by Judith Pella
“And now, God, I lift up my family. Thank you for the blessing of a new child and for sending her healthy and whole. Thank you for preserving my wife’s health through her birthing. Dear God, Rebekah’s delicate condition has made these recent changes much more difficult for her. Help her to put her faith in you, and give her the strength to submit to her husband as a godly wife should. Only then will she find true fulfillment. Let her be a shining example of godly virtue to our daughters, who will one day have to submit to husbands of their own.
“And Micah . . . Almighty God, break his rebellious nature, bring his sinful heart into submission to both his heavenly and his earthly fathers. He is nearly at the age of accountability. Let him not be lost to sin and perdition. I have striven to set an example of righteousness for him, but for some reason he has blinded himself to it. Open his eyes, God. Make him see clearly the path to holiness. . . .”
An hour and a half later, Benjamin rose from his knees. The sun had set long ago, but he had hardly noticed the gathering darkness, so absorbed was he in his petitions to the Most High God. He had spent longer than his usual hour in his evening prayers. Not only had he prayed for his immediate family, but he had also lifted up his family in Boston, lingering longer than usual over Haden. He prayed for the new land to which he was bound and decided that in the future, especially as more new needs arose, he might have to extend his prayer time to two hours. This was such a needy land. Nevertheless, he was regaining confidence that he was truly God’s chosen vessel to minister in this place and to these wayward people.
When he returned to the house, only a small candle burned on a table for his benefit. No doubt Rebekah had informed their hosts of his prayer routine, and they had left him to himself. He was saddened that there were loud snores coming from Bancroft’s room. Apparently the man had finished his evening prayers long ago, if he had offered them at all. Benjamin tried not to judge the minister, but with so much need in this frontier land, it seemed an unwise thing to forego prayer.
CHAPTER
9
ELISE WAS TAKEN TO A hotel in the French Quarter in New Orleans. For the middle of the afternoon, it was quite dim inside, made even more so by the dark mahogany paneling and the black-and-red flocked wallpaper on the walls. Heavy red velvet drapes kept out light as well, and the ornate lamps were turned down low. A cloying odor of cheap perfume mingled with whiskey hung in the stuffy air.
Elise wondered what work she would do here. She supposed she could learn to clean if she must. But before she could worry too much about this, Carter took her upstairs. Here she glimpsed several women in the corridor who were young, and by their skin color she guessed they were quadroons, or octoroons, like herself. They were dressed in fancy clothes that seemed quite inappropriate for the afternoon, and some wore only wrappers in bright colors. Something about them indicated they were not hotel guests, but they did not appear to be servants, either. Two other women and one man, all three very dark-skinned and obviously servants, were sweeping and dusting in the corridor.
Mr. Carter took Elise to an office where he told her to wait, then he himself exited without even so much as a farewell. She took a seat on a silk brocade chair.
Elise had always wanted to come to New Orleans, because this was where her parents were from. She had seen little of it when she rode through in the closed carriage. Perhaps she would have a chance, on a day off perhaps, to see a bit of the picturesque town. But for now her thoughts focused on where she was at this moment and upon her new life that lay ahead. Carter had said nothing to her on the journey from South Carolina, treating her like mere baggage.
“Hannah,” she murmured to the child in her arms, “maybe it won’t be so bad. This place is a lot nicer than the slave quarters at the Hearne place.”
After about five minutes a man entered the office. He was thick and muscular and over six feet tall, without much of a neck to support his large head. His muttonchop whiskers made his round face seem even broader, but his small, narrow-set eyes balanced the effect. He wasn’t entirely unhandsome, but his eyes were cold and his thin lips were taut, detracting from the pleasant qualities. When he spoke his voice held neither warmth nor tone, but was flat. His manner of speech pegged him as a man of low quality trying to mold himself to a higher level of society.
“I am Maurice Thomson, your new master.”
“Sir.” She nodded but did not rise.
His chilly eyes roved over her in a long, intense scrutiny. She felt oddly violated by his look, and a chill ran down her back.
“You are as beautiful as your mother,” he said, opening a gilded box on the desk and removing a cigar.
“You knew her?” She couldn’t help the eager entreaty in her tone.
“Oh yes, I knew her. I owned her, as you must know.”
“And now you think you own me—”
“I do own you.” His lip twisted in a superior sneer. “Surely you don’t plan on being difficult about this. The law is on my side. You have no recourse.”
“But why?” Even now Elise could not quell her natural tendency to question her destiny. “Is a little financial loss so important that you would ruin two lives for it?”
“I simply do not like to lose.” He casually took a lighter stick from a container near the hearth and lit the tip from the fire. This he applied to the end of his cigar, puffing heartily as he did so. “Your father’s first mistake was in stealing your mother away from me twenty years ago. His second mistake was engaging me in a game of cards a month ago. He can’t be blamed for that entirely though. I have changed much in twenty years, and he simply did not recognize me. Actually, word had circulated several years ago that I had died, so he felt himself quite safe in returning to his old haunts. Losing your mother was a rather personal blow to me. Nevertheless, I feel I am now vindicated and recompensed. I have little doubt you shall bring in twice the revenues she did even in her prime.”
“What do you mean?”
The chill of his eyes flared momentarily in a kind of evil relish. Elise shivered again.
He reached out a hand and ran a thick finger along the line of her jaw. “So innocent, so pure. Even though you are not technically a virgin, I think at first you shall appeal as such. But I will see for myself soon enough.”
She f linched away from his touch. Hannah stirred and whimpered.
“The baby is a difficulty I hadn’t counted on.” He grimaced at the child. “Until she is old enough to earn her keep, she shall be an encumbrance, but I suppose we shall simply have to make the best of it for now.”
“I assure you Hannah will not get in the way of my work.” The haughty defiance in her eyes was that of a southern lady, not a slave.
“I hope I don’t have to break entirely that little bit of fire you display. It, too, can have an appeal.” His lips smiled as his eyes bore like ice into her. “I would like you to get situated immediately. Please wait here until someone comes to fetch you.”
After he departed, Elise waited about ten minutes before someone else came in. This time it was a quadroon woman several years older than Elise’s nineteen years. The woman was attractive, despite rotting teeth and a scar under her right eye. Her skin was the color of chocolate mixed with a liberal amount of cream.
“My name is Mae.” Her voice was husky with a foreign accent, probably French. “You are to come with me.”
“I’m Elise Hea—” Elise started to say her married name but decided against it. Daphne Hearne said she should start a new life. This would be her first step in that direction.
“How about if I just call you Liz—seems more fitting than a fancy name like Elise.”
Elise nodded. She saw no reason to begin a relationship by being contrary.
“Well, then, Liz, come on.” Mae did not smile, but there was a warmth in her brown eyes, offsetting the hardness of her tone. It was a warmth that Elise clung to hopefully.
Elise followed Mae down the main corridor, around a turn, and into a narrow
hallway with guest rooms on either side. Two women were conversing outside one of the doors.
“So Maurry’s got himself a new girl,” one of them said. “ ’Bout time. I been working way too hard lately.”
Elise directed a tentative smile at the woman who appeared to be about her age. It seemed wise to be friendly. Who knew? These women might well become her only friends.
Mae paused before a door at the end of the hall with the number ten painted on the wood surface. “This is the smallest room.” Mae opened the door. “It’s only proper that the new girl get the worst room.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” Mae eyed her curiously then led the way inside. “It’s right on the street, so it’s noisy with street sounds, but you’ll get used to it.”
“I’m sure I will.” Actually Elise was pleasantly surprised at the accommodations. This room was almost as nice as her room on the plantation when she was wife of the heir. Yes, it was small and cramped, but the bed was roomy and made of solid oak, and there was a matching dresser. It seemed to lack but one thing. “I was wondering,” Elise ventured, “if there is a crib available for my baby?”
“You can’t have the kid right out in the open, you know. But this ought to suit it—”
“She,” Elise put in. “Her name is Hannah.”
“Well . . . yeah . . . sure.” Mae opened a door to a small closet. “This room was the servant’s quarters at one time, and this was the broom closet. A crate for the kid . . . ah . . . Hannah ought to fit inside. That’s another reason for giving you this room.”
“I suppose it will have to do.” Elise didn’t like the idea of her baby sleeping in a broom closet, but in the last couple of weeks, Hannah had slept in worse quarters. Elise set her small satchel on the bed and walked to the window, pulling aside the curtain of old yellowed lace. The street below was bustling with activity. She turned back to Mae. “Will I have time to rest before I begin my work?”
“It won’t get busy here for a couple of hours.”
“What exactly will my duties be?”
“You don’t know?” When Elise shook her head, Mae rubbed her chin and grimaced. “You mean Maurry didn’t tell you anything?” Again Elise replied in the negative. “That coward! Naturally, he left it to me. You have no idea what kind of business goes on here?”
“A hotel . . . ?”
“That’s a nice way of putting it. There are other names more fitting. Maybe you’ve heard of a bordello, or a bawdy house?”
Elise gasped.
“That’s right, dearie. But this is a special place. We are all quadroons or, like yourself, light enough to pass for white. Maurry serves a broader clientele that way. And since he owns all of us, you can guess what his profit margin is.”
“I . . . I don’t care!” Clutching Hannah tighter than ever, she cast wildly about as if she could find a way of escape. “I won’t—”
“Liz, you don’t have no choice now, do you?”
“I’ll run away!”
Mae nodded indulgently. “Come with me.”
Elise hesitated, her mind in disarray, then dumbly she followed. They went to another room and Mae knocked. A dark-skinned girl answered. She could not have been more than fourteen or fifteen. Dressed only in a red silk wrapper over a ruffled chemise, she was quite lovely, even though she had not yet developed all her womanly attributes.
“This is Gina,” Mae said. Then to Gina she explained, “This is a new girl. She has the idea she can avoid working for Maurry. I thought you could set her straight.”
Gina shrugged. “I had the same idea once,” she said to Elise.
“Show her what changed your mind,” Mae said.
Gina turned her back toward Elise then lowered the shoulders of her dressing gown. Her back was crisscrossed with several scars, which, though mostly healed, were still red and angry looking. After rearranging the gown, Gina turned back and said, “I tried to run away. It didn’t take very long for Maurry to find me. I won’t do it again. What use is it? We’re only slaves, a fact best not to forget.” Then she shrugged resignedly. “Anyway, there’s lots of white women that don’t have it as good as us.”
The girl’s words were true enough, yet at the same time horrifying in her tone of glib practicality. Elise gaped, stunned both at the words and at the sight of Gina’s back.
In a moment the numbness subsided, and Elise cried, “I’ll never accept it!” Tears and fear clogged her voice. “He can’t make me! I’ll die first!” She spun around. She would flee this place. She didn’t care how hopeless it was. Let them kill her. She could not live like this. Death was preferable.
But as she started blindly forward, she crashed up against a towering solid obstacle. Maurice Thomson.
“What’s this?” His tone was mocking. “Do I detect resistance? This simply won’t do. I have customers arriving soon.”
The collision had started Hannah crying, but Elise hardly noticed through her own tears of rage and terror.
“You can’t make me!”
Before she perceived her danger, certainly before she was able to guess anyone could be so heartless, Thomson whisked Hannah from Elise’s arms.
“No!” she screamed.
Her sudden lunge for the baby was anticipated, and Thomson quickly jerked out of her reach, causing Elise to stumble forward, her flailing arms only reaching for air. Mae caught her before she went sprawling on the floor.
“You will not see the baby again until you prove complete submission to my will.” Thomson’s cool voice rose to a growl. “And just remember, your own death will not protect the baby.”
“How can you be so heartless?” Elise sobbed.
“This is business. You are my property, as is the infant. If you are not obedient, I will sell the baby for whatever I can get and have done with it. Now return to your room. I’ll be there shortly to ensure you are in the proper frame of mind for work. If you behave and my clients depart contented, you may see the infant in the morning.”
PART TWO
JUNE 1834
CHAPTER
10
EARLY AFTERNOON WAS USUALLY QUIET at the hotel. The women didn’t wake until late morning, and because they had few chores, the time until the evening activities was spent lounging about, gossiping, and taking care of personal needs like laundry, mending, and such. Elise had the additional task of caring for Hannah.
The baby had been returned to her after two days. It had been a harrowing separation for both the mother and the three-month-old child. The child had been placed in the care of a maid who knew nothing about children. She had tried to wean Hannah, and Elise had helplessly listened to the baby’s cries of protest echoing through the house. Mae eased Elise’s worries somewhat by telling her a wet nurse had been found. Maurice traded one of his maids straight across for the wet nurse, who could also perform maid’s duties. Elise’s encounters with Thomson thus far told her this act was more for the protection of his investment than for charitable reasons.
Only thoughts of Hannah kept Elise going. Determined to get her daughter back, Elise performed her duties to the satisfaction of her new master. It had sickened her so that she had literally vomited after her first encounter, though she had waited until she was alone so as not to displease the customer.
Once Hannah was returned to her, Elise tried to perform her loathsome duties in a way that would appease Maurry, but she could not shake her visceral sense of revulsion each time she led a customer to her bed. She tried to smile in a beguiling, tempting manner as the other women did. Perhaps if she indulged in alcohol as they did, she might be able to pretend more easily, but she refused that temptation because she wanted to have a clear head for Hannah. Thus, even she could sense the wooden, stiff result of her attempts at merriment. How could one smile and laugh when each time her insides twisted and trembled, writhing like an animal half-dead, half-alive?
The copious amounts of strong drink consumed by the men certainly did not keep the
m from complaining and refusing her company. But Maurry was furious with her. His threats became more and more ominous, and finally he came to her bed himself to teach her how to behave. He arrived drunk, as he often was, and executed his “lessons” in such a vile and violent manner that she was left physically bruised and emotionally shattered. Instead of turning into a saucy strumpet, she cowered in terror.
Elise thought frequently about taking her life but knew she would never do that and leave Hannah to the bereft mercies of her owner. She must escape. It was her only hope. So early one morning after her last customer had departed, Elise made a desperate attempt to flee. She had not even as viable a plan as she had had with her hapless flight back at the Hearne plantation; she simply gathered Hannah into her arms and slipped out of the house. But having been in New Orleans only one week, she had yet to venture out into the city, so she had no idea where to go once she left the house. It was too late to ask directions or to find a hack. Even if she could do so, she had no money to pay for passage from this town, her prison. She wandered the streets for hours, fear gnawing at her. Hannah’s cries echoed that fear.
Maurry found her eventually and dragged her back to the house. After wrenching Hannah from her arms, he took her into her room and beat her, not with a whip and in no place where the marks would readily show, for he was conscious of not damaging prime property, as he called her.
When he was done with her, she asked, like the fool she was, “Where is Hannah?”
“Forget about the brat. You ain’t never going to see her again.”
“No!” she screamed.
For the next three days she was allowed to believe the worst, that Maurry had sold Hannah. In a fit of despair, she found a knife and would have used it on herself, but Mae, fearing such an action, had been keeping a close watch on Elise and stopped her in time.
Later Maurry came to her room. “You ungrateful little tart!” he railed. “I give you a roof over your head, food, everything a body could want, and you repay me like this.”
