Archer, Jane (16 page)

Relaxing in a hot, steaming bath, Alexandra felt as if she might really be alive after all. She made no attempt to wash herself yet. She had no desire to move any part of her body. All she wanted to do was rest and let the water erase all the pain and memories of her recent past. Of course, she knew the memories would still be with her, but the hot bath was helping to ease the pain of them.

She let her eyes roam around the sumptuously appointed bedroom. The fireplace and mantel were of white marble, and the furniture, upholstered in rep and damask, was of highly polished solid black walnut, as was all of the woodwork. The floors were covered by richly colored Oriental carpets. The hangings of the huge bed, even the mosquito bar, were of lace, and an exquisite basket of flowers hung suspended from the tester of the bed. Around the walls were suspended chaste and costly oil paintings. It was a magnificent, although gaudy, room. Alexandra had never seen its like before, but was well aware that it must have cost a small fortune.

She sighed, hardly able to believe that she was actually in a brothel, a bordello, an assignation house, whatever one wanted to call it. She was actually in a place where women sold their bodies for money. Of course, they had done the same in the dance house, but there, it had been a different atmosphere entirely. Madame LeBlanc had explained on the way from the coffee house that she ran an expensive brothel of extreme elegance and formality. She encouraged only high-class trade and rowdies who occasionally invaded the house were promptly ejected. Her girls wore evening dresses, and bawdy talk and behavior were not allowed. Her girls were all ladies and they were treated as such. She also explained that she depended principally on the carpetbag politicians for her business, and while they bled the city, she was making her money from them. It was the only way to survive the aftermath of the Civil War.

Alexandra had never before realized that such a life for women really existed, or at least it had never seemed so real before, and when explained from Madame LeBlanc's viewpoint, she could understand why some women had turned to this trade to survive. Had many of them really been given another choice? With so many of the men dead after the war, and probably a lot of the women raped, the women were left with no way to survive without a man to support them. Some Lad been forced to turn to the oldest profession. Alexandra realized that in her own case, if she had not had her own money, after being raped, she might have made the same choice. If a woman was not a virgin, she had no chance to marry.

As the water began to cool, Alexandra ran the scented soap over her body, reveling in the simplicity of being clean once more. She had never realized what a luxury it could be. As she washed her arms and legs, she noticed scratches and bruises turning purple on her pale skin. Gallatin Street had left its mark on her both emotionally and physically, and it would be some time before she was free of its reminders.

She washed her hair thoroughly, lingering over the marvelous feeling of suds in her hair. Finally, when she felt clean, she rinsed, then picked up the soft linen and wrapped it around herself as she stepped from the gilded tub. As she began to rub herself dry, the door opened and Madame LeBlance walked into the room. Alexandra hurriedly covered her body, embarrassed by her own nakedness.

Madame LeBlanc stopped a short distance from her, smiling as she said, "You shouldn't be so shy, Alexandra. A body is a beautiful work of art. You should be willing and happy to share what is your gift to the world."

Alexandra smiled back, amazed that this woman's viewpoint could be so different from everything she had been led to believe and yet still make sense. "I'm just not used to being naked with others."

"Well, you must grow up. Now, remove that cloth so I can see your body."

Alexandra timidly removed the fabric and held it away from her, embarrassed as the madame's experienced eyes looked her over as one might check a horse for sale. She felt a sudden stab of apprehension, but pushed it from her mind.

"Lovely, truly lovely, chérie. You could make a fortune if you decided to work here. You could command the highest price—at least twenty dollars an hour. You have so much class, so much style. You are a rare beauty all over, Alexandra. It's a pity that you're ashamed of the idea of using your body, but perhaps you'll change your mind," she said, her eyes hard as bits of coal.

"I, I don't think so, Madame LeBlanc, although I thank you for the compliments."

"Hmm, yes, well, we'll see. Now, I must find you something to wear tonight. The men will begin arriving soon and I would like you to entertain them later. You are in my suite, but I will find you a small room later where you may sleep—alone."

Alexandra began rubbing her hair dry as the madame threw open the doors to her wardrobe, revealing rows of expensive evening gowns. Alexandra thought back to Captain Sully's words that an expensive whore must have a fine ward- robe. At the time she did not understand his reasoning, but it was all painfully clear now. And although she might try to understand this business, she could never become a part of it, she knew.

Flipping through the gowns, Madame LeBlanc pulled out a soft green one. "I believe this will fit," she said. "I keep gowns in several sizes in case a girl arrives just as you have. One must always be prepared." She laid the gown on her bed, then went over to pull out sheer silk underthings, hose, and finally a pair of green slippers. Placing everything on the bed, she turned back to Alexandra and said, "Would you like me to help you dress, or shall I send in a maid?"

"I believe I can do it myself," Alexandra said, wanting to be alone.

"All right, chérie. I will send a small tray of food up to you. You will be drinking later and I don't wish you to become sick or tipsy. When you have eaten and dressed, please join us below. And don't be afraid. It should be an interesting experience for you."

Alexandra lifted her chin, determined to make the best of the situation and determined not to act like a child again. Smiling, she nodded at Madame LeBlanc and said, "I appreciate your hospitality and I will enjoy the evening, I'm sure."

Madame LeBlanc laughed shortly. "I believe you would make a renowned lady of the night, Alexandra, if you would unbend some. One must take their pleasures where one can and inhibitions only prevent this. I'll look forward to seeing you later," she said softly in her emotionless voice, then shut the door tightly behind her, leaving Alexandra alone.

Shivering in the cool air, Alexandra began to dress. The undergarments were very risque and the chemise was cut low, barely covering her nipples. Alexandra walked over to the full length mirror and looked at herself. Her thick, curling hair fell all around her in disarray and with the transparent chemise, she looked too sensual to be a lady, yet her bearing demanded respect. Alexandra sighed as thoughts of Jake suddenly came to mind. What would he do if he saw her dressed like this, in a room like this? She laughed, a soft low sound. There was no doubt what he would do. Shivers ran over her body as she recalled Jake's hands on her, his mouth, his hard body pressed to hers. He had awakened something in her that she had not known existed and now, now she wanted more.

Thrusting these thoughts from mind, she walked hastily back to the bed and pulled the soft, green silk gown down over her body, pulling it into place. It fit like a second skin, clinging to her soft curves. Fastening the bodice, she walked back to the mirror. She was amazed at what she saw.

There was no young, innocent girl looking back at her, but a woman, with a woman's hips and breasts, full and soft and inviting. Madame LeBlanc certainly knew what she was about, Alexandra decided as she put on the soft slippers.

A timid knock came at the door, and a young, tawny-colored Negro girl walked in, carrying a tray. Her eyes grew large at the sight of Alexandra in her clinging green dress. She hesitated, then said as she set the tray down, "You're sure the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

Alexandra laughed. "Thank you. Do you, uh, work here, too?"

The girl's eyes grew wider. "No, ma'am. White women and dark women can't work in the same house. Madame LeBlanc says that soon I'll be able to work the men at one of the other houses. I think she'll teach me when it's time."

And before Alexandra could say another word, the young girl was gone.

A mere child and already she plans to become a whore, Alexandra thought in amazement. And the girl was pleased, proud. But then, what kind of life would she have otherwise? Alexandra shook her head, very much aware of the different world she had entered.

Looking at the food, she realized that the coffee and pastries had long since left her and she was ravenous again. Raising the silver covers on the expensive dishes, Alexandra saw a feast that would have delighted even the most snobbish of women. Madame LeBlanc must have a very fine French chef indeed. As she ate, savoring the delicious French cuisine, Alexandra knew she was really very well off—her surroundings, the food, her clothing—were better than anything she had known of late. If she hadn't been in a brothel, she would be perfectly content until she could reach the Jarmon plantation.

Finishing the delicious meal, Alexandra leaned back in the delicate chair, thinking that now she had no excuse not to join the others below. Standing up, she smoothed out her gown, and left the room. She entered a long, carpeted hall and followed it in the direction of low laughter, voices, and soft music. Stopping briefly on the landing, she gazed in wonder down into the foyer. There were two statues representing some obscure divinities holding lighted flambeaux. She continued down the stairs, her eyes roaming over the sumptuous interior of the house. She paused in the entrance to the drawing room, noting the expensive paintings in gilded frames, the plated mirrors, the delicately-tinted furniture.

The conversation seemed to drift away, finally stopping completely as the occupants of the room discovered Alexandra. She stiffened, raising her chin slightly, while keeping a slight smile on her lips, and entered the room, her green gown softly flowing around her legs as she walked gracefully, elegantly into the room which contained perhaps fifteen beautiful girls in glittering, form-fitting gowns with several men standing and sitting around.

"Alexandra," Madame LeBlanc said softly as she approached Alexandra. Madame LeBlanc looked beautiful in a shimmering white gown with a deep decolletage.

Alexandra smiled as the madame took both her hands and said, "How nice of you to join us. Please come and meet our guests."

Alexandra followed until she was in the center of the room, surrounded by the others. "I want you all to meet Mademoiselle Alexandra. She will be here for a while to play the piano and sing for us. She has lately arrived from the continent and is considering making New Orleans her home—so please make her stay a happy one and perhaps she will grace our home permanently."

There was a general murmur of agreement, then one man said in a soft, Southern accent, "Please allow me to buy champagne for everyone in Mademoiselle Alexandra's honor."

This suggestion was quickly accepted and soon a young Negro boy was passing around sparkling champagne in crystal glasses on a heavy silver tray. Alexandra accepted her glass, while wondering at Madame LeBlanc's lie that she was from the continent.

The man who had bought the champagne came over to Alexandra and stood closely by her side as he raised his glass in a toast. "May the most beautiful woman in New Orleans stay with us long enough that we may know her better, much better," he said loudly for everyone to hear.

Alexandra blushed, and the man smiled warmly at her, then said for her ears alone, "You are indeed a rare beauty, and such delicacy—a blush. I have not seen one in a long time. It is indeed a pleasure, Mademoiselle Alexandra."

He clinked his glass with hers and the rest of the company raised their glasses in a salute to Alexandra. She drank quickly, covering her embarrassment, feeling as if she were the show before she even sat down at the piano.

The man standing beside Alexandra was handsome, or rather beautiful. There was nothing rugged about him, yet there was a masculine sensuality in his perfectly carved features that a woman could not ignore. He was only a bit taller than Alexandra, and slender. Helplessly, she compared him to Jake. There was nothing similar between them. This man had luxurious black hair and unfathomable black eyes that now regarded her with a mixture of desire and curiosity. She became uncomfortable under his scrutiny and lowered her eyes.

Madame LeBlanc approached them, a glass of champagne in her hand. "I would like you to meet Giles Beaumont, of the New Orleans Beau-monts. I see Mademoiselle Alexandra has gained your interest quickly, Giles." She patted his arm familiarly.

"Enchanté, Mademoiselle Alexandra. Your beauty and elegance surpass any that I have had the pleasure of encountering before."

His soft, low voice was tinged with a soft hint of the Creole accent that Alexandra remembered from Madame LeBlanc's voice. In fact, there was something vaguely familiar in his features, but she couldn't place it.

"You are from Louisiana, Mr. Beaumont?" Alexandra asked.

"Please call me Giles. I think we will be great friends."

Alexandra blushed, afraid of his implication, and said, "Of course, thank you—Giles."

"Yes, I am. I own a plantation near here."

So not all of the South was destitute, Alexandra thought. "That must be very nice for you. It's lovely here."

A look of pain flashed across his dark eyes, then was gone, quickly snuffed out. "Yes, I suppose, but you should have seen it before the war."

"Please, don't mention the war," Madame LeBlanc interjected. "It brings back too many memories."

"Would you be so kind as to play for us, Mademoiselle Alexandra?" Giles asked.

"Indeed, I would be delighted. Madame LeBlanc?"

"Please do, chérie."

As Alexandra walked across the room, she noticed that there was a wide assortment of men in the room and all had the look of success and money—their clothes and stance bespoke this, but none of them had the air of the natural born aristocrat as Giles Beaumont had, Alexandra decided. It was something that could not be bought, although it could be acquired by a few special people. For the most part, it had to be inbred and these men simply did not have it and never would. She decided that these must be the Northern carpetbaggers that Madame LeBlanc had mentioned. What a difference in these men and the celebrated Southern gentlemen one had heard so much of before the war—a man like Jacob Jarmon's father, the man Olaf's daughter had fallen in love with, a real Southern aristocrat. She wondered if men like that would ever be seen again, except rarely.