Drum (53 page)

'Because, Miz Alecks, ma'am," Hammond blurted it out 383

quickly so as to rid himself it, "I'm scairt of white women. Don' know how to talk to them." He lowered his head so that he would avoid her eyes. "Cain't bed 'em. Can't stand the sight of 'em," It was a confession which he would never make to anyone else, a shame which had burned inside him. ;

Alix, who had attuned herself to every nuance of a man's j feelings, sensed the effort it had caused him to make this i declaration. Suddenly she became more sympathetic, even ; a trifle tender. Alix, too, had memories. ...

"I think I know how you feel, and believe me, it is not unusual. A marble statue may be beautiful but its frigid whiteness is cold and lifeless, whereas the statue of bronze is warm and full of life."

Hammond looked up at her, surprised at her understanding. "Guess I ain't the only one then?"

"Of course not! Why do you think our leading citizens ; marry a white woman, yet spend their time and squander their love on some quadroon placee? Their wife is to bear i them children—^their pretty quadroon is for love, companionship and pleasure. But come, let us get back to our : subject."

"Yes, ma'am, such as fer instance, kin you help me?"

"It is possible." Alix' small venture into sympathy had ended. "But before we speak about that, perhaps we should : make some financial arrangements."

" 'Spects to, Miz Alecks, 'spects to pay you for your services."

"Which will be a round sum, Mr. Maxwell—a round sura of, say, five hundred dollars." She waved him to silence as he started to answer. "For me, and then there will be another five hundred for the lady in question, provided, of course, she is satisfactory to you and that you meet with her approval. Do you agree?"

The sum of a thousand dollars to a man who had just sold a hundred thousand dollars worth of slaves that same afternoon did not pose any particularly important problem. He accepted by merely nodding and reached in his pocket for his wallet, but again Alix stopped him.

"We are not traders down on the levee, Mr. Maxwell. It doesn't have to be on the barrelhead. Now, let us discuss the matter a little more in detail." She leaned back among the frothy little pillows that filled the space in the chaise longue. Hammond replaced his wallet and listened.

Alix had a sincere desire to please him. She realized he

might become an influential friend, and the prospect of such easy money, without stining from her room, appealed to her. Neither Alix nor Hanmiond believed too thoroughly in the much-vaimted virginal innocence of most of the Southern belles. Their lives were not as sheltered as the painstakingly built-up traditions of the times would have the world believe.

A yoimg girl on a plantation was trained with one object in view—to marry and become the mistress of another plantation. She was to follow in her mother's footsteps and one of the most important duties of a successful plantation mistress was the care of her slaves. It was she who looked after the slaves in sickness and in childbirth. There was little about the sexual relations of the plantation slaves she did not know, from insemination to childbirth, through sickness, old age and death. Then too. Southern homes of the period were little more than superior hostels for wayfaring gentry and were always filled with distant relatives, friends and even strangers, who accepted the proffered hospitality for a day, a week or a month. The youths of the period were hot-blooded and impetuous; the maidens, despite their magnolia-petaled purity, were at least curious. If the slaves enjoyed the sexual act, why should not they? And they did, with the re-fult that many a visiting maiden departed with an intimate knowledge of the prowess of her host"s sons and many a week-ending young man-cousin carried away the memory of having deflowered the plantation's resident charmer. Just as Hammond had discovered that his bride had already been mitiated by her own brother, so had many another Southern bridegroom discovered that the supposed virginal little missy whom he had married was most practiced from having "played house" with her brothers, cousins and friends and, occasionally, from having encouraged the advances of some handsome mulatto house slave.

All this Alix understood, and with it Hammond's unwillingness to attempt marriage a second time, especially after having found that his first wife's nymphomania had enveloped his Negro slave, Mede, and the twins, Meg and Alph.

But, Alix informed him , women seldom entered into a life of prostitution without some very good reason and the reason that impelled most of them was the simple fact that they enjoyed it. None of these, and she wagged her finger at him in a knowing way, would consider living out her years on an outlying plantation, being chatelaine of a house and taking on the responsibility of molding a young girl's character. Nol

That would be out of the question and she could not and would not recommend such a one. Yet occasionally there had been an occupant of her house who had come there not because she enjoyed the work or loved it but purely through force of circumstances. Yes, it had happened.

Such a one was Augusta Devereaux.

And who was Augusta Devereaux?

Alix explained. Some five years ago, young Hercule LeSieur had arrived at her house shortly before dawn with a young lady, enveloped in a long black cloak and carefully veiled. Hercule was one of Alix' favorites—young, darkly handsome and rich, heir to the big LeSieiu" plantation, husband to a charming young woman and father to two young children.^ But, on that night, the young lady with him was most cer-J tainly not his wife—most assuredly not for he would never bring her to Alix* house where he himself had been such a frequent visitor. Instead the young lady in question was the daughter of old Major Devereaux whose crumbling mansion had, only a few months before, sheltered young Hercule LeSieur returning from a visit to Baton Rouge. Augusta, at that time in her early twenties, and forced to remain in the isolated plantation house because there was not enough money for a New Orleans debut, had attracted the attention of young Hercule. He had found it expedient to visit the Devereaux plantation several times after that. The result, as Alix could plainly see from the bulging figure of the yoimg woman, was a pregnancy already considerably advanced. Old Major Devereaux had not minded his daughter's being an unpaid and unappreciated workhorse on his worn-out plantation, but when she had reached out to find some meaning for her barren life and found it in young Hercule, she had been forced to flee from her father's wrath.

Augusta had come to New Orleans, seeking help from the only person who could help her—Hercule himself who was responsible for her condition. And he had succored her in the only way he knew, by bringing her to Alix'; there she had remained the few months before the stillbirth of her childj Thereupon, Hercule, not unmindful of his obligations, had set her up as a coiffeuse, a trade which she had learned by dressing the girls' hair at Alix'. As Alix and her girls were the only people in New Orleans with whom she was acquainted, it was natural that they should become her first patrons and through them she had gained entree into all the other "respectable" brothels of the city. After the sudder

death of Hercule, she had continued on in her business, scarcely, however, making both ends meet.

Although Augusta had never been actively engaged in that profession which Hammond thought might be a qualificaticm, she had transgressed the mores of Southern womanhood sufficiently to be a woman of experience. She was well bom—the Devereaux family, although fairly scratching the bottom of the barrel, were aristocrats—well educated, and withal a woman of taste and refinement. Although young, she had a head on her shoulders. She was a woman who could take her place among his friends; a woman who, regardless of her one misstep, could well chaperone Hammond's daughter and one whom he might eventually love and marry.

This last suggestion Hammond waved aside. But he would be willing to see this Miss Devereaux.

"Not Miss Devereaux," Alix corrected him. It would not be fitting for her to be an unmarried woman, living under the same roof with himself. For propriety's sake, she must be a Mrs. As a widow, it would be quite proper for her to take charge of his house, and the Devereaux clan being large, with many branches, it seemed perfectly safe for her to change her identity to Mrs. Devereaux. That point settled, Alex leaned forward in her chair and placed one of her heavily ringed hands on Hammond's linen-clad knee.

"You recommend her?" Hammond had come to respect Alix' judgment.

"Most highly.'*

"Then trot her out," Hammond grinned.

"But you must remember"—Alix returned his smile—"you are not buying a slave. For heaven's sake, do not ask her to shuck down. She is a lady and in spite of her past, she is still a lady. You must treat her as such. Promise?"

He nodded his agreement as she reached for the bell cord. Much to Hammond's surprise, Drumson answered the beU.

"You?" Alix looked at him in amazement.

"Thinkin' perhaps Masta Hammond might be requirin' me.** The impressionable Drumson was already losing the precise accent Hammond had objected to, and coming to talk more and more like his Master. He had been anxious to penetrate the closed door to find out what was transpiring between Hanmiond and Alix. The only reason that they could be together, he thought, must be something that concerned him and he had bpen consumed with curiosity to know what it

was all about. Consequently when the bell jangled in the kitchen he had run to answer it.

"Well, as long as you are here," Alix' look shared her pride in Drumson with Hammond, "go to the next room and tell Mrs. Devereaux that I would like to see her."

"You mean Miz 'Gusta, the coiffeuse?" Drumson had admitted her to the house many times.

"The same." Alix' voice became stem, "But you had better forget that you' ever saw her before. If not, and should you ever mention it in the future, I'm instructing Mr. Maxwell to touch you up with the whip. Understand?"

"I've never seen her before, madame, never." Drumson backed out of the room.

Within seconds there was a knock on the door, and at Alix' invitation the door opened.

Hammond, remembering his manners, rose from his chair as the woman entered. Her appearance left nothing to be desired. She was blonde, as Hanunond had requested, but hers was not the vapid yellow and white blondness of his former wife. Where Blanche's hair had been a dirty yellow, this woman's was a pale ash blond. Instead of Blanche's dvmipy figxire, Hammond saw a tall, slender woman with pale skin heightened, he thought, by a Uttle rouge, but so skilfully applied that it was impossible to detect. Her long hair, dropping in a waterfall of curls in the back, was partly hidden by a bonnet of black straw, ornamented most modestly by one small pink velvet rose. A dress of gray sateen, printed with tiny pink and white roses, belled out around her ankles only to be nipped in at the waist above which her breasts rounded out, catching the light on little steel buttons and setting them aflicker.

Hammond judged her to be still in her twenties, with an appearance that was almost girlish, if one did not look at her green eyes, which had a calculating stare that took in everything they saw. Yes, Hammond was able to understand why young Hercule had found her attractive. Her eyes were; shaded by long, lustrous lashes, and her nose—engaginglyj tilted and just a trifle retrousse—gave her, even in hen severe gown and staid demeanor, the slightest appearance of a hoyden. He noticed that her mouth was small but her lipsi full, and when she smiled at him, as she did on entering the room, the lips parted to disclose white, even teeth.

Alix introduced them.

"Mrs. Devereaiix, Mr. Hammond Maxwell of Falconhurst Plantation."

Hammond took the proffered hand in its black lace mit, not knowing exacdy what to do with it. It felt cool and relaxed in his own hot, sweaty palm. He dropped it. ; "Your servant, ma'am."

i- "And now," Alix stood for the first time, "I shall leave you two alone to become acquainted."

" 'Tain't necessary, Miz Alecks." Hammond was frightened at the prospect of being left alone with this strange young woman. " Tain't necessary 'tall. I'm shore Miss Devcreaux will do. You've talked me over with her no doubt and you've talked her over with me. She's a mighty fine lookin' lady and I'll be proud to have her at Falconhurst. If'n she accepts me after seein' me, I'll 'cept her. Tha's all, Miz Alecks. Ain't no need for us talk about nothin' now. Plenty of time for that when we gets to Falconhurst."

"Are you quite sure, Mr. Maxwell?" Augusta Devereaux regarded Him coolly. "Are you quite sure I shall be satisfactory?"

Hammond liked her voice—it was positive and assertive. The whine which had always accompanied Blanche's words was missing.

"Quite shore, ma'am."

"Then when do we leave for Falconhurst?"

"Got me 'nother day's business here in New Orleans. Needs to buy me some fancy stock at Maspero's and should be able to leave day after tomorrow. Like to leave's early's possible as we've got a middlin' long journey ahead of us. Suppose you got boxes and sich to tote with you?"

"Indeed I have." Augusta smiled at him. "I'm afraid you'll think I'm a vain woman, Mr. Maxwell, but I'll take as little as possible."

'Take all you wants to. Plenty o' room. We got a kerridge fer you. Got us two wagons for the new slaves and sich. Plenty o' room for yo' boxes. Send my boy Ajax to get 'em early. Could you be ready 'round seven in the momin'?"

"I could and shall. My house is on Bourbon Street, the third house from the canal."

"We'll be startin' then." He bowed awkwardly to her and then to Alix.

"Thank you, Miz Alecks. Reckon I'll be goin' now. Reckon you done a good job, Miz Alecks. Be happy to welcome you

to Falconhurst, Miz Devereaiix." He looked around for his hat, forgetting that he had left it downstairs.

"There remains, however, one very little thing more," Alix reminded him.

Hammond looked at her blankly.

"Your inside pocket," Alix smiled.

Hammond fumbled in his pocket and drew out the wallet. Something seemed wrong to him. He had purchased many slaves in his lifetime, both male and female, and had never had any compunctions about paying for them. A loan of money to his wife's father had, in a way, piu-chased Blanche, although it had not been a downright cash payment. But this woman, so coolly indifferent to him, so patently well bred, diould not be purchased with money. And yet she was. Five hundred dollars! It was less than he would pay for an in^ ferior Negro wench. Well, if that was the way she valued herself, he'd pay it, although somehow it didn't seem right. He counted out the money and placed it in her hand with an equal amount in Alix'.