A Lasting Impression

backward glance.
    Claire hurried to the open window and watched the driver of the carriage negotiate the winding path past rose gardens and between statues and fountains. The carriage came to a halt at the front steps, and not wishing to be seen, Claire took a step backward and peered around the draperies. Eli opened the carriage door and bowed low.
    A gloved hand appeared, elegantly extended, and Claire leaned forward, waiting to see to whom it belonged.
    With Eli’s assistance, the woman stepped from the carriage, and Claire knew immediately that the woman was Madame Octavia LeVert—the Pride of Mobile, Alabama, and the granddaughter of George Walton, a member of the Second Continental Congress, one of the three Georgia signers of the Declaration of Independence, and . . . a former governor, if she remembered correctly.
    Bless Cordina’s heart . . . Knowing that woman provided all sorts of advantages.
    Madame LeVert’s dress was exquisite, reminiscent of a style Claire had seen in a recent issue of Godey’s. She glanced down at her own new gray dress, mended as it was, and though it fit her station, she suddenly felt underdressed.
    “Welcome to Belmont once again, Octavia dear . . .” Mrs. Acklen’s voice drifted in through the open window. “Seeing you again does my heart such good.”
    “As seeing you does mine, Adelicia. Bless you for allowing us to break our journey here. The girls and I have been beyond ecstatic when thinking of seeing you and . . .”
    As the two women embraced, a second woman exited the carriage with Eli’s assistance. From what Cordina had shared, Claire guessed her to be the older of the two daughters. Then a third woman stepped from the conveyance and Claire sucked in a breath.
    Cara Netta.
    With thick tresses of rich black hair, dark as a raven’s wing, and with eyes that—even at this distance—shone more violet than blue, the young woman was stunning. With such delicate features, and so tiny a waist. And her dress and . . . décolletage . Claire laid a hand to her own decidedly less bountiful bodice, and suddenly the onion soup comment made by Mrs. Acklen took on more meaning.
    “Miss Laurent?”
    Claire jumped, her heart catapulting to her throat. “Mrs. Routh!”
    The head housekeeper approached. “Taken to lurking behind the draperies now, have we?”
    Claire pushed back from the window. “No, ma’am . . . I simply heard the carriage and—”
    “And now that you know the LeVerts have arrived, Mrs. Acklen would appreciate it if you would come out from hiding and be properly introduced.”
    Wishing again that she hadn’t gotten off to such a poor start with the woman, Claire laid the papers in her hand on a side table. “Yes, ma’am.”
    Mrs. Routh promptly scooped the papers up, gave them a good stacking on the edge of the table, and placed them in perfect symmetry on the antique secretary. “Madame Octavia LeVert is not only a most beloved public figure, Miss Laurent, she’s also Mrs. Acklen’s dearest friend. And I trust you will do everything within your means to make the LeVerts’ stay here at Belmont both enjoyable and . . . harmonious.”
    Wondering at the woman’s choice of wording, Claire nodded. “Of course, I will, Mrs. Routh.”
    The head housekeeper led the way into the entrance hall. “Much like their mother, Madame LeVert’s daughters are both delightful creatures,” she continued. “So talented and refined. It’s no wonder they’ve attracted the interest of some of Nashville’s finest gentlemen.”
    Claire didn’t find that statement surprising, not after seeing the sisters. And that they came from wealth—and would likely bring it with them when they married—would most certainly guarantee their prospects for a good match, especially in these difficult times. What she did find surprising, however, was Mrs. Routh’s talkativeness. This was the most the woman had said to her since she’d arrived. And frankly, Claire decided she preferred the woman’s stoic silence.
    Mrs. Routh opened the front door, and Claire spotted Sutton riding up the road. Odd to see him home so early when he’d had to work so late recently. Then again, he knew the LeVerts were expected.
    “Ah, Mr. Monroe, on time as always.” Mrs. Routh smiled in a way that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “He’s long been a favorite of the LeVert family, and feels quite the same about them. As I’m sure you’ll soon see.”
    Something in Mrs. Routh’s tone gave