The Grand Masquerade (The Bold Women Series Book 4) (20 page)

“We will go to Charity Hospital first,” Locke said to Ruth. “And you can meet the nuns.”

“Nuns?” Ruth said, curling her lip.

“Yes, nuns and plenty of them. At least I think so.” He scanned Jackson Square, busy with vendors and foot traffic.

“You don’t live here?” Sydnee asked.

“What?” he replied absent-mindedly. “No, I accepted a position at the hospital and the Ursuline Orphanage. I like working with children.”

“So you live in Natchez?”

“Yes, I recently inherited a home from my uncle up there, but I was raised in Gloucestershire.”

At that moment Frederick pulled up in the open landau with the dogs in the back. Atlantis and Baloo jumped out and bound up to Sydnee, wagging their entire bodies. She squatted down, hugged them and said to Locke, “Allow me to give you a lift to the hospital. You don’t know the city, and it is far too warm to walk.”

“Thank you.” Dr. Locke helped Frederick with the bags and then sat opposite Sydnee and Ruth. Frederick snapped the whip and they were off, trotting through the streets of New Orleans.

Ruth said little, but her eyes were like saucers. Sydnee knew that everything was new to her, from the magnolias and Spanish moss to the people on the street from every race and walk of life.

Dr. Locke seemed to be enjoying the ride as well. He took his hat off running his hands through his thick hair. Sydnee actually saw him smile at the dogs loping along behind the carriage. Even though this man is attractive, Sydnee thought, his arrogance ruins him.
Such a pity,
and she turned away.

The Sisters of Charity Hospital in Faubourg St. Marie was a large stucco building similar in appearance to the Ursuline Convent. When they arrived Dr. Locke helped Ruth out and said to Sydnee, “My thanks. I will make inquiries today about a residence for Ruth, but if nothing is found may I bring her to you for one more night?”

Sydnee looked at Ruth. The girl was picking at her nails, trying to act bored, but Sydnee knew it was a ruse to cover her fear. “Of course, I planned on it,” and she handed him her calling card.

As expected, late that evening there was a knock at the door of Sydnee’s town house. Marie showed Ruth and Dr. Locke into the parlor. Ruth gawked at the tall windows dressed in silver drapes, the richly upholstery furniture and crystal wall sconces. Dr. Locke was less impressed. Instead he looked up at the portrait of Tristan.

“Welcome, please sit down,” Sydnee said, sweeping into the room.

“I am sorry to call so late, but the dormitories were locked when we finally finished for the night.”

She offered Locke a glass of sherry as Marie took Ruth upstairs to bathe.

Dr. Locke eyed Sydnee. He was interested in this woman and her relationship with this man in the painting. Seeing no ring on her left hand, he asked, “Is your husband at home? I should like to meet him.”

Sydnee stopped pouring the sherry and looked at him. “Dr. Locke, as you have probably already guessed, I am not married. The portrait over the mantel is of a dear friend, Tristan Saint-Yves. Our relationship is no secret here in New Orleans. Would you care to explore the details further?”

They locked eyes a moment and then he said, “Not interested.”

After sipping his sherry, he put his glass on the end table and stated, “It has been a long day. I appreciate your hospitality, but I must be going.”

Shaking with anger, Sydnee walked him to the entry. The man was rude and presumptuous. It was all she could do to restrain herself from slamming the door after him.

*                   *                  *

The next morning when Sydnee woke up, Ruth was gone. It appeared as if she had slept only a few hours than left the house. Sydnee sent a note to the hospital, but Dr. Locke had not seen her. Sydnee noticed that her liquor and cigars were gone and someone had tried to force the lock on her silver cabinet. She believed that as the day wore on she would find other objects of value stolen too. Mother Baptista had been right. Using her house as a refuge was not a good option.

Sydnee decided to focus on something happier. Today she was going to meet Isabel and Tristan’s new child, and she was very excited. She put on a hat with a dark veil and had Frederick drop her off at the cathedral. After Mass she walked to their home with her face covered.

She was delighted to meet Delphine. She was a good-natured child with curly white hair and blue eyes. The three-year-old girl was frail but extremely alert and quick to smile.

“She is beautiful,” Sydnee said. “And I am sure she is brilliant as well.”

“Oh, she is,” agreed Tristan. He held Delphine as she rode a rocking horse. He adored the little girl, and his eyes sparkled whenever he looked at her.

Isabel sat nearby, watching serenely with her hands folded in her lap. The color had returned to her face, and she was starting to fill out again. She had taken to motherhood instantly and was in constant communication with her mother on everything from discipline to baby bonnets.

Tristan was miserable that he had to leave for Saratoga so soon. D’anton, finding he too was taken with the child suggested they cancel their trip, but Tristan was meeting with several cotton manufacturers, and it could not wait.

Sydnee left the house that afternoon feeling grateful to a thin, little wisp of a girl for healing so many broken hearts.

*                  *                  *

Months passed and no word came from the convent on women and children in need of transport. Everything was ready in the livery, Sydnee had obtained the uniform of a mourner, and she had even found a suitable escort to take refugees up The Trace if the need arose. All she needed now were women and children to help escape.

September came and Sydnee was starting to grow restless. When she checked at the convent, Mother Baptista said that there had been several potential candidates who were prostitutes, but in the end they decided to return to their former lives. “In my experience,” the nun said with authority. “Few of these women are interested in true reform.”

Sydnee clenched her teeth. She wanted to say more to the nun but respect for the church stopped her. She stepped out into the hall feeling angry and frustrated. It was apparent now that Mother Baptista was not going to refer anyone to her. She pulled open the heavy front door and stepped out into the sunlight and stifling heat. Atlantis jumped up from the shade and stood by her side. Baloo elected to remain home. He was getting up in years and sleeping more and more lately. The heat and humidity bothered him.

As she started down the walk she noticed the girl who had been scrubbing floors the first time she had come to the convent was outside washing windows. The bruises were gone from her face and she looked healthier.

“Are you going to wash all of these windows?” Sydnee asked, running her eyes over the huge building.

“I am,” the girl said with a smile. “It will take weeks, but it is worth it to see the sun stream through so bright and strong.”

*                    *                   *

That evening at supper Sydnee’s demeanor was lackluster, and it took great effort to make conversation. She had invited a small group to dine with her and to play cards. Most of her gatherings were small this time of year, and during a round of whist, Madame Cardona, a Creole from an old New Orleans family, observed, “You are pale, my darling child. What is it?”

Sydnee smiled weakly and said, “Thank you, but it is nothing.”

“Do you miss our dear Tristan?”

“Indeed I do,” Sydnee said.

The elderly woman recommended, “Drink some of your friend Margarite’s sickness tea. That will help.”

“I will. Thank you, Madame Cardona.”

Hoping the tea and a good night’s sleep would cure her, Sydnee went to bed early, but instead, she tossed and turned. Feelings of disappointment nagged her, and she felt utterly discouraged. Her plans to help women and children had failed. She felt as if she had been foolish and misguided to even consider the undertaking. She could still see the look in Mother Baptista’s eyes when she first proposed it. That same look was on Dr. Locke’s face on the riverboat. They thought she was shallow and spoiled. Sydnee sat up in bed and covered her face. “Maybe I am,” she said, tears filling her eyes.

Baloo, who was sleeping by her bed, looked up, his tail thumping. Sydnee turned back the covers and slid down on the floor, hugging his neck. “You know me better than anyone, old friend. Is that what I have become?”

He thumped his tail and leaned against her.

In her bare feet, she walked downstairs to make more of Margarite’s sickness tea. Taking the tea outside, she sat on the steps of the courtyard, sipping it. The bugs had cleared for the night, and she watched the moon, seeking guidance from the spirits.

She thought of the girl washing windows. It was good to see that she had found
her
safe haven. Taking another sip of tea she looked up at the stars, pleading with the spirits to speak to her. She listened, but they were quiet.

Draining her cup, she stood up and saw the reflection of the moon in the kitchen window. She remembered that girl again and what she said about the sun shining brighter through the windows if they were clean.

She smiled and walked into the house. Putting her cup down, she started up the stairs and then stopped. The image of the girl came into her mind again, but this time there was something more. Sydnee’s lips parted. Now she understood. The spirits had been speaking to her all along, she hadn’t been listening.

Chapter 20

The next day, Sydnee took the dogs on a walk past the convent. The girl was out again washing windows, and Sydnee waved to her. Every day for a week after that, Sydnee would walk past the convent with a basket on her arm as if she was going to market, trying to become acquainted with the girl. Sometimes she would stop and make small talk, sometimes she would just wave.

Eventually they exchanged names, and Sydnee shared some beignets with her. A few days later, she brought lunch. Sydnee kept their encounters short, hoping Mother Baptista would not see them together.

The girl’s name was Liesl Schiffman. She was seventeen, originally from Prussia, and had been a seamstress apprentice before coming to work for the Ursulines. Just like Mortimer, she had been beaten regularly by her employer.

By the middle of October, Sydnee and Liesl had become confidantes, and Sydnee at last explained to the girl her plans of helping women and children escape to new lives.

“I have seen many ladies come here,” she said to Sydnee in her thick accent. “Many have children. They stay one night only and then they must leave. Usually their men come for them. Some are happy to go back. But sometimes—sometimes these women--they are scared and return home because they have nowhere else to go.”

Sydnee nodded. It was as she had expected.

Even though Sydnee was paying Liesl handsomely, the girl was reluctant to refer women to her, fearing for her job. Sydnee assured her that with her connections, there would always be employment waiting for her elsewhere if she was caught.

The plan they devised was quite simple. Every evening at nine, Frederick would drive past the convent in the carriage to watch for a signal. If there was someone in need, Liesl would put a candle in her bedroom window. Since the majority of the nuns retired after Vespers and rose before dawn, it was agreed that three in the morning would be a safe rendezvous time. Sydnee would make sure salon guests were gone from her home by two, leaving her enough time to change, fetch the hearse and pull up to the infirmary door of the convent. Liesl would usher the women and children into the back of the vehicle, and Sydnee would transport them to the livery where they could stay until traveling plans were made. Liesl would receive her pay after each successful rendezvous.

It only took a few days for a light to appear in Liesl’s window. Frederick sent a note to Sydnee that night at the theater. Tristan and D’anton had returned home from Saratoga, and they were all attending the opera. It was difficult going to the late night supper afterward. Sydnee wanted to dash home, but she knew she must not deviate from her normal routine.

At about two, she said good night and returned home. She raced upstairs and put on dark breeches, boots and a mourner’s suit coat. Next she wrapped her long hair tightly around her head. Calling for the dogs, she climbed into the back of the carriage and had Frederick take her to the livery where he hitched the horse to a hearse.

Sydnee’s hands were shaking, and her knees were weak as she checked one last time to make sure everything was ready in the groom’s quarters for overnight guests. When Frederick had the hearse ready, she put on the undertaker’s top hat and climbed up into the driver’s seat.

Old Frederick looked worried but said nothing to her as she drove out of the livery. The streets were deserted except for an occasional dog or cat foraging for food in the garbage cans. The horse’s hooves clattered loudly on the cobblestone streets and every shadow made Sydnee jump. Her mouth was dry, and she wished the dogs were sitting up in front with her rather than in back behind the curtains.

Rather than going past the front of the convent, Sydnee turned down a dark street, which looked like an alley. Driving slowly, she looked for the proper door. At last, she found the infirmary door. It was between a necessary and several trash cans that were piled high with rubbish.

After scanning for pedestrians, Sydnee jumped down. She opened the door of the hearse, let the dogs out and knocked twice. Liesl swung the door open and came out, carrying a carpet bag. She was followed by a tall young woman who was heavy with child. The woman looked around furtively and ducked into the hearse at Sydnee’s direction. Liesl pushed the bag in after her.

“These dogs will ride with you and protect you,” Sydnee whispered to the woman as the animals jumped in behind her. After shutting the door and stuffing some bills into Liesl’s hand, Sydnee climbed into the driver’s seat and snapped the reins. It was all she could do to restrain herself from rushing madly through the streets, but she drove slowly, and they arrived at the livery without incident.

Once inside the stable, Frederick hitched the horse back up to the carriage, and Sydnee took the woman into the living quarters. “You will be quite safe here,” she said, taking her hat off and shaking her hair out. The woman smiled weakly when she saw her transform from a boy to a young woman. Sydnee offered her a seat while she explained where to find everything in the quarters.

Dressed shabbily, the woman had brown hair, freckles and was about the age of twenty. She was wearing a modest wedding band on her finger. She had no scars or apparent bruises on her body, but she held her belly, as if she was protecting it.

“Are you feeling well?” Sydnee asked.

A look of concern passed over the young woman’s face as she rubbed her stomach. “I think so. I just felt the baby move. I’m glad. He punched me in the stomach two times tonight and told me when the baby is born, he will kill it.” She lowered her eyes. “He is worried about feeding a child which I understand but--”

“Say no more,” Sydnee interrupted, swallowing hard. She remembered the fate of her own babes. “Saving your child is the most important thing.”

“If it was just me, I would stay,” she said, apologetically.

“You have made the right decision. I will leave Atlantis with you tonight. She will keep watch over you.”

The woman reached down and touched the dog’s head. Baloo followed Sydnee to the door. When she looked in the stable, Frederick had the carriage ready. Turning back to the woman she said, “I will be back in the morning, and we will put you on the first stern-wheeler for Memphis.”

The young woman nodded, but she looked terrified. Sydnee remembered her own boundless fear when she was starting her new life. Suddenly, she was flooded with doubt about her mission.
What am I doing? What is this madness! My poor judgment could get this woman killed.

She rubbed her head a moment, asking the spirits for some sign that she was doing the right thing. As she was about to leave, she asked, “What is your name?”

The woman looked up from petting Atlantis and said, “Margarite.”

*                    *                    *

Sydnee did not sleep at all that night. She lay rigidly on her bed, staring at the ceiling. At the crack of dawn she jumped up, dressed and rushed out to purchase tickets at the landing. When she returned home she sat down at her desk and wrote a letter of introduction for the woman to give to Mortimer.

Sydnee could not relax until she saw the woman’s riverboat disappear around a bend in the Mississippi River. Flooded with relief that she had smuggled her first victim safely out of New Orleans, she slept most of the day.

Sydnee indeed needed her rest because the candles began to appear with great frequency from that day forward. Instantly, she began to lead a double life. By day, she was the great lady of New Orleans’ society and by night a shadowy figure of the underworld.

In one month she helped nine women and four children to safety. She had refined her rescue routine down to minutes, and she became calmer with each escape. Liesl was a great help to her as well, proving to be a reliable and trustworthy source inside the convent.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly until the beginning of November when a note from Liesl arrived. Her writing was poor, but she managed to scrawl out,

Meet me at noon.

Worried, Sydnee slung a basket over her arm and walked to the convent. Liesl was outside sweeping the walkway. Sydnee approached her casually, and they expressed pleasantries loud enough so the nuns tending the gardens would suspect nothing.

Liesl dropped her voice at last and said, “You must come before the sun sets today. There is a woman in grave danger.” The girl’s eyes darted around the gardens. “She is deathly sick. Last night her husband broke into the convent to try to take her home. He was caught, but tonight I think he will succeed.”

Sydnee’s heart started to pound. She had to consider all aspects of a daytime escape, and do it quickly.
Vespers is too late. The afternoon is not practical because there are
too many people.
“What time is the evening meal in the refectory?” she asked.

“Five,” Liesl replied.

“That might work. There will be fewer people around.”

“Shall I say I am helping her to the necessary but instead bring her to the hearse?” Liesl asked.

Sydnee nodded. “Yes, but you must keep yourself safe as well.”

“I will. See you at five,” Liesl murmured and then turned away with her broom.

“It was very nice seeing you again,” Sydnee called to her and started home.

Frederick’s gray eyebrows shot up when she told him of the daytime rescue, but as usual, he asked no questions. Sydnee felt that the less he knew, the better.

She decided it would be safer during daylight hours to change at the livery, so she stuffed her disguise into a bag, tethered Vivian in the courtyard and climbed into the carriage with the dogs. Once she was at the livery and dressed, she took extra care wrapping her hair. There would be many more people that could scrutinize her in the light of day.

Setting out in broad daylight was unnerving, but Sydnee took a deep breath and snapped the reins. It was difficult navigating around the scores of pedestrians, carts and street vendors. She drove slowly, picking her way through the throng, perspiration running down her back. She noticed immediately that no one would look at her. Their natural aversion to undertakers and death kept her hidden and anonymous. For this she was grateful.

It was loud and confusing on the streets, and when she turned down the convent alley she breathed a sigh of relief. She jumped down from the driver’s seat, and just as she was about to knock, the door opened. It was a nun. She was carrying a pail of slops to the necessary.

The woman frowned. “Why are you here? Have we had a death?”

Sydnee was struck dumb. She stared at the nun a moment, dropped her eyes and nodded.

“Wait here,” the woman said. She walked down to the outhouse and dumped the bucket.

Sydnee’s heart was hammering so hard, she was afraid the nun would hear it. The woman pulled open the infirmary door and signaled for Sydnee to follow. The infirmary was large and filled with long rows of beds. The room was dark and smelled of urine and camphor. Most of the patients were children, but a few were adults.

“Why has the undertaker been sent for?” Sydnee heard the nun ask a novice.

Sydnee scanned the room for Liesl. There were nuns and novices everywhere bending over patients, making beds, carrying trays. The was room was alive with activity, but last she saw her in a corner, standing with folded linen in her arms. She was staring at Sydnee, and her eyes were like saucers.

“No,” the nun announced walking back to Sydnee. “There has been a mistake. You are not needed.”

Sydnee nodded and walked out the door. Breathless with anxiety, she stopped outside, trying to gather her thoughts. Suddenly the door opened again. This time it was Liesl.

“What do we do now?” the girl asked frantically.

Sydnee licked her lips. “We--” she said, looking around and trying to think. “We will—um—I want you to bring her to the front entrance in one hour.”

“What?” Liesl gasped. “He is always out there.”

“I will find a way.”

The girl opened her mouth to protest and then stopped. She nodded uncertainly and went back inside.

An hour later Sydnee was back at the convent, this time in her carriage. She had changed into an everyday gown with a hat and veil. Frederick was driving, and the dogs were riding in the cab with her. Sydnee looked out the window, scanning the grounds for the husband. She could not see him, but she knew he was in the courtyard somewhere.

She lowered her veil and stepped out of the carriage. Not wanting to summon a novice by ringing the bell, Sydnee slipped inside quietly and shut the door. Blinded by the darkness, she heard Liesl say, “We are ready.”

Sydnee squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again, trying to adjust to the low light. In front of her, in a Bath wheelchair, was a woman in her early thirties with dark hair. She was thin and pale, and she was resting her head on the back of the chair. Sydnee could see that, at one time, she had been a beautiful woman, but now her face was gaunt and covered with red bumps. A smile flickered on her lips when Sydnee greeted her. Liesl was standing behind her, holding the chair.

“Can you walk a short distance?” Sydnee asked.

The woman nodded.

“Quickly then, we must find a room to change.”