Oppressed

by Kira Saito

  I stood there and watched and silently prayed that Justine would somehow know how sorry I was. After Justine left Edmond closed the door and focused his attention on me. There was a moment of total silence between us and the only sound was that of the angry rain that pounded so viciously against the window pane.

  The rain became louder and louder and immediately I knew that Oshun was very unhappy. The sweet smell of honey, flowers and melted wax that had once filled the room was now gone and replaced by the cold scent of nothingness. My gilded mirror began to crack, but Edmond didn’t notice because he was too busy staring at me. His eyes devoured every inch of my body and I could suddenly smell his hunger and need.

  He moved across the room gracefully and pulled me close to him. The sensation of his warm hands on my bare back and his lips on the nape of my neck prompted my body to go rigid. “You’re exquisite, Cecile. Maybe one day we’ll grow to love one another,” he whispered. “I think we make a fine match.”

  “Perhaps,” I lied yet again.

  What else was I supposed to say? I knew that I would never be capable of loving him.

  But what other option did I have?

  He covered my mouth in an urgent, rough kiss. My first kiss. Was it supposed to feel this way? I wasn’t sure. He undressed me slowly as if he were unwrapping a long-anticipated present. A chilly wind crept into the room, making me shiver and tremble. Edmond’s eyes and hands carefully appraised my body. I lowered my lashes and held my breath as his fingers lingered on the curves of my chest and hips.

  “Exquisite.” He let out a soft moan of approval and covered my neck in quick kisses.

  “You approve, Monsieur?” I asked shyly, wondering if he was happy with his investment.

  “Oui, Cecile. I have a feeling this match will be very beneficial to the both of us,” he whispered as he pulled me towards the bed.

  ***

  It had been a very long night and I was beyond exhausted, yet sleep refused to take me away to dream land. Beside me, Edmond softly snored and was probably having nightmares about Voodoo dolls and other things supposedly scary and savage. As I watched his pale, hairless chest heave and his nostrils slightly flare with every breath he took, I had the sudden urge to smother him with my pillow.

  The perfect word to describe how I felt was ‘numb’. I felt perfectly numb and empty. I had entered into a perfectly respectable arrangement with a perfectly respectable man and my position and immediate financial future was perfectly secured, yet I felt so perfectly numb.

  I hadn’t expected any grand romance from the match, but I had expected some decency and it was clear that I wasn’t going to get that from Edmond. I had made a perfectly huge mistake that I had no real way of getting out of. As I recalled how horrible he had been at dinner and how awful he had been to Justine and how he had made me like a powerless prisoner in what was supposed to be my own home, pure anger surged through my veins. I felt as if there was something seriously wrong with me. Why couldn’t I be like the other placées? Did other placées feel this way? If so they never spoke about it. Maman never did, anyway.

  “I warned you,” Oshun whispered, as she sat on the bed beside me dressed in a loose white silk gown. “I warned you! He will do everything to kill your spirit unless you break it off! Break it off now!” Her voice was wretchedly gloomy, but powerful- so powerful that the bedroom windows shook and shuddered with such force that I was afraid they were about to crumble.

  “Shhhh, please,” I whispered. I was afraid Edmond would wake up. That was the last thing I wanted. To my horror, tears started to slide down my face and I let out a helpless whimper.

  Oshun stopped her wailing and held me in her arms until my tears evaporated and I fell into an uneasy slumber.

  Chapter Thirteen

  There are Many Ways to Get Rid of an Unwanted Lover

  Cecile LaNuit’s Home, Rue de Rampart

  New Orleans, 1852

  “You know there are many ways to get rid of an unwanted lover,” said Tante Celeste, as she slowly sipped her café au lait. “You don’t have to be noble and suffer for the sake of keeping up appearances. This city loves to gossip, oui, but another scandal is always around the corner. You can use a potion and get him to leave, it’s that easy and you know exactly how to make the right potion, non?”

  I carefully examined her beautiful face with its high forehead, round child-like cheeks and wide hazel eyes, and saw that she was dead serious. I shook my head and laughed. Only my dear Tante Celeste would actually suggest I literally get rid of Edmond the ever-so-effective Voodoo way. Why couldn’t I have been her daughter instead of Maman’s? She was the only one who seemed to notice my misery and insisted on coming over for afternoon coffee every Wednesday.

  Tante Celeste, like Maman, was only a little girl when she fled Haiti during the revolution. In New Orleans, at the age of sixteen, she became the placée of a wealthy French merchant. The match had been filled with fidelity and love until the day her protector had died. Marcus Jean Louis had adored Tante Celeste, and never had the need to legally marry another woman. After his death she was devastated but resilient. She started to sell gris-gris, advice, potions and various oils from her home, and had become independently wealthy.

  She was the official Voodoo Queen of Rue de Rampart and the unofficial Voodoo Queen of New Orleans, which embarrassed and annoyed Maman to no end because, after all, only savages believed in spirits and the city had a Voodoo Queen on every street corner. Maman rarely spoke to her and hated when I visited her. Maman didn’t want me associated with Tante Celeste, because while being a Voodoo Queen in New Orleans was position that held respect, it was also one that was incredibly dangerous. Every disease, epidemic, murder, revolt or other strange occurrence was blamed on the Queen.

  However, I adored Tante Celeste because she was wild, beautiful, and dangerous but undeniably kind. She took her role as Voodoo Queen very seriously, and never refused those who needed her help. People from all walks of life, ranging from fabulously wealthy royalty to the most down-trodden, flocked to her when they needed help. And help them she did. She helped abused lovers get revenge, made love matches, helped those who were wrongly accused win court cases, made protection charms, cursed those who deserved it. The list went on and on.

  “I’m serious, Cecile there are many tricks and oils; and don’t forget the loa. If you’re not happy, do something about it,” she said, as she observed my miserable expression.

  I laughed. “Sure! That wouldn’t be suspicious at all. You know how the authorities love to blame all of the city’s crimes and misfortunes on Voodoo. If Edmond were to magically disappear that would be the end of me.”

  Every day there was some sensationalized story about Voodoo and Hoodoo. In The Times Picayune and the Daily Crescent followers were painted as uneducated, evil, superstitious barbarians who had no right to be free. Some writers and politicians went as far as to claim that Voodoo was a prime example of why anyone of African descent was unfit to vote, associate with a white person or hold public office of any kind.

  I found the whole situation amusing and at the same time disturbing, because even though Voodoo/Hoodoo had been well and alive in the city since the first slaves from the Bight of Benin set foot in New Orleans in 1719, it was only now that it was getting so much media attention. The ignorance of it all enraged me to no end. Did people truly believe everything they read?

  I brushed off her suggestion outwardly, but I was seriously considering using her advice because I was in a somewhat desperate position. It had been exactly three months since Edmond and I had begun our relationship and things weren’t getting any better. He still scoffed at everything I said, freaked out if he saw the slightest evidence of anything Voodoo/Hoodoo-related, was unnecessarily cruel to the house staff to the point where he had mercilessly whipped Justine and the poor cook numerous times, and on top of all of that I’m pretty sure he had his slaves follow me every time I left the house so I never bothered going anywhere
anymore unless he was with me.

  I had tried everything in my power to make him happy but nothing seemed to work, and the harder I tried the more he seemed to take pleasure in being vile. He was a relentless vampire who had for some reason or another set his sights on me and was now determined to suck me dry.

  Although his day-to-day actions spoke otherwise, he insisted that he was madly in love with me and showered me with expensive gift after gift. I now had countless jewels, the latest Parisian ball gowns, paintings, marble statues and a pile of other incalculably expensive items- even a golden harp which, to my distress, he forced me to play every Friday night after dinner.

  He stayed over every night and his real wife knew that he was keeping me, which frightened and embarrassed me to no end even though I couldn’t exactly pinpoint the reason I felt that way, given our arrangement wasn’t anything unusual within the city. I wanted desperately to end the match, but I knew that would mean scandal and ruin within the community, so instead of doing anything I stayed with him and smiled every time he scoffed, criticized, or ridiculed me. Of course, I had no one to share these thoughts with, so I kept them locked away and hidden. Even if I told anyone, it wouldn’t matter, because most women both white and colored had it much worse than I did.

  Antoine’s prediction had been right. I felt like a bird trapped in a very luxurious cage. Oh, how I missed Antoine. Not having him in my life was akin to a walking around with a severed limb. I had drifted so far from who I was that I had even resorted to hiding my Voodoo altars in secret locations throughout the house and every time Edmond came over it was Justine’s job to make sure he never went anywhere near them.

  I knew the spirits were annoyed with me because according to them I was disrespecting them by hiding their altars and not following the path I was meant to follow. Oshun had been right, Edmond was stealing my spirit. When I looked in the mirror I barely recognized myself anymore. Instead, I saw Maman, and I often wondered how long it would be before I finally had the guts to do something about it. Until I pulled that courage out from deep within me I knew the spirits would continue to shun me; after all, they only helped those who chose to help themselves.

  Tante Celeste raised her left eyebrow and looked at me in silence for a few moments before she spoke. “I take it the love isn’t,” she cleared her throat, “doing you any favors?”

  I furiously shook my head and grabbed a praline off the platter in front of me. I needed sugar before I could properly answer her question. The truth was I hated it, no I LOATHED it, when he kissed me or had sex with me; not because he was particularly bad or it was horribly unpleasant, but because I simply did not like him.

  I actually detested his company to the point that it was preferable that he had sex with me so I wouldn’t have to listen to him scoff. Bed was the only place he didn’t scoff or rant. Come to think of it, bed was the only place he was rather quiet, which was why I continued to pretend that I was insanely enamored with him so I wouldn’t have to talk to him. However, I prayed and made offerings to all the spirits, sinners, and saints every day that I would not get pregnant. The last thing I wanted was to carry any of his children- that would tie me to him for life. Somewhere deep inside of me I held a tiny bit of hope that I would be able to free myself from him. The whole situation was rather complex to the point where I didn’t understand it myself. “It is what it is,” I said, channeling Maman.

  She shook her head, fluttered her lush lashes and let out a miserable sigh. “You look awful, ma cherie.”

  “Why, merci, that’s exactly what I needed to hear, especially this week. Edmond’s Oncle is holding a holiday ball tomorrow. Edmond’s insisted that I go with him. A pretty mistress has to look pretty, doesn’t she, or what is the point of keeping her?”

  “Interesting. Does the Madame know that you are taking her place?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. Even if she does know, what can she do? Have me whipped or accuse of some crime that will put me on trial? That would on make Edmond angry, and I’m pretty sure her position is no different from mine. She’ll be left in ruin if scandal surrounds her.”

  “Ms. Cecile, your new gown has arrived!!!” Justine rushed into living room and brought a gust of cool winter air with her. “It’s gorgeous! Monsieur insists that you wear it to the ball!”

  Of course he does. I got up from the sofa and took the Parisian ball gown from her. “Thank you, Justine.”

  She waved off my thanks and quickly left the room, probably to go yell at the cook. I had secretly started to pay Justine for her services and was also teaching her how to read and write, because I had realized that unlike Maman I simply didn’t have the heart to keep a slave, nor did I want to.

  I already knew that although there were no chains on my feet, my position in society was only slightly more valuable than that of Justine’s or of any other slave in the city. I could have easily been in her place. That fact alone paralyzed me with a fear so profound that I had taken a vow to help those less fortunate than me in any way possible. When the time was right I was determined to legally free her. Since she wasn’t legally in my name I would have to sweet-talk Edmond into freeing her, and in order for that to happen I would have to be extra sweet and obliging.

  Tante Celeste eyed the ball gown. “It’s stunning.”

  I nodded in agreement. Despite his many flaws, Edmond had impeccable taste in clothes and the beautiful red satin ball gown trimmed with tulle, swan’s-down, crystal beads, and black pearls was no exception.

  Tante Celeste finished the last of her coffee and got from the sofa. She lovingly stroked my cheek and embraced me. “Cecile, I am always here for you. You can always come to me, no matter what.”

  “You’ll help me get rid of the body?” I whispered, only half-jokingly.

  “Oui,” she said with dead sincerity.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Planter’s Eccentric Son

  Darkwood Plantation

  A few miles outside of New Orleans, 1852

  I stood in the middle of a very lavish ballroom with high ceilings, fully-lit crystal chandeliers, finely-detailed porcelain statues, and a waxed floor so shiny that I almost slipped a couple of times. I caught a glimpse of myself in the carved gold leaf mirror that was carefully decorated with flowered garlands, and noticed that I was slumping and scowling, so I forced myself to stand up straight. Although the red satin ball gown I wore was stunning and I had spent hours getting my hair done, on the inside I was a ball of nerves and anxiety.

  Excitement, laughter, vibrant music from an elegant orchestra filled the air along with the sweet smell of bread pudding drizzled with praline sauce. My attention fell to a lavish table on which sat a Bayeux centerpiece with elaborate bronze d'ore mounts. It wasn’t the centerpiece that caught my attention, but rather the mounds of pralines that sat in it. My stomach roared viciously and I wanted nothing more than to grab a fist full of pralines and shove them down my throat.

  Beside me, Edmond sipped a flute of champagne and eyed the other guests disapprovingly. “Look at that coat!” he huffed. “What was he thinking, choosing to wear something made by an American rather than a Parisian? Americans simply don’t have the eye for design or quality.”

  I looked at Edmond and stretched out my mouth into a wide clown-like grin, mostly because I had secretly sipped some stiff doses of absinthe when I had excused myself to go to the bathroom and it had finally kicked in. The small sterling silver flask had started to become a permanent fixture under my many layers of petticoats. “You’re right, Edmond,” I said happily. “You’re so right. He should be wearing a fine red velvet jacket with a black silk tie just as you are! What was he thinking? Horribly unrefined man!”

  His blue eyes shone in approval and he slowly stroked my bare back with his fingers. He leaned in and whispered, “You look stunning. I could ravish you right here, my sweet Cecile.”

  I shuddered at those words and every inch of my flesh ran cold.

  Thankful
ly, we were interrupted by a strikingly handsome man with dark deep-set eyes, exquisitely formed cheekbones, and a kind smile. “Edmond! You came!” His eyes sparkled as he leaned in to give Edmond a warm embrace.

  “Oncle Jacques! When I heard you were the owner of a plantation I had to see it for myself! Making even more riches off the backs of heathens, as if you aren’t already the wealthiest man in the state.”

  Jacques shrugged. “It’s what the Madame wants, and who am I to argue with her? Who is this gorgeous creature?” he asked, as his attention turned to me.

  “This is the lovely Cecile LaNuit.”

  “Bonjour.” I gave him a genuine smile.

  “How charming.” Jacques took my hand and gave it a quick kiss. “You must share a dance with my boy. It’s my duty to make sure all of my guests have an exceptional time. Now, you don’t mind do you, Edmond?” He gave Edmond a small knowing wink, almost as if he were teasing him or daring him to say no.

  Edmond’s jaw tightened slightly but his smile remained fixed. “No, of course not.”

  “Lucus, come over here!” Jacques turned around and shouted at a broad-shouldered back. “Come dance with our lovely guest.”

  The broad-shouldered back turned around and my cheeks unwillingly flushed. His eyes met mine and for some inexplicable reason I had the urge to break off the connection and stare at my satin slippers and count the number of tiny diamonds and glass pearls that rested on each toe. This wasn’t like me at all. I had waltzed with princes, dukes and the oh-so-charming Edmond. This wasn’t any different. Another lie.

  What I felt at that exact moment was similar to how I felt when I danced with the spirits. A profound connection with the unknown; a rush of vague fear, utter excitement, and the acceptance that the les mysteries move to their own rhythm and would always surprise you when you least expected it. Something deep within me told me that this meeting was the loa’s way of letting me know that they had not actually abandoned me, and as hopeless as my situation appeared I would somehow climb out of the darkness. I felt Edmond’s eyes on me and panicked that he could somehow read my mind, so I took several low breaths and willed myself to calm down.