Belle - Lesley Pearse [114]
‘You, honey, are very fortunate I didn’t sell you on to another house immediately,’ Martha said sharply. ‘The only reason I didn’t was because you are so young, and unaccustomed to this business. I have taken time and trouble with you; no one else in this town would do that.’
‘I know, ma’am,’ Belle said contritely. ‘You’ve been like a mother to me. I am so sorry.’
‘Do I have your word then that there will be no further unpleasant outbursts from you?’ Martha asked.
‘Oh yes, I promise that I will do my best to make it up to you,’ Belle said, and managed to squeeze out a tear or two, even though she would have preferred to tell the woman what she really thought about slavery. ‘I truly want to put this behind me and start afresh.’
‘Come here, honey.’ Martha patted the seat beside her for Belle to join her. ‘I am glad you came down to me today. It tells me you are at heart the sweet thing I took you for. Now, I am going to overlook your mistake this time, I think perhaps it went to your head a little that my gentlemen were so taken with you. But should you question me again I won’t be so lenient a second time. You’ll be out that front door before you can even say Mississippi. Have I made myself clear?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Belle said, hanging her head and forcing out a few more tears. ‘I promise I will never show you any disrespect again.’
‘Run along now, honey,’ Martha said, patting Belle’s knee as if she were a child. ‘And do take off that dress, it looks like something a school marm would wear.’
Belle remembered how she left Martha’s parlour that day and ran back to her room so she could seethe in private at the indignity of having to grovel just to keep a roof over her head. But she made a promise to herself that she would play the game for only as long as it suited her, and then she’d be off.
Belle hadn’t reckoned on the seductive charm of New Orleans, however. Nor had she realized that the easy, luxurious life at Martha’s would suck her in and make her as indolent as the other girls.
Martha reverted to being the warm, friendly woman she’d been before their little upset. Belle had made friends with the other girls and during the afternoons they went out together to Jackson Square or for a walk along the levee by the Mississippi. They always had plenty to laugh and chat about, for their work was such that often very funny things happened, and no one took it very seriously. Belle had her two dollars a night, and she saved as much every week as she could.
Mostly Belle felt really happy with the girls, as though they were the older sisters she’d never had. She learned from them about America, about fashion and beauty tips, and about men of course, for they were always a main topic of conversation.
Belle had her big new bedroom too, which although too hot in summer, was pretty, with deep pink roses on the wallpaper. She could eat what she liked, and she had developed a taste for spicy jambalaya and the other traditional Creole dishes. She could sleep most of the day if she wished to or laze on cushions in the shady back yard reading a book. She never had to scrub floors, wash clothes or do anything other than make herself look pretty.
But now and again anger and resentment would rise up inside her.
She could deal with the work; if she was completely truthful, mostly she quite enjoyed it. She preferred the older men to the younger ones. Sometimes they told her they were widowers or that their wife wouldn’t sleep with them any longer. Though she knew it was quite likely that they were lying and all they wanted was young flesh and uncomplicated thrills, whether they spoke the truth or not, they were invariably polite, gentle and grateful. She was often moved by their appreciation – a few tears, a warm hug before they left, flowers or chocolates left for her later made her