All the poems featured in this fic are extracts of "Les Fleurs du Mal" ("The Flowers of Evil") By Charles Baudelaire, translated into English by William Aggeler, except for "À une Madonne", which was translated by Roy Campbell.
Haunted Chapter ILe Revenant
Comme
les anges à l'oeil fauve,
Je reviendrai dans ton alcôve
Et
vers toi glisserai sans bruit
Avec les ombres de la nuit;
Et
je te donnerai, ma brune,
Des baisers froids comme la lune
Et
des caresses de serpent
Autour d'une fosse rampant.
Quand
viendra le matin livide,
Tu trouveras ma place vide,
Où
jusqu'au soir il fera froid.
Comme
d'autres par la tendresse,
Sur ta vie et sur ta jeunesse,
Moi,
je veux régner par l'effroi.
The Ghost
Like
angels with wild beast's eyes
I shall return to your bedroom
And
silently glide toward you
With the shadows of the night;
And,
dark beauty, I shall give you
Kisses cold as the moon
And the
caresses of a snake
That crawls around a grave.
When
the livid morning comes,
You'll find my place empty,
And it
will be cold there till night.
I
wish to hold sway over
Your life and youth by fear,
As others
do by tenderness.
A sharp shriek echoed on the walls of the second floor of the French-quartier mansion, as a shadow made its way down the stairs in frenzied panic. A young black woman stormed into the Louis XV style living room, desperately looking for her way out of the building. Before she could reach the entrance hall, though, a tall figure blocked her way, making her fall back on the carpet.
-Where are you going, chère?
-Sir, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry I didn't mean to…I didn't know I…I…-The woman sobbed hysterically, her face covered in tears…
-You didn't mean, but you did it…-The white good-looking man said in an almost sweet tone, like he was chiding a little child.
-Please, let me go I won't tell anyone! Just let me go!
-Marie, Marie…What am I going to do with you? -He said shaking his head, his voice filled with a hint of sadness-How many times did I tell you: "Do not go into my room, Marie…Whatever you do, never go to my room, unless I tell you to"…If only you were obedient, Marie…But you had to go. You had to disobey me…
-I'm sorry, I'm sorry-the woman repeated pathetically- I didn't mean…is just…I heard the screams and…
-YOU HEARD NOTHING, WOMAN!!!-The man shouted losing his temper once and for all. He grabbed her arm and jerked her off the floor, almost breaking the bone in the process. -You heard nothing…-he repeated so close to her face she could feel the strangely metallic smell of his breath…
-I didn't sir…Just, please: let me go…Please.
-I can't.
-I won't tell, I swear…
-You know Marie, this is all your fault…All the servants I had before never disobeyed me…The maid who preceded you, she died eighty-eight years old, from natural causes and she had a good life…But you had to break the rules…You could have lived peacefully here for the rest of your life, but now…Now you won't, and it's all your fault…
-Please…-The young woman cried frantically, dropping to her knees and holding onto his legs, pitifully begging for mercy. He pulled her back on her feet and violently pushed her onto the couch. As she sobbed hopelessly, he preyed upon her with eagle-like movements. The sobs mingled with muffled screams as she desperately struggled to get free.
Then there was silence.
- A new maid? What about Marie? -The valet asked.
-Marie is not here anymore…I decided it was probably for the best to send her off to the farmhouse -Remy replied with somber eyes
-I see…-The valet answered, with little surprise. He knew Marie had had a hard time adapting to the house, probably she would be better off serving the foreman and his wife in the farmhouse.
-Now, Etienne, I want you to find a replacement for Marie as soon as you can…
-Yes, sir.
Making his way out the studio, Etienne wondered how he could find another servant in this town that would please his master. The Lebeau household worked in a very different way than the others in the French quarter; it only had two servants at the time, as opposed to the armies of slaves most wealthy families kept to their convenience: Etienne himself, and a maid in charge of daily errands. And since Lebeau spent most of his day locked in his room, and most of his nights out, the daily errands weren't really in number to require more than one maid. If, eventually, in special occasions, the work required more hands, he would just send for the farm servants to help and dispatch them back as soon as they weren't needed anymore. But that almost never happened.
As for the rest of the slaves his master had inherited from his wealthy father, they were all in the plantations Lebeau owned down state. For some reason Remy rarely ever stepped a foot in there, leaving it completely to the care of a foreman, who had worked for the family since the days of Jean Luc Lebeau. After Jean Luc´s death, the son had moved permanently to the city, after a short trip to France, and since then had kept the lonely and extravagant lifestyle of a bachelor.
To satisfy his master's demands, the servants had to be carefully chosen and until he found someone that completely fit Lebeau´s complicated demands, it was Etienne´s job to search the entire city and surroundings for the perfect servant. And something told the young man it would be even harder to find someone Lebeau would accept.
It had been over a week of search till the morning Etienne made his way towards the bayou side, with the morning newspaper under his arm. The DuPlessis widow had placed an ad on a local newspaper offering a young female slave at a reasonable price. Actually a derisive price considering the description in the ad: twenty years old, good-looking, a good cook, literate, good mannered, educated…one would wonder why she would be selling such a fine exemplar…
But if anyone asked any of the slaves in the DuPlessis household and farms around it, the answer would become quite clear. The particular young woman was actually Laurent DuPlessis´ love child, and that was far from being a secret. As a matter of fact the story had been told and retold numerous times up in the city and down at bayou, becoming almost a local legend to which everyone had a little something to add.
The generally accepted version told that, shortly after marrying Genevieve DuPlessis, Laurent DuPlessis had, supposedly, fallen madly in love with one of the slaves she had brought in with her with her dowry. It didn't take long before the servant winded up pregnant. During the one year that separated her arrival from the baby's birth, the young woman counted on the protection of her master from the horrid temper of Genevieve, until she mysteriously died.
Officially, she had died a couple of days after her baby girl was born, from labor complications, but word spread that Genevieve had actually killed the young woman, and only spared her child because her husband had walked on her as she tried to smother the little one with a pillow. The story spread so fast, that soon Madame DuPlessis became a local boogie-woman for the children of the slaves of all farms of the area. Being the rumors true or not, fact was that since the death of his lover, Laurent DuPlessis ignored his wife completely. They were never seen together in a ball, or at the church, and whenever he walked out of the farm he was alone
Genevieve could only visit her parents and go to church; etiquette would prevent her from any social life without the company of her husband, who seemingly would prefer any company other than hers. Some even dared to say that Laurent died without exchange more than three words with her, in thirty years of marriage - a childless marriage, for that matter- which only served to give the rumors even more fuel.
Therefore, the young Ororo was raised inside the house with all the pampering and education that Genevieve's children should have had, had she bore any… Genevieve tried to sell the child, or send her out to work in the fields numerous times, and every time she did so her husband became more and more irascible towards her until the day that he actually beat her because of his daughter. Etienne was just a kid when the rumor came all the a way up to town, whispered behind fans and handkerchiefs: people said that Madame DuPlessis had sent the girl to work in the kitchen when the master was out, and even dared to beat her a couple of times when she did something wrong in there. When Laurent came back looking for his daughter and found her in the kitchen, crying over a bubbly soup pot with a clear mark of a slap in her face he solved the situation by making his wife's white skin black and blue for a week.
Now, Etienne made his way slowly up the dirt road just considering how easy it would be to take the young woman from the farm. Probably the widow would just let her go with the first one interested. Not only would she get rid of the fruit of her husband's indiscretion, which cost her marital harmony as well as her social life, but also she would finally see her involuntary nemesis leave the property not taking anything from it to be someone's slave.
After crossing the fields of the DuPlessis property, Etienne stopped the carriage in front of the luxurious mansion and explained the reason of his visit to a young maid. Soon after the pompous figure of the house's mistress came out in the porch. For a moment, Etienne felt guilty for being the one indirectly helping that woman's revenge against an innocent, but he knew Laurent's daughter could face worse, way worse…
As he expected, the cruelly easy negotiation didn't take more than fifteen minutes…
It was dusk when Etienne knocked on his master's bedroom door.
-Yes?-Remy answered from his bed, as he watched the purple veil of night fall over the sky, and waited for the darkness to come down.
-Sir? It's me, Etienne.I brought the new maid. She's downstairs waiting for your instructions.
Remy closed his book and reached for his robe. Opening the door he found his valet waiting outside.
-Not a moment too soon…
- She came from the DuPlessis farm…-Etienne said handling the newspaper to Lebeau
-Don't tell me you bought DuPlessis bastard daughter? - Remy chuckled, reading the ad. Even he, uninterested as he was by the common life of the New Orleans citizens, knew the rumors surrounding the young woman. To think he would be the first one in town to lay eyes on her… Was interesting enough for a night that previously promised uneventful.
On the entrance hall he found his new servant, standing quiet. He stopped at the arch that separated the hall from the living room and examined her from head to toe at a safe distance. With some satisfaction he realized rumors about the DuPlessis´s lovechild's beauty were all true: the girl was gorgeous, a blue eyed and dark-skinned tall young woman, clad in a light green linen dress, her hair hidden by a dark-yellow turban. He gestured her to follow him to the living room, which she did, seemingly indifferent to the new environment.
She stood in the middle of the room, her head high like she had a need to impose respect by her silent attitude since all other kind of power was stripped away from her due to the circumstances. He sat on an armchair, studying her with interest made more vivid by her demure.
-So what's your name?
-Ororo. -She replied with calm countenance.
-That's unusual…who gave you that name?
-My mother…
-You're pretty…has anyone ever told you that?-He said with a wolfish grin gracing his lips.
-No.-she lied. Her father did say she was pretty, numerous times, but she wouldn't share that kind of information with him.
-But you are…those eyes. -He got up and held her chin, keeping her head up, examining her eyes like one would examine a piece of Sèvres porcelain-Where did you get a pair of eyes like this?
Ororo remained silent, disgusted by the fact that a man she never saw before could actually feel free to touch her as he pleased. She wasn't used to this kind of treatment, and didn't intend to become used to it.
-Cat got your tongue? I asked you a question, chère…
-My father…-She answered with bad-will
-I take that the rumors are truth…
Again, she didn't answer.
-I suppose the old witch couldn't stand the sight of you in the house, am I right?
-It's not in my place to make such assumptions …
-Guess you're right. –He stated amazed by how properly she expressed herself- But if you ask me I'll say you are better off here. I had the chance to meet the Genevieve DuPlessis before, and to be honest I wouldn't even want her as my acquaintance, let alone living with her…-He smiled in a oddly sympathetic way.
After a long pause, during which he scrutinized her with annoying indiscretion, coming as far as walking around her, as if to check if everything was in the proper place, he ordered dryly:
-Take off your turban.
-What? -She gasped. Even though her father never made her act or dress like a slave she had always used a turban in her head, just like any other slave woman. What was a sign of being a captive to others was protection for her. More than once she had been taunted about her hair, hiding it had become a necessity more than vanity. Specially after a niece of Genevieve had seen her without it and spread all over town that "the half-breed was a mambo (1)"
-Take off your turban. I want to see your hair. -He ordered again, determined to be the first one to see the famed hair that created so much of her reputation.
As he took a few steps away from her, the young woman raised her hands to the knot that held the turban together and undid it with some inner grief, like this strange man had just violated her in a way not even Genevieve had ever dared. As the fabric came off, a cascade of silvery-white hair flooded over her exposed shoulders. Remy grinned from ear to ear, his curiosity satisfied beyond his expectations, and turned to Etienne, who was standing by the stairs:
-Etienne, mon ami, you brought me a mambo! -He laughed and then turned back to her-Where did you get this hair, mon enfant?
-I was born with it, sir…-she let out, utterly offended.
-Well, I guess Etienne did the best job possible in finding me a servant…I can hardly think of someone as special as this-he said in a way she didn't knew was either mockery or compliment.
He simply turned away, went towards the stairs and turned back to her one last time before getting back to his room
-Etienne will show you the house and tell you what you'll have to do…You'll have your own room, and feel free to use any other rooms in the house to your convenience, including the library and living room if you ever feel like. The only one you are barred from entering without my permit are my chambers and the basement, aside from that…Make yourself at home.
-Don't mind him…Master Lebeau can be eccentric, but he is a good man…
She really wasn't interested in a word Etienne was saying. She forced herself not to break under the fact that she had, in the mere space of a month, lost her father, her childhood home and wound up in a strange house in the city, with nothing but the clothes on her back and a small bag, at the mercy of a man she had never seen before. For the first time in her life she realized what she had ever been after all. She was the daughter of the Master, but also the daughter of the slave; and somewhere along the line one side of the balance would be heavier.
Now she knew which one…
Ororo kept quiet as Etienne showed her the whole house. There was nothing there that could get her attention really; she just wanted to sleep a little. Maybe when she woke up things would be better. Finally Etienne led her to her room. Since the house was too big for a lonely man living with just two servants, both of them could afford to have their own rooms. Her new bedroom was slightly different from her former bedroom in her father's house: it was smaller, but still spacious, it was hid in the end of a corridor on the second floor, while Etienne´s room was in the first floor and Remy´s in the third (probably a precaution to give her some privacy and keep her away from the two men living in the house, since she would be the only woman living there, which struck her as oddly considerate of Lebeau), with a bed, an armchair, an armoire and a desk, the windows overlooked the garden. Another door led to a contiguous, smaller, room, where she could find a bathtub and other personal hygiene utilities and feminine articles such as brushes and cosmetics.
-My room is just under yours, if you ever need anything you can just call out and I'll hear you. If you need to buy anything for your personal use, you're free to do it, as long as I accompany you.
-Thank you.
- Now I'll leave you so you can settle in…
-Uh…Etienne…
-Yes?
-The…master-she let out, still not used to the word-…he…how's he? I mean…-She hesitated, not knowing how to refer to the rumors about Lebeau awkward ways.
Etienne smiled in understanding:
-Don't worry…He is a good man…He's just a little off since his father died, but you have nothing to worry about. Here's your key, the master only has one copy for the room the maid occupies, for safety, you know, so try not to loose it. But if you do, you can ask for another one. Keep your door locked at night, and don't mind if you hear any noises, the Master likes to go out at night.
-Ok, thank you…
-Oh, one more thing…there aren't many rules to be followed around here, except…you can't go to his room, ever or the basement. That's serious, ok? You can go wherever you want in the house, but never to his room or the basement…unless he gives you permission. That is usually once a week, to clean up. And never disturb him during the day. He spends the whole night up and needs to rest.
-That's fine.
-Good. I'll wake you up in the morning to show you what is it you'll have to do. There are some old clothes of the last maid still in the armoire, they should do for now. I see you haven't brought much with you…. -Etienne stated, pointing at the small bag the girl had with her, and exiting with a sympathetic smile in his lips.
Ororo just nodded, resisting the temptation of asking what had become of the last maid.
As the door was closed, the young woman locked it, dropped her bag on the bed and went to the armoire to get a something to change into. Opening her tight corset to finally get a much needed breath, she proceeded to slip into a nightgown that was obviously too short for her tall figure, and sat on the bed, still too tensed up by the unknown environment, fighting back the urge to cry.
She had been sound sleep for a few hours, defeated by fatigue, when she heard something coming from above. Opening her eyes she looked up, felling a subtle vibration on the ceiling and listened carefully. Someone was walking with slow steps in the floor over her. Sitting up straight with her back against the hard-wooden headboard, she followed the sounds. The steps approached steadily, until she could hear them right above her, the vibration now very clear like someone was walking right on top of her room's ceiling. She figured someone was coming down the stairs, probably the master. Getting the half spent candle that lit her room she walked towards the door, opening it without noise.
She got out in the corridor, not daring to go too further; from her point of view she could see the poorly lightened hallway and the second staircase that led down to the first floor. The steps were now getting more distant from her bedroom, and soon she spotted a tall masculine shadow making its way towards the second staircase. All of the sudden, though, he stopped. She took a step back but still mesmerized by the dark figure, didn't go back to her room. Without warning the man turned around.
For a second it seemed his eyes were glowing brightly red in the dark.
-Ororo-The master's voice called out. -What are you doing there?
-Oh, nothing I just…
-Get back in your room. I don't want you wandering in the house at night. And lock the door- He blurted turning around .
All of the sudden her feet seemed to be freed from the floor, and as a chill ran down her spine, she rushed back to her room, locking the door and getting back to bed, unconsciously reaching for the bible in the nightstand
-Ororo?-She heard Etienne voice, followed by soft knocks on the door. She had gotten up early as usual, and was almost dressed by now. She still had to do her hair, but imagining that from now on she wouldn't be allowed the luxury of a morning toilet, Ororo decided to just close her dress and open the door, tying her hair loosely with a ribbon.
-I'm coming. -She let out, going to the door.
Once she answered the door, Etienne looked at her up and down and stated the obvious:
-This is the same dress from last night. I take that Marie's clothes didn't fit you.
-Too short, I'm afraid.
-That's fine…the master left me instructions to take you to a dressmaker, so you can order a few dresses.
-That won't be necessary, I can very well make my own clothes, I just need the fabric. -Ororo told him with pride, the mere idea of accepting dresses from a man sounding automatically offensive.
-It's not a favor, but an order. C'mon, let's go…we don't have all day.
She felt irritated, but decided there was no point in arguing.
-Just wait a minute, please, I need my turban.
-Suit yourself.
The summer was over and fall was just around the corner. The heat had subsided and a cool breeze made its way through the oaks and maples, bringing fresh fragrances with it. As Ororo followed Etienne down the corridor, she inspected the house under the early morning light. Only now she realized how many pieces of furniture were hidden by dustcovers, and how many rooms were locked. Like the house was half-abandoned But then again it was just natural for a man who lived alone with two servants to not use most of the house.
The absence of the head of the household was the second thing to get her attention. Back at home her father was usually one of the very first ones to get up and sit on the breakfast table. Again, Ororo imagined the reason she didn't see a table set was because she was the one supposed to do it. So, naturally she decided to ask Etienne.
-You just have to fix breakfast for the two of us.
-He doesn't eat?
-Nope…Not at home at least. That's one of the reasons he doesn't need more servants.-The young man told her as he opened the kitchen door and proceeded to help her make coffee and toast.
-Then what is that I have to do?
-Not much. Just clean and wash, pretty much…don't worry, you won't see much of him either, only at night. He sleeps all day. You'll get used to it.
Once they ate, Etienne got up and prompted her to follow him to the carriage. It was strange enough for her to use Lebeau´s personal carriage to go to a dressmaker. It almost seemed like she wasn't a servant but his newly wed wife. Once again Etienne told her these were the instructions. They got down at a small shop on Royal Street and made their way in.
Ororo braced herself to be striped out of her usual fine clothes and be put into simple garments, indicated for someone of her current position, when Etienne handled the dressmaker an envelope.
-This is what Monsieur Lebeau wants. Five day dresses, two gowns, three summer dresses and three winter dresses, plus two coats and as many nightgowns, stockings and undergarments as the young lady sees fit. Make sure you find the accessories to go with it.
-I have some fabrics that will be adequate, I suppose-The old woman told her with a puzzled expression on her face, measuring Ororo from head to toe.
-Monsieur Lebeau specifically asked you to order French fabrics…
-Yeah, but...
-Those are the ones he intends you to use.
-But I thought he had ordered those…
-For the young lady. -Etienne cut her off before she could rant about having to dress a slave in fine French fabrics-I'll be back within two hours while you take her measurements and you two look at the fabrics.
It was past six in the afternoon when she saw Lebeau for the first time that day. From what Etienne told her, it would always be like this. As Lebeau made his way down the stairs, she stopped her knitting (which she had been allowed to do in the living room, under the rules that gave her access to the entire house) and straightened up.
-Good evening, sir…
-Good evening, Ororo. Don't mind me I'll just sit here for a while and read…-He said, granting her a smile that made her forget how afraid she had been of him the night before. She most definitely saw things, the young woman told herself, as he sat on the armchair.
-How did you sleep? -He asked never taking his eyes from his book.
-Fine, thanks, sir.
-It didn't seem.
-I'm sorry for that …I heard some noises…
-Well, next time you hear noises at night don't bother to get up…I can assure you last time I checked there were no ghosts in this house…-he grinned
-Sure…-she half-laughed
As soon as the young woman returned to the task in hand, Remy lifted his eyes over the book to follow her movements. It was sure funny to see that girl in simple attire running house errands. She had been raised like a white girl, the daughter of Laurent DuPlessis for crying out loud…she talked like an educated white girl, she was most certainly used to dress like a rich white girl, her movements were as elegant as those of any southern belle worth the name, if not more; yet she was a slave. His slave he told himself with a grin in his lips. His, he repeated with renewed satisfaction.