have your rights too. ”
I laughed sarcastically and
bitterly. “I’ve been saying no since last year. Clearly my
“ non Monsieur, I cannot
accept your proposal” is no longer going to work. Maman has already
purchased dozens of new Parisian ball gowns, shoes and jewels with
the extra money Monsieur Leblanc gave us. There are thousands of
women in this city of all ages and hues that have it far worse than
I do, so I shouldn’t complain, should I? At least I’ll be taken
care of. I know my fate is sealed, Antoine, and our friendship as
we know it is over.”
“ No… Don’t say that… Cecile, we
can. I mean if you …”
“ Absinthe. I need
a bsinthe,” I
rambled, cutting him off. “Take me somewhere dirty, miserable and
devoid of any happiness.”
Antoine’s chest heaved with laughter. “Oh,
my dear Cecile, your dramatics never cease to amuse me. What will
the fine people of New Orleans do when they hear that Monsieur
Leblanc’s daughter was seen in a dirty, miserable place devoid of
happiness?”
“ They’ll thank me for
giving them something to gossip about,” I said
playfully.
In reality, I felt resentment and unspoken
rage build up inside of me at the thought of Papa, but as always I
held it in because I honestly had no right to complain. Who was I
to complain that I was the child of one of the wealthiest French
merchants in Louisiana and his colored mistress? After all, it was
he was who kept Maman in the latest Parisian fashions, he was the
one who had paid for my schooling, and it was his money that kept a
roof over our heads. We lived in luxury and had the finest things
money could buy, but for some reason I couldn’t help feeling that
my entire life was a mess…
I wondered if Papa’s real wife
knew about Maman. If she did , what did she think about her husband keeping a
colored mistress? Did she know about me? Who did Papa really love;
his wife or his mistress? Would my protector be old? Would he get
married? Would he already be married? Would his wife resent me?
Would I love him? I needed absinthe.
Antoine lead me to a dimly-lit, smoky bar
where darkness and shadows obscured faces and Irish, French,
English, Spanish, and German accents filled the air. He ordered two
glasses of absinthe from the burly bartender and we drank in
silence. I let the smooth liquid burn me from the inside out and
fought the overwhelming misery that was beginning to take hold of
me.
“ Cecile.” Antoine cleared his
throat and focused his deep green eyes on me. His expression was
tight and nervous, which was odd for him.
“ Yes?” I asked, as I took his
half-full glass out of his hand and chugged down the green
liquid.
“ I love you,” he said
simply and somewhat shyly.
I smiled widely because the
a bsinthe had
just taken effect. “I love you too! And I love Aimee and I love
that man over there and I love this absinthe. We need another! But
we have to hurry because I have to go home before Maman realizes
I’ve snuck off again and uses the whip on poor Emilie out of anger.
She’s been very anxious these days as social season is about to
start and the bidding is about to begin. Last night my newest
corset refused to lace up and she accused me of eating too many
sweets. You should have seen the disapproval in her eyes, Antoine.
I swear she was ready to use the whip on me !”
Antoine sighed deeply, shook his head and
turned his back on me to go get us one last drink. My snobby
Antoine, I’m going to miss you dearly.
Chapter Eight
It Is What It
I s…
The LaNuit Household, Rue de
Rampart
New Orleans, 1852
“ Thank you , mon ami , for the company, the absinthe, and for
reminding me of how much of a heathen I am.”
I gave Antoine a tight hug and
tried to fight the sinking feeling that was growing in the pit of
my stomach. I glanced uneasily at my home , with its French windows and sturdy
wooden railings. Surrounded by blooms of white magnolias, banana
trees, tangles of
I laughed sarcastically and
bitterly. “I’ve been saying no since last year. Clearly my
“ non Monsieur, I cannot
accept your proposal” is no longer going to work. Maman has already
purchased dozens of new Parisian ball gowns, shoes and jewels with
the extra money Monsieur Leblanc gave us. There are thousands of
women in this city of all ages and hues that have it far worse than
I do, so I shouldn’t complain, should I? At least I’ll be taken
care of. I know my fate is sealed, Antoine, and our friendship as
we know it is over.”
“ No… Don’t say that… Cecile, we
can. I mean if you …”
“ Absinthe. I need
a bsinthe,” I
rambled, cutting him off. “Take me somewhere dirty, miserable and
devoid of any happiness.”
Antoine’s chest heaved with laughter. “Oh,
my dear Cecile, your dramatics never cease to amuse me. What will
the fine people of New Orleans do when they hear that Monsieur
Leblanc’s daughter was seen in a dirty, miserable place devoid of
happiness?”
“ They’ll thank me for
giving them something to gossip about,” I said
playfully.
In reality, I felt resentment and unspoken
rage build up inside of me at the thought of Papa, but as always I
held it in because I honestly had no right to complain. Who was I
to complain that I was the child of one of the wealthiest French
merchants in Louisiana and his colored mistress? After all, it was
he was who kept Maman in the latest Parisian fashions, he was the
one who had paid for my schooling, and it was his money that kept a
roof over our heads. We lived in luxury and had the finest things
money could buy, but for some reason I couldn’t help feeling that
my entire life was a mess…
I wondered if Papa’s real wife
knew about Maman. If she did , what did she think about her husband keeping a
colored mistress? Did she know about me? Who did Papa really love;
his wife or his mistress? Would my protector be old? Would he get
married? Would he already be married? Would his wife resent me?
Would I love him? I needed absinthe.
Antoine lead me to a dimly-lit, smoky bar
where darkness and shadows obscured faces and Irish, French,
English, Spanish, and German accents filled the air. He ordered two
glasses of absinthe from the burly bartender and we drank in
silence. I let the smooth liquid burn me from the inside out and
fought the overwhelming misery that was beginning to take hold of
me.
“ Cecile.” Antoine cleared his
throat and focused his deep green eyes on me. His expression was
tight and nervous, which was odd for him.
“ Yes?” I asked, as I took his
half-full glass out of his hand and chugged down the green
liquid.
“ I love you,” he said
simply and somewhat shyly.
I smiled widely because the
a bsinthe had
just taken effect. “I love you too! And I love Aimee and I love
that man over there and I love this absinthe. We need another! But
we have to hurry because I have to go home before Maman realizes
I’ve snuck off again and uses the whip on poor Emilie out of anger.
She’s been very anxious these days as social season is about to
start and the bidding is about to begin. Last night my newest
corset refused to lace up and she accused me of eating too many
sweets. You should have seen the disapproval in her eyes, Antoine.
I swear she was ready to use the whip on me !”
Antoine sighed deeply, shook his head and
turned his back on me to go get us one last drink. My snobby
Antoine, I’m going to miss you dearly.
Chapter Eight
It Is What It
I s…
The LaNuit Household, Rue de
Rampart
New Orleans, 1852
“ Thank you , mon ami , for the company, the absinthe, and for
reminding me of how much of a heathen I am.”
I gave Antoine a tight hug and
tried to fight the sinking feeling that was growing in the pit of
my stomach. I glanced uneasily at my home , with its French windows and sturdy
wooden railings. Surrounded by blooms of white magnolias, banana
trees, tangles of
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