The men wore frock coats with crisp linen shirts and colorful waistcoats. They smoked cigars and moved about on the promenade deck with an arrogant authority, as if the world belonged to them. She noticed, for all their fine clothes and grand manners, none of them cut as elegant a figure as her patron, Maxime. She had never met anyone with so much style and dignity. It did not seem to be in keeping with being an enslaved gentleman.
They rode the river all afternoon and well into the evening. Maxime had a basket of fruit and bread sent down for her midday meal and red beans and rice for supper. She had no desire to mix with anyone, so she sat outside on the deck watching the river and the flatboat carrying Atlantis and Baloo.
Sometimes she would gaze up at the very top of the paddle wheeler where the pilot house was located. It amazed her how the crew could maneuver a huge boat with such skill, avoiding the fallen trees, rocks and snags, especially when they navigated into a landing.
Many times the Vidalia stopped at plantation landings to drop off or pick up passengers and goods. The crew would blow the whistle and children would come running, shouting, “Steamboat a’comin’!”
These landings were nothing more than docks with wooden platforms below the cotton fields. Sometimes peddlers would be waiting and board the boat to sell melons, chestnuts or newspapers. Sometimes they would sell the crew firewood to fuel the boilers.
As they came into one landing, Sydnee could see the white plantation house overlooking the river below, its tall pillars towering majestically over the rolling fields. It felt cool as they coasted into shore. The riverboat slid into the shade of the overhanging trees, lowered the landing stage and started to unload supplies. It surprised Sydnee when the flatboat with the dogs pulled up to the landing as well. They too had supplies for this planter.
She saw the little boy jump onto shore with the dogs right behind him. It was time to stretch their legs. Sydnee stood by the railing and watched, laughing as they chased each other back and forth along shore. The little boy threw a stick into the river, and Atlantis launched herself in the water to fetch it. This game went on until the boy’s father called for them to return to the flatboat, but the dogs did not respond. They sighted a rabbit and were chasing it.
Sydnee watched the child call to them repeatedly until at last, she shook her head in disgust and gave a sharp whistle. Two heads popped up from the brush and looked at her. “Go on!” she called, and flung her arm toward the flatboat. Atlantis tore toward the boat with Baloo lumbering along behind her. They jumped onto the craft just before it set off.
Evening was Sydnee’s favorite time on the stern-wheeler. The river shimmered with a golden light, each ripple reflecting the slanting sunset. It was peaceful watching the herons strutting along the shore and the geese overhead, but what pleased Sydnee the most were the torch baskets and lanterns on the paddle wheeler when it was dark. It was beautiful to see the flames reflected in the river and watch the light dance over the deck. She spied several couples stealing kisses in the shadows.
Since it was dark, Vivian was able to fly in and rest on Sydnee’s shoulder. She knew that the bird was tired from following the boat all day. They sat together in a dark corner on deck and dozed, listening to music from the deck above.
Suddenly Sydnee heard the bell ring from the pilot house followed by the whistle. She opened her eyes and saw the riverboat approaching the shore again which was ablaze with light.
Maxime was standing over her holding his valise. “You and the albatross follow me,” he said.
Rubbing her eyes, she struggled to her feet with Vivian on her shoulder. The crow and Maxime were eye to eye. He glared at the bird and then turned and walked down toward the front of the boat where the first class passengers were disembarking. He waited until all of the white passengers were off the riverboat and then proceeded to walk down the landing stage with the slaves. Sydnee stayed close to him. The city of New Orleans seemed so large, and there were so many people.
The boy who was taking care of Baloo and Atlantis found Maxime, received payment and skipped off. Overwhelmed by the noise and activity, the dogs stayed at Sydnee’s heels. The group pushed their way through the throngs of people on the docks, and entered a large square bordered on three sides by the biggest buildings Sydnee had ever seen. She thought that the structure in the center must be a church. It had three tall towers and a cross. She had no idea about the other two buildings. They were large imposing structures with many windows and a gallery along the street.
While she was gawking at the buildings, she bumped into Maxime. “Pay attention,” he scolded.
They turned down a dark street, dimly lit by oil lamps on tall poles and lanterns hanging from buildings. Paved with cobblestones, the streets were lined with two-story town houses made of brick or stucco. Each adjoined the other and most had wrought-iron balconies and floor to ceiling shuttered windows. They passed enclosed courtyards hidden from view by tall stone walls and foliage. Sometimes Sydnee could hear fountains and the murmur of voices from within these gardens.
At last Maxime stopped to unlock a tall iron gate in front of a large stucco home on a corner. With Vivian still on her shoulder, Sydnee looked up at the second story. Each room had its own lacy balcony with green louvered shutters and French doors. They walked along a narrow carriageway which opened up into a lush courtyard with a three tiered fountain. The heady scent of flowers surrounded them. Moonlight filtered through the oaks and magnolias.
At one end of the courtyard there was a small stable where Maxime had Sydnee put the dogs. After she settled Atlantis and Baloo in for night, she tossed Vivian into the air where the bird nestled into a tree.
Maxime pointed out the necessary house by the stable and then gestured toward the other end of the courtyard at a building with a chimney. “That is where you will eat. It is the kitchen, and over there is le garçonnière. That’s where the young gentleman resides.”
Sydnee looked at the hexagon shaped two-story dwelling. Although it was separate from the main house, le garçonnière was decorated in the same style. It too had stucco siding with French doors, green shutters, and a second story with a miniature balcony.
Maxime took Sydnee into the house through the service entrance where he stopped at a cupboard to show her where the candles and lamps were stored. He handed her a small pewter container filled with whale oil and lit it. Sydnee marveled at the light that burned. It was smooth and smokeless, not like the nervous sputtering flame of a candle. Maxime carried a cut glass lamp and led Sydnee down a carpeted hall.
She sighed with pleasure as her feet sank into the plush Oriental rug which lined the hall. It reminded her of walking on a bed of moss. The house was quiet except for a ticking sound coming from a tall wooden box with a glass face standing in a corner. Sydnee wanted to examine this curiosity more closely, but she did not dare delay Maxime. She followed him up the stairs where a tawny-skinned woman was waiting with her arms crossed over her chest. She was tall with high cheekbones and heavy lidded, sultry eyes. Her stomach protruded slightly from pregnancy.
“So, you return at this ungodly hour and expect me to dance attendance on this little tart?” she exclaimed haughtily.
“I thank you to do your job without comment,” Maxime replied. Turning to Sydnee, he said, “I leave you now with Giselle. But Mademoiselle, I must advise you to think long and hard before you steal anything from this home. Its value will never equal the opportunity you will find here.”
Sydnee stared at him, wide-eyed. Maxime disappeared into the shadows, leaving Sydnee alone with the woman.
“This way,” Giselle instructed, taking her down the hall. “This is where you will stay,” and she opened the door to a bed chamber. It was a small room but lavishly appointed. The highly polished hardwood floors were covered by an Oriental carpet. The fireplace was black marble, and there was a four poster bed with a turmeric yellow duvet and sheer bed curtains to match. Sydnee was thunderstruck. She had never seen such luxury.<
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At one end of the room there was a set of French doors standing ajar. They opened onto a small balcony which overlooked the courtyard. Sydnee wanted to rush out and look over the railing.
She moved cautiously around the room and stopped at a large metal container near the hearth. “That is for your bath,” Giselle explained. “Now help me get water.”
The two females made several trips down to the cistern bringing buckets of water upstairs for Sydnee's bath. When the tub was half full, Giselle left a crock of soft soap, a towel, and some clothing for Sydnee. “I want you to scrub your hair and every inch of your body. We will burn your clothing tomorrow.” Handing her a shift, she said, “Wear this to bed.”
Next Giselle hung up a corset and a gown in the wardrobe and left her a pair of shoes adding, “Dress in this tomorrow morning. We will fit your gown properly later. I will call for you at dawn.”
The moment the slave left, Sydnee dashed out onto the balcony. The moonlight shimmered on the water splashing in the fountain and illuminated the walkways that wound through the petite garden. She spied a stone bench under a trellis and a small table and chairs among the ferns. She ran her hands over the wrought-iron spirals and fleur-di-lis of the railing and then rushed back inside.
She opened the wardrobe and looked at the gown Giselle left. Wiping her hands on her smock, she pulled the garment out to look at it. It was forest green with a print of dark floral bouquets and had a black belt and large sleeves. She couldn't wait to put it on in the morning.
Shedding her ragged clothes, Sydnee stepped into the bath. It felt wonderful to shed the dirt from travel and to massage her scalp with the soft soap. When she dried off, she slipped the shift over her head and went back out on the balcony. She looked for Vivian but it was too dark to see her in the trees.
Then something caught her eye. There was movement in the upstairs window of the garçonnière. Sydnee could see shadows dancing on the curtain. She blinked and looked more closely. The shadow looked like the profile of a tiny dog. Sydnee realized that someone was in the room doing this puppetry with their hands. The dog bounced back and forth and then dropped down out of sight. She blinked and smiled slowly, wondering if the puppeteer was the young gentleman.
Another silhouette popped up in back of the curtain. This time the shadow seemed to be a bird with a long graceful neck. It turned its head from side to side and dipped repeatedly as if drinking water. Next an alligator appeared and then a deer, and a rabbit.
At last the light was extinguished. It seemed that the puppeteer had gone to bed. Regardless of all the excitement, it was time for Sydnee to rest too. She crawled into the plush feather bed and smiled as she dropped off to sleep. Tomorrow she would meet this young gentleman.
* * *
Thoroughly excited, Sydnee was up before dawn. She dropped the green gown over her head and walked to the mirror. Sydnee had never seen herself in a full length mirror before, and she turned from side to side thrilled with her new dress. Although it was a day dress, the material was a polished green with a black floral print. It had a wide neckline which ran out to the tips of her shoulders with large sleeves and cuffs. The gown was too big for her, so she pulled the black belt tightly around her waist.
Sydnee was not familiar with dressing her hair, but she found some pins in a drawer and put it up. After she rolled her stockings up her legs, she stepped into her shoes. It was awkward walking, but she was determined to learn the ways of a lady.
As she walked back and forth, there was a knock on the door. When she answered, Giselle walked in and ran her eyes over her. “Turn around,” she demanded.
When Sydnee turned, Giselle pulled a small sewing kit out of her pocket and began tucking and pulling the material, making basting stitches here and there, adjusting the garment to Sydnee's figure.
“There,” she said, straightening up. “That will do for today. I will alter it permanently tomorrow.” Opening the door, she said, “Now go to the kitchen for food. Monsieur Maxime will meet you there.”
The tall windows flooded the house with sunlight as Sydnee walked down the stairs out to the courtyard. Someone had let the dogs out of the stable, and they sat side by side at the door waiting for her. They ran up to her the minute they saw her. She only had time to give them a quick pet before walking to the kitchen.
The first thing she saw when she stepped in was a large fireplace filled with trammels, cast iron pots, trivets, and frying pans. In front of the hearth was a large wooden table where two dark-skinned women stood, rolling and cutting biscuits. They looked up at Sydnee and then over at Maxime who was finishing his breakfast. He wiped his mouth and stood up, examining her appearance. “Have Giselle show you how to dress your hair, and for goodness sake, have the dress altered.”
Gesturing toward the cook's table, he instructed her to take some biscuits and gravy and ushered her out to a stone bench by the fountain. He stood before her and paced while she ate.
“In a moment we will go upstairs, and you will meet Monsieur Tristan, but first I must explain your new identity. You will keep the name Mademoiselle Sydnee Sauveterre, but we will tell everyone that you are the young gentleman's distant cousin. He is aware of this arrangement and has been informed about your employment here. Tristan's father, Monsieur Saint-Yves, is the owner of this home and several other properties. We will say that your mother has recently died and you have come here from the Mississippi Country to live. No one will ask questions. This is a very quiet household. Only Monsieur and Madame Saint-Yves and their son live here. Visitors are infrequent. You will meet Monsieur Tristan's parents later. At present they are in the North avoiding the midsummer heat and fevers. They did not care to have their son join them this year.”
Sydnee noted a tone of disapproval in Maxime's voice, but he quickly resumed his reserve and continued. “This morning you will attend tutoring with Monsieur Tristan in the garçonnière. There is a break in the afternoon during the heat of the day, and then I resume lessons again with Monsieur Tristan until the evening, at which time you will--” again he paused. “You will begin your work with the young gentleman.”
Sydnee looked down at her plate. The subject made her uncomfortable. She finished her breakfast, and they started into the garçonnière. She shuffled behind Maxime, trying her best to move gracefully in her new shoes. He stopped suddenly and looked down at her feet. “What is the problem?”
“I am not used to shoes, Monsieur Maxime.”
“First of all, never call me 'Monsieur'. Address me only as Maxime. Next take those shoes off and carry them. We will find something more suitable for you later.”
Maxime opened the door of the garçonnière. Sydnee's hair was falling down, her gown was too large, and she was in her stocking feet. Swallowing hard, she stepped inside.
A young man looked up from his writing, and Sydnee's lips parted. He was the most beautiful human being she had ever seen.
Tristan Saint-Yves had the ethereal beauty of an angel and the gentle demeanor to match. He stood up and smiled at Sydnee, his blue eyes sparkling. She stared at him in wonder. He put his hand up self-consciously smoothing his wavy blond hair. Smiling, he mumbled, “Welcome, Mademoiselle Sydnee,” and kissed her hand.
Feeling incredibly gauche, Sydnee tried to hide her feet under her gown, putting one foot awkwardly on top of the other. He saw what she was doing and laughed. She realized then that it didn't matter. She found a new friend.
Chapter 8
The first floor of the garçonnière was converted into a classroom with several desks, a chalkboard, and shelves lined with books. There was even a small nook by the window with old wing back chairs for reading.
Maxime lectured on the history of Rome and discussed several of the emperors, but Sydnee was not interested in this lesson. She was curious about the instrument Tristan was using to write. He sat at a wooden desk scratching figures onto paper dipping a sharp object into an ink pot. He used the elegant bone handled instrument to pro
duce exquisitely beautiful sweeping and flowing figures on paper. She loved not only his writing but the industrious sound of the scratching and the smell of the ink.
Latin was the next lesson Maxime taught. This subject caught Sydnee's attention immediately. She recognized many of the words and was pleased that she could understand some of the language even though she did not know why the words were familiar.
Maxime paid no attention to Sydnee at all, focusing instead on young Tristan. A very strict teacher with high expectations, Maxime had no tolerance for mediocrity. He firmly believed that under his tutelage a student would excel, so he gave Tristan all of his attention expecting the best from him in return.
Sydnee watched Maxime strut back and forth proudly in the classroom, moving with a haughty demeanor. Tristan was not intimidated by him though. He asked questions and initiated dialogue freely. Maxime, in turn, was eager and willing to answer questions and feed the boy's hungry mind.
In the afternoon, Maxime allowed Sydnee to get up and look around the classroom. With her hands behind her back, she looked at the colorful books, maps and pictures in the room. Formal education had never been a part of Sydnee's life. In fact, she met few people who had ever gone to school. Like most girls, Sydnee was well versed in domestic duties. Margarite had given her expertise in the still-room, an appreciation of nature, and a deep sense of spirituality, but academic tutoring had been non-existent. Since Margarite was a slave she was not allowed to read, so as a result, Sydnee could neither read nor write.
Occasionally there was an exception to this rule, and Maxime was an example of this phenomenon. He came from a long line of scholars and educators from Maryland. Although enslaved, his ancestors were known as the finest pedagogues in the country, and for this reason, Monsieur Saint-Yves purchased him.
The Grand Masquerade (The Bold Women Series Book 4) Page 7