The others saw the girl’s embarrassment and tried to set her at ease, but Fleur ate very little and f inally whispered in a voice barely audible, “I would like to go to my room, if you don’t mind.”
“Why, of course,” Simone said. “You must be tired. Shall I go with you?”
“No, thank you. I can find it.”
As soon as Fleur left, Simone said, “She’s frightened by all of this.”
“Well, she might be,” Renee said. “From what you told me, she has absolutely nothing. Think how out of place we’d be if we were put in a cabin in the middle of a bayou.”
“Well, she will learn,” Louis said quickly. “She a fine girl, and I can see that she’s very intelligent.”
“We must be careful of her feelings,” Simone said. “I’ll spend every moment I can with her. I’m going to take her shopping tomor-row, Father. She doesn’t have a thing to wear. I must have some money.”
“Buy her whatever she needs, my dear.”
Bayard was troubled, for he had wanted things to be different. After everyone had gone to their rooms, he found he could not sleep. Finally he made up his mind: I’ve got to do something!
He went to the room assigned to Fleur and tapped on the door lightly. “Fleur, are you awake?”
There was a long silence, and then the door opened. Fleur had not dressed for bed. He realized she probably had nothing to wear.
“Are you sleepy?” Bayard asked.
“No, I’m not.”
“Come downstairs with me. I want to show you something.”
“You mean now?”
“Yes, now. Come along.” She stepped outside, giving him a strange look. He turned and walked down the stairs, and she accom-panied him. “Let’s just go outside.” Once outdoors, he said, “Come around over here, out from under the trees.” He led her to an open spot and said, “There’s what I wanted to show you.” He gestured at the stars and said, “I’ve never seen as many stars in my life. You remember we talked about that out at your home.”
Fleur looked up. The moonlight bathed her face with a silver light. She seemed small and fragile, but her eyes lit up as she looked at the sky. “They are ver’ beautiful. I remember I tell you God named each one of them.”
“Well, I know a few. There’s Arcturis right up there. You see?”
“Arcturis? That is his name?”
“That’s what the astronomers call it. And over there, that’s Sirius. They call it the Dog Star.” He continued to name off the few stars he knew, and she watched quietly.
Suddenly Fleur said, “I must go home. I do not fit in this place.”
Bayard saw that her face was drawn tight. He could not help but notice how lovely her skin was. The summer darkness lay over it, but her shirt fell away from her throat, showing the smooth olive shading beneath. Her black hair lay rolled and heavy on her head, a dense black that shone under the moonlight. The pale light revealed the soft lines of her body. Bayard remembered then how she had saved his life, nursed him back to health, and a great desire to do her good stirred in him. He asked suddenly, “Did you weep when your mother died?”
She held her head up, and he saw the tears glittering in her eyes. “No,” she whispered, “I did not.”
He saw the tremor in her body, and then the tears overflowed. He reached out and pulled her close, holding her head against his chest. “Maybe I can help,” he whispered. Her body continued to tremble, and he heard her quiet sobs. He made no attempt to speak, but he held her firmly until the weeping stopped. She straightened up and put her hands on his chest. “Is the first time I have cry.”
“We all need to cry, Fleur, even me.”
She looked at him shyly.
Bayard reached down, took her hand, and kissed it. “I learned so much from you and your mother. Maybe now you can learn a little bit from me and from my family. You must stay here and become a part of us. It will be exciting,” he said.
Her face seemed to glow then. She looked up at him and said, “Maybe I will stay for a little while, me.”
Chapter twenty
As Simone walked down the street into Jackson Square, she paused for a moment to look at the paintings and drawings of the sidewalk artists who had set up their easels along the piked fence surrounding the park. One of them was painting a picture of the St. Louis Cathedral, which was very poorly executed, according to her judgment. She thought, Bayard could do so much better than that. The artist, a short, greasy-faced man with bloodshot gray eyes, stared at her. “You want to buy?” he demanded.
“No, thank you.”
The artist gave Simone a look of contempt, then turned and con-tinued to splash paint on the canvas almost carelessly.
The wind was refreshing coming off the river, and the bright sun threw its warm beams down on the banana and myrtle trees inside the square. Simone had always liked to walk the Quarter in the morning, when the streets were fresh and before the din of shoppers began, and now the sight of it pleased her. She could smell the coffee and fresh baked bread in the small grocery stores, and from the alleyways came the cool, dank smell of old brick.
For some time she wandered around, looking occasionally through the scrolled iron doors of the brick alleyways. Once she saw a courtyard of a building lit by the sun. Purple wisteria and climbing yellow roses decorated the wall, and the ivy rooted in the mortar clung to it determinedly while four-o’clocks bloomed in the shade, and a green garden of spearmint erupted against the sunlit stucco walls. She turned to leave the square when someone spoke.
“Hello, Simone.”
Turning, Simone saw Colin, who took off his hat. The wind blew his auburn hair, and his eyes looked bluer than any she had ever seen. The color reminded her of cornflowers that grew in the open fields. “Hello, Colin,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“Just getting away from things. Would you like some coffee?” Simone nodded. “That would be nice.”
“We could go in the Cafe du Monde. They have great coffee there.”
He escorted her into the cafe. He ordered beignets and café au lait. The two nibbled at the delicacies and sipped the coffee. Simone asked about the performance the previous evening, and he spoke of it almost with disinterest. Then he asked, “How is Fleur doing?”
“Why, she’s been with us for only three days, but she’s doing very well. Of course everything is a little strange to her. All she’s ever known is a cabin out in a bayou.”
Something seemed to be troubling Colin. He swirled the milky coffee in his cup and stared down at it intently, as if it had some great meaning. Simone finally asked, “What’s wrong?”
Looking in her eyes, Colin said, “It’s a dangerous thing to experi-ment with lives, Simone.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You can change the color of a dress, or you can change a hat you’re wearing—but it’s more difficult to change people.”
“You sound as if you don’t approve of our bringing her in to stay with us. I’m surprised at you.”
“Maybe I’m wrong, but has she been happy?”
His question made Simone uncomfortable for some reason, and she shifted in her chair and glanced down at the table. She picked up a spoon and stirred her coffee without answering for a time. Indeed, she had been somewhat disappointed at Fleur’s behavior. It had seemed so right that Bayard should bring her there. After all, they owed her a tremendous debt, and now there was a chance to pay it back. And Simone had thrown herself into helping Fleur with all of the energy that she possessed. Thinking about it, however, she real-ized that Fleur had not responded as well as she might have liked. She had seemed to withdraw into herself and spend as much time in her room as possible, coming out only when Simone and Bayard insisted on it.
“It will just take time,” she said finally.
“I hope you’re right. But—” He broke off and shook his head doubtfully. “It’s going to be more difficult than you think.”
The
stubborn streak that lay beneath the surface of Simone d’Or’s personality arose. She had been accustomed to having her own way, and now being challenged, she responded by saying stiffly, “I don’t agree with you. What do you know about it, anyway?”
“It happened to me, Simone. When I went to France, I couldn’t speak French. I didn’t know anything. I was ignorant, and there I was right in the middle of the highest form of French society. I remember when Armand took me to the parties and balls and the meetings with his artistic friends, I felt more stupid than you can imagine.” He smiled wryly at her, and she noticed tiny crinkles at the edges of his eyes. “I would have cried, but I was too old for that. But I wanted to.”
“You turned out all right. You adjusted.”
“It took a long time, and it was a painful thing. I think you’d bet-ter be prepared for Fleur to want to go back to her old life.”
“She’s free to go if she wants, but Bayard and my whole family want to help her.”
“Sometimes the wrong kind of help can be harmful. And some-times people don’t need help.”
“I’m telling you, Colin, you don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s a beautiful young woman. All she needs is a little training, a little help with her speech, a few tips on how to dress. She’ll fit right in.”
“You’re talking about a girl who has lived next to a swamp all of her life. She’s been out hunting alligators and fishing and trap-ping wild animals, and you’re pushing her into Creole high soci-ety, which, if I may say so, is not the most enviable one, in my judgment.”
Simone grew angry. “I see there’s no point in our talking about it, Colin. You’re wrong, and that’s all there is to it.” She rose, saying, “I must go now. Good day.”
She left the Cafe du Monde, walking as rapidly as she could. She did not look back, and by the time she reached the spot where Robert was waiting for her with the carriage, she had decided that Lord Beaufort had gotten too wise for his own good. After all, he was noth-ing but a fisherman! What could he know about people? she thought. She snapped at Robert, “Take me home at once!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Robert said carefully. He had learned to recognize the storm signals that rose sometimes, transforming Simone d’Or from a pleasant, smiling woman to a determined, hardheaded one. I don’t know what set her off, but it don’t take much! he thought casually, and then spoke to his horses, “Get up, Nell. Get up, Betsy.”
As soon as Simone stepped into the house, she asked Agnes, “Where is Miss Fleur?”
“She’s upstairs in her room, Miss. She’s been there all morning. Don’t know why she wants to stay inside on such a beautiful day.”
Simone nodded and moved down the hall toward the stairs. As she ascended the carpeted steps, her head was full of the program that she had decided on for Fleur. The conversation with Colin Seymour had increased her determination, and she muttered, “All Fleur needs is a little help—and I’m going to see that she gets it!”
Knocking on the door, she waited until Fleur invited her to enter. The young woman was sitting on a chair beside a window. The sun-light touched her glossy black hair.
“What are you doing up in your room alone, Fleur?”
“Just thinking.”
“Well, you’ve thought enough.” Simone smiled and went over to her. “You have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen. We’re going to do something with it.”
“What you do with it?” Fleur asked with a frightened look.
“I’m going to take you to a woman who fixes my hair, and we’re going to go to some stores and buy you some new clothes.”
“You already buy me new dress. See, it fits fine. I don’t need no more.”
Simone laughed. “We only bought you two dresses. We’re going to the reception tomorrow, and you need a new gown. Come now, we’ll have all afternoon to shop.”
“I think I rather stay here, Simone.”
“Don’t be foolish. It’ll be fun. I’ll tell you what: we’ll go shopping, and then we’ll get a fine meal at Antoine’s. Then we’ll go to the opera. Would you like that?”
“I don’t know. I never go to no opera.”
“Well, you’ll like it, I’m sure. Come along now. You better wear that coat that we bought. It’s getting brisk out there, and it’ll be cold when we get back tonight.”
“This is Francisco’s. They have the finest ladies’ fashions in New Orleans. Come along. We have a lot to do.”
Fleur hung back. She had accompanied Simone reluctantly, and now the sight of the store with its bright lights throwing a glow over the selections of dresses and shoes and other ladies’ accessories intimi-dated her. She longed to be back in her room, or even back in her cabin on the bayou—though she had enjoyed being with Bayard and watching him paint. And she enjoyed the family. But once outside the house meeting strangers, she became frightened and felt ill at ease.
“Good afternoon, Mademoiselle d’Or. It is good to see you.” The speaker was a petite woman wearing a gray dress and an elaborate hair-style. She had bright brown eyes and a smile to match. “What can I do for you today?”
“Eleanor, this is Fleur Avenall, a very special friend of mine. We’re going to the reception for the new lieutenant governor tomorrow, and Miss Avenall needs a new outfit.”
“That will be a pleasure. If you will come this way, Miss Avenall, I will show you what we have.”
Fleur followed but paid little heed to the woman’s talk. Every-where she looked she saw well-dressed women wearing flashing jew-elry, with their hair done in fashions she could not quite understand. They were talking and laughing, and Simone kept up a running conversation with the woman named Eleanor. Fleur said almost nothing, and for the next hour she simply did as she was bidden. She tried on half a dozen dresses as well as shoes, bonnets, and gloves.
“These shoes, they are too tight,” she complained. After wearing moccasins most of her life, she felt the leather shoes bite into her flesh. “They hurt.”
“Oh, they’re not too small, I’m sure,” Lucille said. “You will get used to them. New shoes take breaking in.”
“Moccasins don’t take no breaking in. You make them and put them on, and they feel good right off.”
Simone laughed. “Well, you can’t wear moccasins to the recep-tion. Those will look very pretty. Now, which of the dresses did you like? I thought the green one was very nice indeed.” Simone waited, but Fleur seemed confused. “Of course, the white brings out your hair and your eyes.”
“The white is ver’ pretty, but the green is nice also, Eleanor said.”
“Very well. We’ll take them both,” Simone said. “Now, you’ll need a cloak to wear. What do you have, Eleanor?”
“We have some fine wool cloaks just imported. It is merino wool, the very finest.” Eleanor brought out a cloak and draped it across Fleur’s shoulders. “It would look just right with either dress, and it is so warm.”
“Do you like this, Fleur?”
“Yes, I like him, but what keep him from falling off?” The coat had no buttons and simply draped over the shoulders.
“It’s supposed to be like that, Mademoiselle Avenall,” Eleanor answered. “It allows the beautiful dress to be seen.”
“We’ll take it,” Simone said firmly. “Now, let’s see, is there any-thing else?”
“I think is enough, Simone,” Fleur said quickly. “Too much for me.”
“Certainly it’s not too much! You must look beautiful for the reception.” She paid her bill, and the pair left for home.
Fleur stood in the middle of the room while Simone’s maid, Lucy, moved about her, touching her hair with a brush, adding a hairpin to keep it in place. Fleur did not like the way her hair was fixed, all curled and tied up. Always she had let it simply hang down her back, tied with a thong. She felt awkward in the new clothes. When Lucy said, “Now you are perfect,” she looked in the mirror. The white dress brought out her dark hair and eyes, as Simone had said, but she reached up and tri
ed to tug the dress upward. “This shows too much of me,” she said.
“Oh no, it’s very modest!” Lucy said.
“I don’t think so, me! I wish I had a sweater, something to cover myself up.”
Lucy restrained a laugh. “Wait until you see some of the other ladies’ dresses! They are cut much lower than this.”
“Then they should stay home!”
Simone entered the room, smiling. “Let me see you. Turn around—oh, it’s perfect!”
“This dress shows too much of me. I want to put a shawl or some-thing over my chest.”
“Why, it’s just right,” Simone said with surprise.
“I never wear nothing that show me like this. Maybe I could wear a shirt or something under the dress.”
“I’ve tried to tell her it’s very modest. See, Miss Simone’s dress is much lower than that.”
Fleur looked at Simone’s maroon dress that was indeed even more revealing than her own. “Don’t you feel funny, letting your skin show like that?”
Simone exchanged smiles with Lucy. “It’s all the fashion. You’ve just never worn a ballroom dress. Now come along. It’s time to go.”
Fleur followed Simone down the stairs and found Bayard waiting. His eyes lit up, and he said, “Well, the two most beautiful woman in New Orleans are here. Let me look at that new dress, Fleur.”
Fleur flushed. “I don’t like it,” she said in a low voice.
“You don’t like the dress?”
“No, it show too much of me.”
Bayard was surprised. He was accustomed to such fashions him-self, but he saw that Fleur was indeed troubled. “I know it’s differ-ent from anything you’ve worn out at the bayou, but when you go to dances out there with the Cajuns, don’t they wear anything like this?”
“No. Women wear their dresses up to their neck. This is not nice.”
Bayard chewed his lip and said, “Well, I think you’ll find that things are a little different at these receptions.”
“It’ll be fine,” Simone said. “You look lovely.”
The Creole Historical Romance 4-In-1 Bundle Page 72
