They call her Dana (11 page)

I have never seen such a room in my life. The polished hardwood floor was covered with a lovely gold and white patterned carpet as soft as grass and almost as deep, and from the ceiling hung a crystal waterfall. There were large gold chairs and elegant little tables and in the center of the room a big gold sofa shaped like a circle. There was a long counter of dark, gleaming wood, a long row of boxes behind it. Several people milled about, all of them dressed in handsome attire, and I was acutely aware of my bare feet and tattered dress as Julian led me over to the counter. The man in charge there was taken aback by my appearance, but he managed a nervous smile nevertheless.

"Ah, Monsieur Etienne—nice to have you back with us again. We've sent your bags on up to your usual rooms. I—uh—did you want to take a separate room for the young lady?''

Julian nodded, completely at ease. The man checked the boxes on the wall behind him and discovered that there was a single

room available right next to Julian's. Julian said that would be fine, accepted the keys the man held out, then scribbled his name in the leather-bound ledger open on the counter. Everyone in the lobby was carefully pretending not to stare, all except one woman who was staring quite openly. She had glossy black hair worn in long ringlets that spilled down her back, and her deep blue eyes were full of wry amusement. A smile curved on her lovely red mouth. She was wearing a rich blue gown with a very full skirt adorned with ruffles of black lace, as was the extremely low-cut bodice. Long black lace gloves covered her bare arms. Catching Julian's eye, she nodded and moved to intercept us as we headed toward the stairs.

"It looks like you had quite an interesting trip, Julian," she observed. "Collecting a new kind of specimen now?"

'' What are you doing here?''

"I'm with a friend, darling. He owns quite a bit of property hereabouts and came down to inspect it. Who is your charming companion?"

"I—uh—I'll explain later, Amelia."

"That should be very interesting," she said.

She had a low, melodious voice and smelled of magnolia blossoms. She was quite the loveliest creature I had ever seen, and she seemed to know Julian extremely well. Her blue eyes examined me, not unkindly, and then she looked up at Julian and shook her head.

"You are full of surprises, darimg,'' she said lightly. ' 'I would never have expected it of you.''

Julian gave her an exasperated look. He was holding my elbow again, gripping it so tightly I felt sure there would be bruises.

"Look, Amelia, could you—uh—could you wait for me down here? I want to take this child up to her room and order her a bath, and—and then I think I may well need your assistance."

"Oh?"

"I know now why I dumped you," he said grumpily. "You always were a sarcastic wench."

"You didn't 'dump' me, darting. I moved on to greener pastures, and I was absolutely enchanting to you every time we were together. I even helped transcribe those wretched notes of yours, quite a novelty for a lady like me, you'll have to admit."

"Meet me here in ten minutes?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," she told him.

He led me up the stairs and down a wide hall with a golden rug and gleaming white walls with doors on either side. I was a little breathless and very much in awe of the plush surroundings, but I still couldn't control my curiosity about the gorgeous brunette. I asked Julian who she was, and he told me in no uncertain terms that it was none of my business. Stopping in front of one of the doors, he released my elbow and inserted a key into the lock. I rubbed my elbow, not willing to give it up so easily.

"She's very beautiful," I said.

"She is indeed."

"I'11 bet she was your mistress.''

"You're pushing it," he said.

"Pushing what?"

"Your luck. I have a very strong urge to turn you over my knee and spank your bottom, and it's all I can do to control it."

"You wouldn't do that. You're a gentleman."

"At the moment I'm quite willing to forget that."

I couldn't help but smile. Julian opened the door and gave me a forceful shove. I stumbled inside the room, not at all resentful of such rough treatment. He liked me. I knew that. I liked him, too. He was the nicest man I had ever met, and he did use the funniest expressions. The lady called Amelia had been lucky indeed to have such a man, and I couldn't imagine how she could possibly have wanted to move on to 'greener pastures,' whatever that meant. I wouldn't mind having a man like Julian Etienne, even if he did have silver temples and a faint double chin.

"I'm going to order a bath for you," he said. "A tub and water will be brought to your room, soap and towels as well. Wash yourself thoroughly, and be sure to scrub behind your ears."

"I ain't a child," I told him.

He gave me a look. "We'll eat downstairs in the dining room," he continued. "I'll be back to fetch you at eight o'clock."

"But—"

"No arguments. I'm very tired and I'm very irritable. Do as you're told and we may possibly get through the evening without my committing murder. You be ready, you hear?"

I nodded obediently, even though I knew I couldn't possibly

I

eat downstairs in these rags. I had seen how everyone stared at me and I had pretended not to care, but I had. Despite my seeming indifference, I had been deeply humiliated, and I wasn't going to subject myself to that again. Julian gave me a final exasperated look and left, closing the door behind him, and I sighed and examined the room for the first time.

It was ever so large, roomy as could be, the walls covered with pale white wallpaper printed with tiny blue and purple flowers. The floor was polished to a high golden sheen, a gray and purple rug covering much of it, and fancy white curtains hung at the window. The bed had a blue silk counterpane, and the dressing table and wardrobe were of glossy white wood. I studied everything in wonder. Imagine sleeping on a bed as big and comfortable-looking as that one. Imagine sitting at such a grand dressing table, looking at yourself in such a silvery mirror. I could hardly believe such luxury existed.

Was it only yesterday morning that I had awakened in my shabby attic room, numb with grief over Ma and full of dread about Clem? So much had happened in the past two days. I already felt like a different person. I was beginning a whole new life, and I must never look back. I must always move forward. I was a swamp girl, I couldn't deny that, and although I could read some and print my name, I knew I was ignorant. There was so much to learn, so much, but I was going to learn, and I was going to make something of myself. One day I would walk into a place like this with my head held high, and people wouldn't stare, people wouldn't whisper or struggle to hide their distaste. One day I would fit right in with those elegantly attired folk downstairs, I vowed, and no one would ever suspect that I grew up in the swamp.

A plump, cheerful maid not much older than I brought my bath a few minutes later. First she brought the white tin tub, with little blue and green flowers painted on the sides, and then she remmed with buckets of steaming hot water. The mb filled, she dumped some ftmny-looking oil into the water, grinned at me, and returned a few moments later with big, fluffy white towels and a clever little tray with sponge, a white washcloth and a tiny basket of soap. She told me to have a nice wash and then departed, leaving me alone once again. I looked at the tub of water with a skeptical eye. Although I would never have admitted it to a soul, I had never bathed in a tub before. When I

was a very little giri I had sometimes bathed in the big wooden rain barrel behind the house, but all of my other bathing had been done in the pond. The tub looked mighty small to me. Did you sit up in it? Yes, there was a little seat built right in, I saw, real low so you'd be submerged to your shoulders.

Hesitandy, I dipped my hand into the water. It was wonderfully warm, and die oil she had dumped into it made it as soft as silk. A delicious fragrance wafted the air, like lilacs, I thought. Quickly I undressed and climbed into the tub, and the silky water seemed to caress me all over. I arched my back in pleasure, slipping farther down into the tub and reaching for the sponge and a piece of soap on the tray beside die tub. The soap was scented with lilacs as well, and it made a gloriously thick lather. What luxury this was. What bliss. I felt exactly like a queen. I might just spend the rest of the evening here in the tub, I thought, but half an hour later I finally climbed out and wrapped myself in one of the big towels, glowing all over.

I looked at my tattered pink dress and the soiled white petticoat with disdain. There was no way I was going to go back downstairs to dine wearing them. I was growing extremely hungry, true, but it wouldn't hurt me to miss a meal. I might miss a number of them in days to come, I admitted to myself, at least until I found work, but I was tough. I doubted it would kill me. A knock on the door startled me. I cautiously opened it a crack to see the plump maid's skirt and feet. The rest of her was hidden by the stack of boxes she was carrying in her arms. She edged carefully into the room and, sighing heavily, put the boxes down on the bed. They were lovely boxes, glossy white with thin golden stripes. The maid grinned.

"The gentleman sent 'em," she informed me, "though I've no idea where he got 'em. There idn't no shops open at this hour. Idn't none around here packs things in such fancy boxes."

"Really?"

"Beats me," she said. "Oh, by the way, I brung you a brush and a comb to use. I noticed you didn't have none."

"Why—thank you."

"The gentleman, he gave me a great big tip and told me to be sure and take extra good care of you. You need anything else, just let me know.''

She placed the brush and comb on the dressing table, gave me another merry grin and left. Still wrapped in the towel, I

opened one of the boxes and gave a little gasp when I saw the beige silk petticoat. It was absolutely sumptuous, resting in a nest of soft, thin paper that made a crinkling noise when I lifted it out of the box. I held the garment up, and the cloth rustled softly, shimmering in the candlelight. A real silk petticoat. I couldn't believe it. My hands trembled as I opened the other boxes. There were silk stockings as frail as cobwebs, two beige lace garters, a pair of pale orange kidskin slippers with elegant high heels. The dress I discovered in the largest box was beige linen, with gold and orange and deep tan stripes, the cloth thin and as fine as silk. The last box contained a fancy parasol of the same striped linen, the thin, delicate handle of polished golden wood.

I couldn't hold back the tears that brimmed over my lashes. They streamed down my cheeks, and I made no effort to restrain them. I sat down on the bed, surrounded by all my new finery, my heart so full of gratitude and happiness, I felt it might actually burst. What a wonderful man he was, so kind, so considerate, so thoughtful. If . . . if he had the least hankerin' to pop my cherry, I vowed I would let him. Not just because he had given me the clothes, but because I was, already, genuinely fond of him. He was big and virile and ever so refined, and he gave me a cozy, secure feeling. It wasn't that pleasant, itchy feeling like I had in the dream, like warm, sweet honey flowing in my veins, but it was nice just the same. I owed him so much, and I was quite prepared to pay my debt.

Wiping the tears away, I stood up, feeling much better now, feeling cheerftil and buoyant. I had just started my new life, and already I had shoes and a beautiful dress and petticoat and my very own parasol, and I had a handsome and charming new friend who might become more than a friend. Smiling, I wadded the old pink dress and ragged petticoat into a ball and dumped them into the pretty white wastebasket beside the dressing table. They symbolized the past, and the past was behind me, the future awaiting. As I reached for the stockings, I was convinced the future was going to be glorious indeed.

The silk stockings felt heavenly on my legs, clinging to and caressing every inch of my skin, and it was strange wearing garters. I had never worn them before. The petticoat was just a little snug at the waist, and the bodice was cut daringly low, barely concealing my nipples. The skirt was very, very full,

swelling out in luxuriant folds that swiried and rustled as I moved. The shoes were a bit tight, too, but the kidskin was soft and pliant, and it didn't bother me. Took me a few minutes to get used to the high heels. You had to walk just a bit slower, and you had to adjust your balance, back arched slightly, breasts quite prominent. Almost popped out of my new petticoat several times before I finally got the hang of it.

The linen dress was sumptuous. It had small puffed sleeves worn off the shoulder and a heart-shaped neckline almost as low as the petticoat. It, too, was snug at the waist, not a proper fit but not at all uncomfortable, and the exquisite skirt belled out over the petticoat, sweeping to the floor in splendor. The creamy beige with its gold and orange and deep tan stripes seemed to make my skin a darker, creamier tan, and there was quite a lot of skin exposed. What if I sneezed? Did fashionable ladies really go around showing so much bosom?

I stepped over to the mirror, examining myself with some amazement. After combing and a thorough brushing, my hair fell to my shoulders in rich, lustrous honey-blond waves aglow with golden-brown highlights, and my hazel eyes seemed to sparkle. My cheekbones were still too high, my mouth too full and too pink, but I looked ... I looked different. I didn't look like Dana. I looked like a fine lady. Reaching for the parasol, I opened it and rested the handle on my shoulder, twirling it around. No one would ever guess I came from the swamp if they saw me now. They'd think I was as swell as could be, a real aristocrat on my way to take tea with the other blue bloods.

I was still admiring the stranger in the mirror when I heard someone knocking on the door. I opened it with a gracious smile, the parasol still propped on my shoulder. Julian stood there in the hallway, clean and brushed and looking magnificent in shiny brown boots and tobacco-brown breeches and frock coat. His waistcoat was white satin, embroidered with tiny brown fleurs-de-lis, and a white silk cravat was folded neatly at his neck. I continued to smile, waiting for him to say something, but he just stared at me in consternation.