The Bartered Virgin

New York City, 1902

"But what if Winnifred doesn't want to marry Lord what's-his-name?" Mary Percy set her teacup down on its saucer with an indignant clatter, a sign which usually signaled annoyance. To Zachariah Percy the noisy ring of china was a hail of victory.

He inhaled off his cigar, creating a bright orange flare at the end, and blew out a thick column of smoke before answering. "Now, Mary, we've been through this before. David Knightsbridge is a young man of excellent character, breeding and education. You'll see what I mean when he comes for dinner tomorrow evening. A shame his noble father died almost penniless." He shook his neatly oiled gray-and-silver head. "Must have been quite a blow to David to have to quit school midsemester and return home to settle his father's estate. I was only too glad to defer my fee to help him with Knightsbriar. But I think I shall be rewarded in kind." He drew another puff and smiled, self-satisfied. After all, he was the man of the house and always knew what was best. "Besides, think of what our daughter having a title will mean to the firm. Other English nobility will want to give us their business. David's father, the late Lord Wolshingham, was quite influential despite his, er, vices. Perhaps we may set up an office in London. Mark my words, Mary. Winnifred could do worse."

Mary wrinkled her nose at the cigar smoke and stifled a cough. "You mean the firm could do worse. It was very generous of that late client of yours, Madame Louise something-or-other, to leave all her money to Winnifred. She only met our daughter once and we weren't even here. I think it was very improper to let Winnifred spend time with a complete stranger."

"Obviously Winnifred must have made quite an impression on Madame Desjardin."

"But Zachariah, Winn was just a child and Madame Desjardin was only here for a couple of hours."

Zachariah patted his wife's hand. "It's as I've always said, dear. Those people in New Orleans are a strange bunch. Has something to do with all those fevers that visit the city every year."

He kept a sharp eye on Mary as her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply. Her frown furrowed slightly. "Yes, of course. How could I have forgotten?" She snatched up a paper fan and recovered herself with a few brisk flicks of her wrist. Seconds later a poignant smile returned to her face. "And yet such blessings can come from bleakest of moments. Still, it's a shame I never had the chance to meet Madame. Her life seemed so surrounded by mystery. A rich woman, traveling the world without a husband or chaperone. Where was it she died, dear?"

"Persia."

"Oh, how exotic!"

Zachariah didn't tell her that the letter he received alluded to Louise passing away in bed while entertaining a wealthy sultan. Some things one did not disclose to one's wife. "Pish tosh, Mary. She was a valuable client who might have lived longer had she the sense not to travel into foreign lands. There's the proof that it's not healthy."

"But what of Winnifred, moving away to England to some drafty castle? Oh dear." Mary picked up her handkerchief and gently dabbed her eyes. "I come onto a faint just thinking about it, and her being such a delicate child."