The Grand Masquerade (The Bold Women Series Book 4) (6 page)

Sydnee was surprised to see someone of his gentility here, but she gave him no more thought and continued up the steps. When he reached the sidewalk, he lowered his hankie and said, “Say there!” in French.

She turned around.

“What is your business in that place?”

Sydnee looked over her shoulder, unsure if he was addressing her.

“Yes, you,” he stated sharply.

“I start my work here tonight.”

He looked her up and down and said, “Come here.”  

She walked back down the stairs warily.

The man put the hankie back to his nose and ran his eyes over her, looking at her again. He cocked his head from one side to the other, looking first at her hair and then at her eyes. He walked around her several times appraising her figure and then asked, “How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“Hmm, you need a bath,” he observed. “Have you committed any crimes?”

She shook her head.

He continued to address her in French. “Disease?”

“
Non
.”

Lowering the hankie from his face, he said, “Although you have a patois, your French is tolerable.”

Putting his fist to his mouth, he started to pace. He walked for so long he seemed to have forgotten her. Merry-makers staggered past him, tilting bottles to their lips, shouting and laughing. Whores could be heard hawking customers in the distance. Down by the landing a firearm discharged.

After a while Sydnee assumed he was done with her, and she started back up the stairs.

“Come back here,” he barked.

Sydnee approached the man once more.

With his lip curled, he asked, “How would you like a job working for only one customer?”

“What would I do?”

“This filth,” he said, nodding toward Madame Magdalene’s house.

Sydnee blinked and asked, “Will I work for you?”

“No thank God
,
” the man said, rolling his eyes. “For my master. He has sent me to Natchez to find—to find—a girl of your sort.”

Swinging his cane, he said, “Come, we will talk elsewhere.”

They pushed through the streets, torches blazing outside of every establishment. The thoroughfares were muddy and crowded as patrons zigzagged in and out of every saloon. Clearly disgusted by the rabble, the man picked his way delicately through the throng. Sydnee, Vivian and the dogs followed behind him in a line. When they got to the river, the man stopped and asked, “Are you aware that there are creatures following you?”

Sydnee nodded and said, “These are my friends.”

“Well, tell them to wait here.”

He turned and nodded to an attendant who was guarding the ramp of the paddle wheelers and said to Sydnee, “Come along!”

Sydnee thought she would be happy to be boarding a paddle wheeler, but instead she was nervous. Lanterns were hanging on the deck, shedding a dim golden light as she followed him onto the boat. The paddle wheeler was quiet and deserted. The man picked up a smoke pot to ward off mosquitos and set it by a table. He sat down, crossing his hands over the head of his cane and looked at her.

Sydnee stood before him, her eyes wide with expectation.

“First things first. My name is Maxime. I am acting on behalf of my master who lives in New Orleans. I have been instructed to find a--tutor—for his sixteen-year-old son. The boy has some habits which are unnatural, and we
do not
approve.”

Maxime pursed his lips. “Although there are women of your sort in New Orleans, I have come all the way to Natchez because this is a matter of utmost secrecy. My young master’s reputation is at stake as well as his father’s reputation. You will live in New Orleans with the family, take a room in the servant’s quarters and visit the young man as necessary in his
garçonnière.

When Sydnee looked confused, he explained. “The
garçonnière
is a small building in back of the main house where young gentlemen reside.”

“What will I teach him?” Sydnee asked.

Maxime clenched his jaw and looked from side to side. “
Mon Dieu
! Must I be explicit? The art of love—passion,” he hissed, clearly embarrassed. “Most importantly, you will teach him to desire females.”

They fell silent a moment. Sydnee could hear the river splashing gently against the hull of the steamboat.

“How old are you?” he asked.

Remembering that she just had a birthday within the past few weeks, she said, “Fifteen.”

Maxime put the hankie back to his nose and said, “Well, the first thing you must learn is to bathe regularly and wear becoming clothes.”

Sydnee nodded.

“Very well,” Maxime stated, standing up. “Come back tomorrow at dawn. We will be taking this packet to New Orleans.”

*                    *                     *

Sydnee found a private spot outside of town in the woods where she pitched a tent over a low branch. All night she was awake, listening to the dogs snore beside her. The thought of leaving her friends was torture. They were all she had in this world, and they had saved her life time and time again. Now she was betraying them. Yet the alternative was to stay in this filthy town and sell her body in a bordello. She would live day in and day out in squalor, risking disease and beatings, eventually dying in the street. Tears rolled down her face as she stroked their fur. The dogs thumped their tails and then drifted back to sleep, oblivious to her quandary.

At sunrise, Sydnee gave the last of her food to Vivian and the dogs, rolled up her pack, and headed for the landing. She felt as if her heart was being ripped from her chest.

Natchez Under-the-Hill was bustling with activity once more. Draymen were driving teams down the hill, overseers barked orders to slaves as dock workers loaded firewood, crates and barrels onto the riverboats. Cargo swung overhead, being loading onto the paddle wheelers that were parked at an angle along the shore. Whistles blasted, announcing riverboat departures, and each time the sound erupted, Baloo and Atlantis would drop into a crouch. Peddlers hawked their wares, pushing carts loaded with fresh produce and flowers. Servants and slaves pushed past Sydnee carrying steamer trunks on their backs bound for other river towns.

Most of the travelers at Natchez Under-the-Hill were boarding vessels headed upriver to Vicksburg, Memphis and St. Louis. They were trying to avoid not only the stifling heat and humidity, but the yellow fever and malaria which plagued the low country during midsummer. Once they arrived in the north, many paddle wheelers would drop anchor until the autumn. Then, once the river regained a safer depth, they would return the residents back to the south, after the oppressive heat ended and danger of contagion was past.

Black crew members in snappy uniforms stood officiously at the ramps, checking off passenger’s names as they boarded the steamboats one by one. Sydnee blinked in amazement at the elegant gentlemen with ladies on their arms, looking cool and fresh in the latest fashions from Paris.
Marchandes,
or female peddlers, waited for them on deck, eager to sell nosegays of violets to the ladies and pralines to the children.

The only paddle wheeler headed to New Orleans was the
Vidalia
, and Sydnee stopped there.  Maxime was standing at the railing, wearing an Aylesbury hat, cream-colored frock coat and dark pantaloons. His hands were gloved and folded on the head of his cane. He did not acknowledge Sydnee, but he knew she was there.

The whistle on the
Vidalia
blew. It was time for her to board, and her stomach was in knots. She swallowed hard and bent down in front of the dogs. Sensing something was wrong, they stopped panting and looked at her. Vivian sat on a mooring nearby watching.

“I must leave you now. It is our only hope.”

The dogs stared up at her.

“You cannot come with me. Not this time. But I will be back for you, so you must never go far.”

Tears pushed at her eyes. Sydnee stood up and looked at Vivian. “I leave you in charge. Take care of them and don’t be too harsh.”

Sydnee’s chest heaved, and the dogs moved closer. Dropping down, she hugged their necks and said, “Thank you for saving my life--so many times.”

The whistle blew again, and she stood up, abruptly cupping Vivian’s head with her hand. “Goodbye.”

When she started up the landing stage the dogs began to follow, and she ordered, “No!”

Maxime nodded to the crew member who allowed her to pass. Her dream had come true. She was on a magnificent paddle wheeler, but she didn’t notice. She did not care. All she could see were Baloo, Atlantis and Vivian sitting on shore watching her leave.

The crew began to make preparations for departure. Orders were shouted, ropes were untied and people began to wave farewell.

Maxime saw the tears streaming down Sydnee’s face. How ungrateful, he thought.
How incredibly lucky this dirty little waif is, and she doesn’t appreciate it
. He shifted from one foot to the other, sniffing and looking away. Over and over he told himself that he was being so
very
magnanimous giving this child a fine home in New Orleans, but her tears bothered him.

The whistle blew for the final time, and he barked, “Oh,
Mon Dieu
!” Approaching a crew member, he said, “See those dogs down there? Put them on the next flatboat to New Orleans.”

Sydnee whirled around and stared at Maxime with wide eyes.

“Yes, they are coming,” he growled. “You spoiled little child.”

Sydnee put her arm up, and Vivian landed on her sleeve.

“And keep that filthy bird away from me,” he declared.

Chapter 7

The crew hoisted the landing stage, the whistle blew, and the big red paddle wheel started to churn. A sense of elation swept Sydnee from head to toe. She raised her head to catch the scent of the fresh river air, and a breeze blew through her hair.
At last I have direction. At last I have a future. The spirits had been right all along. I did find my way, and Baloo, Atlantis and Vivian did too.

Shortly after they cast off, Maxime shooed Sydnee down to the lowest deck to be among the slaves and lower class passengers. He remained above to talk with the riverboat Captain, a man he had known for years.

Sydnee stood at the railing in the morning sun watching the paddles turn round and round and listening to the soothing splash, splash of water. She shaded her eyes to see the flatboat on which Atlantis and Baloo rode. She could just make out the dogs sitting side by side. It appeared as if the crew member found a little boy to watch them, and the child had his arm around Baloo’s neck. Sydnee smiled. The dog was twice the size of the child.

Vivian was soaring overhead, coasting on the river winds keeping both the flat boat and the paddle wheeler in sight. Sydnee put her arm up, and she swept in for a landing. The crow landed gently on her forearm, and Sydnee stroked her head. “You are a good girl, but you must be on your best behavior. We are going to a beautiful new home, and we must make a good impression.”

Vivian cocked her head, listening. They stood together for a long time watching the muddy water of the Mississippi and the green shoreline littered with fallen trees. Suddenly a young crew member jumped into a skiff and started rowing to shore. When he reached land, he jumped out and ran to a tree that had a red box nailed to it. Pulling out a piece of paper, he stuffed it in his shirt, jumped back into the skiff and returned to the paddle wheeler before it left him behind.

“The pilots leave notes for one another,” Sydnee heard one of the passengers say on the deck above.

“Why is that?” a woman asked.

“To let each other know about river conditions or hazards ahead.”

Sydnee smiled. Eager to see more of the paddle wheeler, she tossed Vivian back into the air and walked toward the bow. She edged her way through mounds of firewood, barrels, crates and bundles. Slaves and working class folk were sitting on the lower deck in the shadows of this cargo, playing cards, throwing dice and murmuring quietly to each other. They were not to disturb the fine ladies and gentlemen riding on the decks above.

Sydnee was glad for the fresh air when she reached the bow. This deck had an apron which thrust out in front of the boat where the landing stage was mounted. Sydnee walked to the end of the apron and turned around to see the other decks. The second deck had a lacy white railing and was lined with state rooms. Sydnee assumed these cabins were unoccupied because she overhead someone say the journey to New Orleans was only a day trip. She wondered what luxuries were behind those fancy white louvered doors. She imagined there to be soft feather beds with sumptuous linens, perfumed pillows and rich carpets.

The next level on the stern-wheeler was lined with beveled glass windows, and she wondered if this is where first class passengers were getting the cool drinks that they carried in frosty goblets. Sydnee did not dare gawk at these fine folk, but she did notice that the ladies wore grand gowns with huge puffy sleeves. Although the dresses were of lightweight, cool material, they were cinched tightly around the waist and dropped in heavy folds around the legs. They all wore wide brimmed bonnets as well, decorated with ribbons and flowers. These hats framed a sort of funnel around the ladies’ faces, and she heard someone call them poke bonnets.

The men wore frock coats with crisp linen shirts and colorful waistcoats. They smoked cigars and moved about on the promenade deck with an arrogant authority, as if the world belonged to them. She noticed, for all their fine clothes and grand manners, none of them cut as elegant a figure as her patron, Maxime. She had never met anyone with so much style and dignity. It did not seem to be in keeping with being an enslaved gentleman.

They rode the river all afternoon and well into the evening. Maxime had a basket of fruit and bread sent down for her midday meal and red beans and rice for supper. She had no desire to mix with anyone, so she sat outside on the deck watching the river and the flatboat carrying Atlantis and Baloo.

Sometimes she would gaze up at the very top of the paddle wheeler where the pilot house was located. It amazed her how the crew could maneuver a huge boat with such skill, avoiding the fallen trees, rocks and snags, especially when they navigated into a landing.

Many times the
Vidalia
stopped at plantation landings to drop off or pick up passengers and goods. The crew would blow the whistle and children would come running, shouting, “Steamboat a’comin’!”

These landings were nothing more than docks with wooden platforms below the cotton fields. Sometimes peddlers would be waiting and board the boat to sell melons, chestnuts or newspapers. Sometimes they would sell the crew firewood to fuel the boilers.

As they came into one landing, Sydnee could see the white plantation house overlooking the river below, its tall pillars towering majestically over the rolling fields. It felt cool as they coasted into shore. The riverboat slid into the shade of the overhanging trees, lowered the landing stage and started to unload supplies. It surprised Sydnee when the flatboat with the dogs pulled up to the landing as well. They too had supplies for this planter.

She saw the little boy jump onto shore with the dogs right behind him. It was time to stretch their legs. Sydnee stood by the railing and watched, laughing as they chased each other back and forth along shore. The little boy threw a stick into the river, and Atlantis launched herself in the water to fetch it. This game went on until the boy’s father called for them to return to the flatboat, but the dogs did not respond. They sighted a rabbit and were chasing it.

Sydnee watched the child call to them repeatedly until at last, she shook her head in disgust and gave a sharp whistle. Two heads popped up from the brush and looked at her. “Go on!” she called, and flung her arm toward the flatboat. Atlantis tore toward the boat with Baloo lumbering along behind her. They jumped onto the craft just before it set off.

Evening was Sydnee’s favorite time on the stern-wheeler. The river shimmered with a golden light, each ripple reflecting the slanting sunset. It was peaceful watching the herons strutting along the shore and the geese overhead, but what pleased Sydnee the most were the torch baskets and lanterns on the paddle wheeler when it was dark. It was beautiful to see the flames reflected in the river and watch the light dance over the deck. She spied several couples stealing kisses in the shadows.

Since it was dark, Vivian was able to fly in and rest on Sydnee’s shoulder. She knew that the bird was tired from following the boat all day. They sat together in a dark corner on deck and dozed, listening to music from the deck above.

Suddenly Sydnee heard the bell ring from the pilot house followed by the whistle. She opened her eyes and saw the riverboat approaching the shore again which was ablaze with light.

Maxime was standing over her holding his valise. “You and the albatross follow me,” he said.

Rubbing her eyes, she struggled to her feet with Vivian on her shoulder. The crow and Maxime were eye to eye. He glared at the bird and then turned and walked down toward the front of the boat where the first class passengers were disembarking. He waited until all of the white passengers were off the riverboat and then proceeded to walk down the landing stage with the slaves. Sydnee stayed close to him. The city of New Orleans seemed so large, and there were so many people.

The boy who was taking care of Baloo and Atlantis found Maxime, received payment and skipped off. Overwhelmed by the noise and activity, the dogs stayed at Sydnee’s heels. The group pushed their way through the throngs of people on the docks, and entered a large square bordered on three sides by the biggest buildings Sydnee had ever seen. She thought that the structure in the center must be a church. It had three tall towers and a cross. She had no idea about the other two buildings. They were large imposing structures with many windows and a gallery along the street.

While she was gawking at the buildings, she bumped into Maxime. “Pay attention,” he scolded.

They turned down a dark street, dimly lit by oil lamps on tall poles and lanterns hanging from buildings. Paved with cobblestones, the streets were lined with two-story town houses made of brick or stucco. Each adjoined the other and most had wrought-iron balconies and floor to ceiling shuttered windows. They passed enclosed courtyards hidden from view by tall stone walls and foliage. Sometimes Sydnee could hear fountains and the murmur of voices from within these gardens.

At last Maxime stopped to unlock a tall iron gate in front of a large stucco home on a corner. With Vivian still on her shoulder, Sydnee looked up at the second story. Each room had its own lacy balcony with green louvered shutters and French doors. They walked along a narrow carriageway which opened up into a lush courtyard with a three tiered fountain. The heady scent of flowers surrounded them. Moonlight filtered through the oaks and magnolias.

At one end of the courtyard there was a small stable where Maxime had Sydnee put the dogs. After she settled Atlantis and Baloo in for night, she tossed Vivian into the air where the bird nestled into a tree.

Maxime pointed out the necessary house by the stable and then gestured toward the other end of the courtyard at a building with a chimney. “That is where you will eat. It is the kitchen, and over there is
le
garçonnière.
That’s where the young gentleman resides.
”
 

Sydnee looked at the hexagon shaped two-story dwelling. Although it was separate from the main house,
le
garçonnière
was decorated in the same style. It too had stucco siding with French doors, green shutters, and a second story with a miniature balcony.

Maxime took Sydnee into the house through the service entrance where he stopped at a cupboard to show her where the candles and lamps were stored. He handed her a small pewter container filled with whale oil and lit it. Sydnee marveled at the light that burned. It was smooth and smokeless, not like the nervous sputtering flame of a candle. Maxime carried a cut glass lamp and led Sydnee down a carpeted hall.

She sighed with pleasure as her feet sank into the plush Oriental rug which lined the hall. It reminded her of walking on a bed of moss. The house was quiet except for a ticking sound coming from a tall wooden box with a glass face standing in a corner. Sydnee wanted to examine this curiosity more closely, but she did not dare delay Maxime. She followed him up the stairs where a tawny-skinned woman was waiting with her arms crossed over her chest. She was tall with high cheekbones and heavy lidded, sultry eyes. Her stomach protruded slightly from pregnancy.

“So, you return at this ungodly hour and expect me to dance attendance on this little tart?” she exclaimed haughtily.

“I thank you to do your job without comment,” Maxime replied. Turning to Sydnee, he said, “I leave you now with Giselle. But Mademoiselle, I must advise you to think long and hard before you steal anything from this home. Its value will never equal the opportunity you will find here.”

Sydnee stared at him, wide-eyed. Maxime disappeared into the shadows, leaving Sydnee alone with the woman.

“This way,” Giselle instructed, taking her down the hall. “This is where you will stay,” and she opened the door to a bed chamber. It was a small room but lavishly appointed. The highly polished hardwood floors were covered by an Oriental carpet. The fireplace was black marble, and there was a four poster bed with a turmeric yellow duvet and sheer bed curtains to match. Sydnee was thunderstruck. She had never seen such luxury.

At one end of the room there was a set of French doors standing ajar. They opened onto a small balcony which overlooked the courtyard. Sydnee wanted to rush out and look over the railing.

She moved cautiously around the room and stopped at a large metal container near the hearth. “That is for your bath,” Giselle explained. “Now help me get water.”

The two females made several trips down to the cistern bringing buckets of water upstairs for Sydnee's bath. When the tub was half full, Giselle left a crock of soft soap, a towel, and some clothing for Sydnee. “I want you to scrub your hair and every inch of your body. We will burn your clothing tomorrow.” Handing her a shift, she said, “Wear this to bed.”

Next Giselle hung up a corset and a gown in the wardrobe and left her a pair of shoes adding, “Dress in this tomorrow morning. We will fit your gown properly later. I will call for you at dawn.”

The moment the slave left, Sydnee dashed out onto the balcony. The moonlight shimmered on the water splashing in the fountain and illuminated the walkways that wound through the petite garden. She spied a stone bench under a trellis and a small table and chairs among the ferns. She ran her hands over the wrought-iron spirals and
fleur-di-lis
of the railing and then rushed back inside.

She opened the wardrobe and looked at the gown Giselle left. Wiping her hands on her smock, she pulled the garment out to look at it. It was forest green with a print of dark floral bouquets and had a black belt and large sleeves. She couldn't wait to put it on in the morning.