A Lasting Impression

Orleans!” Mrs. Acklen clasped her hands at her bodice. “The entire family. It will be the first time we’ve all been there since before the war. And I desire for you to come too, of course, Miss Laurent. We’ll have much work to do there. The LeVerts are leaving Belmont day after tomorrow, but Octavia informs me that they would love nothing more than to join us while we’re there. We’ll stay at the St. Charles Hotel and enjoy the delights of the city before retiring to the plantation for a few weeks. Does that not sound divine?”
    Claire actually thought she might cry. Right there. In front of Sutton, the orchestra members packing up their instruments, and the servants gathering soiled dishes. Yet she knew she couldn’t. Feeling the keen awareness of Mrs. Acklen’s watchful gaze, she knew she’d best choose her next words with care.

44

    C laire worked to keep the disappointment from her voice. “When do you think we would leave, Mrs. Acklen? Not straightaway, I hope.”
    “No, no, Miss Laurent. Not straightaway. We’ll enjoy a quiet Christmas at Belmont before we leave. And we’ll be back no later than mid-March.”
    Claire could feel the blood pooling in her feet. “But . . . that’s a long time.”
    Mrs. Acklen’s smile drained of pleasure. “New Orleans was your home, Miss Laurent. The Café du Monde, the French Quarter . . . I would think you would be pleased to visit again. And grateful for the opportunity.”
    Claire smarted at the reprimand. Still, she’d worked so hard for the reception tonight. Going without sleep, working to live up to Mrs. Acklen’s stringent expectations. She needed time to paint! Hadn’t she earned that much? She had scarcely three months until the artists’ auction in March. Never mind the fact that she didn’t welcome returning to the French Quarter, where ghosts of her past loitered around each corner.
    “I am grateful to you, Mrs. Acklen. Truly. Please don’t hear my hesitance as a sign of ingratitude. It’s simply that—”
    “Miss Laurent is being modest, Adelicia.”
    Claire glanced at Sutton beside her.
    “What she’s not telling you”—he cast a gently scolding look in her direction—“is that Mrs. Holbrook has requested that she organize the annual spring tea for the Nashville Women’s League in early March. Isn’t that right, Miss Laurent?”
    Feeling Mrs. Acklen’s scrutiny, Claire wondered whether Sutton was trying to help her, or get her summarily dismissed. “Yes, it’s true, Mrs. Holbrook did ask me to meet with her to discuss that possibility. But I told her that I would need to seek your permission first, Mrs. Acklen. I would never undertake such an obligation without your consent.”
    Sutton nodded. “And you know how grateful the Nashville Women’s League would be for your lending Claire to them. The women would be greatly indebted to you, in a manner of speaking.”
    Mrs. Acklen and Sutton exchanged a look.
    “Also, ma’am,” Sutton continued, “if you were to decide for Miss Laurent to stay here, she could catalog all of the art pieces. I’ve been after you for years to have that done. Not only for insurance purposes, but for posterity’s sake.”
    Watching Mrs. Acklen’s expression, Claire felt her decision being swayed. “If I were to stay, ma’am, that would also give me time to get all of your files in order. And to finish going through all those boxes of newspaper clippings and family mementoes. I could even make a memory book for you!”
    Mrs. Acklen started nodding. “Madame LeVert has asked me to write an article for Queens of American Society, a book being published next year. It seems the author would like to include a chapter on me. A biography, of sorts.”
    Claire smiled. “Congratulations, Mrs. Acklen. I could write the first draft for you, if you’d like. Then I could post it to you for your review.”
    Mrs. Acklen paused, eyeing them both. “Don’t think that I don’t realize what you’re both doing—because I do.”
    Claire swallowed. Sutton laughed beneath his breath.
    “You, Miss Laurent, have your heart set on entering the auction for new artists. And you, Mr. Monroe, seem bent on helping her to do just that. And while I am the first person to encourage someone to pursue their aspirations, I don’t relish the thought of one of my employees being made the object of others’ criticism and judgment. Especially someone who works so closely with me.”
    Mrs. Acklen honed her focus on