Archer, Jane (15 page)

Delighted, Alexandra got up and started toward it, smoothing her skirts. Then, remembering her clothing, she looked down in dismay. Hunger gnawed at her as she tried to smooth her hair and straighten her clothes. But it did little good. She looked like a streetwalker and she knew it. What if they wouldn't help her in the church, or even let her inside looking as she did? Well, she would eat first and then try to clean her face and clothes. She knew she would be stronger and more sure of herself if her stomach wasn't empty.

Her decision made, Alexandra went into the first outdoor cafe she found. She realized too late that it was the very one Wanda had suggested, the Belle Cafe. Well, she decided rationally, since it was early, she would be gone before this Madame LeBlanc arrived; besides, she was too tired and hungry to go on. She sat down gratefully in a small, wrought iron chair at a tiny round table under the bright awning of the outdoor cafe, then gave her order to a very reluctant and snooty waitress.

Could she look that bad, Alexandra wondered, pushing her long hair back. The only answer could be yes from the way people were staring at her as if she didn't belong and shouldn't be there.

The young waitress quickly brought a steaming cup of coffee and a delicious pastry to the table. Alexandra handed her the money and got back very little in change, not enough to eat again, she quickly realized. Wanda had not been
that
generous. She sipped the coffee and nibbled at the pastry, wanting to lengthen her pleasure. She hadn't realized how really famished she was, or how completely tired. But sitting there, safe for the moment, all her problems came flooding back and as she completed her meager meal, she leaned her head down tiredly on her crossed arms and closed her eyes.

"Excuse me, mademoiselle. Would you be Lannie? I see the hair and surely there could not be two such colors in all of New Orleans. I am Madame LeBlanc," a strangely accented voice said softly so that only Alexandra could hear.

Alexandra jerked her head up, stumbling to her feet. Madame LeBlanc! She looked wild-eyed into the large black eyes of a beautiful woman, one of the most unusually beautiful women she had ever seen. Madame LeBlanc was petite with a perfect figure, and a mass of luxurious black hair was piled high on her head. But her skin was her most striking feature, for it was a warm, mellow shade that seemed kissed by the sun. And her clothes were expensive, exquisitely tailored, and worn with natural grace and style. Alexandra had never seen a woman like her before.

"May I join you, -mademoiselle?" Madame LeBlanc asked politely.

Alexandra looked hesitantly around, not knowing quite what to do, then said shakily, "Yes, please do."

The woman gracefully sat down, motioning for Alexandra to be reseated. Alexandra did so, feeling too tired to think, or go anywhere else. She had never seen a real madame before and this intriguing woman carried herself like a lady, looked like a lady. Alexandra was relieved to at least see this.

"Chérie, Wanda did not tell me that you would be such a rare beauty. Your hair alone is worth a fortune and I'm sure your body is perfection itself, although I will, of course, want to see more before we agree to anything."

Alexandra looked back at her, stupified.

"Ah, but I rush you. I see you've eaten, but please be my guest to more. I do so hate to eat alone."

Alexandra just continued to stare with large dilated green eyes, bewildered and confused.

Madame LeBlanc's order was quickly set on their small table and the plate heaped high with pastries was pain to Alexandra until she could put one to her mouth. As she ate, still watching Madame LeBlanc closely, the woman pulled a small container from her reticule and poured a golden liquid into both their cups of coffee.

"I believe you need something stronger than coffee, chérie," she said. "You look exhausted. How did you ever end up on Gallatin Street? It's hardly safe for anyone, especially a young lady like yourself."

The kind words and the coffee laced generously with brandy began to restore Alexandra's spirits as well as strength, and she smiled hesitantly at Madame LeBlanc.

"I do appreciate your coming, Madame, but I fear you have made a trip for nothing."

"Oh?" Madame LeBlanc asked.

"You
see, I accidentally walked into Gallatin Street and, well, I'm only too grateful to just be out of that place."

The woman laughed shortly, showing small, perfect white teeth. "No wonder, chérie, that place is hell itself. I often wonder why Wanda insists on staying there, but I think I really know. You are lucky to be alive, ma chère."

"Yes, I realize that now."

"But how could you possibly have wandered there?" she repeated.

"I'm not from New Orleans. I arrived yesterday at sunset and not knowing my way, ended up there."

"A young lady, unescorted? You are obviously not from the South by your accent. I find this odd. If you are not looking for employment in a brothel, what are you doing in New Orleans, and how do you possibly think you can survive?" she asked as if Alexandra might very well be mad.

Alexandra smiled, finishing another pastry. "I came here looking for the relatives of a close friend of mine who died recently. I became lost from my companions."

Madame LeBlanc's perfectly arched brows rose slightly. "I see. That, of course, can happen, and much as I'd love to have you in my house, I will help, if I can, to find your friends. Their name?"

"Jarmon," Alexandra said softly.

Madame LeBlanc's eyes widened, showing more emotion over this one word than anything else Alexandra had said. "Jarmon! Did you say Jarmon?"

"Yes, that's the family name. I believe they have a plantation, or did before the war."

Madame LaBlanc smiled, a gleam in her eyes, and said, "Oh yes, they did and still do. I know the Jarmons well, quite well, especially the two sons."

"Really?" Alexandra asked, feeling relief flood through her, the mention of two sons not registering. "Are they in New Orleans? Could I see them soon?"

Madame LeBlanc raised her hand to stop the flood of questions. "They live on their plantation now. I do not see the Jarmon boys as much now as I once did, but that is as it all is. The war has left nothing the same," she said sadly. "We all do what we must to survive."

Alexandra looked into her eyes, now dark liquid pools of sadness, and said, "I'm sorry. I-"

"No, mademoiselle. It is all over now. Our wounds will heal, or we will die, as our South has died."

Alexandra did not know what to say. She had never thought much of the South after the end of the war. It obviously was dreadful for the Southerners and she only now began to realize it. They really hadn't been affected in the North, except that business had boomed, especially her shipping firm. There was no end to the North's need of ships, and her fortune had increased greatly during that time. But these poor people had been left with little when it was all over. She dreaded to see the once magnificent plantation. Would it be in ruins? But at least she knew the Jarmons were still alive.

"Now, do you want to rejoin your companions here in New Orleans—those from whom you were lost last night?"

Alexandra knew the madame hadn't believed her and it was a weak story anyway, so she said, "I came alone. I lost all my trunks in a storm near the Bahamas."

This time Alexandra saw a sparkle of deep interest in Madame LeBlanc's eyes instead of disbelief. She said, "Wanda mentioned that your name was Lannie, but it is not, is it?"

"No, it's Alexandra, or Alex if you prefer."

Madame LeBlanc smiled like a contented cat, and Alexandra began to feel alarmed.

"Alexandra, of course. This grows more interesting all the time, mademoiselle. You say you want to visit the Jarmons, but they are not your kin?"

Alexandra did not want to tell her more, but she felt that the woman would not help her if she didn't give her some type of story. "As I said, they are related to an old friend of mine who died recently. I decided to come here to visit them and tell them of his death."

"Just which of the Jarmons did you plan to visit?"

Madame LeBlanc was making this difficult, Alexandra thought, but surely the woman had no way of learning her true identity by this little bit of information. "Well, I'm planning to visit Eleanor Jarmon and her son, Jacob Jarmon."

Madame LeBlanc smiled, a self-satisfied movement of her lips. "So you are Alexandra who appeared in New Orleans last evening on your way to visit Eleanor and Jacob Jarmon. Ma chère, you positively have made my day, my week, my lifetime." Her eyes glowed with something Alexandra could not define, and she grew more apprehensive.

Would a woman like this help her? Had she ever helped anyone except herself? She must get to the Jarmon plantation with or without Madame LeBlanc's assistance.

"Yes, that is all true. I must see them soon. I will be fine if you will tell me where their plantation is."

Madame LeBlanc laughed, a tinkling sound that chilled Alexandra. "Ma chère, you obviously have lived in a city all your life. You have no idea of the acres and acres that a plantation can cover and the miles that you must travel to get there. Also, there are all kinds of riffraff roaming the area. You could not possibly walk that distance by foot, even if you were properly attired, and you could not hope to arrive there unmolested, if alive."

Alexandra blanched, having been unaware of the facts. Was it really so bad in the South? If only she could send for money, then all her problems would be solved.

"I had no idea."

"Obviously. Now what will you do for me if I help you get to the Jarmon plantation?"

Alexandra's face turned even paler, her eyes grew wide, but not in fright. She hadn't realized that she must pay this woman for her help, but of course, she would want that.

"I have no money now, but when I get some I could repay you."

Madame LeBlanc sniffed. "That will never do, ma chère. I will not have you in my debt—that would not be profitable."

"I'm sorry, but I have nothing, absolutely nothing now."

"You are no virgin, are you?"

"No. I've been raped," Alexandra said slowly, afraid of what she would hear next.

"Wanda told me that you were very popular at the dance-house last night, but that you sold yourself to no one later. That's really not smart, cherie, but you obviously have much to learn."

"I'm not a harlot."

Madame LeBlanc smiled, then said, "Don't be absurd, chérie. All women are, even if they are married. Women sell their bodies for many things, they have no choice, but we professionals sell our wares for cash. It is an infinitely better situation, I believe."

Alexandra tried to keep her surprise to herself, but she could see that Madame LeBlanc had read her expressive face. It was a viewpoint she had never thought of before, but perhaps this woman was right. If she had married Stan Lewis, he would have taken her body and in exchange she would have had security, children, no worries. But she didn't want a marriage like that, although she knew that a lot of women did, indeed, marry men for their money, their position, what they could do for them. But did they have a choice? She was lucky to have a fortune that allowed her freedom from necessity. She wanted to marry for love, and if she couldn't, she would never marry at all. In love, there was only giving and receiving, and that was the way it should be.

"I'd never thought of it like that," Alexandra said finally.

"You're not married?"

"No."

"Good. I don't propose that you play the harlot while in my house unless you want to, only come there, stay a few days, and entertain. Nothing lewd, of course, but surely you sing, play the piano. We are very discreet in my house. You would have no troubles with the men. They would simply admire you and word of your extreme beauty and unusual hair would quickly pass through New Orleans. It would bring more business my way. That would pay me, and then we could see that you had a decent gown and underthings to wear when you go to the Jarmons. I would send you in my personal carriage.

"Now, that is a good deal. You would be foolish to turn it down. After all, you've been raped already, spent the night dancing in Gallatin Street. You would only end up there again tonight and perhaps worse would befall you. And the church? They would not even let a woman who looked like you past the doors. The government? You would be raped there most likely. You see, cherie, my offer is very good, even if I asked you to work one of the rooms for a few nights. What do you say?"

Alexandra did not have to think long on it. Singing in a brothel was unbelievable to her, but it was infinitely better than another night on Gallatin Street. And she believed Madame LeBlanc about the church and government. Besides, how could she possibly arrive at the Jarmon plantation in her condition? The decision was out of her hands.

"I accept your offer. I do sing and play the piano, but unfortunately the songs I know will be Yankee songs."

Madame LeBlanc laughed. Her dark, intelligent eyes roamed over Alexandra, considering the possibilities as she said, "Perfect. You don't really think Southern gentlemen, what there are left of them, could afford LeBlanc's girls? Hardly. We cater to Yankees, cherie, and are well paid for it."

"Oh, I hadn't realized."

"The Yankees have been here a long time. We are used to their ways, although they will never be accepted."

Alexandra nodded, lowering her eyes as she realized that she was one of the hated Yankees. When she looked up there was a large black man dressed in livery standing beside their table. He bowed briefly to both women.

Madame LeBlanc glanced at him, then said to Alexandra, "This is my driver, Jonah. He will escort you to my carriage. Wait there for me. I will be with you shortly."

Alexandra stood up, feeling completely lost, and walked ahead of the huge, dark man with as much dignity as her clothing would allow. The carriage was sumptuous, expensive, and surprisingly not garish. The driver held the door open for her to enter and she sank gratefully down into the cushions.

Chapter 11