Chapter Trois

          Satine Bertram tried to smile as she packed up her belongings and walked out of the household where she had worked for four years. She did not want to let herself appear weak as her boss's wife handed her a few pounds and hailed her a carriage.

          She only let her tears flow when the carriage had begun to drive, and, even then, the tears were silent. She was trying to be strong.

          She didn't know why she tried to hide the fact that her life had been turned upside-down. She was now a twenty-two year old woman with no job, no place to call home…nothing at all. If she didn't do something to save herself, she would end up in a world she vowed never to return: the world of prostitution and falsehood.

          The thought of returning to that hell was too much for her and her tears began to pour with twice the intensity, which only made her heart ache twice as much.

          Be strong, Satine.

          She took a deep breath and dried her face, telling the driver to stop. He nodded and pulled to the side of the cobble-stoned street. Satine grabbed her carpetbag and dropped to the ground.

          She set her lips in a false smile.

          If she couldn't fool herself, perhaps she could at least fool others into believing everything in her life was perfect.

          She walked down the sidewalk, but, with each step, the street seemed to fill with more people.

          When a man brushed against her, she shuttered and turned down an alley. She was still afraid of people touching her, especially men.

          There was nobody in the alley, save herself, so Satine began to sing softly, remembering a song she had heard Toulouse sing once when she still lived in Montmartre.

"La lune trop blême
Pose un diadème
Sur tes cheveux roux
La lune trop rousse
De gloire éclabousse
Ton jupon plein trous
La lune trop pâle
Caresse l'opale
De tes yeux blasés
Princesse de la rue
Soit la bienvenue
Dans mon coeur blessé

The stairways up to la butte
can make the wretched sigh
while windmill wings
of the Moulin
Shelter you and I,"

The song made the first genuine smile in months appear on her face.

She continued to sing, though she didn't really know the words.

It was because of the sound she was making that she didn't hear the person sneak up on her. Suddenly, though, she was slammed harshly against the wall of a building and a man began to rip at the jacket of her dress. She screamed and the memories flooded back as though a dam had been placed around them, but had now been opened.

Protect yourself! Her mind screamed.

Responding to her conscience, she kicked the man in the groin. He fell to the ground, giving her a chance to run.

She didn't get very far.

The man soon tackled her to the ground, ripping at her dress with greedy fingers. She kicked, but his weight kept her leg from moving.

Dear God, please, don't let it happen again.

"Why ain't ya' smilin', darling. A girl like you must get this happened to ya' ev'ry day," The man said, laughing as his hands ripped. She screamed again, but he slammed his hand down over her mouth.

"It ain't a smart thing to scream if ya' like livin'!" The man cackled, making Satine cringe. She closed her eyes, no longer able to watch, as she lay there, helpless.

To her surprise, the sound of the man grunting ceased and, soon after, his weight was gone. She dared to open her eyes and was shocked to see another man standing above her.

This man was not her attacker. The one who had been trying to rape her was on the alleyway floor, his head bleeding from the blow of a punch and his eyes closed.

The one standing above her had dark hair and eyes that looked like the sky after a storm. He looked as though he were a fairly decent gentleman…but then again, so had the man she had encountered so many years ago.

With that thought in her mind, she pushed herself backwards, trying to put more distance between them.

"Miss, I want to help you," The man said softly. She wanted to believe him, but any trust she might have had had left her body that night twelve years ago.

"No," She whispered, her back hitting against the wall of a building.

"Miss, I swear upon my honor that I will bring you no harm," He said, taking a few steps forward.

"No," She whispered again, sobs overtaking her body. She buried her head in her hands and let the tears flow.

She felt his hand on her back.

Much to her shock, she didn't pull away. There was something in this man's eyes and voice that made him different. She felt the need to believe him when he said he was not going to bring her any harm.

Looking up, she saw that he was now kneeling on the ground beside her, stroking her back like a mother would with her child.

"I do not mean to hurt you," He said, handing her a handkerchief from his pocket.

"I know," Satine whispered, drying her tears with the cloth.

The man stood and then extended his hand. She hesitated, but took it and allowed him to pull her into a standing position as well.

"Can I bring you home?" He asked, scooping up her carpetbag, which had been knocked to the ground. She shook her head.

"I have no home."

"Then I'll bring you back to my father's home. My mother wouldn't mind having another woman in the house," The man chuckled.

"I couldn't…" She started.

"But you will," The man smiled and something inside her seemed to flip.

"I don't even know your name," She said after a moment, trying to find an escape from the conversation.

"Christian James," He said simply, as though it were common knowledge. He took her arm and began to walk out of the alleyway. It was silent for a few moments. She could feel him staring at her face, but refused to turn to meet his gaze.

"Do you have a name or will I have to invent one?" Christian asked, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in a way that showed he was holding back laughter.

"Satine…Satine Bertram," She said quietly. He smiled, a warm, joyous smile.

"Beautiful," He said, before turning so he looked ahead instead of at her.

"It was my aunt's name."

Christian shook his head, "Not the name."

          It was silent for another stretch of time. Satine was too embarrassed to speak and she knew Christian wouldn't talk unless she did. They finally reached the street, where a sleek, black carriage with two chestnut mares met them.

          "I won't force you to come with me, you know," Christian said, turning to look at her once more. Satine felt a chill go down her spine when he touched her arm ever so softly.

          "I'll go…but I have no way to return the hospitality you are about to show. I have no home or job,"

          "We'll think of something later. For now, though, you are a guest in my household," He smiled again before helping her into the carriage.

          "Mother! I'm home!" He called, opening the front door and ushering Satine in. He watched as she cautiously walked to the center of the entrance hall and looked around in awe. He chuckled and she turned to look at him.

          "This is your house?" She asked.

          He chuckled again, "Yeah…last time I checked at least."

          "What do you mean?"

          "I'm waiting for my father to kick me out of the house. He's bound to do it eventually."

          "Why would you father do something like that?" Satine asked, walking closer to him.

"Because I write instead of learning his trade. Because I read poetry and Shakespeare instead of law textbooks and accounting logs. The list goes on and on, but the root of all these reasons is that he's never liked me," He laughed and realized Satine was looking at him as though he were crazy.

          The sheer astonishment on her face made him laugh even more.

          "Why, may I ask, are you laughing, dear boy?"

          Christian turned to see his mother coming from the parlor. He smiled and went over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

          "Mother, I'd like you to meet Satine Bertram," He said, turning back to Satine, who was obviously nervous.

          His mother walked over to Satine and kissed her on the cheek. His mother kissed everyone on the cheek, but it seemed to shock Satine.

          "I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Bertram. You may call me Elizabeth, if you like," Satine simply nodded.

          "She'll be staying with us for a while, if that's alright, mother," Christian said. His mother turned to him and smiled.

          "I'll get someone to prepare a room for her."