while keeping the proper space between

their forms.

"Anyone catch your eye out there Masen?"

"No, and I don't intend on choosing any one of these ladies. I will not allow my

father to win this round. It will only encourage him to find me a wife and I'll be

damned if I'll be having one of those!" I snapped.

"Ah, but I have heard of your father's persuasive powers. He's already quite well

known amongst the other planters for always getting what he wants."

"He doesn't always get his way. We wouldn't be in New Orleans if he did." As if

sensing my agitation, Major Whitlock did not enquire further on that point but

instead changed the subject.

"So you'll be setting up a shipping company here? You'll have some stiff

competition. There are already several well-known firms in operation, some for

many generations. Not to mention you're also Northerners. That alone will

discourage the old Creole families from investing with you."

"Yes, those are valid points, but I have a feeling this whole debacle," I paused

and made a circular motion with my hand, indicating the dance floor, "is part of

my father's plan to fit in. Before you arrived he was giving me the 'when in Rome'

speech. He also enjoys a challenge. He does not like to be told no, ever. We also

don't have to rely only on the Creoles, even though they are still a force to be

reckoned with here. The influx of the Americans uptown has opened up a new

market and they will undoubtedly give us their business. Besides, your father and

yourself are not native to this area either and you've done well for yourselves, if

appearances are to be believed." I allowed myself a moment to take in his

elegant silk waistcoat, his stiffly pressed shirt and the gold rings, which adorned

several fingers of each hand.

"As you well know Masen, it helps to have old family money." He cocked his

eyebrow and gave my clothing and accoutrements a once over as well.

"Your father and mine must know each other well since you seem to know so

much about me sir."

"I believe our fathers have often interacted in business; and they might also

enjoy some of the same pleasures," he added with a cheeky grin.

"I see," I said with a laugh. "They've been whoring together haven't they? I'm

beginning to believe my father gets as much business done when he is seeking

pleasure as he does when he is actually in his office!"

"Why have it any other way?" he laughed as well. "Come, let us get a glass of

fine bourbon whiskey and continue this discussion. I'm sure you have many

stories of your own to tell in regards to business and pleasure. Then maybe I can

regale you with stories of Comanche war parties and my time in the service of

Lee and Johnston. Would you mind if I called you Edward? And of course you may

call me Jasper. Let us dismiss the formalities and call ourselves friends. Shall

we?"

He turned to me and awaited my answer. Who was I to say no to such a

generous suggestion? I was in need of a friend and Jasper seemed like he would

be an excellent comrade-in-arms.

"Of course sir, I will have to agree on all counts. Now let's find those whiskeys!"

~*~

Jasper and I headed over to the bar, retrieved our whiskeys from the colored

bartender and wandered over to one of the alcoves on the balcony overlooking

St. Philip Street. The night air was sticky as always, but the heat of the day was

long over.

"Cigar?" Jasper offered.

"Absolutely, thank you." We puffed silently for some time, both of us quite happy

to watch the carriages come and go. Their way was lit by the gaslights that ran

the length and breadth of the street below.

"Care to tell me the story of how you obtained Evergreen? Did you truly swindle

the LaFontaine boy at the poker table?"

I thought a moment before answering. "I didn't swindle him. I merely schooled

him on how to play a good game. That boy shouldn't have gambled his whole

plantation, especially after I emptied his pockets of cash during the first few

rounds."

"Yes, but you stripped him of practically all his earthly goods on his father's own

river boat! I'm surprised you ever made it off the boat alive. If that had been me,

I would have challenged you to a duel, at least. I can't believe he handed over

the deed without a fight."

I really didn't want to confess the details of that night to Jasper, but I felt I had

to give him something by way of an answer. "We worked out an arrangement.

His father is very ill and confined to bed, so I am allowing him and LaFontaine to

stay in the house as if nothing has changed. I don't really know anything about

running a plantation as of yet, so the boy is staying on as an overseer. His father

will never know that his son is a complete fool and LaFontaine will have a roof

over his head, for awhile at least." I shrugged my shoulders and sighed before

finishing my thought, "If I don't need him anymore, I won't think twice about

sending him away."

Jasper and I returned to a companionable silence and my thoughts drifted over

the events of the last few months. With only the barest of necessities, my father

and I had boarded a steamboat and headed down the Mississippi River with no

real plan as to how to put our lives back together. We left Chicago under cover of

darkness, closing up our family home and leaving a distant cousin in charge of its

maintenance. Earlier that same day, we had sold our company, Masen Holdings,

to our closest competitor for half its value. It was still a tidy sum but an added

embarrassment nonetheless.

I spent the first two days of our trip downriver in a state of constant

drunkenness. It seemed an adequate reaction.

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