way into the hearts of many regular customers. Strawberry blonde curls, thick and rebellious, cascaded around her shoulders, framing a lovely pixie face. A rosy pink complexion spoke of glowing health and vitality, despite her confinement indoors. She wasn't large, and while slender, her figure leaned toward the voluptuous. Few men managed to resist the promise in her soft, hazel eyes.
Presently, Mercedes's face was troubled, and every few moments she interrupted her reading to study the young lady behind the mosquito net. Jade Terese reminded her of Sleeping Beauty. Mercedes wished for a magic wand to banish such beauty, to replace it with a plain face and a figure to be ignored.
"Your beauty is a curse, Jade Terese," Mercedes whispered into the quiet room. "Only magic or a miracle will save you. Oh, if only I were a sorceress able to wave that wand! I'd not
hesitate to transform you from the fairy-tale princess into an ugly and scarred woman, a gross object of
pity. I'm so afraid for you, Jade Terese. It is too late for me, but you have yet to see the beginning.
Mercedes closed her eyes, released her emotions in a sad sigh. Madame had said the young lady's name would be changed from the lovely Jade Terese to just plain Mary. Madame changed almost everyone's name, as if changing a name had the awesome power to alter an identity, as if she could erase memories and histories with this small stroke of her will. It was amazingly successful. She herself had been one of the few to escape such name banishment. Mercedes was a very common French name and, she supposed, she had needed no encouragement to forget her past....
Mercedes moved to the dressing water, where she scrubbed her hands, dried them and carefully folded the yellow towel she had used before sitting down with a jar of rose oil to soften them. Madame said Jade Terese had been brought here as a gift from a friend, that previously she had been associated with the convent. "Mon Dieu! Not a holy Sister?" she had asked, horrified by the idea.
"I saved her from that now, didn't I?" Madame had laughed, adding the shocking piece: "She is said to be blind, I don't imagine the sport will be hindered by that pitiful fact. She's too beautiful now, but later I'll use her for those customers who might benefit from her sightlessness."
Mercedes did not want to think of those customers who might benefit from a woman's sightlessness. Seven months ago Angel had been found hanging in her room after Madame had forced her to be with one of those hideous creatures. Angel, like her name, so sweet and gentle and
—
She banished the memory. She could not fathom the evil seed that grew and thrived in Madame's heart. Greed motivated Madame, but to what end? She had no love, no one to share her riches with, and as far as Mercedes could tell, she had no wants. So why make others suffer so?
To feed the evil thirst that consumed her....
The Madame's sadism demanded the suffering of others, and while the women of the house were usually spared the worst abuse—trips to the cellar—the poor servants were not. Burn and whip scars marked all of them, even the youngest.
A throng of menaces wove clouds about Mercedes's thoughts. She needed a pistol. If only she could get hold of one! The very night of Angel's suicide she had asked one of her men—Frank
Callahan, an American—to secure a pistol for her. Pistols were strictly forbidden upstairs and she could think of no other means of obtaining one.
She had thought to end the suffering, the torment and the misery of all who lived here. But Frank had thought mistakenly she wanted the pistol to kill herself and he'd warned Madame, generously leaving a small fortune in Madame's hands to help start his favorite girl on a new life. The Madame had been so amused. Mercifully, the Madame too, had assumed she had wanted the pistol for suicide. "I'll be more than happy to do you the favor when your terms are up, Mercedes. You won't have to ask
Presently, Mercedes's face was troubled, and every few moments she interrupted her reading to study the young lady behind the mosquito net. Jade Terese reminded her of Sleeping Beauty. Mercedes wished for a magic wand to banish such beauty, to replace it with a plain face and a figure to be ignored.
"Your beauty is a curse, Jade Terese," Mercedes whispered into the quiet room. "Only magic or a miracle will save you. Oh, if only I were a sorceress able to wave that wand! I'd not
hesitate to transform you from the fairy-tale princess into an ugly and scarred woman, a gross object of
pity. I'm so afraid for you, Jade Terese. It is too late for me, but you have yet to see the beginning.
Mercedes closed her eyes, released her emotions in a sad sigh. Madame had said the young lady's name would be changed from the lovely Jade Terese to just plain Mary. Madame changed almost everyone's name, as if changing a name had the awesome power to alter an identity, as if she could erase memories and histories with this small stroke of her will. It was amazingly successful. She herself had been one of the few to escape such name banishment. Mercedes was a very common French name and, she supposed, she had needed no encouragement to forget her past....
Mercedes moved to the dressing water, where she scrubbed her hands, dried them and carefully folded the yellow towel she had used before sitting down with a jar of rose oil to soften them. Madame said Jade Terese had been brought here as a gift from a friend, that previously she had been associated with the convent. "Mon Dieu! Not a holy Sister?" she had asked, horrified by the idea.
"I saved her from that now, didn't I?" Madame had laughed, adding the shocking piece: "She is said to be blind, I don't imagine the sport will be hindered by that pitiful fact. She's too beautiful now, but later I'll use her for those customers who might benefit from her sightlessness."
Mercedes did not want to think of those customers who might benefit from a woman's sightlessness. Seven months ago Angel had been found hanging in her room after Madame had forced her to be with one of those hideous creatures. Angel, like her name, so sweet and gentle and
—
She banished the memory. She could not fathom the evil seed that grew and thrived in Madame's heart. Greed motivated Madame, but to what end? She had no love, no one to share her riches with, and as far as Mercedes could tell, she had no wants. So why make others suffer so?
To feed the evil thirst that consumed her....
The Madame's sadism demanded the suffering of others, and while the women of the house were usually spared the worst abuse—trips to the cellar—the poor servants were not. Burn and whip scars marked all of them, even the youngest.
A throng of menaces wove clouds about Mercedes's thoughts. She needed a pistol. If only she could get hold of one! The very night of Angel's suicide she had asked one of her men—Frank
Callahan, an American—to secure a pistol for her. Pistols were strictly forbidden upstairs and she could think of no other means of obtaining one.
She had thought to end the suffering, the torment and the misery of all who lived here. But Frank had thought mistakenly she wanted the pistol to kill herself and he'd warned Madame, generously leaving a small fortune in Madame's hands to help start his favorite girl on a new life. The Madame had been so amused. Mercifully, the Madame too, had assumed she had wanted the pistol for suicide. "I'll be more than happy to do you the favor when your terms are up, Mercedes. You won't have to ask
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