I sat at the dining room table in silence. Things were getting more complicated. Already I was running from my home, searching an ocean and new country for a beaten up lover who didn’t know I was coming. Now I risked being followed or captured. The excitement was far more than I wished. I hadn’t desired to be chased and scared. The price was high, but worth the rewards of pressing my flesh against Jean-Paul, the rush of tingling, and looking deeply into his eyes to hang on his every word.
The boat from Paris to Le Havre was scheduled to leave at 2:45 p.m. Martine and I decided to have me leave first thing that morning to give us plenty of time to execute her plan. She found me the clothing and wig. Wearing the dress, apron and bonnet belonging to her house maid, I felt like a mocking impostor in an outfit that I would never be made to wear. The thought of walking onto a boat dressed as a servant embarrassed me. My first class ticket would certainly seem inappropriate and cause strange looks. Once I departed from Le Havre by ship, I could don my own clothing. Even if Andre, or someone he sent, managed to find me on a vessel at Le Havre, they couldn’t turn the ship around to take me back to Paris.
“I feel terrible placing you in a trunk darling. It’s a long bumpy ride into town. The bottom is lined with blankets. I pray that you survive well. It’s a good thing that you are petite.”
“It’s not your fault Auntie. My appreciation for your help is beyond what I can express. There’s no one else for me to turn to.”
“I would do anything to protect you…and Jean-Paul of course.” We smiled at each other, knowing that we may spend the rest of our lives apart. “Let’s see if you fit in here.”
I climbed into the open trunk lined with blankets, scooting around from one cramped position to another to find the most comfortable way. “Could I have a small pillow, Auntie?”
“Oh, oui, I know of the perfect pillow.”
Auntie left the room and returned with a small engraved pillow. “This is the pillow I made for Jean-Paul when he came to live with us. My mother taught me needle point. It’s a bit worn, but this is the perfect pillow for you to take. Perhaps you can even smell Jean-Paul’s scent on it.” She smiled, handing me the small cushion.
“Thank you, Auntie. I shall treasure it.”
I placed the pillow behind my head and nestled in the trunk with my feet and buttocks resting on the bottom and my head against one short end leaning on Jean-Paul’s pillow. My back was curved into a half moon and would soon become tired from this position, but it felt like the most comfortable way to begin the journey. “Let us see if we can close the lid.” Auntie brought the lid slowly over my head and rested it gently on the box. “It shall appear latched from the outside, yet you will have the only true latch on the inside that I had my workman fashion to allow yourself an exit if need be. How does it feel?”
“It’s dark,” I said loudly. “I shall be fine for a while, but certainly not days,” I said smiling.
Martine lifted the lid. “I made you some food for the journey.” She handed me a sack, placing it in my folded lap.
“Merci, you’re kind. You think of everything.”
“We must get you on your way. Cherie, I shall miss you with all of my heart. I shall pray endlessly for the safety of you and Jean-Paul. Jean-Paul knows our friends, Claude and Ester Batton, in New York. He will most likely find them immediately, if you miss him at the disembarking of his ship. They will meet you at the dock in New York. If you do not find them, here is their address in New York. You must go to them immediately, for your safety. They shall help you locate Jean-Paul. You arrive five days before his cargo ship is scheduled. You may go to the pier with Monsieur and Madam Batton.
Today when you reach my nephew’s shop, give him this note and money. He will arrange for a discreet ride to the pier,” Martine said handing me an envelope addressed to Pierre.
“Merci, again. When all is well with the business, I will return to Paris so you may hold my children.” My heart was bursting with love for her.
“Let us focus on today. We shall see each other again one day, if it be God’s will. It is more important that you are safe and happy.
“Martine, why are you doing all of this for me?”
“I love you, Cherie, but I’m doing this for Jean-Paul more than for you. Since the day he came to live with me as a little boy, I saw the spark of hope go out of his eyes. He was content as he could make himself, but he lacked an excitement or love for life. When I saw how mesmerized he was by you, I watched him carefully. I saw the spark come back in his eyes. I loved my sister dearly. I know that she would want to have her boy live a happy life. The most I could do now to honor my sister is to help Jean-Paul be happy.”
My heart felt gratitude and tears flowed down my cheeks. Before I could say a word Martine spoke again.
“It’s time to close and lock the lid now. Locking will happen automatically, but only you can unlock it. It’s time to load the wagon.”
My eyes engaged Martine’s for one last moment with love and appreciation as she lowered the lid on my hiding place. My world went dark and small. Moments later, I heard muffled voices. Martine spoke to someone. “You’re the only one I trust. You’re not to tell a soul about this. If you’re approached by any person, even the police, you’re to lie about what you’re transporting. Do not open this box unless Mademoiselle Bourguignon’s life’s at stake. The box is locked and can only be opened from the outside by breaking the lock or from the inside by mademoiselle. Deliver both of these trunks to his address. Then leave. The contents will be cared for from there. Do you understand your assignment?”
“Oui, Madam.”
A fear gripped me as I realized that if her plan went badly, I would look like a runaway servant with false identification. Could I trust her driver to not be bribed to sell me off, pretending there was a robbery. Something inside of me felt worried there were important details that I didn’t anticipate.
Another person entered the room. Martine spoke again. “I have valuable breakables in these two boxes. They must be delivered safely to Paris. Both of you must protect my belongings from any would-be thieves. Carry them gently. Guard them with force if you must.” My hiding box was lifted by two strong men and carried down the stairs, outside and loaded into a wagon. I held my hand over my mouth to avoid making a sound as I tilted and jostled in the small container.
Within moments we were rolling our way towards Paris along the dirt road. I braced myself for the hour ride of bouncing along. I felt much safer in the box than riding comfortably in a carriage. If only I could sleep in the darkness, but the excitement of my voyage, the fear of discovery, the guilt of leaving my parents all played a loud chatter in my head that didn’t allow for rest.
As my mind wondered about my new life ahead, our wagon slowed and then stopped. I thought maybe one of the drivers needed to relieve his bladder. Then I heard a voice that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Merci, for stopping. Could you please direct me to the home of Jacques Soule?”
“Do you have business with Monsieur Soule?”
“Indeed. I’m a friend of the family.”
“Monsieur Soule is not at his country home this day. He’s away for a few days I regret.” I cringed as I heard the exchange of words. The driver was giving Andre too much information.
“Are you from his staff?”
“Oui.”
“What are you transporting?” I scrunched down into my little box as if I could further hide from Andre’s grasp.
“We are transporting belongings of Madam Soule to a shop to be sold.”
“What kind of belongings?”
“We were not shown the contents of the boxes that we are to deliver.”
“Please show me the contents. I’m on a quest for many items.” Could Andre suspect me to be hiding in a box, or did he want to spend his time looking though trunks?
“The items are promised to a shop keeper. They are presently locked.”
“I w
ould like to see them!”
“You may ride up the road and ask Madam Soule for the key.”
“Have you seen Mademoiselle Bourguignon at the home?”
“Oui, Monsieur. Mademoiselle was seen at breakfast this morning. You shall find the estate at the end of this road.”
“Merci, I shall go see Madam Soule. Then I shall ask Madam for the key and see what she has for sale. I’m sure that I can find you on your way to Paris when I return. My horse is fast.”
“Oui, Monsieur.”
“Au revoir,” Andre replied.
His horse’s hooves galloped off behind us. I tried to calculate in my mind how long it would take Andre to ride to the house, find out that I’m not there and ride back to search the trunks. My hiding place began to feel made of glass. Suddenly I couldn’t get enough air. Did I breathe in all of the oxygen? Am I going to suffocate? Will Andre find me dead in this box? What am I to do? The wagon moved forward for about five minutes. Then it stopped again. I listened and waited, wondering in fear.
“Mademoiselle, open the lid please.”
The voice may have been the driver’s voice, but I couldn’t be certain. I didn’t respond.
“What are you doing? Do you think that is some kind of magic box? Do you think there’s a genie inside who can open it for you? It’s locked Oubear,” another voice said.
“Mademoiselle, the horseman is far from sight. Please open the lid.”
“I will open the lid, but why are you doing this?”
“What was that?” the other man asked the driver. “Is there really a genie in the box?”
“Shhh! It’s safe mademoiselle.”
“I pressed reluctantly on the lock on the inside of the lid. Nothing happened. Fresh air and light motivated me. Again it didn’t work. “It’s not working. It won’t release.”
“Try again mademoiselle.”
Again and again I pushed. “I need air. I’m out of air.”
“Hurry up, Oubear. The genie is running out of air. She might die.”
“There are holes for air in the lid and sides. You can’t see them, but they are there. Breathe slowly. We can get you out.”
“Why do you want me to come out?”
“The Monsieur shall return soon and he will search the trunks. We must put you elsewhere.”
“Where?”
“I have an idea. We must first get you out.”
Lying on my back, I placed my feet directly above me. Perhaps I could push the lid open. With my feet against the domed ceiling, I pushed as hard as I could. Nothing happened. Maybe Martine did lock me in here to have me thrown me in to the Seine River.
Out of frustration I banged against the side of the trunk with my hands. My left hand hit a clasp I had not noticed before. It felt like the one on my right side. I pressed both clasps at the same time and the lid came loose. With my feet I pushed the lid open and saw daylight and smelled fresh air. A huge sigh of relief came over me.
“Are you a genie?” asked a man I didn’t recognize.
“Do I look like a genie to you?”
“You’re not dressed like a genie. You look like our house staff, but I’ve never seen you before.”
“Be quiet,” Oubear said. “We must act quickly. Get up,” he shouted at the other man. “Come mademoiselle,” he said reaching for my hand. He helped me out of the trunk and on to the front of the wagon.
“This won’t do. He shall see me…” My objection was interrupted.
“Quiet please.” He lifted the seat upon which they had sat. Under the seat was a space for tools to fix the wagon. He moved some of the tools to the side. The larger ones he removed. “Quickly, lie down. We need the blankets to fill the trunk. You will have to lie on the wood.” I climbed into my new hiding place still holding the letter I was to give Martine’s nephew, Pierre.
“I must seal this lid shut, to ensure he cannot open it. Do not fear mademoiselle. I shall open it up when you’re safe.”
I heard a hammer pound one, two then three nails into the wood seat, sealing me into a coffin like space, to hide from the man who said he loved me.
Then I heard the two men at the back of the wagon. “Help me move things into the empty trunk. They must seem full of items for sale,” Oubear said.
“Did you steal this girl?”
“Of course I did not steal her?”
“She’s hiding in a trunk. She’s a servant. We must report this or we will get punished for…”
“Be quiet. You don’t know what’s happening.”
“Tell me what’s happening then.”
“Madam Soule asked me to take her niece safely to Pierre’s shop. He will then get her out of Paris. The man on the horse is a bad man and he is engaged to marry the girl. Her parents don’t believe that he is a bad man.”
“If we are caught then…”
“Madam Soule would explain everything. She didn’t want anyone else to know in order to protect this girl.”
“Let us get this delivery completed and settle my nervous stomach,” said the other man.
My new container was hard, rough and dark. If only I’d thought to grab the pillow from the trunk. When we moved, my head bounced against the bottom of the small space. The box smelled of oil and dirt. My white blouse and apron would look terrible when I emerged. The darkness of the small space was suffocating. Again I felt that there wasn’t enough air. My stomach tightened. My breathing was shallow. I closed my eyes wishing for all of it to be over.
I feared the moment when Andre would catch back up to us and search the wagon. When we finally stopped, I listened carefully for Andre. Instead of Andre, I heard the driver talking to me. “Mademoiselle, we must go inside and speak with Pierre. Wait here for a moment. Then we will open the seat.”
“Excuse me. You must know that Andre is very cleaver. He may have followed us here and he may be watching this minute. He may see you take me out of the seat.”
“I’m going to speak with Pierre about taking the wagon to the alley. It will appear that we are loading the trunks into the back space. In the alley we can hide you well. Please wait.”
Quietly I wondered if Andre spied the wagon at that very moment. What were the two drivers saying to Pierre and would this plan keep me safe? Andre could follow me to the dock. He could board the boat to Le Havre, find me, threatening me, and taking me back to Paris. He could report my activity to my bishop and force a marriage. The worst case scenario waltzed an evil dance in my head. I began to hate Andre, my childhood playmate, for causing me to hide and run as if I were a delinquent.
Several minutes passed before I heard the men again. A new voice was present. Perhaps it was the voice of Pierre.
“These are all the boxes?”
“Oui.”
“Take them to the back of the shop please. You may unload them there.”
“Merci.”
The wagon moved again, hopefully to a safe location. Before we stopped, I heard tools prying the wood, working on loosening the lid.
“Quickly, Mademoiselle. When the lid opens, please move as fast as you can. Go straight inside.”
The lid of my mobile coffin lifted and bright light hit me boldly. With my sore muscles, I climbed out while looking for danger and seeking reassurance that I wasn’t being watched. Pierre helped me step out of the wagon and quickly directed me through a doorway. Inside I took my first deep breath in over an hour. With my back to a wall, I observed my surroundings: a small storage room, poorly lit, yet apparently safe.
My clothes were soiled and wrinkled. Boarding the ship as a servant with dirty clothing and a first class ticket would cause suspicion. Pierre walked up to me and I quickly said, “Thank you for your assistance today. I need more of your help before we depart. This attire does not suit me.”
“I would have to agree,” he said.
“I want to purchase one of your finest dresses. This money should cover it,” I said handing him the envelope from Martine. “If not, then ask Martine
for the difference.” Quickly he opened the envelope and read. Smoothly he slipped the letter into his jacket pocket.
“I’m happy to assist with a new garment,” he said smiling with a slight bow of his head.
“I need a proper dress for traveling first class.”
Pierre’s dress shop was full of some of the finest apparel in Paris. Martine had brought me here once or twice before. The dresses were suited for elaborate gatherings and wealthy wives. None of his dresses suited my daily attire.
“This is the most appropriate design for you.” He held up a dress the queen of England may have chosen. With large padded shoulders and bottom, the gold dress was covered with semi-precious stones, pearls and beads. I touched the thick fabric, dreaming of an occasion to wear such a gown.
“Pierre, this is perfect.”
“I like it for your frame, unless you like something else more. But we must hurry.”
“This is the best disguise, and it fits the occasion. A woman must look her best when she’s slipping away quietly and chasing her love,” I explained.
“I agree,” he replied.
Behind a dressing screen at the back of the store, I slipped the magnificent garment over my head with the help of Pierre’s assistant, Elyse. Noticing the weight of the fabric and adorning beads, stones and pearls, I felt as if my fairy godmother was waving a magic wand over my head. Transformed in the moment, it was as if my life would never be the same. The sleeves caressed my arms with their smooth silk lining. The weight of the dress hung balanced on my shoulders and hips. Elyse assisted me in fastening the back buttons. This garment was designed for royalty and the very rich. For the first time in my life, I imagined myself as one of the women who would wear such attire. New sensations swarmed through me like swirling colors of light. I saw myself at fancy gatherings, the opera, auctions, and government parties. It wasn’t where I would typically desire to be, but to have occasion to wear this dress made me smile as wide as ever.
“Pierre, there’s a blonde wig in the window. May I have it, please?” I asked.
Painted with Love: Romance Eludes Time and Death Page 12