The Awakening, Zuleika and the Barbarian (4 page)

"Oui! Oui!"
Leonie agreed. "She is very beautiful, madame, with her pale skin and her dark hair. Together the three of us make a truly striking trio! Please say she can join us!"

"If you do not,
tante,"
Marguerite threatened, "I shall be forced to find another sponsor in another establishment. I am certain that someone would be pleased to have the famed Madame Renée's niece whoring for them." She cocked her head to one side as her eyes met those of her aunt's.

"There is a difference between entertaining a lover, and giving your husband his marital rights," Madame Renée said. "Because you are my niece does not mean you can succeed as I have succeeded."

"We will not know unless you let me try," Marguerite said.

Renée de Thierry shook her elegant head. "That we should have come to this point after all my sacrifice. Very well, Marguerite. Over the next few days we shall ascertain if you are able to make the transition between respectable matron, and respectable whore, but understand that while I will endeavor to help you, I am not happy that you have decided to follow in my footsteps."

"Yes,
tante,"
came the meek reply, and their two companions giggled mischievously.

"And if I feel you cannot do this thing, then you will allow me to purchase a cottage in Brittany for you, and pay for Emilie's school fees," Renée said.

"I can do it," Marguerite said stubbornly.

"That is what I fear," her aunt returned.

"Did you not give up everything for me?" Marguerite said softly.

"I did it so you wouldn't have to,
ma petite,"
Renée sighed.

"Bravo!" Josie cried.

"Can she join us tonight?" Leonie asked.

"Certainly not!" Madame told them. "Tonight Marguerite will go quietly to bed, and rest after her terrible ordeal."

A sweet dessert wine was poured as the table was cleared of the dinner plates. Poached pears and tiny meringues were served to conclude the meal. Then both Josie and Leonie hugged Marguerite, kissing her on both cheeks before they left the dining room to go and dress for the evening. Each expressed her delight that Marguerite would be joining them shortly, and promised to share their secrets for success with the gentlemen with her. Madame and her niece returned to Renée's private salon.

"Why do you have them dress to receive their callers when they are only going to undress?" Marguerite asked her aunt.

"What a man cannot easily see is far more intriguing than what he can see," Renée replied. "Also, the gentlemen who come here are not ravening monsters whose only concern is to get their cocks into a hot cunt,
ma petite
. Passion should be cultivated as elegantly as possible. Both Josie and Leonie can discuss the latest politics, and are well read, I assure you. Having been given another road to travel, both would have been considered ladies. It is an illusion men enjoy. As they enjoy seducing my girls. Slowly, and pleasurably. Removing a woman's clothing adds to that, as does the removal of a gentleman's garb. How one treats a lover is far different than how one treats a husband. I would imagine Charles was very polite in his approach to you. And you,
chérie
, I taught to be obedient after I explained the necessary facts. But did you ever know passion with him?"

"I loved my husband," Marguerite said.

"I know you did,
ma petite
, but did you know passion in his arms? Passion is quite different from love."

"I do not understand,
tante
, what it is you mean."

"No, I did not think you did, Marguerite. Let me see if I can put it another way. Did your husband's desire for you ever make you swoon with pleasure? Did his glance arouse in you a lust to be possessed by him? Did you soar into the skies with the culmination of your love making?"

The younger woman burst out laughing. "Why,
tante
, what delicious and girlish imagery you pose. I don't believe I have ever soared, or swooned, in my whole life. Charles had my entire devotion as was proper and suitable. I had his devotion. Marriage is for the purpose of children,
tante
. The nuns at St. Anne's taught me that as a little girl. How does one soar without wings?" she giggled.

"You have never known passion?"
Renée de Thierry was shocked by her niece's revelation. How like her father she is, the older woman thought. Jules was as cold as ice, but I will not allow my darling child to go through her life without knowing passion.
"Ma chérie,"
she said quietly, "there is much you need to know before you become a proper courtesan. Having had a husband is simply not enough. For now, however, you need to rest yourself. You have had a terribly trying day with that wretched stepson of yours. I will send François to the convent to tell the Reverend Mother Othalie that Lord William Abbott is not to be allowed access to his half-sister, if indeed he discovers where she is." Renée arose from the settee where they had been sitting together. "Come,
ma petite
, and I will show you to your room. It is at the top of the house, and no one will disturb you there. My clients never venture above the third floor, nor are you to leave the top floor once you have retired in the evening, Marguerite."

"Will I always live there,
tante?"

"Non
. Once I think you are ready to join us in our enterprise, you will be assigned your own bedchamber on the third floor with Josie and Leonie. And Marguerite, perhaps for Emilie's sake it would be wise that from now on you be introduced as my niece, Mademoiselle de Thierry, and not Madame Abbott.
N'est-ce pas?"

Marguerite nodded. "I agree," she said.

Renée led the younger woman upstairs to the top floor of her Paris house saying, "The entire floor is yours, and your servants'. My own servants sleep below stairs, or above the stables. The women who do the heavy cleaning live elsewhere, and come in daily. You will be private and safe here,
ma chérie."
She opened a door, ushering Marguerite into a charming but simple bedroom beneath the eaves, where Clarice was waiting for her mistress.
"Bonsoir
, Clarice," Madame said as the maid curtsied. Then Renée turned to her niece. "I leave you in good hands,
ma petite
. I usually do not arise until noon, but Cook is in the kitchens before six." She kissed Marguerite on both of her cheeks. "Sleep well,
chérie."
Then she turned again, and was quickly gone down the narrow staircase.

"She said me and Louis could have a room here too," Clarice told her mistress. "I thought this was a bawdy house, my lady."

"Indeed it is," Marguerite replied, laughing, "but it is an elegant bawdy house. My aunt entertains in a very
recherché
manner. There are but two young ladies. Gentlemen of means, and of breeding, come to call. They drink, they gamble, and they amuse themselves with Josie and Leonie. Sometimes if a gentleman takes my aunt's fancy, she honors him with her company. I understand there are men who come just in hopes of catching Madame Renée's fancy. Soon I will be joining them."

"Madame!"
Clarice's large brown eyes were wide with surprise.

"What else am I to do, Clarice?" Marguerite asked.

"Couldn't your aunt. . ." Clarice began.

"No,"
Marguerite said firmly to her maid. Clarice had been with her ever since she married Charles. She had had a French father and an English mother, and was bilingual. And she had been trained by the Duchess of Sedgwick's own maid. When Lord and Lady Abbott had removed themselves to France, she had come with them, and it was there she had met Louis, who had been hired to drive Lord Abbott's coaches. They had married, and were completely loyal to Marguerite.

"What about little Miss Emilie?" Clarice asked.

"I shall be able to pay her school fees myself. As I shall use the name I was born with, and not the Abbott name. She will not be tainted by my behavior."

"As long as no one figures out that Lady Abbott is Mademoiselle de Thierry," Clarice said sharply.

"You know I would do nothing to harm my daughter. I should send her to England to the duke and his family, but I fear William Abbott," Marguerite told her maid. "For now, Emilie is safer at St. Anne's."

"Perhaps you're right, my lady, but when I think of you, such a proper lady being brought so low," Clarice sniffled.

"I shall remain a proper lady," her mistress assured her. "I shall just take lovers in order to earn my living now. I no longer have a husband to look after me, Clarice, and no hope of one in my pitiful and poverty-stricken state."

"You got your jewels, my lady. I saw to that when I packed your things. We knew what Lord William was up to, for he could not resist trumpeting what he was going to do to gain his revenge on his father for marrying you all them years ago," Clarice said.

"Ohh, Clarice, you did not take the Abbott family jewels with us, did you? They rightfully belong to the new Lord Abbott. He will have the law on us, and this is the first place he will look!" Marguerite had gone pale as her maid had proudly given her recitation.

"The Abbott jewels? Non, non
, my lady. I did not take
them
. I only took the pretties that your husband had made especially for you. That wicked villain who disinherited you would know nothing of them, nor has he a right to them. I thought you would want them for Mademoiselle Emilie one day," Clarice explained.

Marguerite heaved a deep sigh of relief. "Oh, yes, Clarice! How thoughtful you are, and far more sensible than I was in this situation."

"You were gently raised,
madame
, and you are not used to such wickedness. For the master's son to have done what he did and left you without a
sou
, when the master meant for you to remain in your home and raise your daughter comfortably. Well, I ain't got the proper word for it in either English or French," Clarice said firmly.

"Oh, Clarice, I certainly could not do without either you or Louis. You shall not want, I promise you."

"We are with you,
madame
, warm, fed, and dry. We was paid our wages Michaelmas last for the year. You owe us nothing. And even if you did, we would stay by your side," Clarice said loyally.

"Bless you both," Marguerite told her servant.

"I should get you ready for bed now,
madame
. We have both had more than enough today," the maid declared.

"Yes," her mistress agreed. "We certainly have."

There was a basin with warm fragrant water for washing. Marguerite bathed her face, hands, and neck as Clarice put her garments away. She brushed her teeth with the silver-handled bristle brush Renée had given her. Clarice wrapped her in a warm night garment, and tied her nightcap beneath her chin with its pink ribbons. Marguerite climbed into bed, sighing gustily as she sank into the featherbed and drew up the satin down quilt. "Ahhh," she murmured, realizing her eyes felt heavy. "I did not know how tired I was until this very minute."

Clarice smiled, and snuffed the candles.
"Bonsoir, madame,"
she said as she slipped from the room, closing the door behind her.

"Bonso
. . . " And Marguerite was asleep.

Renée de Thierry looked about her gold and white salon and smiled with pleasure. The coming of spring always brought out so many of her clients. As much as she disliked the thought of Marguerite joining their little group, she had to admit that she needed another girl. Unlike other brothel owners, Madame Renée did not call attention to her enterprise with a dozen half-naked young women sitting in open windows, boldly importuning gentlemen passers-by to stop. She was discreet, and the young women in her employ were more than just whores, as she had explained to her niece earlier. Often gentlemen visited her home just for an evening of discussion, music, and camaraderie. She allowed them to play cards, provided the stakes were not outrageous and there were no disputes. They drank her most excellent wines and champagnes. And when moved to do so, they went upstairs with Josie or Leonie to exercise their baser natures. Sometimes a gentleman was even allowed the privilege of remaining overnight. However, only the most favored of Madame's clients were accorded that prerogative.

And there were rules that had to be followed when treating with her girls. Madame made certain that new arrivals understood that, and that her longtime patrons remembered she would allow no brutality or cruelty toward her girls in a gentleman's pursuit of Eros. She was not against the use of the delightful variety of toys kept in the bedrooms that could but encourage pleasure, or add to it. In fact, her girls were frequently the instigators of the use of such games that could but prolong a gentleman's enjoyment, and bring him back for more.

"Madame." César d'Aubert, the Duc de Caraville, bowed over her hand, kissing it.

"César! How nice to see you again," she told him. "Have you been in the country,
monseigneur?"
He was an outrageously handsome man with black hair and bright blue eyes.

"Worse," the duke replied with some humor. "I have been at the king's beck and call for most of the winter,
chérie
. I realize that as one of the nobility, I am supposed to rejoice in the restoration, but between us I was quite happy under the republic. King Louis sends his regards, Renée. He says he hopes to visit your home again soon."

"He is a kind man, César," she replied, smiling. "And very intelligent too."

"Except in the matter of managing France," the duke responded, lowering his voice as he said it. Then he smiled. "Allow me to introduce my American cousin, Beauford d'Aubert. He prefers to be called Beau."

Madame Renée held out her hand to the slightly younger man. "You are most welcome to Chez Renée, monsieur. Has your cousin explained my rules to you?"

"He has,
madame
, and I vow I shall keep each and every one of them," Beau answered her.

Renée laughed, but then she said, "See that you do,
mon brave."

"I understand there is a new girl with you," the duke began.

"Not yet,
monseigneur,"
Renée replied quietly.

"You know I always enjoy the first taste, Renée," the duke said as quietly. "Where did you find her?"

"She is my niece, César, and until today, quite respectable as I once was. You know of our family's history."

"Of course! The infant you saved during the Terror, eh?"

"The same. She has been recently widowed, and her English stepson had cheated her out of everything. I will not bore you with the sad tale. She has a child to support, and no other means of earning her bread. I am not happy with this turn of events, but I can, unfortunately, see no alternative for her. I would gladly support her and her little girl, but she is proud like all de Thierrys, and today I realized how much like her papa she is. She will take nothing more from me, and has chosen this path herself."

"Why is she not here then tonight?" the duke asked.

"Because she is woefully ignorant of sexual matters except as a wife," Renée responded. "She will need some tutoring before I can introduce her into our midst. She is very beautiful, and will be quite desired, I assure you."

"I shall look forward to the day," he said. Then he added, "Do not wait too long, Renée, for her unskilled ways may very well prove an aphrodisiac to some of us."

"You are always so greedy for a new experience," Madame chided the Duc de Caraville, tapping his arm with her fan. "Remember, passion is best cultivated slowly, my dear César. Now run along, and show your handsome young cousin about. I see Josie already has her eye on him. She might forgo your company for that of your cousin's."

"Or perhaps she will entertain us both," the duke said with a wicked smile.

Renée laughed, and then turned to greet some of her other guests. Tonight she had a full dozen of them. There was Count Marco Cirello, who usually made his home in Rome. Married, the father of seven, and well known at the Vatican, he came to Paris for his pleasures and his privacy. The twin Persian brothers, Prince Kansbar and Prince Kurush, identical in every way, were already playing cards with the Irish horse breeder, Lord Kieran Darby, and the great Bavarian landowner, Baron Ernst Amalhardt. Leonie had seated herself at the pianoforte, and began to play. She was immediately joined by one of Napoleon's retired generals, Vachel Egide, and Michel Georges, a wealthy merchant from Nantes. Fabian de Eustache, a well-known banker, had now engaged the young American in eager conversation, Renée noted. He was always looking for a new and profitable business opportunity. The duke had joined Josie and Prince Dmitri Romanov on a striped sofa.

Looking about, Renée could see it was going to be a quiet evening. She smiled as Josie arose from the settee and, taking Prince Dmitri by the hand, departed the room. Then she frowned. With so many gentlemen tonight, and only one young lady currently available—
sacrebleu!
What was the matter with her that she hadn't realized before now that she really did need another girl. Possibly even more than one.

"Where is your niece?" César d'Aubert asked as he came to her side.

"Asleep by now, I suspect," she answered him.

"I want to see her," the duke said.

"César! I have said she is not ready by any means to greet visitors. I am not being coy. She nursed her husband devotedly in his last years, and then to have her home and small inheritance snatched by her stepson has been a terrible shock. The dastard even threatened his little half-sister, and then attempted to rape Marguerite," Madame Renée explained.

"I only want to see her," the duke replied. "Come with me, Renée, and show me. If she is sleeping, she will never know I spied on her. If she is awake, I will not enter her chamber. Is that not a fair agreement?" He smiled winningly at his hostess.

"Ohh, César, I never could resist you," Renée finally agreed. "Come along,
but only you
. Your American must remain here."

"Beau is deep in conversation with Monsieur de Eustache," the duke noted. "Two men of business in a courtesan's home discussing banking, slaves, and crop yields," he chuckled. "I despair of my cousin, chérie. These Americans are as bad as the English."

She laughed as she led him up two flights of stairs to the fourth floor, and down the corridor to Marguerite's bedroom. In her hand she carried a taperstick that lit their way in the dark hall. She put a finger to her lips, and then she slowly opened the chamber door. As they softly stepped inside, they could hear the sounds of the young woman's breathing.

"Hold the candle up," the duke whispered low.

Renée raised the light to shine over her face.

Marguerite lay upon her back, one arm across her torso, the other sprawled above her head. Her dark curls tumbled from beneath her dainty nightcap. Her pale skin was almost translucent in the candlelight. Her closed eyelids were shadowed in violet, her thick eyelashes spread across her pale cheeks like open-winged moths. Beneath her modest night attire her bosom rose and fell rhythmically.

César d'Aubert leaned down, drew the quilt aside, and gently pulled the ribbons holding Marguerite's garment closed. They unfastened easily. Reaching out, he drew the halves of the fabric aside, baring her breasts to his gaze. They were full, and round like the ripest peaches.

"Exquisite," he murmured. Then he turned abruptly, and left the bedchamber.

Renée quickly drew the coverlet up, not bothering to attempt to retie the pink ribbons on her niece's nightgown. Then she hurried from the room, and downstairs. On the landing below the fourth floor she found the duke awaiting her.

"How soon?"
he demanded.

"I must have time," she began, but he waved her excuse aside.

"A week,
madame
. You have one week to prepare her for me. I will wait no longer." He took Renée's hand and led her back down to her salon. After he had seated her, César d'Aubert said, "Tell me about her."

"I sent her to school in England when she was six," Renée began. "Her guardians were the Duke and Duchess of Sedgwick."

"How did you know an English milord?" He was curious.

"The duke and his friends amused themselves during the revolution rescuing aristocrats, and others unfairly singled out for a visit with Madame la Guillotine. I helped them. Remember, César, not every noble family was as foresighted as was your papa, removing his family out of France before the Terror. When I needed to get Marguerite to England, he arranged it. He and his wife treated her as one of their own daughters. They gave her a season in London just before she was seventeen. It was there she met Charles Abbott. He was a widower, many years her senior. He fell in love with her, and sought my permission to marry her. I was honest with him, but it made no difference. It was a happy marriage but for the son of his first union, who hated Marguerite. That is why they came back to France to live. She may tell you about it if you become friends.

"But she was a wife, César. You know what that means. She yielded dutifully to her husband's wishes, but never allowed herself to feel desire, having been taught it was not ladylike. For her, the only purpose of copulation is to produce children. My niece, while beautiful and desirable, has never felt passion. She admits to it. She has never been awakened, César. Now she thinks to follow in my footsteps, not knowing what is involved. She must have some small knowledge before I allow you or anyone else to have her. She is likely to be quite shocked to discover how powerful an emotion lust is."

"Do not overburden her with facts, dear Renée," the duke said. "I can think of no more delightful a task than bestirring and arousing the beautiful Marguerite to know her own passions. Promise me you will not let any of the others have her until I have had my appetites sated."

"But of course, César. You are certainly my choice for breaking her in, but please, I beg you, be kind to her. She has never had a lover but for Lord Abbott. He adored her, but was not from what can I gather in my talks with my niece, a thrilling lover. He took his quick pleasure, and was kind to her, but no more."

"I cannot wait to see the look in her eyes when I bring her to the point of
la petite morte,"
the duke said excitedly.

"César, César!" Renée mocked him gently. "You are always so eager for new experiences. Of all the men I have ever met, you are certainly the most experienced."

"From you,
ma chérie
, that is a great compliment," the duke replied. "Will you honor me?" he asked her.

"What of your handsome American cousin?" She smiled up at him.

The Duc de Caraville's glance swept the room, and then he chuckled. "Beau is still in deep conversation with Monsieur de Eustache.
Le bon Dieu
, I despair of him."

"Let me see to my guests first," she told him. The two princes were still deep in play at the card table with the baron and Lord Darby. Leonie was gone from the room as was Count Cirello. Josie was listening intently now to General Egide's stories, while Prince Romanov had seated himself at the pianoforte and was singing a rather bawdy song about the English regent while Count St. Denis played the instrument. Monsieur Georges was drinking wine, apparently quite content when Renée stopped by his chair.

"May I get you something,
monsieur?"
she asked him. "It is so nice to see you up from Nantes again. Business is good?"

"Excellent,
madame
, never better," Monsieur Georges replied. "And as always the hospitality you offer is the finest. Do not fret yourself about me. Mademoiselle Josie has said she will entertain me when the general tires of his memories. She is a kind young woman,
n'est-ce pas
, Madame Renée?"

Renée bent and kissed the gentleman on his cheek. "She is very kind,
oui
. Now tell me, will you be long in Paris this trip?"

"Just the usual few days, but I shall be back in two months, for there is nothing finer than springtime in Paris," he responded.

"And when you return, I shall probably have three, if not four, young ladies to entertain my guests,
monsieur
. My niece, a widow, is joining my household, and if I can find another suitable girl, well then, will that not be nice?" She smiled at him.

"I may have a young lady for you," Monsieur Georges surprised her. "Beautiful, but a trifle rough about the edges. She is too delicious a piece to roam the streets, which she will shortly be driven to if I cannot find a place for her. She is the daughter of one of my silk weavers. He is ill, and will soon die. I have been kind to her."