A Question of Class Read Free Page B

disappointed when they reached their destination.
    He studied his surroundings. An enormous painting of Morris and Catherine Delcour hung over the fireplace. Delcour perched on a large upholstered chair resembling a throne, while his wife sat on a stool beside him, her body in profile but her head turned toward the artist. Her rose-colored satin gown gave off a brilliant sheen and showed off her supple figure, but her eyes most fascinated Benjamin. They were soft and warm, a copper color matching the hue of the curls around her face. Her expression was nothing like the blazing look and pursed mouth he’d seen minutes earlier. In the painting, Delcour sat back grandly, with one hand possessively draped over her arm, as if he were posing with a favorite hunting dog instead of an exquisitely beautiful young woman.
    The day before, Delcour had warned Benjamin about his young wife. They’d met at the Delcour & Carpenter Wine Shop, a large space with swept floors and big windows, filled with racks of wine bottles as well as rum, gin and brandy. A couple of young assistants wearing aprons had eyed Benjamin suspiciously and directed him up a flight of stairs. Delcour’s office, in contrast to the airy shop, was stuffy and strewn with papers. The open window let in the various odors off the street but little breeze.
    At first, Benjamin had been shocked by the change in Delcour’s appearance. Instead of the wiry, high-strung man he’d last seen nineteen years ago in Haiti, Delcour had become a middle-aged man with a paunch, whose expensive clothes couldn’t hide his ungainly body. Of course, Benjamin had only been a boy of ten back then, but he’d found Delcour fierce and frightening as the Frenchman wooed, and eventually married, Benjamin’s older sister, Dolly.
    After stifling the instinct to reach over the desk and wring Delcour’s neck, Benjamin sat in the offered chair. He noticed Delcour was eyeing him closely. He was not happy to see him.
    “It’s been a long while.” Delcour’s accent had softened slightly. “Nineteen years. I hadn’t even realized you were alive.”
    “I’m afraid I don’t remember much from the last night we were together in Haiti,” lied Benjamin. “I woke up the morning after the slave rebellion to a painful headache, and made my way to safety. I assume I’d been hit on the head, but I’m not sure how I made it through the evening alive.”
    Delcour pursed his lips. “Those were terrible times. Best not to relive them. And what have you been doing the past two decades? It’s strange we’ve never run into each other before now.”
    “I’ve been at sea. I became a member of the crew of the ship that rescued me off Haiti, as I had no other way of supporting myself. I’ve traveled to many places, but never stayed for long.”
    “You’re all grown up,” said Delcour. “You look like Dolly, I must say. Same hair, same eyes.”
    “I hope it’s not too painful a reminder.”
    “No, not at all.”
    “I see you’ve created quite a success here in New York,” said Benjamin.
    Delcour smiled. “My partner, Mr. Carpenter, and I seem to have done well for ourselves, that is true.”
    Benjamin delivered his speech clearly, just as he’d practiced it. He flattered Delcour about his success in the wine importing industry, told him his business acumen was widely respected, and, as expected, Delcour had lapped up the praise.
    “I’ll soon be the biggest wine importer on the East coast,” boasted Delcour. “Being born and raised in France gives me an upper hand here. Yet, as in Haiti, I have to work hard.”
    “I have little,” said Benjamin. “But after years traveling around the world, I feel it’s time to settle down. You’re my only relation, and I’m afraid I come to you with my hat in my hand. I want to learn from the best.”
    “Do you know anything about business?”
    “No. I never had much schooling and I’ve more of a taste for ale than wine from being on the seas.