The Price of Innocence (The Legacy Series)

by Vicki Hopkins

  “He was a professor at the University of Paris.”

  “Do you have any children?”

  “No.” She mused over the absurd question. Does he think I’m like the Virgin Mary or something, able to conceive in a chaste state? The suggestion, on the other hand, reminded her of the distinct possibility that her new occupation could result in that awful consequence. Ignorant of any means of birth control, she feared the possibility. What will happen then? Will Madame Laurent kick me out on the street anyway? Her anxious thoughts were interrupted by another question.

  “How long have you lived in Paris?”

  “I was born here, remember?” The irritated tone of her voice caused the inspector to lift his brow and glance at Suzette with a warning gaze.

  “I’ve lived here all my life,” she said softly.

  “Have you ever been arrested?”

  “No, Inspector, I have not.”

  “Have you ever practiced prostitution anywhere else?”

  Silly damn questions, she thought to herself. She had just answered his question about never having been with a man. “I think I answered that earlier.”

  “Hum, that’s right—chaste.” He cleared his voice for the next question and looked directly into Suzette’s eyes.

  “I apologize, Mademoiselle, for the inconvenient question, but I must ask you the following. Do you have any venereal diseases?”

  “I think you already know the answer to that one too. No.” Suzette tried to be patient, but the questions were insulting and funny at the same time. A nervous giggle escaped her lips, thinking this entire process a sham.

  The inspector raised a brow over his applicant’s reaction. “Is there something funny?”

  “No, Monsieur,” she replied, quickly wiping the silly grin from her face. “Nervous . . . I’m just nervous.”

  “All right then.” He dipped the pen in the inkwell once again for a fresh flow. “Education?”

  “Yes, I have finished school. My father educated me well.” For some reason, Suzanne felt compelled to emphasize her intelligence, trying to find an ounce of dignity in the moment.

  “Final question.” The inspector laid down his pen and clasped his hands together, resting them upon the desktop. “Tell me, Mademoiselle, what is your reason for registering as a prostitute? Since you claim you are still a virgin, perhaps I should direct you to a religious institution to, shall we say, convert your thought processes. However, you seem intent to pursue this course of action.”

  Suzette thought for a moment. This was the question Annette warned her about, and she needed a good answer. What if she told him that she had been blackmailed into joining the brothel? Perhaps squealing that Madame Laurent was forcing her to be a whore would get her out of the situation. However, when she remembered all the threats she was sure to carry out, Suzette feared the repercussions that awaited her for making such an accusation. If she did, she would be back on the streets, perhaps spending the night on a park bench or sidewalk or door stoop in some alley. Madame Laurent’s words echoed in her mind telling her of the consequences.

  “You’ll no doubt be raped within a week because you’ll have no one to protect you, diseased within a month, and dead within three.”

  “I’m hungry,” she blurted out in a shaky voice. “I am also homeless, penniless, and alone. I have been offered a job that provides good food and housing. Is that reason enough?”

  The inspector picked up his pen, jotted down a few lines, and said nothing further. Suzette wondered what he was thinking, but his face expressed no empathy, only indifference. No doubt, in his mind, she was just another throwaway like the hundreds of other girls who probably sat in the same chair. The only thing left of value in her life was her body.

  “All right. Here is your registration card. Please take this back to Madame Laurent as proof of your compliance with the law.”

  He handed the card to Suzette. “A few more matters before you leave, Mademoiselle. There are the rules for prostitutes in Paris.”

  The inspector continued in what sounded to Suzette like a rehearsed speech. He droned on about the rules of her trade and instructed her in one last act.

  “I am required to have you read the regulations to me aloud before you depart, in case you have any questions. It’s imperative as a prostitute that you are fully aware of the law and consequences of disobedience.”

  Suzette looked at the small card and turned it over in her hand. Like a student reciting her lessons to her teacher, she began reading her obligations as a prostitute.

  “OBLIGATIONS AND RESTRICTIONS IMPOSED ON PUBLIC WOMEN.”

  Stopping for a moment, she glanced up to see the inspector’s eyes intently watching her performance.

  “Public women are called upon to present themselves at the dispensary for examination, once at least every fifteen days.”

  Suzette continued reading the regulations. She must carry the card at all times, was forbidden to practice on the streets, and must dress modestly without bright colors. The lengthy directives read like orders to a criminal who was being locked up in a prison. There were regulations where she could stand, where she could walk, and how to look out a window. When she was finished with the recitation, she wanted to burst out laughing.

  Finally, she came to the end and looked at the inspector.

  “Well, do you have any questions?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I hope you sense the severity of disobeying the law, Mademoiselle. I would hate for our next meeting to find you behind bars, oui?”

  Frightened, she hoped to God that she could remember all the rules. “No, Monsieur, I do not wish to see you again either, I assure you.”

  “Next, you must go to the Bureau of Sanitaire to be medically examined,” he announced. “When the physician has declared you free of disease, you are free to return to Madame Laurent and report for work. Every fifteen days, you must submit to a physical examination at the brothel whenever the physician arrives. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  Embarrassed and humiliated, Suzette stood up, curtsied in respect, and walked out of the office back to the lobby. She tucked her registration card into the bottom of her purse. Annette rose from the chair and came to Suzette’s side.

  “Makes you feel like trash. I know.”

  “I hate Madame Laurent,” she spat.

  “You just don’t get it, do you? She’s saving your life, yet you hate her?”

  She took Suzette’s hand. “Come on. The Bureau of Sanitaire is just around the corner. Now you can enjoy the next round of business.”

  * * *

  When the last moment of unending embarrassment concluded, Suzette pulled up the sheet over her naked body, suppressing her tears in front of the physician. She sat on the edge of the examination table. There were no words to describe the shame burning through her veins.

  A dreadful acceptance of her fate sickened her soul. She watched the physician write notes on a piece of paper and waited for further direction. The room was silent except for Suzette’s whimpering. When he finished, he folded the piece of note, slipped it in an envelope, and handed it to Suzette.

  “I see you are a virgin,” he said, with a raised brow. “Make sure you do not skip the regular examinations like some girls do. Madame Laurent’s establishment is fairly clean, but the clientele is not always guaranteed to be disease-free.” He stood up and headed for the door. “You may get dressed,” he instructed but hesitated leaving. “Has anyone spoken to you about birth control, Mademoiselle?”

  “No, doctor, I have no idea what to do or if anything can be done.”

  “Well, there are methods the girls at the brothel will no doubt talk to you about. I suggest you have a heart-to-heart talk with another woman in the same profession about such matters.”

  “All right. I will.”

  Suzette watched the physician leave the room and close the door behind him. As soon as the latch clicked, Suzette burst into tears. A moment
later, someone knocked. She tried to control her emotions as the door opened. It was Annette. Suzette slid off the examining table with the sheet wrapped around her shaking body.

  “You survived, I see. You’ll get used to it.”

  For the first time, she saw a glimpse of compassion on Annette’s face, and Suzette took the morsel offered.

  “It was horrid.”

  “Come on now, get dressed. You’ll feel better.”

  Whatever virtue she possessed died at the hands of the doctor. Suzette dropped the sheet baring her naked body before Annette. When she finished dressing, Annette escorted her outside, waving down a carriage for their ride back to the brothel.

  “Come on, we need to get back. We have business to attend to before seven. Besides, I’m hungry.”

  Chapter Nine

  Suzette, upon her return, was told to proceed to Madame Laurent’s office. She rapped softly on the door until she heard the cold and unyielding voice bid her entrance. She approached the desk with envelope in hand and stood tall waiting to be told what to do. Suzette glared at her employer feeling no endearment for her whatsoever.

  “Give me the report,” she demanded.

  Suzette handed over the documents angry over the smirk of victory written across Madame Laurent’s face. She motioned for her to have a seat, but Suzette didn’t budge.

  “Relax, Suzette! It will be quite all right. You worry far too much about this entire matter. Now sit!”

  She plopped herself in the chair and watched Madame Laurent open the envelope. After pulling out the papers, she read the contents.

  “God! Bureau des Mouers. What a waste. I wish they’d shut the wretched office down.”

  She placed the certificate of approval in a pile of papers on the left of her desk and then glanced at the doctor’s notes. “I see you have passed your medical examination,” she noted. “My God, you are a virgin!”

  “Did you think I was lying?” replied Suzette indignantly.

  “Perhaps,” she said, scanning over the doctor’s report. “Most Parisian girls are quite anxious to lose their virginity as soon as possible. Frankly, I find it interesting that you have not.” She lifted her eyes to Suzette. “So, did the good inspector try to talk you out of it or suggest referral to a religious institution?”

  “He mentioned a religious institution, yes.”

  “Which inspector interviewed you, might I ask?

  “Inspector Dubois.”

  “Ah, he’s one of the better ones. A little more, shall we say, polite during his interrogation than some others.”

  “So, what is to happen with me next?” Suzette asked, curious to know when she’d be thrown to the wolves.

  Amused over her question, Madame Laurent leaned back in her red leather chair and studied Suzette like a piece of merchandise. “Well, to be quite frank, Suzette, you’re not exactly what I would term saleable at the moment. Your hair and the condition of your skin are atrocious and will need to be taken care of before I let any of my patrons touch you.”

  She picked up her quill and started to jot down a few words on a piece of paper. Suzette strained her eyes to see what it was, but couldn’t tell.

  “I have plans for you already. You might be surprised to know that you’re a commodity that I must sell to the highest bidder. Virgins bring a pretty price, and I intend to use that fact to my advantage.”

  Suzette was not surprised that Madame Laurent possessed calculated and heartless plans regarding the sale of her virtue.

  “Well, don’t look so surprised. This is a business, not a boarding house. I run it as a business—to make money.” She shuffled a few papers around then turned her attention back to Suzette.

  “Let me go over a few simple things before I have one of our girls take you to your quarters. We have thirty rooms here in the Chabanais and thirty girls. By law, we are not allowed more girls than rooms. Foolish and stifling regulations indeed,” she complained. “Otherwise, I’d have more girls if I could!”

  Suzette remembered Nadine’s words—“thirty rooms, thirty whores.”

  “All of my girls are provided room and board as part of their compensation, if they wish. I know you only have the borrowed clothes upon your back, but I do not pay for your personal clothing and incidentals. It must come out of your own pay. I’m more than happy to advance you money since you have none, but you will be indebted to me. I shall subtract what you owe me over the course of your employment during the next few months. Do we understand each other?”

  “Yes, Madame.”

  “I do provide my girls a large assortment of lingerie, enticing gowns, and regional costume dress for work. However, I prefer to purchase the outfits myself that I think are best for my clientele’s pleasure and the rooms where the girls are assigned.” Leaning back in her chair, she eyed Suzette and then reiterated her good fortune.

  “You are fortunate, Suzette, even if you do not realize it. You may not like where you are at the moment, but at least you are alive, warm, and fed.”

  Suzette still possessed unanswered questions, one of which was the curious opening that she now filled. “What happened to the other girl before me? Why do you now have twenty-nine instead of thirty? Did she quit or something?”

  Madame Laurent raised one brow at Suzette’s inquisitive question, but answered it truthfully nonetheless. “The girl before you, unfortunately, caught syphilis. I cater to the best of clientele so that my girls remain disease-free; however, one of my patrons apparently found pleasure in some street trash and was infected. It angers me when a perfectly good employee of mine contracts the insidious disease and is sent to the hospital. He, on the other hand, has been banned from my establishment.”

  She stood from her desk and came over to her side. Suzette found no compassion in her eyes—only superiority.

  “As far as why I chose you, I have my reasons.” Madame Laurent took her hand lifting Suzette’s chin upward. “You have a sense of royalty about your demeanor. Once the rosebud is open, you will be perfect for the Louis XV Chambre. I’ll adorn you like a queen, and no doubt the men will treat you as one.” Her gaze lingered on the innocent face she held captive. “Well, at least most of them will.”

  Suzette followed Madame Laurent out the door. “I’ll have Nadine show you around and give you the grand tour.”

  As they entered the parlor, Suzette was surprised to see it filled with perfumed, seductive women waiting for patrons to arrive. The afternoon had slipped by, and it was nearly seven o’clock, the legal hour when the brothel could open.

  A variety of prostitutes in the selection parlor lounged on divans and chairs, scantily dressed with low-cut bodices. The opulent room she had admired as a laundress turned into a scene of sirens waiting for their prey. Suzette’s heart sank at the thought that she, too, would soon be among the group waiting to be picked and deflowered.

  “Nadine, come here.”

  Nadine stood up and answered her mistress. She wore a Dutch-like purple gown. Her blond hair glistened, resembling the sun, cascading down her back and chest.

  “Do me a favor, dear, and give Suzette a tour, will you, before the evening onslaught? When you are finished, escort her back to her room, but get her a quick bite to eat from the kitchen first. She missed supper.”

  Madame Laurent left, and Nadine smirked at her assignment who still wore her undergarments. She examined Suzette from top to bottom thinking even after her bath and washed hair, it was going to take some time to turn the sparrow into a swan. Nadine resented Suzette’s intrusion into her room after having enjoyed a few months alone. As far as she was concerned, Suzette was an irritating bore.

  “Don’t look like such a scared rat. I’m just going to show you around,” she snarled.

  Suzette was tired of her roommate’s constant demeaning tone. “Look,” she said glaring back. “I’m not a rat, and I’m not scared. I’m just disgusted that I even have to be here with people like you!”

  “You think you’re bet
ter than us?” Heads in the room turned to watch the loud disagreement ensuing between the two women.

  “Give it a couple of weeks, honey, and you’ll be just like the rest of us whores—happy, satisfied, and not so high and mighty.”

  The girls in the room giggled, and Nadine smiled at the affirmation received from her coworkers. She turned and walked out toward the foyer. “Follow me and I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  Nadine led the way upstairs, and Suzette peered once again at the nude artwork and magnificent crystal chandelier. When they had reached the top, she stopped and waited for Suzette to join her side.

  “There are thirty rooms in the brothel, all quite unique and decorated differently. Madame Laurent has spared no expense.”

  Suzette wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the detailed interiors of the rooms, but she braced herself as Nadine began to open doors one by one.

  “Of course, her investors give her plenty of francs to decorate in the finest for their enjoyment.”

  Suzette couldn’t help but notice the sudden radiance emanating from Nadine’s face. It was obvious she enjoyed her occupation, appearing happy and satisfied.

  “It’s like traveling the world in a bedroom,” she exclaimed. “There are a variety of designs—Moorish, Hindu, ancient Pompeii, Persia, China, Japan, and Africa, among others. Then if you prefer places instead of countries, there are rooms that resemble the cabin of a ship, private quarters on a train, or the Louis XV Chambre a king’s bedroom—that’s your room. Wherever and however the men prefer their fantasy, we provide a place for them to live it in the arms of a seductive woman.”

  Louis XV Chambre. The way Nadine spoke, “that’s your room,” it sounded more like an office than a bedchamber. Suzette’s curiosity piqued as Nadine continued.

  “There are settees, large beds, pristine sheets, down-feathered cushions, mirrors, and bouquets of fresh flowers adorning each chamber. The men are given a supply of the finest tobacco and alcohol during their night of pleasure.”