"I only hope you won’t be," Annalisa murmured.
Francine stared down at the young girl, her gaze skimming the prim, high-necked gown, the mass of tangled curls. With queenly elegance, she offered her hand. "I think you will do well," she intoned. "You are obviously bright, well-educated. Think of it as a challenge, and we shall do the same."
Annalisa gave her a weak smile.
Eulalie and Delia embraced her, then took halting steps backward. Annalisa was enveloped in their exotic fragrances as all the women milled about, discussing what was to be done with her hair, her gowns, her shoes.
It was Hattie Lee who sent them all scurrying from the room. "Go on. All of you. It’s time to get ready for the evening. And by this time Saturday night, we’ll be ready to introduce her to our gentlemen callers. Annalisa Montgomery, the new proprietress of Hannah Elliott’s House of Pleasure."
Chapter Seven
The transformation from schoolgirl to worldly woman began the following day. After writing to Sister Marie Therese that she would not be returning to the convent, Annalisa spent hours poring over her mother’s ledgers in her office. It was located on the main floor near the rear of the house, just off the large veranda that encircled all four sides of the house. This made it convenient to the household staff and to the delivery men who often brought the Cuban cigars, the French wines, and the Oriental silks under cover of darkness. Annalisa thought it strange, but she was far too busy to question the day-to-day operation of this complex business until she knew it better.
In one ledger was the name of each "visitor," along with little notes of personal information. Most of these were undecipherable and made no sense to Annalisa. In poker games, she noted, the house took a sizable percentage of the table stakes. A gentleman who chose not to partake of either women or cards, but who simply preferred pleasant company in elegant surroundings, was expected to pay a nominal sum for the privilege.
"The difference between our house and all those places along the Vieux Carré," Hattie Lee explained with pride, "is that they cater to sailors, transients. Our customers are the respectable, longtime citizens of New Orleans. The men who come here own businesses, plantations, even hold public office. They come here to relax and to be treated with discreet elegance. Whether it is a business dinner, a game of chance, or the ministrations of a well-dressed woman, they expect, and receive, the best." With hauteur she added, "We are not like those places you saw along the waterfront, where the women shamelessly pose on their balconies and beckon to strangers." Her huff of disapproval emphasized her feelings as eloquently as her words.
Hattie Lee showed Annalisa the private parlor where card games were held, often long into the night, for gentlemen who wished to partake of games of chance. There was a large fireplace which, like all the others in this large house, was decorated with vases of flowers and trailing vines during the warm weather, or framed with decorative brass fans.
The cigars and tobacco furnished were the best, as were the liquors and wines. The art hanging on the walls of the public rooms had been chosen by Sara Montgomery for their lovely, sensuous themes. Gentlemen of means, Hattie Lee had explained, were accustomed to being surrounded by only the best.
While mornings were spent overseeing the housekeeping chores and studying her mother’s ledgers, the afternoons were spent with the women of the house, who were determined to help Annalisa overcome her extreme modesty and learn to flirt with clients while still managing to hold them at arm’s length.
Annalisa took over the big old room on the top floor. The maids aired the feather mattress, and covered it with imported French satin sheets that were cool to the touch. The tall four-poster bed dripped in Alençon lace, its spider-web design falling nearly to the floor. Mosquito netting was hidden behind pale ivory silk gathered and tied at each corner of the bed.
The floor was covered with an ornate Turkish rug of pale pinks and lavenders and bands of deep turquoise. The chests and armoires were lined with dried rose petals and crushed oleander, giving the room a sensuous, floral fragrance. Inside the drawers were hand-sewn chemises and petticoats of softest lawn and dimity. In the armoires hung row after row of gowns in vivid shades of red and blue and green, in peau de soi, satin, hammered silk, and silk damask. The seamstresses sewed long into the night to have a wardrobe completed for Miss Annalisa Montgomery’s debut on Saturday.
Beneath a low dormer was a tub set on softest sheepskins. On a bench beside it lay a pile of thick towels. On a stand by the window was a basin and pitcher and a basket of fragrant soaps. On the dresser top were jars and bottles and vials of perfumes and oils. Within a matter of days, Annalisa found herself wondering how she had ever managed to do without such luxuries.
She no longer covered her nakedness when the maids entered to wash her hair. And while Hattie Lee bullied the seamstresses to work faster, and the maids dressed and undressed her when the outfits were completed, Annalisa studied herself in the mirror without even a hint of embarrassment.
* * *
"Slower," Hattie Lee commanded.
Annalisa slowed her walk, balancing a Bible on her head. When the black woman had ordered her to produce a heavy book, the Bible was the only one available. Neither woman thought it incongruous that Annalisa was being groomed to behave seductively toward men while balancing a Bible on her head.
"Straighten your shoulders."
Annalisa obeyed, unconsciously tucking in her stomach, thrusting out her chest. Hattie Lee smiled her approval. As the young woman turned, the book began to slip.
"Smoother. Bring your head around without that jerking movement."
Annalisa adjusted the book among the strips of rag that had been twisted into her hair earlier that morning. Annalisa’s hips began to undulate as she crossed the room. Hattie Lee grinned.
"Good. Now do that five more times without letting the book fall. I’m going downstairs to see to the pressing of your gown."
"Hattie Lee." Annalisa stood in the middle of the room, trying to balance the Bible on her head. "I’m not ready yet. Can’t we wait until next week?" she asked pleadingly.
Hattie Lee studied the slender figure. There was no hint of a softening in her features. Since she had assumed the role of tutor, there was no trace of the woman who had crooned lullabies on a back-porch swing, or tucked a sleeping child beneath a down comforter. She had hardened herself against showing any sympathy toward her young charge. The lives of everyone in this house were in the hands of this innocent. It was up to Hattie Lee to educate her as quickly as possible.
"We’ve already made the announcement that the new owner would present herself tonight. Gentlemen will be coming from the outlying plantations. There is great curiosity about you." She opened the door. "This old house will be so crowded, we’ll hardly be able to move, child. Business should be very good."
When the door closed behind her, Annalisa snatched the Bible from her head and wearily tossed it onto her bed, where it landed with a soft thud. Tonight. In a few hours. Nibbling on a knuckle, she walked to the window and stared out at the late afternoon sunshine dappling the rose garden. How could she have allowed herself to be talked into this? She had no business being here. She should have followed her first instincts and taken the next boat back to Natchez. Those men would know. One look and they would realize that she didn’t belong here. They would laugh at her, ridicule her for her clumsiness.
Kicking a toe against the wall, she brooded. Hadn’t she warned Hattie Lee that she had a history of making a fool of herself? Without going into detail, she had tried to tell the black woman about her awkwardness. But Hattie Lee had refused to listen. She seemed convinced that Annalisa would be up to the task set for her.
At a knock on the door she called, "Come in."
Several maids entered, carrying buckets of warm water. "Miss Hattie Lee says it’s time for you to get ready," one of the girls said.
"Thank you." Annalisa ignored her fluttering heart and began undressing. Stepping
into the tub, she sank into the warm water and began to soap herself. Long after her bath was completed, she continued to lie back, willing her nerves to stop jumping. When Hattie Lee entered with the freshly pressed gown, she found Annalisa, head back, eyes closed.
"I know you’re too nervous to be asleep."
The eyes blinked open.
"Sweet Lord Almighty. Dry yourself, child. There’s work to be done."
Obediently, Annalisa stepped from the tub and began toweling herself dry. When she walked to the bed, Hattie Lee set out an assortment of undergarments. When her chemise and pantelets were in place, the older woman wrapped a corset about her waist and turned her around. While the laces were tightened, Annalisa gave a grunt of pain.
"We never had to wear these instruments of torture in the convent."
"In a few years you would have been as fat as the rest of them," Hattie Lee said, pulling the laces even tighter. "Your stomach would have become the size of a watermelon, and your bosom would have sagged to meet it. And you’d walk around with your hands folded over your bulging middle, wearing nothing but a shapeless habit."
Grabbing at the bedpost, Annalisa took the last deep breath she would enjoy for hours. "It’s too tight, Hattie Lee. I can’t breathe."
"Suck it in, child. You have another inch to go." When the laces were secure, the black woman lifted the rich crimson gown over Annalisa’s head and let it skim over her corseted figure. The sleeves were full to the elbow, then tapered to the wrist with a dozen jet buttons. The neckline was wickedly low, leaving her shoulders bare, displaying the softly rounded tops of her breasts. The waist was so tiny it showed off her figure to its best advantage. The full skirt fell in graceful folds to brush the tops of her satin slippers.
Working the rags from her hair, Hattie Lee brushed the thick tresses until they fell in gleaming waves to below her shoulders. Pulling her hair back from the left side of her face with jeweled combs, Hattie Lee allowed it to fall softly over Annalisa’s right shoulder, where it dipped provocatively across her breast.
As the young woman walked to the mirror to study her reflection, Hattie Lee removed a necklace from a box on the bed and fastened it around Annalisa’s neck.
Annalisa gave a little gasp and touched a hand to the fiery rubies surrounded by winking diamonds twisted into a figure eight. "Hattie Lee. They’re magnificent. Wherever did you get them?"
"They were your mama’s."
Her eyes rounded. "But how could she afford such a thing?"
"She said they were your papa’s gift to her when they married. Through all the terrible times, she refused to sell them, even though she knew they’d bring a great sum. And when she was robbed and beaten and left for dead, though the man who abused her tore the matching earrings from her lobes, she still refused to reveal these. They were hidden in a pocket of her gown."
"But why?"
The older woman’s voice deepened with emotion. "Because she wanted something of his, something from their happier times to give to her baby. So you would know something of their love."
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Annalisa turned and kissed the older woman’s cheek. "Thank you. I will treasure these always. But..." Removing them from her throat, she set them on the dresser. ". . .I don’t feel worthy to wear my mother’s jewels yet."
Turning away quickly, Hattie Lee busied herself for long moments at the bed. Then, looking up, she said gruffly, "It’s time, child."
Annalisa ran a tongue over lips gone suddenly dry. She tried to take a breath, but the corset made it impossible. Fighting waves of panic, she crossed to the door. Opening it, she could hear the clink of crystal, the drone of voices, the occasional lilt of laughter two floors below. Glancing at the older woman, she tried to smile and felt her lips tremble.
"Go on now."
Lifting her chin, Annalisa opened the door and walked to the head of the stairs.
"Wait. You forgot this." Hattie Lee hurried to her side with an ornate lace fan inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
Annalisa stared at it a moment, then snapped it open and fanned herself with a graceful gesture. Lifting the fan to her face, she raised wide tawny eyes to Hattie Lee’s, then snapped it shut. Draping the tassled cord over her wrist, she lifted the skirt of her gown and descended the stairs. When she reached the second floor, the sounds were louder, clearer. She heard a man’s voice, low, deep, and Gabrielle’s distinct Creole response. Somewhere in the background, someone laughed. She thought it was Delia’s sweet, childish laughter.
Annalisa paused at the head of the stairs, fighting to calm her wildly beating heart. In two steps, her feet would be visible to those below. In ten steps, she would be halfway down the curving staircase. And in ten more, she would be in their midst, enduring the introductions to dozens of strangers.
How could she possibly remember all the instructions she’d been given? Straightening her shoulders, she raised her head and imagined a book balancing there. Lifting her skirts slightly, she took a step. Her heart leaped to her throat and threatened to choke her. Swallowing, she took another step. At that moment, someone rang the bell. As she took a third step, she heard the door open and a man’s deep voice called a word of greeting to the newcomer. At the next step, she heard a murmur ripple through the crowded room. The clinking of crystal ceased. The laughter faded. The voices died. The entire roomful of people became silent.
Pausing on the next step, Annalisa was aware of a sea of faces. All heads were lifted, all eyes unblinking, watching her. Her palms began to sweat, and she wished she could pause and wipe them on her skirt. She forced herself to take another step, and another. She started to bite at her lip, then remembered what Hattie Lee had told her. Smile. No matter what turmoil was twisting inside, she must smile. Her lips parted slightly, then lifted upward into a hesitant smile. The toe of her slipper caught in her hem, and she stopped to lift her skirt higher. Careful. She mustn’t trip now. She felt almost giddy with fear. It left a cold, metallic taste in her mouth. She was almost there. Another step. And then another. At the next-to-last stair, she paused and dropped a hand gracefully to the banister. As Hattie Lee had instructed, Annalisa allowed her gaze to sweep the room. So many faces. So many eyes watching her. Her smile grew until it was dazzling. The entire crowd seemed to hold its breath as the beautiful young woman offered them the benediction of her smile. And then, as Hattie Lee had suggested, Annalisa allowed her gaze to sweep the room once more before settling on just one person. Those brilliant topaz eyes danced with an inner light, then focused on the man directly in front of her, the one who had just entered the room as she was descending the stairs. She thought she heard a slight intake of breath. Had it been hers? With the entire assembly watching her, she found herself staring into the dark, knowing eyes of the one man she had hoped she’d never have to see again—Chase Masters.
Chapter Eight
Annalisa-By-God-Montgomery. Too stunned to react, Chase wondered if anyone around him could see the evidence of the shock he was feeling. He stood, rooted to the spot, watching a vision in yards of scarlet satin walk practically into his waiting arms. If possible, she was even more beautiful than he’d remembered. But then, the last time he’d seen her, she’d been wearing dresses buttoned clear up to her throat, and silly bonnets hiding those rich auburn tresses, passing herself off as a candidate for the convent. A nun. He nearly laughed aloud. What an actress. What an amazing, calculating little fake. She was a con artist. Maybe as good as any he’d met. Almost as good as he.
The laughter was there in his eyes, though he kept his features perfectly controlled. He held out his hand. She seemed to hold back a moment, undecided, before reluctantly accepting it.
There was a hint of laughter coloring his voice as well. "Miss Montgomery. How—nice to see you again. You’re looking extremely lovely."
Feeling the jolt at their touch, Annalisa forced herself to show absolutely no emotion. "Thank you, Mr. Masters. What a pleasant surprise."
He saw the
look that flashed in her eyes and knew she was anything but pleased. "The pleasure is mine." His smile grew. "I couldn’t resist coming here tonight to meet the mysterious new owner of Hannah Elliott’s House of Pleasure."
When she tried to pull her hand away, Chase tightened his grip, forcing her to walk along by his side.
"May I handle the introductions? I believe I know everyone here." He began to lead her into the crowd without waiting for her reply.
Annalisa was about to tell him in no uncertain terms what he could do with his introductions, but a sharp elbow in the back from Hattie Lee caused her to suck in her breath.
"Why, thank you, Mr. Masters." She forced a sugary smile to match the tone of her voice. "That’s very kind of you."
Behind her, Hattie Lee crossed her arms in satisfaction and continued to hover until she was certain that Annalisa would behave herself. Then she scurried away in haste.
"Gentlemen," Chase said solemnly, "I present Miss Annalisa Montgomery."
The crowd pressed forward, eager for introductions, which Chase handled smoothly.
"This is Edmond Lafourcade, soon, he hopes, to be our new mayor."
Annalisa smiled at the tall, angular man with a thin black mustache. His eyes were heavy lidded, giving him a sleepy expression.
"Monsieur Lafourcade," she said, offering her hand.
As his lips brushed her knuckles, he said in an unexpectedly high-pitched voice, "Call me Edmond, please. I hope that we will become—close friends."
She had to call on all her willpower to keep from recoiling as his lips touched her flesh. "That is my wish as well."
As they moved away, Annalisa whispered, "How could a man like that be elected mayor?"
"You don’t care for Edmond?" Chase chuckled. "He will be elected because certain people in positions of power want him where he can be useful."
"And what of the ordinary people of the city whom he should represent?"
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