“What are you doing here, child?” Renée asked as she turned to find Gabrielle standing in the middle of the room, admiring the ornate work on the curio cabinet.
“I was just looking,” Gabrielle remarked, smiling at the woman as she passed her hand over the softness of a linen tablecloth.
There was a worried expression on the older woman’s face, half-understanding and half-disgruntled. “You best hurry upstairs now, Gabrielle,” she said softly. “The gentlemen should be arriving any minute.”
Gabrielle nodded and left the room, unaware that Renée was watching her and shaking her head anxiously.
During the days that followed, Gabrielle found herself drawn quite inexplicably to the parlor in spite of herself. She didn’t know that she was simply displaying the natural curiosity of the young and “innocent” towards the lives of “ladies of pleasure,” and instead she felt ashamed of her feelings and tried to suppress them.
It was, of course, inescapable that one day she would be caught. The girls were, as usual, getting dressed, and Gabrielle had taken to helping Renée set out cigars and brandy for the gentlemen guests. She was wearing a gown borrowed from Dolly, a pale blue froth of a dress that was too tight in the bust for the other girl. It fit Gabrielle very well, and she delighted in its swirling folds. It was a Saturday night, the busiest time of the week, so that there was an unusually large amount of liquor to be set out.
“Please finish for me, Gabrielle, and light the candles afterwards—those against the mirrors,” Renée asked her, checking the porcelain clock and hurrying upstairs to don her own attire for the evening.
Gabrielle set the exquisite decanters in strategic locations around the room and lit the taper from one of the table candlebra in order to light the remaining candles in holders attached to either side of the new gold-plated mirror that had arrived just the previous morning from Savannah.
Claudine rushed through the hall to open the door, urging Gabrielle to hurry on with her work and get upstairs. But Gabrielle took no notice of her as she carefully lit the ten candles on either side of the mirror. The effect was truly breathtaking, and as she looked at her reflection in the mirror, it exhibited a misty effect that was quite becoming.
“Oh, ma’m’selle, how lovely you look tonight,” she mocked her reflection.
“How lovely, indeed,” boomed a man’s voice directly behind her.
Turning so swiftly that she nearly dropped the taper, Gabrielle flushed with annoyance at the sight of the eavesdropper, a tall giant of a man whose reddish hair and beard seemed to flame in the light of the candles. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Claudine disappearing down the hall to answer another bell.
“Here, let me take that away from you. The way you’re shaking—look’s as though you’ll be setting this place on fire in another minute,” the man commented genially, his fingers brushing her hand as he took the taper from her.
He put out the candle in the sandpot and took her arm to pull her down beside him on the loveseat. “You’re new here, aren’t you?” he said conversationally, his hand moving casually around her shoulders.
Gabrielle’s throat felt constricted and she could only nod, her eyes wide and jewel-bright.
He chuckled amiably. “I thought I hadn’t seen you before. You’re a pretty thing. Where’re you from?”
“P-Paris,” Gabrielle whispered.
“Really!” he returned, pressing his thigh against hers. “This is your first night, then?”
“Yes, I mean—that is, I don’t really—”
“Oh, now don’t worry about anything, sweetheart. I’m gentle as a lamb with a girl, and if you’re worried about the money, well, I might look like some big, country oaf, but I—”
“Oh, no, I’m not worried about the m-money,” Gabrielle gasped.
Two other gentlemen entered the room and looked in her direction with interest. Dear God, where were the girls? She heard the swishing of petticoats and looked over to the staircase where Rosa stood, looking at her with mocking amusement. With a silent salute, she made her way down the stairs and into the room, catching the arm of one of the two new arrivals.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart? You’re as skittish as a nervous filly. I told you Jim West wouldn’t hurt a fly, much less a pretty young morsel like yourself.” He edged closer to her, his eyes searching beneath the neckline of her gown.
“I’m afraid you don’t understand, Mr.—Mr. West,” Gabrielle began, in a reflex action putting her hands against his chest. “I’ve never—”
He slapped his thigh and smiled widely. “An unplucked one!” he surmised incorrectly, patting her shoulder with understanding. “I didn’t know there were any left in New Orleans. Just you sit here, sweetheart, while ole Jim gets us both some brandy—that’ll loosen you up a bit.” He left her with a look of regret, his mouth barely brushing her temple.
By now, most of the other girls had arrived, and, while Jim West was having Sara pour him two brandies, Dolly hurried over to where Gabrielle sat almost frozen with shock.
“Good God, Gabrielle! What in the world are you doing down here? And with Jim West, of all people! He’s such a bear when he’s crossed—and where he is, his nemesis will soon be, if he’s not here already—that would be Mr. St. Claire, of course, and if he even looks at you, Rosa will have your hair!”
Gabrielle looked in the direction of Rosa’s tinkling laugh and saw her seated on the lap of a skinny-looking fellow with stringy dark hair. “If that’s Mr. St. Claire—” she began, laughing shakily.
Dolly shook her head. “You dolt! Of course that’s not him. But never mind about that now. You’ve got to figure out how you’re going to slip out of Big Jim’s notice so I can smuggle you back upstairs.”
Jim West was already making his way back across the room, smiling and nodding to some of the other girls.
“I—I could pretend to be sick,” Gabrielle whispered.
Dolly frowned, but nodded swiftly as Jim West came up.
“Dolly, darling, I hope you’re telling your new resident here only nice things about me. You know I’d do the same for you, baby.” He settled himself in the loveseat obviously looking for Dolly to excuse herself and move away.
“Jim, you know I’m in love with you,” Dolly joked, frowning a little at Gabrielle as a signal to begin her act.
Clutching her stomach, Gabrielle bent over and began moaning. “Oh-h-h. Oh dear, I—I feel so sick all of a sudden,” she groaned as realistically as she could, not daring to risk looking at West for his reaction. She felt his arm go around her, lifting her up so that he could look into her face.
“You know, you are a little flushed, sweetie. Maybe you’d feel better if I took you up to your room,” he offered, his eyes glinting. “It is a little stuffy in here.”
“Oh-h, no, Mr. West. I couldn’t bother you. . . .”
“Bother?” His brow lowered quizzically. “Why it’s no bother, my lady. I could lift you up in one hand.”
“Jim, I’m afraid she looks sick enough to vomit,” Dolly interjected, putting a hasty hand against Gabrielle’s forehead. “I’d better help her upstairs right now. I think she needs rest—you know, her first night and all, she’s probably a wreck of nerves. I think Renée started her out too fast.” Dolly was saying anything that came to mind, and Gabrielle felt her breath leave her as West stood up and swept her into his big arms.
“Well, you can at least let me carry the little thing up to her room,” he growled irritably now.
Anxiously, Dolly followed the pair upstairs and down the hall to Gabrielle’s room, where West laid her down as gently as an infant on her bed. Gabrielle continued to emit groans, clutching her stomach and clenching her fists until she truly felt a little sick.
Once he had deposited her on the bed, West gave her a solicitous kiss on the forehead and brushed her bosom regretfully with his hand. “I do hope you feel better, miss. Maybe if you shake off your nerves later in the evening, you can j
oin me downstairs again. I’ll be looking for you.”
He left the room, and once they heard his footsteps receding down the hall, Gabrielle and Dolly looked at each other with mingled apprehension and relief.
“Oh, my God, Dolly. Did you hear what he said about later on? What’ll I do?” Gabrielle implored, sitting up nervously.
“You just get your nightgown on and get into bed for now. He’ll forget all about you after a few more drinks and a little dalliance with one of the other girls. He’s really fond of Catherine, and I’ll tell her to work on him as a favor to you. She will be glad to oblige.” Dolly started to leave the room, then turned. “You’ve got to admit, Gabrielle, you did bring it all on yourself. I wonder—” she stopped and shrugged. “Oh well, at any rate, I’ll lock the door myself and put the key in my room. That way if good old Jim decides to pay you a midnight visit later on, he’ll just have to settle for one of the other doors.” She threw her a kiss and was gone, locking the door firmly behind her.
Tense with reaction, Gabrielle got up from the bed and paced the room like a caged tigress. This was simply not going to work, she argued, keeping her here in this place. She must get out.
She heard the soft strains of the violins as the musicians began playing, the tinkling of glasses, and the laughter of men and women—it could almost have been a ball at Napoleon’s court, she thought incongruously.
Resolutely, she shed her gown and slipped into the softness of her silken nightwear. She left the two candles burning on her vanity, thinking to let them burn themselves out in the night. She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
A violent knocking on her door dragged her from her dreams. Could it be morning already?. She felt as though she had hardly slept at all, and glancing at the window, she could see that it was still pitch-dark outside and the candles had barely burned down from their earlier positions.
“Open this door, sweetheart. I know you’re not sick! Open it!” The bellow belonged to a man, and Gabrielle came awake swiftly, completely alert as she recognized Jim West’s voice.
What had happened? He sounded drunk and in no mood to be tricked again. Then she remembered, with a sigh of relief, that Dolly had locked the door—and surely the man’s bellowing would rouse the rest of the house. Gabrielle had every confidence that Renée would know how to handle the situation. Even now she could hear Catherine’s voice, softly urging him to come across the hall to her room.
“Jimmy, darling—come on now. I’ve been waiting to bring you up here all evening, lover,” Catherine purred.
“Goddammit! I’ll not be treated like a half-witted adolescent! I mean to have that girl tonight whether she’s new in the business or not! Now you get back downstairs and to your business, Cathy. I’ll attend to mine.” The door seemed to shudder from the weight of his fists as he continued to bang on it.
“Jimmy, honey, why don’t we—”
“Christ almighty! Cathy, I don’t want to hurt you!” Gabrielle shivered uncontrollably, too paralyzed to move. She watched in fascination as the door began to groan and bulge at its hinges. Dear God! He must be very drunk, she thought helplessly.
“Open up, damn you! I’ll not be tricked, girl!”
With his final mighty shove, the door splintered and fell apart, and in the next instant, Gabrielle was looking at the scowling visage of a man who was not about to be denied a second time.
“Good,” he smiled, moving towards her. “You’re already cozy in bed. Just a minute, sweetheart, and I’ll join you.”
By now some of the girls and their partners for the evening had been aroused and were gathering in curiosity outside in the hall. They can’t just let him rape me—they can’t just stand there and watch, Gabrielle thought feverishly. She heard Renée’s voice when the woman came running down the hall.
“What in the world is happening here? Catherine, where is Gabrielle?”
By now, West had moved to the bed, and Gabrielle felt his hand grabbing at her nightdress, heard the protesting sound of the cloth tearing at her bosom.
“Gabrielle! Mr. West, what are you doing?” It was Renée, stepping into the room, her eyes taking in the wrecked door and dilating at the physical proof of the man’s strength. “Please, Mr. West, if you will just come downstairs with me, I’m sure we can work something out for you. Miss Gabrielle is not feeling well tonight. I, myself, insisted she remain in her room.”
“She’ll remain here, that she will,” West answered her grimly, peeling the remains of Gabrielle’s nightgown from her cringing flesh. And then in a different voice, “God, you are a little beauty! Christ, who are they saving you for?”
Gabrielle found her voice with difficulty. “Please, please, Mr. West. You—you cannot do this.”
“Why not?” the man demanded, grabbing her chin in one hand and pressing the soft flesh of her face between his strong fingers. “You’re a whore, same as the rest of them, aren’t you? A high-class one, but still there for any man who’ll pay your price. I told you before, baby, I’ll pay whatever you ask.” His voice was growing thicker and his eyes could not get enough of her partially exposed body. “Get out of here. I’m a paying customer,” he growled at Renée who was hesitating at the foot of the bed.
“Catherine, get help. Hurry, girl! Get some of the men downstairs. Find St. Claire; maybe he can reason with him. Move, girl!” Renée said quickly, hurrying back out to the hall.
The small gathering at the doorway was dispersing slowly, some of the men loath to,leave the sight of the beautiful girl in the bed. Gabrielle felt a rush of disgust in her throat at their hanging tongues and glazed eyes. Animals! All of them! watching as though this were some kind of circus.
For an instant, she caught sight of Rosa’s glittering black eyes. There was a look of anger in them, and then a man passed in front of her and moved stealthily into the room. Gabrielle closed her eyes as West’s hands pushed the bedcovers away from her, leaving her completely exposed to his lustful eyes.
“Oh, no,” she whispered, as she felt his mouth against her breast.
“West! What the hell are you doing?” The words were uttered with a curious, calm amusement as though the owner of that voice thought the whole thing an enormous joke. “I don’t think the little girl appreciates your ardor, my friend.”
Gabrielle felt West’s hot mouth move away from her, felt his whole body turning. “St. Claire, this isn’t your business! You’ve got your woman now, go pleasure her. I’ve a mind to teach this one that no one plays a trick on Jim West.”
“Jimmy, boy, she’s a cold fish. Poor little Cathy’s waiting out here for you to warm her up. I’ve never thought you to be so stupid.”
Gabrielle felt the man’s body tightening with anger. “Stupid! What’re you talking about? This one’s worth ten times that little bitch!”
“Jimmy, Jimmy—you’ll never win the ladies’ hearts by such foolish statements. Think, will you, for a moment, and try to lift that whiskey-soaked brain of yours out of the gutter.”
“Goddammit, St. Claire! That’s just about enough!” West roared, springing from the bed to jump at the other man.
Through half-blurred eyes filled with tears, Gabrielle watched as the two figures met in the middle of the room, the one so big and bearlike, the other tall and lithe, moving with the grace of a panther as he sidestepped neatly, causing West to fall to his knees from the force of his propulsion. God, if they don’t hurry and do something, these two will kill themselves, she thought.
The opponents circled each other warily.
“St. Claire, I’m telling you for the last time!”
“West, I’m afraid if you don’t get out of here right now, one of us is not going to leave.” The words were cold, merciless, and Gabrielle shivered at their emotionless quality.
“Why, I could kill you with my bare hands,” the bigger man shouted, lowering his head like a bull, so thoroughly angered now that nothing short of a bullet could have stopped him.
&nb
sp; From his boot, West unsheathed a long, wicked-looking knife, and, following suit, the other man did likewise. They continued to circle for a moment, each looking for a break in the other’s defense.
“You know this isn’t over no whore,” West spit out. “You’ve been itching for this for a long time, looking for an excuse to start something, St. Claire.”
The other man laughed coldly. “This is as good an excuse for killing you as any, West. You’ve become stupid and boastful in the past few months—you’re no good in this any more.”
West’s answering laugh was nasty. “Ah, come on, St. Claire, we both know you’ve hated me ever since you found me and that pert little slant-eyed fluff of yours in the hay together.”
Gabrielle watched for a stiffening, some reaction from the other man, and saw none.
“She’s gone now,” he replied softly. “She killed herself after confessing her faithlessness rather than risk my scorn. I’m sorry she did that, West. She should have been here to see you die tonight.”
Something in the man’s voice must have pierced the thick fog of whiskey in West’s brain, for he started to sweat, and he stumbled on the bedclothes. “Now wait a minute, St. Claire. You’re not going to pin the whole blame on me! Why her tail was so hot for me—”
“Shut up!” the other man’s voice bit through the words. He made a feint for the man, and his knife found the fleshy part of an arm, knocking West backwards and spinning him up against the vanity. The two candles were knocked to the floor, and Gabrielle watched in terror as the eager flames began licking at the dry carpeting and the scattered clothing. In a few minutes, the fire had groped hungrily toward the draperies at the window.
“Fire! Fire! Hurry, get water!” someone shouted from the hall, and Gabrielle saw the others fleeing.
She would have run, herself, but the two figures barred her way to the door, and she crouched with fright against the side of the bed.
Gabrielle Page 19
