“I’ll keep on looking, of course, and something will turn up,” the mother superior assured her.
“If nothing else, I can always work as a seamstress.”
“Oh yes, you’re very good at that! I’ve never seen better.” She waved at the tapestry that was on the wall. It was one of the two that Leonie had made, and she had offered it as a gift to the mother superior for all of her kindnesses. “That is a beautiful piece of work. Somehow it cheers me up. I don’t know why a tapestry should do that.”
“What a nice thing to say.”
“Well, it’s no more than the truth.” The mother superior, seeing Leonie’s depression, felt uncomfortable, wondering if she had failed the young woman. “I’ll keep looking for a place for you.”
“Thank you. I know that God will take care of me.”
“That’s the right attitude, Leonie.” The older woman took her hands and said, “You have a very special gift, Leonie.”
“Me! A gift?”
“The gift of faith. I’ve noticed it in you before. You’ve had a harder life than almost any of these girls here with not knowing your parents and being alone, yet you’ve not let it sour you. I know that God is going to honor you somehow or other.”
Leonie felt the warmth of the woman’s words and smiled. “Yes. God will take care of me.”
The graduation ceremonies were long, and Chantel Fontaine won the award for the best scholar. This came as no surprise to anyone; she was a bright young woman. Leonie applauded as hard as Chantel’s own family when she walked up to receive her award.
Finally the speeches and the ceremonies were over, and the four girls went to their rooms for the final time—at least for three of them.
“Do you have any more prospects, Leonie?” Chantel asked as she was packing the last of her clothing.
“I’ll keep on looking until I find a position.”
“I told my parents about you, and the other girls have done the same. We’ll find you something.”
“Thank you, Chantel. That’s like you.”
“We must keep in touch,” Chantel said.
“Yes, of course,” Leonie said, knowing it was not very likely. Chantel, Simone, and Damita moved in the upper regions of society of New Orleans. She herself would be somewhere in the lower order.
The three girls were in a flurry, parents urging them on, and each embraced Leonie. She walked out to the gates and waved as they left, all of them laughing and excited. When she turned back, despondency filled her. She was a young woman of great faith, supposedly, but still the future looked dark. She straightened her back, and her mouth tightened in a stubborn expression. “I’ll find something,” she murmured. “God won’t let me down.”
Chapter three
The days passed slowly after graduation, turned into weeks, and finally stretched into two months. New students were coming to take their places in the rooms, and Leonie felt more and more uncomfortable. The mother superior had not said anything about her leaving, but a larger enrollment than usual put rooms at a premium. Desperately she had gone throughout the city looking for work and found nothing, and she knew that the older woman had been active on her behalf as well. It had been a disappointment to her that she had not heard from any of her friends who had left the convent, but she knew they were busy with their families and plans.
It was midmorning, and Leonie was working on a tapestry. She was putting all of her skills into it, for it was larger and more ornate than anything she had attempted before. Leonie had spent the last two months trying to more fully develop her faith, and she decided to make something that would glorify God. Having decided to sew into the tapestry the miracles of Jesus, she was working now on the feeding of the five thousand, which was a challenge to her talents. How to give the impression of a multitude of people on a small bit of fabric was harder than she had expected.
From time to time, she looked outside her window, interested in the purple martins that were building in the house the custodian had put up for them. It had eight separate compartments, and every one was filled, and the birds were busy bringing food to the young ones. They were such a happy breed of bird, and the sounds they made were so cheerful that Leonie stopped often to watch them.
She also paused that morning to read the Scriptures and pray that God would put a way of making a living in her path. She was unusual in that she possessed a Bible, and even more unusual in that she read it. Most religious folk left the reading of the Scriptures and the explanation of them to certain authorities. Leonie had become fascinated with the Bible when she was but a young girl. More than one nun had warned her about the dangers of reading the Bible without guidance, but she could not seem to agree with that.
A knock on the door sounded, and without waiting for an answer Sister Agnes opened it, popped her head in, and said, “You’re wanted in Reverend Mother’s office, Leonie.”
“Me? What for?”
“I don’t know, but you’ll find out when you go. Hurry now.”
Quickly Leonie put her sewing away and looked into the small mirror to be sure that her appearance was suitable. She made her way swiftly to the second floor and knocked on the office door. When she heard the woman’s quiet “Come in,” she opened the door and stepped inside. “You sent for me, Reverend Mother?” Her eyes went to the leader of the convent first and then to a couple who were seated in chairs across from the large desk.
“Yes, I did, Leonie. This is Monsieur Gaspar Millard and his wife, Matilda. They own an inn in the city, and they are looking for a young woman to work for them. I thought you might be interested.”
“Oh yes, I would!” Leonie said quickly. She turned to face the couple. The man had risen, and she saw that he was a tall, bulky man of some forty years. He had blunt features and a pair of quick, black eyes that took her in all at once. His wife was also a tall woman but very thin. She had iron-gray hair and was obviously at least ten years older than her husband. Her eyes were small and close-set, and she had a steel trap of a mouth.
“We cannot pay much,” Madam Millard spoke up at once. “You must understand that at the beginning.”
“Yes, that is true,” her husband said quickly, “but we will offer you room and board. There will be plenty of food and a nice room.”
“At least it’s a beginning, Leonie, and I know you’re anxious to get on with your life,” the mother superior said.
“What sort of work would I be doing?”
“The same sort that needs to be done at an inn,” Madam Millard said sharply. “Cleaning, helping the cook. I expect all of our help to work hard.”
“I think you’ll find Mademoiselle a very hard worker. She has set the example for others here for all of her years,” the mother superior said quickly. She turned to Leonie, and her eyes expressed her lack of pleasure. “Leonie, it’s not necessary for you to go. We will make a place for you here if you would rather do that.”
Leonie understood that the woman was offering a way out. The couple did not seem to be particularly pleasant, but Leonie was anxious to start a life away from the convent. She turned to the Millards and said, “I have a cat.”
“We do not allow animals,” Madam Millard said sharply. “They’re nasty creatures.”
“Louis is very clean. I couldn’t leave without my cat.” She saw the anger rise in the woman, but Monsieur Millard spoke up at once. “Oh, let the girl have her cat. He can catch some of those pesky mice.”
Madam Millard wanted to argue, but one look at her husband caused her to say, “Very well. You may keep the cat. We need help immediately. The last girl ran away without giving notice. When can you come?”
“I can come today, Madam.”
“Good. Get your things. We have a carriage outside.”
Leonie packed her few belongings and then put Louis in a basket that she had designed. She closed the lid, latched it, and he protested vehemently with loud, guttural cries.
“It’s all right, Louis. We’re leaving here,
but we’ll be together.”
Picking up the basket, Leonie looked around the room she had lived in all of her life. As anxious as she was to make a living, it gave her an uncomfortable feeling to be leaving to go live with strangers. She was standing in the middle of the room uncertainly when the door opened and the mother superior came in. She had concern written on her face, and she said, “Leonie, you do not have to go with these people. They don’t seem particularly agreeable.”
“Oh, it’s all right, Reverend Mother. I need to work, and this is what has come. Maybe it’s God’s will.”
“Perhaps, but if you do not like it, you come back here. We will take you in. We’ll find a place and work for you to do. You know we can’t pay, but we love you, and you will always be welcome here.”
Tears came to Leonie’s eyes. “Thank you, Reverend Mother. You’ve always been so kind to me.”
“I’ll have George take your chest down. Remember, I expect you to come back often to visit with me and let me know how you’re doing.”
“Of course I’ll do that, Reverend Mother.”
On the way out, several nuns met Leonie to say good-bye. She had been popular with all of them. Sister Agnes stood before her and said, “Now, you behave yourself and be a good girl.”
“Yes, Sister Agnes.”
“I’ll miss you.”
Leonie blinked in surprise, for she had not thought Sister Agnes would ever miss anyone. She saw, however, that the woman actually was sorry to see her leave, and she put her hand out, saying, “You’ve been very good to me, Sister. I will miss you too.”
When she stepped outside the building, the old gardener came to her with a small posy of flowers. “Ah, you’re leaving us,” he said. “You’ve been the light of my life.”
“Why, Pierre, what a nice thing to say! And thank you for the flowers.”
She made her way to where the carriage was waiting. By that time, George had brought her chest down. He waited until he had put it into the back of the carriage, then he turned and gave her a hand in. She put Louis’s basket on the seat, and Louis protested vehemently.
“I hope that cat doesn’t make that racket all the time,” Madam Millard said querulously.
“No, ma’am, he’s very quiet usually. He’s just a little bit nervous.”
“Natural enough. I’d yowl if somebody put me in a basket,” Gaspar Millard said. “Well, here we go.”
A small crowd, including the mother superior, was there to wave good-bye, and Leonie put her head out the window and waved, trying to smile. When they went out the gate, she turned and sat back, holding onto the basket with her arm.
As they traveled toward the city, Gaspar kept asking her questions, and she answered as well as she could. She was filled with a nameless fear, for she knew little of the world.
“I suppose you’ll be glad to get out of that place, eh?” Gaspar said, twisting his head around and winking at her. “Not much going on there, I would guess, in the way of fun.”
“No, but I’m sad, sir.”
“Sad! Why would you be sad to leave a place like that?” he said with genuine surprise.
“It’s the only home I’ve ever known, sir, and they—they were very kind to me, the sisters.”
Gaspar shrugged and said nothing.
“Is it far to the inn?” Leonie asked.
“Not too far.”
“Can I come back for a visit, do you suppose?”
“On your day off. Why not? I could bring you myself,” Gaspar said with a smile.
“You don’t have time to be hauling servants around,” Madam Millard said.
There was a sharpness between the two, and Leonie could not help but wonder what sort of situation she was getting into. She said no more and sat back listening, whispering from time to time to Louis in his basket.
Gaspar followed a familiar route at first and then pulled off onto a route she did not know. It was close to the waterfront, and she saw the Mississippi from time to time through the trees. The houses were all poor, and there seemed to be an inordinate number of inns. More than once they passed men who were the worse for drink. It was a section of New Orleans, known for its roughness, where many Kaintocks lived.
Finally Gaspar said, “Well, there it is. The White Horse Inn.”
Leonie looked quickly and saw a dilapidated-looking inn wedged in between two other structures, one a warehouse of some sort and the other a three-story dwelling with iron railings around the balconies. The White Horse Inn had a sign bearing what had once been a white horse but now was faded to a sickly green. Gaspar drove around and arrived at the back of the inn where there was a court of sorts with a stable. He got down, and a tall, scrawny young boy came at once. Gaspar spoke to him harshly, and the boy flinched as though he had been struck. “Take this young woman’s chest up to Emily’s old room,” he said. “Be quick about it.”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
Leonie stepped out of the carriage, holding onto Louis’s basket, and waited until Gaspar Millard helped his wife down. “Come this way,” Madam Millard said.
Leonie followed the pair up a set of rickety steps and was greeted by an unpleasant smell of boiled cabbage and the ancient odors that any house will accumulate. They passed through the kitchen, which she saw was filthy. A large woman spilling out of her clothes with her hair tied up with a rag was cooking. “This is Gemma. She’s the cook. Gemma, this is Leonie. She’ll be helping you out.”
“About time. I need a little help.” Gemma’s face was hardened by years of hard work, but her manner was not unkind.
Gaspar said, “Come. I’ll take you up to your room.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Gaspar led her through the area that served for eating and drinking, and she saw that quite a few men were in there and even a few women, all looking more or less disreputable. The smell of strong liquor and other worse smells made her wrinkle her nose.
“Up this way. Watch your step.”
The steps indeed were steep that led to the second floor where they turned and climbed to the third floor. “This is the attic. I made a room out of it,” Gaspar said. There was a short hallway with only one door at the end. “You’ll have lots of privacy up here if you want to entertain your gentlemen friends.”
“I won’t be doing that, Monsieur.”
Gaspar laughed and opened the door. “You got your own window, you see.”
The room was a disaster. It was filthy, and the covers on the bed were so awful that Leonie knew at once that she would have to wash them before she could sleep on them. She didn’t know what she would do about the mattress. Whoever had occupied the room had never thought of cleaning it. The paper was peeling off the walls, what little paper there was, and the one window was coated with grime so that the sun could hardly force its way in.
The furniture consisted of a single bed with the filthy covers, a chair that looked ready to collapse, and a washstand with a chipped basin and a pitcher even more so.
“You’ll have to haul your wash water up here,” Gaspar said. “It’ll take a little cleaning up, but you’ll make out fine here.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you for bringing me.”
Gaspar suddenly moved forward and put his hand on her shoulder. It startled Leonie, and she quickly looked up at him. He had a peculiar expression in his eyes. “You and me are going to get along fine. If you want anything, you let me know.” He squeezed her shoulder with a caress and Leonie, horrified, pulled away.
“Thank you, sir,” she said quickly. “I’ll be fine.”
“Too late to do much today. Supper will be in a couple of hours. You can work on your room until then.” He turned and stared at her, and she felt something unclean in his look. He laughed harshly then turned and left.
What a horrible, horrible place! How will I ever live here? The words did not escape Leonie’s lips, but they were true enough. She was used to cleanliness and quiet, and already she could hear the boisterous yells and shouts and r
aucous laughter coming from the bar downstairs. She had a feeling it would be much worse at night.
For a moment Leonie thought of leaving, of going back to the convent at once, but there was an innate determination in this young woman for all her mildness and meekness. “I can live here,” she said aloud, then straightened her back. She reached over and opened the basket, and when Louis jumped out, she picked him up and hugged him to her breast. “We’ll be all right, Louis. You’ll see.”
For the rest of the day, Leonie threw herself into a frenzy of cleaning. She hauled up hot water and soap in buckets until she had scrubbed the room, including the ceiling. She had gone out and bought fresh blankets out of her own slender store of money and had exchanged the mattress, such as it was, for a better one. Gemma, the cook, had helped her, saying, “This ain’t much of a place for a fine young lady like you.”
“It’ll be all right, Gemma. I’m used to hard work.”
“It ain’t the work.” Gemma closed one eye in a wink, and her mouth twisted upward in a wry grin. “Watch out for the master. He likes young girls.”
“It’ll do him no good.”
“You watch what I say. Don’t ever let him get you alone. He’s gotten more than one girl in trouble here. Have you got some kind of a knife?”
“A knife! Of course not.”
“Here. Take this one.” Gemma reached over into a drawer and pulled out a short but obviously very keen weapon. “Here. Keep this with you all the time.”
“Oh, I couldn’t use that.”
“You could if it kept him from harmin’ you, couldn’t you?”
“I won’t need that. The Lord will take care of me.”
“Well, the Lord helps them that helps themselves. You watch out for him. You mind what I say.”
“I’ll be sure and watch, and thanks for the warning, Gemma.”
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