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Authors: Gilbert Morris
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last spring. By the time we’re finished you’ll think you have a brand-new wardrobe.”
“I don’t understand,” Julienne complained. “Why, all of a sudden, is there no money? We still have the plantation, don’t we? We’ve always had money.”
“Less and less of it for some time now.”
“But I can still go see Simone, right?” Julienne asked suddenly. “Papa promised!”
“Yes, you’re still going to New Orleans, though we really can’t afford it,” Aunt Leah answered, “but you are going because your father did promise, and he’s a man of his word.”
“That’s one good thing, anyway,” Julienne said. “Even if I am going to look ridiculous in last year’s fashions.”
“You will look beautiful as you always do, and Simone won’t know the difference,” Aunt Leah said sturdily.
Maybe not, but I will, Julienne thought sulkily as she flew back up to her room to drag out all of last year’s dresses.
She had completely forgotten about Tyla and Matthias.
MARCH ARRIVED IN A fit of temper, with thunderstorms roaring, pounding rains, and great sky-bursts of lightning. It stormed day and night the first days of the month. On Sunday the eleventh, the day was bleak, with lowering clouds, but it didn’t rain. Monday dawned, still dark and threatening.
“We’re going,” Julienne said stubbornly. “I’ve been looking forward to this trip for months. And for the last two weeks I haven’t been to a single party or even paid any visiting calls, and I’ve been so bored, and New Orleans has the grandest spring season. We’re going.”
“All right, Miss Julienne,” Tyla said resignedly. “It just seems dangerous, is all. Big storms for days, and that cruel Old Man River.”
“It’s just a storm on a river, not a hurricane in the north Atlantic,” Julienne retorted. “Don’t be afraid, Tyla, the steamers go every single day, no matter what the weather. It really doesn’t affect them, you know.”
“I guess not,” Tyla conceded. “All right then, sit down and let me fix your hair and put your bonnet on while Caesar’s loading your trunks.”
After the freakish late snow in February, it seemed that the Deep South had decided to abruptly shift into spring. It was still cool for the South, in the upper forties at night and the fifties and sixties during the day, but already the trees and wildflowers had started blooming. Julienne had read that morning in the New York newspaper that they had had a two-foot snowfall. I would hate to live in the North, she thought happily. I really do love my home.
In spite of her complaints, Julienne really was happy with the way her clothes had been freshened up and redesigned by her aunt and her mother. This traveling ensemble was very attractive, a crisp poplin dress of dark green and gold stripes with a matching floor-length hooded cloak of green. Her mother had completely redone the bodice of the dress and had fashioned the cloak from the skirt of another dress, lining it with a durable green cotton jean to make it water resistant.
She went downstairs to say goodbye to her family. Her mother was nervous and begged her not to go; even Charles said, “Julienne, I can change your passage until later on, you don’t have to travel in this wicked weather.”
“Please, Papa, I’ll be fine, you know that.” She kissed his cheek, then bent down to hug Carley. “Be good, little monkey. Don’t drive Mother crazy, and stay in your lessons with Aunt Leah.”
“I don’t want to,” she said darkly. “I want to go with you.”
“No you don’t. I’m not going fishing,” Julienne answered, smiling.
Finally they were in the barouche and winding slowly down Silver Street. Out of nowhere, a long, deafening roll of thunder sounded over their heads, forked lightning spears struck near, and the rains began.
“Oh dear,” Tyla said faintly.
The carriage stopped, and Caesar, the Ashby’s man-of-all-work, yanked open the door. He held a big black
“I don’t understand,” Julienne complained. “Why, all of a sudden, is there no money? We still have the plantation, don’t we? We’ve always had money.”
“Less and less of it for some time now.”
“But I can still go see Simone, right?” Julienne asked suddenly. “Papa promised!”
“Yes, you’re still going to New Orleans, though we really can’t afford it,” Aunt Leah answered, “but you are going because your father did promise, and he’s a man of his word.”
“That’s one good thing, anyway,” Julienne said. “Even if I am going to look ridiculous in last year’s fashions.”
“You will look beautiful as you always do, and Simone won’t know the difference,” Aunt Leah said sturdily.
Maybe not, but I will, Julienne thought sulkily as she flew back up to her room to drag out all of last year’s dresses.
She had completely forgotten about Tyla and Matthias.
MARCH ARRIVED IN A fit of temper, with thunderstorms roaring, pounding rains, and great sky-bursts of lightning. It stormed day and night the first days of the month. On Sunday the eleventh, the day was bleak, with lowering clouds, but it didn’t rain. Monday dawned, still dark and threatening.
“We’re going,” Julienne said stubbornly. “I’ve been looking forward to this trip for months. And for the last two weeks I haven’t been to a single party or even paid any visiting calls, and I’ve been so bored, and New Orleans has the grandest spring season. We’re going.”
“All right, Miss Julienne,” Tyla said resignedly. “It just seems dangerous, is all. Big storms for days, and that cruel Old Man River.”
“It’s just a storm on a river, not a hurricane in the north Atlantic,” Julienne retorted. “Don’t be afraid, Tyla, the steamers go every single day, no matter what the weather. It really doesn’t affect them, you know.”
“I guess not,” Tyla conceded. “All right then, sit down and let me fix your hair and put your bonnet on while Caesar’s loading your trunks.”
After the freakish late snow in February, it seemed that the Deep South had decided to abruptly shift into spring. It was still cool for the South, in the upper forties at night and the fifties and sixties during the day, but already the trees and wildflowers had started blooming. Julienne had read that morning in the New York newspaper that they had had a two-foot snowfall. I would hate to live in the North, she thought happily. I really do love my home.
In spite of her complaints, Julienne really was happy with the way her clothes had been freshened up and redesigned by her aunt and her mother. This traveling ensemble was very attractive, a crisp poplin dress of dark green and gold stripes with a matching floor-length hooded cloak of green. Her mother had completely redone the bodice of the dress and had fashioned the cloak from the skirt of another dress, lining it with a durable green cotton jean to make it water resistant.
She went downstairs to say goodbye to her family. Her mother was nervous and begged her not to go; even Charles said, “Julienne, I can change your passage until later on, you don’t have to travel in this wicked weather.”
“Please, Papa, I’ll be fine, you know that.” She kissed his cheek, then bent down to hug Carley. “Be good, little monkey. Don’t drive Mother crazy, and stay in your lessons with Aunt Leah.”
“I don’t want to,” she said darkly. “I want to go with you.”
“No you don’t. I’m not going fishing,” Julienne answered, smiling.
Finally they were in the barouche and winding slowly down Silver Street. Out of nowhere, a long, deafening roll of thunder sounded over their heads, forked lightning spears struck near, and the rains began.
“Oh dear,” Tyla said faintly.
The carriage stopped, and Caesar, the Ashby’s man-of-all-work, yanked open the door. He held a big black
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