Destiny's Daughter (39 page)

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The day was awash in colors. A pale blue sky, dotted with white clouds, topped a countryside of waving green grass and delicate wildflowers. In the square, the townspeople arrived in carriages and buggies, carts and wagons. The men wore their Sunday coats, with large, stiff collars lined with buckram, or single-breasted frock coats buttoned high, concealing a waistcoat beneath. The women wore their hair in ringlets, topped with low-crowned hats. Their gowns of organdy and grenadine were as colorful as garden flowers. While most of the men stayed with their rigs, the women sat in the grassy square, arranging their skirts neatly about their ankles. Everyone in the city had come to see what kind of men would travel all the way from Washington to New Orleans just to listen to simple men and women.

Off to one side, Chase leaned against a pillar and watched the passing parade. He had used all of his influence to persuade the president to send these men. What they heard today would color their report to President Grant. Glancing at the cluster of men seated at a long wooden table, he felt a growing sense of unease.

Beneath his heavy black coat, Mallard was visibly sweating. Being from the East, he wasn’t accustomed to such heat. He would want this session to end as quickly as possible. Swanson was an important official from Washington. His imperious tone and bearing often caused people to freeze in his presence. He would intimidate these gentle citizens. Compton was honest, but dull. His report would be plodding and difficult to read. Thatcher was impatient with the process of reconstruction. His impatience was obvious in his angry movements as he dipped his pen and scratched notes for himself. The last two men were important members of the president’s commission because they were personal friends of President Grant. Hilliard was a military man. He would brook no testimony without documentation to back it up. With Hilliard, everything had to go by the book. And McFarland was an ordained minister, whose dour manner left no doubt that he expected the laws of God to be followed to the letter.

Mallard brought a gavel down hard, and the people twisted forward to watch the proceedings. Looking out at the rainbow of attentive onlookers, he announced, "In the name of President Ulysses S. Grant, I call this meeting to order. We are here to document any evidence of wrongdoing by public officials. Who wishes to speak?"

The crowd shifted uneasily. In their midst, Chase noted the conspicuous absence of Jasper Willis and several bank officials. Standing to one side of the crowd where he could observe anyone who testified was the chief of police.

From her vantage point at the back of the crowd, Annalisa waited for the first citizen to volunteer. After a prolonged silence, she turned to Hattie Lee, who sat on her left. "What can be wrong with these people? Why will none of them speak?"

"They’re afraid, child," Hattie Lee whispered.

"Of what?"

"The men who attacked us wore hoods. They could have been any one of these men. The other people know this. Don’t you think they’ve been threatened as well?"

"But these men are here to help us."

"What help can they give? Tomorrow morning they’ll climb on their fancy trains and riverboats and go back home to Washington. And we’ll be left here to fight alone once more."

"But without testimony, the president can’t take steps to protect the citizens of this country."

As Annalisa glanced around at the stony faces of the people, Hattie Lee whispered, "The president can’t be here to save their plantations, or fire a gun at armed terrorists."

The gavel banged again, causing everyone to jump.

"This meeting was called because we were told that the good citizens of New Orleans were being threatened. Have we been led astray?"

No one in the crowd moved.

Annalisa noticed several men clustered together who nudged each other and exchanged knowing smiles.

"Unless you are willing to come forward, we will be forced to adjourn this meeting."

Chase swallowed back the oath that sprang to his lips. He should have realized how frightened these people would be. If he had been given more time to prepare for this, he could have asked the commission to meet with individual witnesses privately. No one, it seemed, was willing to stand up before his neighbors and friends and testily. Especially if they suspected that one of those neighbors or friends wore a hood on nightly raids.

"Very well." Mallard mopped his forehead, looking greatly relieved, and lifted the gavel. "I will have to declare this meeting officially closed."

"I’ll testily." Annalisa sprang to her feet before the gavel could fall.

All heads turned to study the woman who had dared to break the silence. Women craned their necks for a better view of one of "those women." Behind their hands, the men began to whisper and smirk.

"Your name, Miss?"

"Annalisa Montgomery."

A ripple of murmured voices ran through the crowd.

"Are you married or widowed?"

"Neither. I am an unmarried woman."

"Do you live alone or with your family?"

Annalisa heard the snickers and lifted her head higher. Beside her, Hattie Lee glared at a man who called out a comment. Seated beside her, Gabrielle, Francine, and Eulalie straightened their spines and waved their fans in agitation. Corinna, comical in her orange hair lifting in the slight breeze, touched a hand to her sweating forehead and stared at the smudge of pearl white powder that clung to her fingers.

"I live with my friends." Annalisa motioned toward the women.

At the growing sound of laughter, Mallard banged his gavel for silence.

"Do you farm one of the plantations?" he asked.

"No." Annalisa squared her shoulders, feeling a sense of growing despair, but determined to go on.

"Just what is it you and your friends do?" Mallard asked, then stared around in shock at the coarse laughter that followed his question.

Watching her, Chase thought he had never loved Annalisa as much as he did this moment. With his hands clenched tightly at his sides, he watched as she braved the humiliation.

"I own and operate Hannah Elliott’s House of Pleasure."

The laughter grew to a roar. The minister, McFarland, spoke sharply to Hilliard, who began to write furiously.

Swanson’s imperious voice rang with authority. "This is a serious town meeting, young woman. I will not allow you to turn this into a circus. If you and those other . . . women, wish to flaunt your wares, I suggest you do it on the streets. Now please sit down."

Annalisa had never felt so alone in her life. Hadn’t she always known what the good people of New Orleans thought about her and the other women of the house? How could she have been foolish enough to think that she could change their minds? What had she herself thought about these women when she found out what they did? With her lips trembling, she said, "You don’t understand. The good citizens of this town are afraid to stand and speak. There are men here who will later extract revenge if they testify. But I have no such fear. My friends and I have already fought off hooded attackers several times. They have burned our barn, seriously wounded one of our members, and killed another. These men are cowards who wear masks to hide their identities. They thrive on fear and intimidation. In addition . . ." She began to speak faster when she noticed the men on the panel begin to talk among themselves. "... our banker worked with a corrupt mayor-elect and the governor’s assistant to steal land from families who have lost everything in the war. Many of these families have owned the land for generations. But they were forced to sell for a few cents on the dollar or risk being evicted with nothing at all."

The gavel fell heavily, shocking Annalisa into silence.

"Young lady, I must ask you to sit down, or you will be removed from this meeting. I came here to hear from responsible citizens. I have no interest in the words of a whore."

Annalisa felt her face flame. Her heart lay as heavy as a stone in her chest. It had all been for naught. Beside her, Hattie Lee caught her hand and tried to pull her down to the grass.

As Chase started toward the table, he was caught from behind by Luther, who dragged him behind a tree.

"What were you planning to do? Hit the president’s own commissioners?"

"Did you hear what he said to Annalisa?"

Luther clung tightly to his friend’s arm. "These men represent the president, Chase. They’re here because of your influence."

"They’re fools." Chase rammed a fist against the trunk of the tree and winced in pain.

"Fools maybe. But influential fools."

"She’s the only one with the courage to speak up. And they’re going to dismiss her like some common criminal."

The gavel sounded again. "If there are no further comments, I will adjourn this meeting."

A breathy, hesitant voice called out. "Sir, I wish to speak."

Everyone turned in surprise at the figure of a young woman, dressed in a shabby dark dress, with four little boys clinging to her skirts.

The men at the table watched her intently.

"Are you a responsible citizen of this city?"

"My name is Suzanne Robichaud, the current owner of Belle Riviere. It has been in my husband’s family for four generations."

At her halting speech, the men at the table straightened with interest.

"Go on, Madame Robichaud," Mallard said.

Touching a hand to her youngest son’s hair, she said softly, "The freed slaves who were working for me were driven away by hooded gunmen. Banker Willis, along with Edmond Lafourcade and Charles Montagnet, came to my plantation, Belle Riviere, to say that I had twenty-four hours to pay the taxes that had been due since the war. When I told them I had no money, they said they had a buyer for my land. I didn’t want to sell, but they gave me no choice. I had no money, and no one left to help me work my fields." Her voice grew stronger. "This kind young woman, Miss Montgomery, was the only person in the city to offer me help. She brought me all of her savings."

A ripple of excitement went through the crowd.

"I refused her offer," Suzanne Robichaud said, "but I will never forget her kindness."

Many in the crowd craned to get a better look at the young woman who would offer such kindness. Hattie Lee and the others stared at Annalisa, who was gazing at Suzanne Robichaud with a half-smile touching her lips.

"I wish to speak as well." The widow Beaumont said firmly. "My name is Cecilia Beaumont, and I have been working with the Sisters of Charity to feed and house the many orphans here in New Orleans." As she spoke, the children who had accompanied her bobbed about the crowded lawn. "Miss Montgomery has been giving me all her savings to aid in my work. Without her assistance, I would have been forced to beg."

"Did you know how she earned her money?" Reverend McFarland asked loudly.

The woman’s voice was filled with scorn. "Sir, my orphans cared only that a woman of love and compassion gave them enough to survive for another day. I cared not where the money came from. I, too, was told that my plantation would have to be sold for taxes. Without the Archangel of Mercy, I would be out on the streets." The widow’s voice rang out. "If you really care to hear the truth, you must be willing to listen to all of us. And that includes Annalisa Montgomery and the women who live with her."

Although several people caught their breath in shocked silence, others began to applaud. The applause grew, until Mallard was again forced to bring down his gavel.

"We will allow no more outbreaks. If you wish to speak, you will have to stand and be acknowledged." After another whispered conference, Mallard added, "The testimony of Miss Montgomery will be duly noted. Now, who else would like to testify?"

The courage of these women was contagious. One after another of the citizens stood and added to the story of terror and corruption. Within a matter of hours, the commission had enough witnesses to prove that there had been a conspiracy between the banker, the mayor-elect, and Montagnet.

When the meeting was finally adjourned, Annalisa hurried to the carriage, stopping along the way to accept the thanks from many in the crowd.

"Annalisa." Chase caught her arm and held her when she tried to pull away. "You were magnificent."

"The people did it. Suzanne Robichaud and Madame Beaumont. Without their testimony, there would have been no report."

His features were grim. "You turned the tide of this meeting. If it weren’t for you, the others would never have found the courage to speak." What amazed him even more was that she didn’t even seem aware of her influence.

"Chase." Her voice trembled. "I know what I am. I know what I will always be to the people of this town." With a look in her eyes he had never seen before, she turned away and climbed into the carriage, where the other women were waiting.

As Chase held the reins, Luther touched his arm. "Mallard wants a few words with you. He said to be ready to leave in the morning. The president will meet you in the usual place."

Chase thought of the Crystal Room of the Willaid Hotel in Washington, where President Grant, sipping cognac and smoking a cigar, would be reading the newspaper and waiting for the latest report.

Glancing down at him, Annalisa’s voice lowered in repressed anger. "Mallard? Do you work with these men as well?"