Gabrielle

by Theresa Conway

  PART THREE

  Impasse

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Gabrielle picked up the Louisiana Gazette and read the front page absently. The paper was printed in both French and English, and she read both columns, wondering if anything had been lost in the translation.

  The lead story concerned the war with England. Dispatches from Washington were alarming these days, as the war was definitely not going well for the American forces. Detroit had surrendered in 1812. The British Navy was threatening the Atlantic seaboard, and on land the English had succeeded in arousing many of the Indian nations to rally to their cause. There was a growing certainty in New Orleans that the British could not long leave alone such an important center of commerce. Governor Claiborne was beginning to drum up men who would fight in an emergency, but he was getting a surprisingly poor turnout.

  She turned the page, and her eyes caught Lafitte’s name in one of the articles. As always, she read the column with interest. Claiborne had issued a proclamation asking that no citizen of New Orleans engage in interaction with those lawless people who committed piracy on the vessels of nations at peace with the United States. The article went on to surmise that Jean Lafitte was responsible for these piracies and that he should carry the title of outlaw and be treated as such.

  Right below the article, though, was a short notice, announcing another auction at the Temple. Gabrielle wondered if the newspaper editors had deliberately put the announcement beneath the article. These Creoles, she sighed—they saw no end to milking everything for all the amusement they could get out of it.

  She laid the paper down and finished her poached eggs.

  Today was March 15, 1813, and she had been at Renée’s for a little over a month. It was time to start repaying her hostess for her unlimited kindness.

  She got up from bed and walked to the armoire, letting her eyes go over her wardrobe with care. She had informed Renée only last night that she intended to join the other girls in the main parlor tonight and start earning her keep like all the rest. After all, she argued, she was no one who should be receiving special privileges that the others could not enjoy. And, besides, Renée could ill afford to take in someone who added not one picayune to the day’s earnings. Naturally, she had expected protest from Renée, but she remained steadfast in her decision.

  “But, Gabrielle, you really have no idea what this business is all about. I’m not sure you can handle it. There are all kinds of men in the city, some of them not the kind that you would look at if you met them in the street, much less invite into your bed. There are many difficult ones out there—the Jim Wests, the old men with strange ideas of love, the young bucks who demand too much for their money.”

  Gabrielle shook her head stubbornly. “You can’t change my mind. I’ve known men before.”

  “Hmmph! How many? One, two? Good God, if it wasn’t so horrifying, I might laugh out loud,” Renée cried, holding her hands to her cheeks and shaking her head. “I’m telling you, Gabrielle, it just won’t work.”

  “Would you throw me out, Renée?” As the latter shook her head, Gabrielle continued, “Then let me choose how I shall repay you, for I’m warning you that I shall leave if you don’t let me earn my keep. I’m sure there are other establishments that wouldn’t hesitate at using my services.”

  “Lord almighty, the child has lost her head. What other establishments? You’d be black and blue within a week anywhere else. At least I try to screen my clients for crazies and those with any sickness.”

  “Well, then?”

  Renée, seeing the set look on the other’s face, finally shrugged her shoulders and raised her eyes heavenward.

  “All right, then. You start tomorrow. It’s Wednesday and a slow night, so we can ease you in a little.”

  She watched as the girl started back up the staircase. “How old are you now, my dear?” she called.

  Gabrielle turned. “I’ll be twenty next month.”

  “From now on you’re eighteen. You can get away with it, and the men like their women as young as possible.”

  Today was Wednesday, Gabrielle thought.

  “Hey, can I come in?” It was Dolly, already dressed and smiling radiantly.

  “You look happy today,” Gabrielle commented.

  “Oh, I’m nearly in transports. M’sieur de Marigny has singled me out for tonight. Ah, it is nice to have a handsome young man for a change.

  “I have met your M’sieur de Marigny before,” Gabrielle said, smiling at the effect her words had on the other girl. “Only in passing, mind you. I thought he was married.”

  “Oh, that,” Dolly replied breezily. “Everyone knows what a hateful wretch that Spanish bitch is—almost as sour-tongued as—” Here she stopped, hesitating to bring up Rosa’s name.

  The death of Rosa had been hushed up by mutual assent between the girls and the police in return for a few nights of free favors. But she mustn’t dwell on that now, Gabrielle thought with determination. She must think of today—of tonight. . . .

  “So, you’ve decided that tonight—is the night,” Dolly said softly, bringing Gabrielle out of her reverie.

  She smiled crookedly. “Yes, I’ll be the first to admit I'm nervous. How did you feel when you—I mean—”

  Dolly laughed with understanding. “I can barely recall now, as it must be almost five years since I came with Renée. I suppose I was a little nervous, but the man was understanding enough about it. I guess it sort of excited him to think that I was new at the game, almost as though I were a virgin all over again.”

  “What do you think I should wear?” Gabrielle inquired, frowning into her armoire.

  Dolly shrugged. “It won’t matter what you wear. Anything will look ravishing on you. I always let my mood of the evening guide me.” She laughed as though at some private joke.

  Gabrielle smiled back at her. “You know, Dolly, you remind me so much of a girl I used to be the best of friends with in Paris.”

  “Really? Who was she?”

  Gabrielle grinned mischievously. “Her name was Isabel de Montfort and she married the Duc de Gramount!”

  “Well, fancy that! A duchess! I never realized I had such refinement,” Dolly teased, sticking her nose up in the air.

  “It’s not that you look like her, actually, but you act so much like her. You’re brave and daring as she was, and you love men. So did she.”

  “Somehow I can’t imagine that her husband would appreciate that,” Dolly laughed, then sobered at her friend’s thoughtful expression. “Oh, Gabrielle, don’t start thinking back again. It’s no good and will only make you weepy. One thing a man doesn’t like, and that’s a self-pitying whore. That’s one of the first lessons you’ve got to learn, if you’re going to make it in this business.”

  Gabrielle nodded soberly. The two went down to lunch, and, afterwards, Gabrielle tried to get some rest but found she was much too restless to settle down.

  She supposed that after a few nights’ work she would be able to discipline her routine to coincide with the normal hours for the house. But for now she stared up at the ceiling, her arms folded behind her head.

  She really didn’t want to think of Lafitte but found herself doing just that. Of course he had known where she would go in the event of her escape and had shown up at Renée’s only a few days after Gabrielle had arrived. She had refused to go down to the parlor. She told Renée in no uncertain terms that she had no desire to see him and that she only wanted to be left alone. He had persisted for a few more days and then had gone back to Grande Terre. Perhaps he, too, had finally realized that there was no more future for the two of them together after she lost their baby. She shook her head and paced the room nervously. She should be thinking of tonight, of the drastic step she was going to take. She knew she could how out now while there was still time, and Renée would say not a word. But what else was left for her to do? she thought dismally.

  There was no one in all of New Orleans whom she could go
to for aid except Renée, and she simply would not make herself a liability on the woman’s shoulders. She wandered over to her dressing table and let her eyes roam over the collection of pots and brushes that Renée had lent her. The idea of painting her face held little appeal for her. A bit of coral touched to the lips and perhaps something to darken her lashes, but that would be all. As to the dress, she was still undecided when Dolly knocked on the door to call her to dinner.

  “Remember when we used to joke about initiating you into the sisterhood?” her friend giggled after the meal was over. “Who would have thought that the words would come full cycle? And now here you are with us again, and this time in a very different capacity.”

  “Not so very different,” Gabrielle whispered to herself. Then she had been the prisoner of one man, now she would be the prisoner of many.

  When they returned to her room, she insisted that Dolly pick out a gown for her. They were all of dubious taste, as most of them were castoffs from the other girls that had been altered over the weeks to suit Gabrielle’s lissome figure.

  “I think this one should do the trick,” Dolly pronounced, dragging out one of the simpler gowns, one made of deep purple taffeta. The neck was extremely low, and the sleeves reached to her wrists. The high waistline accentuated her breasts, and the dress draped into a graceful skirt that rustled pleasantly when she walked. The color turned her eyes into huge, purple violets, and, outlined in the dark cosmetic, they stood out most effectively. She pinched her cheeks to give them more color and darkened her lips with a rouge stick. Dolly piled on her head the heavy mass of blonde curls, which had become sun-streaked from her exposure on the island, making a tousled coiffure, that was held in place by a purple velvet fillet.

  “You’re beautiful,” she announced, smiling warmly as she noted the slight trembling in Gabrielle’s limbs. “I’ll have to keep M’sieur de Marigny away from you tonight, or I might find myself out of a place. The other girls will be looking daggers at you all night, I’m sure. Do try to stay in the shadows for all our sakes.”

  Gabrielle laughed nervously. “Oh, you can be quite sure I will,” she replied.

  She helped Dolly with her toilet, and before she realized it, the clock was chiming nine o’clock, and it was time for them to descend the staircase.

  “Renée likes for us to be in the parlor when the gentlemen begin arriving, although the crowd really doesn’t get here until almost ten.” Dolly shook her hair back and made a face in the mirror. “Well, I suppose I can oblige a couple of customers before M’sieur de Marigny arrives.”

  Gabrielle looked at her in surprise. “You mean you have to—I mean, more than one man—?”

  “Not always, but if you haven’t anything else to do, why not?”

  “But I don’t think I can!”

  “It’s all right, Gabrielle. Most of them only take fifteen or twenty minutes, and they’re through! They usually leave the money on the nightstand or the dressing table. Everything is handled very smoothly.”

  Despite Dolly’s jaunty air, Gabrielle hung back as she proceeded down the hall, joined by three other girls. “You go on, I’ll be down in a few minutes,” she called, when Dolly turned around, a questioning look on her face.

  The latter retraced her steps, a frown shaping her mouth. “Look, Gabrielle, you know you don’t have to come down at all.”

  “I know, but I will come down. It’s just that I need a little more time.”

  Dolly shook her head and sighed. “You know, this is really ridiculous. You don’t want to come down at all. You have no idea what this is all about, and I really doubt if you’d get through the evening without collapsing! Why not make it another night—or just forget it?” Dolly’s voice was stern, but her eyes were pitying.

  Gabrielle stiffened. “I’ll be down later, I said. Now don’t worry about me.”

  As she watched Dolly shrug and then go on, Gabrielle scurried back into her room, shutting the door quickly, breathing heavily, as though she had just run a footrace, she wrung her hands and moved towards the window. She remembered the night when she had watched the different men getting out of their carriages and thought I hat perhaps she could watch for a likely looking candidate and then go downstairs to meet him. It seemed a lot easier and less whorish than simply mingling with everyone downstairs and being surveyed and pawed by all the men until one decided to take her upstairs. She congratulated herself on a splendid idea and settled down to survey the newcomers.

  Perhaps an hour had passed, and she found herself yawning when she spied two men coming out of the gambling casino in order to make their way to Renée’s, from the light streaming out of the casino she could make out the handsome features of Bernard de Marigny, and the thought came to her that, indeed, he would probably make a considerate lover. But she couldn’t deliberately set out to flirt with the man whom Dolly was probably anxiously awaiting. The other man with him, though. . . .

  Making up her mind, she hurried out of the room and down the hall, determined not to give herself time to retreat a second time. Squaring her shoulders and placing her hand on the stair railing, she began her descent, hoping to appear as inconspicuous as possible.

  Such was not to be the case, however, for at her appearance one of the rivermen, dressed in buckskins, looked up and saw her slender form silhouetted against the blazing crystal chandelier.

  With a rousing whoop, he called to his friends. “Goddamn, look what’s coming down the stairs, men! She’s a goddamn princess! Renée, what the hell you been saving this one for?”

  Immediately, all eyes were turned curiously upwards, and Gabrielle felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She would have given anything to be able to turn and run back to her room, but it was too late now, for one of the men closest to the staircase had already caught her hand and was pulling her down. Her eyes searched the room in sudden panic for Dolly’s comforting reassurance, but instead they rested on the light blue eyes of Bernard de Marigny, whose face was expressing both amusement and surprised recognition. Three or four men immediately cut off her view, pressing closely around her. This was worse than she had imagined, Gabrielle thought, aware as she was of the calculation in their eyes, the lust and greed that reflected in their faces. Hands reached out to catch her arm and drag her to some darkened corner. She stumbled blindly for a moment, then recovered herself and shook the hands off.

  Thinking swiftly, she fastened her eyes directly on one of the men and said as sweetly as she could, “Would someone please get me a glass of wine? I vow it is ever so hot in here, gentlemen.”

  She smiled demurely, and immediately six men were hurrying away to fulfill her wishes. There, now at least she could breathe, she thought. Hesitating at what to do next, she caught sight of a small settee, set out within the circle of light. Out of the corner of her eye, she could also see Renée’s huge, black majordomo, hustling the rivermen to the far side of the room.

  Then, with relief, Gabrielle noticed a short, middle-aged man coming towards her. He bowed gravely and asked permission to sit next to her.

  “Good evening, ma’m’selle. I am Charles Dumain. May I get you something to drink?”

  Gabrielle shook her head silently, picking at her skirt with nervous fingers.

  “Please, ma’m’selle, I must insist. It is very obvious to me that you are quite a jumble of nerves tonight, and I mean to put you at your ease. Will you allow me?”

  “Thank you, m’sieur, but I should prefer that you not leave me quite yet.” She gestured towards the rivermen who were being subdued gradually through the efforts of some of the other girls. The little man pursed his mouth and nodded with understanding, seemingly delighted to remain next to her.

  Almost timidly, he took her hand in his and pressed a kiss into the palm. “Ma’m’selle, you are exquisite—you are Venus, herself, Aphrodite. . . .”

  “Please, m’sieur, you embarrass me!” she protested, finding it almost like talking to one of the courtiers in Paris. She grew a
little more confident and hoped that no one would come by to disturb this comforting tête-à-tête. She listened with a half-smile to more impassioned declarations from the man, nodding now and then but saying very little, which evidently satisfied him.

  “You are originally from New Orleans, ma’m’selle?” he asked, moving so that he could get a glimpse of the lovely bosom that rose and fell so charmingly.

  She shook her head, but declined to enlighten him further. So he launched into the subject of his own place of birth, his business, everything about him, obviously hoping to impress her with his importance.

  As she listened with half an ear to his chatter, she became aware that someone was watching her. The idea rankled her considerably, so that she scanned the room to locate the man who was staring so rudely and inconsistently. It was nearly impossible among the press of people to locate the offender, and she tried to dismiss the matter from her mind.

  Presently she looked up to see M’sieur de Marigny making his way to stand in front of her. Thinking that he had been the one staring, she gave him a cool look that held no invitation.

  “Good evening, ma’m’selle,” he said, bowing, still with the look of amusement on his face.

  “Good evening, m’sieur.” Her salutation was stiff, and she was aware that M’sieur Dumain was bristling like a bulldog about to be denied a bone.

  “M’sieur de Marigny, if you will excuse the young lady and myself, we were just having a most entertaining chat,” the smaller man informed the newcomer with a haughty air.

  Bernard de Marigny smiled pleasantly. “Please forgive me, m’sieur, but the lady and I are old friends, and I promised her dear mama that I would have a talk with her. The dear old thing is getting on in years, of course, and she insists that I try to persuade ma’m’selle not to pursue this horrendously foolish course. I do hope you understand, m’sieur?” The glint in de Marigny’s eyes served its purpose when it was coupled with the knowledge that he was one of the best swordsmen in all of Louisiana.