The same shop helper assisted me in slipping the yellow hair over mine, pushing and tucking my thick locks behind the fake ones. It seemed an endless task to hide what was naturally mine. Eventually I covered all of my own hair. In the mirror I saw a woman with the blonde mane and golden gown. Not even I would recognize myself if I walked past me on the street. If Andre was looking for me, he wouldn’t spot me in this dress, not unless he came face to face with me. The dress and wig was a much more pleasant hiding place than the trunk or wagon storage.
“You look like a queen. This dress suits you well mademoiselle,” Elyse told me.
“Merci,” I replied. “Do you have lip color and rouge?” I asked.
“Oui.” After I covered my face with color, I said to Pierre, “I’m ready. Thank you again Pierre. May I express one more concern? Andre saw my luggage today. It’s new. I would like to stay separate from my luggage.”
“Very well Mademoiselle. One of my men will carry your luggage and I shall accompany you to appear that you’re not alone. The pier is very busy. With your disguise and your arm in mine, you shall not be discovered, even if your luggage is. Andre doesn’t know that it’s your belongings, non?”
“Non. He only knows that it came from Martine’s home where I’m staying.”
“I see.”
“May I see those shoes please?” I asked. “They shall add to my height and change my gait.” I took the expensive heals and traded them for my own shoes. I admired them in the mirror. “Lovely. Let’s depart,” I said as Pierre turned and opened the front door for me.
I climbed into the most beautiful carriage I’d ever seen. The interior was lined with fine velvet. Rich fabric draped the windows, thick carpet lie under our feet. If the dress wasn’t enough, now I was certain that my fairy godmother was nearby. Of course the wealthy would get used to such fine accommodations. A nice lifestyle was my upbringing; but this was beyond what most Parisians ever saw.
We rode steadily and calmly to the pier, while nothing inside me was calm. My heart raced in fear of seeing Andre, anticipation of getting closer to Jean-Paul and for the excitement of this brief fairytale adventure. When the carriage stopped at the dock, my heart nearly stopped as well.
***
Chapter Nine: A Long Way to Go
Paris, Late March, 1899
I pulled the velvet drape of the carriage window aside to look out into the crowd. Scanning the many people, I looked to ensure a safe exit. Suddenly my heart was in my throat. At the ticket counter, I spotted Andre.
He was talking with the ticket master and looking through the many pages with the list of passengers. He must have looked for my name. How did he know that I would come here? Andre knew that I thought Jean-Paul left me without saying good-bye. Why would he expect that I should leave Paris? The only possibility was if someone told him. Perhaps one of Martine’s staff knew about my conversations with Martine. Maybe someone had seen the letter Martine obtained from Andre to Jean-Paul. Andre could have paid someone to spy for him. Why else would he look for me here? Only Martine and Marion know my plans.
Sitting across from me in the carriage, Pierre saw the terror on my face and responded. “Cherie, this dress does not make you into a woman of great importance. You already are that woman. You’re every bit as valuable and beautiful as the women who purchase similar dresses.” He paused briefly to watch for my understanding. “Your only job today is to wear it well. Wear this dress like you know who you are, know your worth and what you want.”
“But Andre is here. He knows something. He’s looking for me. Someone told him I would be here.”
“Do you know what you want Cherie?” Pierre asked.
“Oui. I must be true to my dreams, to be free to make my own decisions, love whom I please, and make my own mistakes. My husband will have integrity and conviction. Andre would force his will upon me. I would rather die than be with such a man.”
“Are you certain that this is what you want?”
“Oui, I’m certain.”
“Then exit this carriage and walk across the platform like a woman who knows what she wants! Exude your conviction to the world around you. Can you do that?”
“Oui, merci,” I said with a firm nod of my head.
Pierre opened the carriage door and stepped out. He held his hand out to assist me in exiting the carriage. I lifted my head high, brought my shoulders back, took in a deep breath and stepped gracefully out of the beautiful chariot. Immediately eyes were upon me. No doubt people were wondering who this important couple was. My hand gently slipped under Pierre’s elbow, resting it on his forearm. The driver retrieved my luggage and walked a considerable ways behind us.
My gait faltered. My confidence waned. “Cherie, you must keep your focus. You deserve to have what you want. You must go and get it.”
“I shall!”
“Not even your own Mother should recognize you today. Be the confident woman that you are.”
Walking in my new shoes required my full attention. Deliberately, slowly, I made my way forward. Besides concentrating on my gait, I thought of moving towards Jean-Paul and becoming his happy wife. Nothing would stop me now!
I focused on my steps, shoulders, head and facial expression. With the grace of a queen, I walked toward the boat. From the corner of my eye, I saw Andre turn and look at me, not to see if it were me under the garb, but to admire and possibly ponder how to meet the important couple walking by. Had Pierre not been at my side, Andre may have had the audacity to approach such a woman for his own business advantage.
Pierre walked with me to the first class seating on the boat. He helped me settle in comfortably, acting as if I was of great importance and deserved special care. The area was closed off from the rest of the boat. It was lined with fine linen, upholstered with red, velvet, spacious seats. There were tables available and a toilet we didn’t have to share with the other passengers. Most of the seats were already filled with people that seemed particularly interested in who I was. Pierre leaned in closely and spoke in my ear, “Remember your fictitious name when they call to verify your pass.”
“Merci, mon Pierre,” I said more loudly. “I shall be well. Thank you for seeing to my every need.” I enjoyed playing up the role of a person of prominence.
“It’s difficult for me to leave your side darling.” Pierre now spoke loud enough that the passengers could hear. They watched me intently. If Andre found me on the boat and tried to harass me, the first class travelers seated around me would protect me for the mere fact that I was a wealthy, important married woman of stature. “I’m certain that the Senator and his wife shall treat you well in New York darling, but I look forward to your safe return. Enjoy the wedding. Journey well.”
“Merci,” I replied.
Pierre turned to leave the boat, walking like the prince of Spain. As he exited, all eyes fell on me. I offered the room a coy smile, and played it off like it was nothing.
The boat was about to depart. With every passing moment I felt more confident. Soon I would be away from the grasp of Andre.
A steward entered the first class seating and made an announcement. “Des Madam and Des Monsieur, we have a slight delay in departure. Please relax and we shall be on our way shortly.”
A man sitting near me stopped the steward from walking away. “Good sir, what’s the cause of the delay?”
“There may be a young run-a-way girl on board. She’s a servant’s daughter. The master of the house is looking for her on the ship. He has been given ten minutes to search the boat.”
My throat tightened. If Andre looked into my face, surely he would recognize me. I could find the rest room or perhaps engage in deep conversation. What was I to do? I spoke up, with a calm, clear voice that didn’t match my insides. “Certainly he does not need to disturb us here does he? Obviously there are no children of servants in this area. Please assure him of such and tell him not to interrupt our day,” I said like a woman who knew what she wanted.
Again the passengers looked at me, well pleased with my request. Ten minutes turned into fifteen and then twenty. My hands began to sweat. My face turned flush. The woman beside me asked if I were feeling well. I replied, “I’m simply not looking forward to the journey across the sea. The thought of being on the ocean upsets me.”
She smiled politely, as if pondering my thought. Then it hit me all at once. Andre was searching the boat for a runaway servant. Andre would not have called me a servant on his own accord. Someone was feeding him information. He knew that I was coming here. That’s why he insisted on searching the boat.
We still had not departed. Perhaps he was using his lawyer skill to argue his case. He wasn’t giving up. I rose from my seat to go to the washroom.
In the small washroom space I tried to breathe calmly and decide who was helping Andre. Martine had only told her driver. He was the one who insisted that I get out of the trunk and under the seat. The driver didn’t know that I’d changed my clothing at Pierre’s because he had left. Yet why did he move me and nail the lid shut if he wasn’t trying to help me. Perhaps in Martine’s note to Pierre she offered to pay for the dress that I was now wearing. Some tiny gnawing in my stomach told me that there was someone close to me that was helping Andre. Could it be Martine? Marion was in the kitchen when we discussed my leaving. She knew my plans, but what motive would she have to tell Andre? Who else would know? If the driver told Andre, then he would have knowledge of Martine’s involvement. What about the second driver? Martine didn’t confide in him. Perhaps Andre found them on their return? Who is betraying me?
The boat moved and I used the walls in the small room for support. The movement was subtle, but enough for me to know we were leaving port. Cautiously, I exited the washroom to find out if Andre had left the boat.
Returning to my seat, I looked at the woman next to me with an inquisitive look. She explained, “Oh the young man was allowed to peer his head in this room but was not allowed to speak to any of us. He only looked for a moment, and then he left. We are on our way to Le Havre.”
“Is that man a passenger to Le Havre?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. He didn’t say.”
“How rude of that man to delay us,” I added.
“It’s rude for a servant’s daughter to flee,” she stated.
“We do not know. Perhaps her master was not decent to her?”
“That could be true. He seemed like a good gentleman.”
I didn’t respond. It was likely that my comment would reveal emotions that I felt towards Andre.
During the ride down the Seine River, guests chatted and wanted to know who each person was and if they were continuing from Le Havre. Eventually all eyes turned to me and I was asked, “Mademoiselle, are you traveling from Le Havre to America?”
“Oui.”
“What are your plans in America?”
I shared the first story that popped in my head. “My sister is to marry the son of a Senator in New York. She asked me to attend the wedding as her maid of honor.” Everyone enjoyed my story and wanted to know more.
“How did she meet the Senator?” asked the woman next to me.
“How long will you stay?” asked another gentleman.
“Have you met the family?”
“Are your parents going to attend the ceremony?” Questions flew at me from every direction.
“It is kind of you to ask. However, I am very tired and would like to rest.” Fortunately they respected my request to be silent.
I sat back and closed my eyes, reflecting on all that had occurred today. It had already been a long and difficult day, and it was only 3:30 in the afternoon. Andre could still be on board and someone was keeping him abreast of my plans. Out of exhaustion from the stress, I drifted off to sleep.
I awoke when people began to move about to gather their belongings. My neck stiffened from its angle while sleeping in the chair. I stretched, but the encumbered gown limited me to minor movements. All passengers exited the boat. Many of us climbed into carriages waiting at the pier. Others walked the mile to the big ship, docked where the ocean met the land.
When we reached the giant liner, I swallowed hard. The Deutschland arrived in Le Havre from Germany and would be my home for the next seven days, while I escaped my doom. Only Andre intimidated me more than climbing aboard a boat to venture out away from the safety of solid ground. Perhaps if I could swim, I wouldn’t feel as afraid.
Staring at the large structure, I asked myself, How does it float? How does water hold a heavy object at its surface? People filed into the opening at a steady stream. Watching them, I wondered if I might panic at some point on the trip, begin crying and screaming while passengers threatened to throw me overboard just for some peace and quiet. Forcing the thought out of my mind, I confidently walked towards the ship. My new life was about to begin.
My cabin was first class, small, but well-appointed with complementary wine. A tiny window looked out to the vast sea. Already feeling confined, I set my handbag on the small bed, picked up the key to my room, and headed to the deck for fresh air.
On the outside deck there was much activity. A German man played a lively tune on a harmonica. Small girls spun around to the music, twirling like pinwheels while their skirts floated in the air. Women strolled about the deck and men sat in chairs under the partially cloudy sky. I looked around carefully, but saw no sign of Andre. The exuberant atmosphere caused me a brief moment of delight.
Mixed feelings fought for space in my heart as the great ship floated away from the country I adored. The land shrank away from my view. Excitement about my adventure across the Atlantic Ocean to start a new life with Jean-Paul contrasted sharply with the pain of leaving my homeland. I couldn’t feel entirely happy or sad. Emotions tossed like ocean waves inside me as the giant vessel carried me from one shore to another.
The faces of my fellow passengers also sulked into the gloom that surrounded them. Fog, rain and gray water stretched as far as we could see. Was leaving Europe causing the quiet, distraught looks, or was it because of the dreadful weather that approached.
We ventured toward the dark clouds at a slow and steady pace, rolling on waves of liquid. Soon the swells grew larger, rain fell upon the deck and passengers resolved to take refuge in the small spaces below, filing single file into the one person doorway leading to the hull.
Before the last passengers were safely below, the rain increased and the ship tossed forward and back. The vessel rose and fell on angry waves. Strong winds kept us sealed below in the dim cabins. My stomach turned upside down as the waves tossed people and belongings around in the stale air.
Late on the first day I heard a knock on my cabin door. Cautiously, I opened it. A young woman stood before me, pleasant and serious. “Mademoiselle, we are searching the ship for Cherish Bourguignon. Is that you?”
“Non,” I said. “Why are you searching for a passenger?”
“The captain asked us to find her. As I understand it, her attorney must deliver some important papers to her. He claims she is on the ship, although there are no records of her.” I was glad the woman volunteered so much information. Immediately I knew it was Andre. I couldn’t imagine a reason I would be delivered legal paper aboard a ship or anyone but Andre trying to contact me that way. Missing a crucial notice seemed far less risky than disclosing myself to Andre.
“Oh,” I replied swallowing hard. “If I meet her I shall mention it.”
I had assumed that I wouldn’t need the wig, but I kept it handy just in case. Now I realized that Andre had access to my specific travel plans, except my fake name. Someone was definitely feeding him the details, but who would Martine tell? She couldn’t possibly be telling Andre what I was doing, could she? If it was Martine, then she would give him my traveling identity as well. It had to be someone close to her who missed this one detail.
“Ask
her to see a member of the ship staff if you speak with her. Apparently the matter is of grave importance. Sorry to have troubled you,” she replied. Grave importance to Andre, I thought. “It’s not a problem.”
“Are you well?” she asked.
“Oui, a little sick to my stomach, but otherwise I am well.”
“We have medical facilities one level below this floor at the end of the long hall if you need any assistance.”
“Is it….common for ships to have medical quarters?”
“Illness is a frequent problem among the many voyages across the sea. There are rodents that always make it aboard every vessel. Disease is inevitable. We help as many passengers as we can on each voyage. Please don’t hesitate to seek assistance if you need it.”
“Merci.”
I closed the door and leaned on it with my back, as if I were holding the heavy door in place against Andre. How was I to avoid him on a ship for a full week? I had several new dresses and a wig, but if he saw my face, my disguise would be useless. For several hours I stewed about my plight while my stomach got tighter. I decided that I needed a friend who would be my partner in hiding. I wanted to find an unsuspecting woman to help me be stealthy.
I went to bed without a solution or new confidant. I slept well, feeling safe in my locked cabin. I woke late. A small amount of light leaked in through my tiny, round portal. My first stop was the bathroom. This risk of exposure had to be taken. First class did not provide us adequate amounts of toilets, which meant there was a long line to wait in. Possibly people from other areas stole turns to use our toilets, but it was difficult to know who belonged, and everyone seemed to tolerate the lines. Eventually it was my turn and I held my breath to avoid the stench.
Quickly I returned to my room, realizing I had six more days of this to endure. The ship still rocked back and forth with rains pounding the deck. On my bed I laid wondering how I should pass the time. Then I heard a knock. I didn’t know if I should answer it. Maybe Andre stood on the other side.
Painted with Love: Romance Eludes Time and Death Page 13
