“I have been at the Ursuline Convent all my life, Madam. I have made dresses for myself and for my fellow students for many years now. I had a very fine teacher. Sister Abigail was a seamstress herself in Paris before she came to this country as a nun.”
“Well, this is a beautiful piece of work. It’s not finished, I see.”
“No, ma’am, not yet.”
Desperately Leonie held her breath as the older woman fingered the seams. “These are very fine stitches indeed. Do you have any of your other work?”
“Just this dress, which I made myself.”
“Let me see.” Madam Honore studied the dress and even took a seam between her fingers and felt it. “Very nice. You must understand, I cannot pay much.”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter. I do need work badly.”
“I have a room you could have. It’s small, but it would be handy to the work here. If you can cook, perhaps you can even help me with the cooking and the housecleaning.” She held up her hands and said, “My hands are very stiff, you see. It’s difficult. You would be doing most of the fine work under my direction.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful!”
“When could you begin?”
“Today—right now, Madam.”
Madam Honore smiled. “Well, you are eager enough. Let us see if you can keep up.”
“I must go down and get my chest. Where is the room?”
“Come. I will show you.”
Madam Honore led Leonie through the shop. At the rear was a door, and when she opened it and stepped back, Leonie went inside. She took one look around and sighed with delight. “Why, it’s a beautiful room!”
“It was my daughter’s room before she left New Orleans. She took great pride in fixing it up.”
It was indeed a beautiful room. The room was very large, almost twelve-by-twelve-feet square. The walls were painted a light pink with a white ceiling and two floor-length windows covered in sheer white curtains. The furniture was large and well built, with a lustrous dark shine showing the pure beauty of the mahogany. The bed had a pink, blue, and green coverlet on it with overstuffed pillows, and on the floor was an enormous gray and blue area rug.
“Well, if the room is satisfactory, we will work out something with the wages. Go get your things. Oh, what is your name?”
“Leonie Dousett.”
“Well, Leonie, go get your things.”
Leonie practically flew downstairs, and her face was alight. Before she could say a word, Jean Larue laughed and said, “You don’t have to tell me. God’s dropped a gift in your lap, ain’t He?”
“Oh, it’s so wonderful, Jean! A very fine lady, so kind, and I’m to live in a beautiful room, and she needs me almost as much as I need her. Her hands are stiff with rheumatism.”
“Well, ain’t that a wonder now! God had His eye on an older lady who needed a young woman and on a young woman who needed work and a place to stay. Praise God. He puts it all together as He always does! Shall I carry your chest up?”
“If you will, please.”
Jean shouldered the chest, and Leonie picked up Louis’s basket and led the way. Jean carried the chest into her room, put it down, and smiled. “Now, it’s a lovely place.”
“Oh, I forgot to ask Madam if I could have a cat. I’ve got to keep Louis.”
“Well, if she won’t, I’ll take him myself.”
“No. He’s my best friend. I have to have him.” Worry furrows spread across Leonie’s smooth brow. She went at once outside the room and found Madam Honore waiting. “I forgot to tell you I have a cat. I hope you don’t mind. He’s really very quiet and no trouble at all.”
“Well, let me see the fellow.”
She led the older woman back to the bedroom and undid the top of the basket. Louis hopped out in all his glory, his golden eyes gleaming. Madam Honore went closer, put her hand out, and he butted against it with his head in the manner he had with those he liked. “What a handsome chap you are! You and I will get along fine.”
“This is Jean Larue. He’s been a great help to me, Madam.”
“I’m very happy to meet you, Jean.”
“You take good care of this young woman now. I’ve taught her how to pray, so she ought to be all right.”
“How to pray?” Madam Honore raised her eyebrows. “Are you a preacher then?”
“No. Nothing like that. Just a child of the King.”
“Here. Let me pay you, Jean,” Leonie said, opening her purse.
“I wouldn’t take a penny, Miss. It was all the Lord’s doing and glorious in our sight. Just a little service for the Lord Jesus. I pass here pretty often. You give me a wave from the window once in a while and shout ‘Hallelujah!’”
“I may do that, Jean. Thank you so much. I wish you’d let me pay you.”
“No.” Larue shook his head. “A pleasure to be of service to a lovely lady and to the lovely God of heaven and earth.”
Leonie had worked all day on a dress that had to be ready for a wealthy customer. She finished it by five o’clock, and when the lady came by, she was pleased. “This is good, fine work, Madam Honore.”
“My new assistant finished it up. She does very skillful work, don’t you think?”
“Why, yes.” The woman smiled. “I’m glad you found someone. Here, I’ll put a little bonus in here for such a fine job.”
“Thank you, Madam.”
After the customer left, Madam Honore said, “Come. While you were working I fixed us a good dinner. I hope you like Creole food.”
“Oh yes, I like it very much. We had a cook at the convent who was a Creole lady. Her meals were always the favorite.”
“Well, come along. It’s hot, and I’m hungry.” Madam Honore led Leonie back to her apartment, which was as neat as the woman herself.
“Your apartment is beautiful.”
“Thank you. Here, you sit down, and I’ll do the serving this time.”
The meal was delicious. It included lamb-okra gumbo and a delicious asparagus salad, and the main dish was beef bordelaise. There were delicious, tiny rolls that melted in Leonie’s mouth, and for dessert, fresh apple trifle. After the two women had eaten, Leonie could only say, “You’re a wonderful cook!”
“If you’d like to learn how to cook Creole, it would be my pleasure to teach you.”
Leonie accepted the offer with pleasure. Then she began to speak of the cab driver who had brought her there. “Just think: if any other man had come along, he wouldn’t have been as willing to help me. You know,” she said, her eyes wide, “I think Jean Larue may be an angel.”
“That’s possible.”
“Do you believe in angels, Madam?”
“Oh, I think angels are all about us. We need to keep our eyes open for them.”
“Well, he doesn’t look much like an angel, but I think God sent him. I wouldn’t have found you, Madam Honore, if it hadn’t been for him.”
“Then we’ll fix him a very special treat. Something good to eat. The next time we see him going down the street, we’ll call him in.”
Madam Honore noticed that exhaustion was filling Leonie’s face. “You go to bed, my dear. I’ll clean up.”
“Oh, let me help.”
“Not tonight. Tomorrow you can do it all. Cook the supper and wash the dishes and wait on me. We two are going to suit each other very well.”
“I—I thank the Lord for you, Madam. I’m going to work very hard to please you.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Leonie barely managed to wash her face and hands, get into her nightgown, and climb into bed before drowsiness stole over her. Louis crawled up on her chest and sat down. When she closed her eyes, he reached out and touched her eyelid gently with a soft pad. It was something he usually did in the morning as if saying, “Open your eyes. Let’s see if you’re in there.”
“You can’t sleep there, Louis. You’re too heavy.” She rolled over, and Louis snuggled in beside her. She wanted to say a prayer bu
t had said only a few words when suddenly sleep seized her, and she knew no more.
Chapter five
September had come, and as Leonie sat sewing the collar on a dress, she thought of the two months she had spent with Madam Honore. It gave her intense satisfaction to think how well the two had suited each other. The older woman had been kinder than any employer she might have dreamed of, and Leonie had thrown herself into the work with all of her strength.
She listened as the traffic passed on the street below and once went over to the window, hoping to see Jean Larue. They had become good friends. Madam had insisted that they have him for supper and fixed baked Creole red snapper fresh off the dock. The old man apparently had no family in New Orleans, and now a week scarcely went by but that he came to bring them some food he had picked up from the market, and they always had a special treat for him.
She had seen the Millards in the marketplace twice, and both times Madam had glared at her as if she were a criminal, and her husband had acted as if he was afraid to see her.
She had been back to the convent twice, carrying glowing reports of her new place, and the mother superior had been very happy for her. The convent had given her a strange feeling. Although she had been there all of her life, already her life among the sisters seemed to be something that had taken place many years ago instead of only a couple of months.
Leonie went to Mass every Sunday. She got up early every weekday and more often than not made breakfast for herself and Madam. She had worked steadily, her skills improving under Madam Honore’s teaching. The customers had been more than satisfied with her work. Madam said once with a smile, “They like your work better than mine. They will begin to ask for you instead of me!”
Leonie had gotten to know the shop owners on the street. She did most of the shopping for Madam, and it had given her great pride to think she had learned how to buy wisely. She mused over all the changes in her life in such a short period of time.
Madam Honore interrupted her thoughts. “Mrs. Wilson will be in for her dress tomorrow. How’s it coming, Leonie?”
“Oh, it will be finished in plenty of time. This is such beautiful material. I’ve been afraid I’d spoil it.”
“You wouldn’t do that.” Madam Honore smiled. She sat down across from Leonie and humor sparkled in her eyes. “You’ve made a conquest.”
“A conquest? What do you mean?”
“Monsieur Guignard has asked permission to call on you.”
Leonie stared at her employer. “You mean the butcher?”
“Yes indeed.”
“But—he’s an old man.”
“Why no. He’s only forty. That may seem old to you, but it seems young to me.” Madam Honore studied the young woman carefully. She had become quite fond of her in the weeks that she had been there, and she asked, “What shall I tell him?”
“Why, tell him no. I don’t want him calling on me.”
Madam Honore smiled. “You better think it over. He’s quite prosperous. His butcher shop is a moneymaking business, I understand. And he likes you.”
“I’d rather not.”
“I think you should at least allow him to call.”
“Is that what young women do? I have no experience.”
“It can do no harm. He’s actually a very respectable gentleman. He holds to the old ways, and of course, I do too.”
“Well, if you think it’s best, I suppose it’ll be all right.”
Aubrey Guignard was a very respectable man indeed. His suit was respectable; his words were respectable. Even his shoes were respectable. Everything about him was respectable, including the attention he paid to the two women.
“The supper was very fine,” he said. “I recognize the meat.”
“Yes, you should,” Leonie said. “We bought it from you just this morning.”
Aubrey Guignard was enthusiastic about one subject, and that was meat. He launched into a long discussion of meat that lasted almost until time for him to leave. Finally, when he did rise to leave, the two women rose with him. “It was so nice of you to have me in your home, Madam Honore, and you, Mademoiselle.”
“It was a pleasure, Monsieur. We must do it again some time,” Madam answered.
“Yes. We certainly shall.” Monsieur Guignard put his respectable hat on, turned, and left.
As soon as the door closed, Madam began to laugh. “Well, did you fall madly in love with him?”
“No! I certainly did not!”
“I am not surprised. He’s the most boring human being I ever heard. All he knows about is meat. I will admit he is a fine butcher.”
“I wish him well, but I hope that we don’t have to have him in again.”
“Well, we need to be careful.”
“Careful about what?”
“About how we treat him.”
“I don’t understand you.”
Humor danced in Madam Honore’s eyes. “As long as he thinks you consider him a possible husband, he’ll give us good buys on meat.”
“Madam, you don’t mean that!”
“No, I don’t. That wouldn’t be fair.”
“You must tell him I’m not the woman he needs.”
“You don’t have to worry about the butcher anymore.”
As the two women were cleaning up, Madam said, “Leonie, you’ve done so well. We’re almost out of work.”
Leonie agreed, “We are, aren’t we? But I think I may help with that.”
“What do you mean, Leonie?”
“I have three very good friends. They come from wealthy families. Why don’t I take a day off and go visit them? They are always buying fine, expensive clothing.”
“I think that would be excellent. What are friends for, if not to make us prosperous?”
Leonie laughed. “You don’t believe that.”
“No, I don’t, but if you could get some business, it would be good.”
“I’ll go tomorrow,” she said.
Damita stepped into the parlor, her eyes alight. “Why, Leonie, how wonderful to see you!”
“It’s good to see you, too, Damita.”
“I’ve just gotten back from a long trip.”
Leonie listened as Damita spoke of her travels, and finally Damita asked, “Well, what have you been doing, Leonie? You left the convent, I suppose?”
“Yes. I’m working as a dressmaker now.”
“A dressmaker. Well, you always made beautiful things for all of us. Do you like it?”
“Very much, but I’m afraid I’ve become a beggar.”
“A beggar? What do you mean?”
“I’ve come to ask you if you would consider letting me do some work for you.”
Damita’s eyes flew open. “Certainly! Why not? And we must go to Simone and Chantel.”
“Oh, I’ve already been to see them. They’re both coming for fittings.”
Damita smiled. “What time shall I come?”
“You set the time, Damita. You’re the customer.” The two chatted for a moment about meeting times. Leonie then left the house and returned to Madam Honore’s shop. When she entered, she was bubbling over. “We have three new customers, all rich!”
“Wonderful! I love rich customers. Now, sit down and tell me about them.”
Leonie was excited, and Madam Honore listened. Finally she said, “Are you ever jealous of these young women?”
“Why would I be?”
“Why, because they’re rich. They don’t have to work. They can buy whatever they want, and you have to work for a living.”
Leonie stared at the older woman. “No. I never thought of such a thing.”
Madam Honore’s eyes grew soft. “You’re a wonder, Leonie Dousett. Most girls would be eaten up with envy.”
“God has been good to me, Madam. I am content.”
“That is good. I hope you always will be.”
Chapter six
“Reverend Mother, there’s a gentleman to see you.”
The mother
superior looked up from her desk, which was covered with documents. A frown crossed her forehead. “I’m not expecting anyone.”
Sister Agnes shook her head. “I didn’t think you were, and I don’t believe you want to see him.”
“Why not, Sister?”
“He’s not respectable.”
Humor glinted in the mother superior’s eyes. “Jesus wasn’t considered respectable in His day.” She loved to tease Sister Agnes, but she saw that she had gone too far. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to put it like that. What is he, a tradesman?”
Sister Agnes’s mouth tightened. “I don’t know what he is. He’s almost like a beggar, his dress, anyway, and he has a—well, a rather rough look about him. He looks like a criminal.”
“Well, criminals come under the gospel decree, I suppose. Did he say what he wanted?”
“Only that he had to talk to you, and it was private.” Sister Agnes sniffed with disdain. “Be best to send him on his way.”
For a moment the mother superior drummed her fingers on the desktop, then shook her head. “I’m afraid to do that.”
“Why?”
“A few times in my life I missed opportunities to serve our Lord with people. I wouldn’t want to miss another one. Just think, Sister, what if Jesus didn’t stop at the well to talk to the Samaritan woman? Her life wouldn’t have been changed, and you remember the story in the Bible. It says that the whole village pretty well came to know Jesus because of her testimony. No, I don’t think I’ll take the chance. Send him in. I’ll get rid of him if necessary.”
“As you say then.” Sister Agnes was miffed as she turned and walked outside the door.
When the man entered, without meaning to, Reverend Mother thought, Sister Agnes was right. He does look like a criminal.
“My name is Blaise Mignon.”
“Won’t you sit down, Monsieur Mignon?”
“Thank you.” Mignon took his seat. He was a small man, his face was lined and burned with the sun, and his hands, Reverend Mother noted, were callused and twisted. He had dark eyes almost hidden by heavy lids, and there was a sinister air about the man.
“What can I do for you, Monsieur?”
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