Destiny's Daughter (9 page)

Terror-filled eyes met hers. "That’s what your mother said when I came here." She swallowed. "You’re like her, you know. The same eyes, the same tone of voice. You even make me feel the same way—safe."

A long sigh escaped Annalisa’s lips. "Everyone speaks of my mother as if she were a saint. I wish I’d had the chance to know her."

"You can have that chance," Delia said quietly. Meeting Annalisa’s questioning gaze, she said, "If you were to stay here, we could tell you all the wonderful things Sara did for us. To me she was more than a friend; she was the mother I lost."

Tears brimmed in Annalisa’s eyes, and she blinked them back. "I can’t stay here. I can’t do ... I can’t be ..."

"You can do what your mother did. Keep the ledgers. Oversee the smooth operation of this house. Be our friend and confidante."

"But wasn’t she . . . ?" Annalisa stopped, embarrassed.

"You don’t know?" Delia’s eyes widened. "Annalisa, your mother never slept with the customers. That was not her job. That was ours. She talked with them, and occasionally shared a glass of sherry. But they knew she was too much of a lady to ever share her bed with them."

"But I thought ..." Annalisa was too overwhelmed to go on.

"You thought your mother was a whore?" Delia clasped Annalisa’s hands and stared into her bewildered eyes. "Your mother was a fine lady. She had the respect of everyone who came here."

"Thank you." Tears swam, clouding her vision. Wiping them furiously, Annalisa turned away. With a lump clogging her throat, she murmured, "Thank you, Delia. For giving me back my mother."

The girl left quietly, while Annalisa searched her bureau for a handkerchief.

It was not unexpected when Hattie Lee knocked a few minutes later and entered her bedroom. Seeing the opened trunk, the black woman nodded.

"I am not surprised, Annalisa. The others told me you were packing. When do you wish to leave?"

"I’m not certain," Annalisa said softly. "I’m not certain of anything anymore."

One black eyebrow lifted. Seeing the young woman’s bowed head, Hattie Lee studied her carefully.

"The women here seem to have loved my mother," Annalisa said, sniffing into her handkerchief.

"We did."

"They even trusted her with their futures." Annalisa lifted her face.

"We all admired Sara for the way she salvaged her life. And she earned the trust of everyone here," Hattie Lee added.

"I feel so ashamed for what I was thinking about her. I have no right to this house or the people in it, Hattie Lee. My own life has been so sheltered. I’ve never had to face what the others have. I don’t know what my own mother went through, but I could never take her place."

Hattie Lee thought a moment. "Corinna was here when your mama came to us. Would you like her to tell you about it?"

Annalisa nodded.

Opening the door, Hattie Lee signaled for the orange-haired woman to enter. Leading her to a chair, she said, "Annalisa would like to know about her mother. Why don’t you tell her?"

The folds of the old woman’s chins wobbled as she chewed on her lips. Her voice when she spoke was clear and strong.

"Your mama was on her way to New Orleans to search for a brother. Alone, and expecting a baby very soon, her carriage encountered a vicious highwayman. For years afterward, your mama had nightmares about that man. He stole her jewelry and money, then cut away her clothes with a knife. Even when he realized that she was heavy with child, he—abused her."

Annalisa felt the shock, swift, strong, as she imagined her mother’s suffering.

"The monster left her for dead. She dragged herself to town and collapsed on this very porch."

Hattie Lee chimed in, "Corinna found her and summoned me. The two of us carried her to bed while one of the servant girls ran for the doctor."

"Dr. Lynch," Annalisa interrupted.

"Yes, child. Dr. Lynch. By the time he arrived, Sara was in hard labor. We all figured her baby wouldn’t survive the ordeal."

Corinna nodded, tears filling her eyes. "We stood around the bed, breathing with her, straining with her, feeling a kinship with what is uniquely a woman’s suffering." She wiped her eyes. "We all knew we would never have children."

Annalisa began to ask why, then stopped herself.

"When we heard that little baby’s cry, we all wept openly. We shared her relief that the ordeal was over." In hushed tones, Corinna added, "I washed you, and wrapped you in one of my fancy lace shawls. And we all took turns holding you, cuddling you, lending you our warmth, our love. Your mother was in her bed for weeks, while Dr. Lynch nursed her back to health. We all thought that the only reason she even tried to regain her strength was for your sake."

"Did they ever find the highwayman who savaged my mother?"

The women shook their heads, hearing the thread of anger in the young woman’s voice.

"What of my father?"

Hattie Lee regarded her kindly. "Your mama told me that he had died. There was no one left except her brother here in New Orleans. When I inquired about him in town, I discovered that he’d died, and his widow had sold his land and gone north. Your mama was left in delicate health with a tiny baby and no family. Her future looked bleak, until we discovered that she was educated and good with figures. Miss Hannah Elliott, who owned this house, offered her a job keeping the books, figuring she added an air of propriety to the place."

Folding her arms across her chest, the black woman studied her. "Your mama knew that there was no one in this house who could read and write well enough to keep the ledgers and run this house the way she did. When she knew she was dying, she thought of you."

"But I can’t be like her. Look how quickly I judged her when I heard what her business was. Look how quickly I thought of turning my back on all of you."

"You’re young, child, and on your own for the first time in your life. All of us were frightened in the beginning. That’s why we’ve banded together here. We take our courage from each other."

Survival. Annalisa absorbed the sudden shock of knowledge. That was the mysterious bond between her mother and these women. They were all survivors.

Annalisa shook her head. "You don’t understand, Hattie Lee. I could do the ledgers easily. And I suppose I could learn to order the special things my mother selected to make this house so fine. But the rest of it . . ." She spread her hands. "To earn your respect and trust. To share a common bond with you and the other women of this house. Not to mention learning how to carry on intelligent conversations with the men who frequent this house. To sip wine, to wear fine clothes and pretend to be a woman of the world ..."

Hattie Lee’s eyes danced with new light. There was a chance the girl was wavering in her decision to leave. Tossing open the door to her bedroom, she beckoned the others, who were waiting just beyond the doorway. As they filed into the room, she said, "You leave that to us, child. As long as you’re willing to give us a chance, we’ll teach you everything you need to know." Her smile grew, and her rich, honeyed voice fairly sang. "Do you know who it was who taught your mother how to take the latest Paris fashions and wear them with a flair?" Chuckling, she added, "Old Hattie Lee can turn you into the finest lady in the South, child. All you have to do is say you’ll stay."

Annalisa hesitated. "I promised Sister Marie Therese that I would return to the convent within the month."

Delia’s sweet voice chirped, "You won’t find running this house any different from living in a convent, Annalisa. Take off their prim habits and our pretty gowns, and we’re all women underneath, are we not,
amie?
"

Everyone broke into peals of laughter at her innocent remark. Grinning, Annalisa caught her hand. "Now I know why my mother loved you so, Delia."

"But what is so amusing?" the girl asked, puzzled. "Is it not so?"

Annalisa sobered and glanced at the faces of the women who crowded into her room. While she had innocently labored over grammar and mathematics, these women had suffered the loss of home and family. While she had been sheltered in the convent, they had faced the terrible realities of a hellish war that left their land shattered. It was their labor, as well as her mother’s, that had provided her with a way of life that none of them would ever enjoy. And suddenly, Annalisa realized she would spend a lifetime repaying that debt.

What was it that Sister Marie Therese had said as they were parting? "Give your mother a chance to show you her world before making your decision."

She cleared her throat, surprised at how difficult it was to say what was in her heart. "If my staying here can help in any way, I would be honored to stay with you."

Hattie Lee’s face split into a wreathe of smiles. "Sweet Lord Almighty, child. We need you. And don’t you worry about anything. We’ll teach you everything you need to know."

"I hope I won’t embarrass you."

The women came forward to hug her or squeeze her hand.

"I am happy, chérie," Gabrielle whispered. "You won’t be sorry."

"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."

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.