Part 2

Julia worked at the bar and waited for Ben to return but as time passed, as months passed, Julia came to believe that Ben Cartwright would never come to her again and she became angry with herself for opening her heart to him. She convinced herself that he was no different than any other man and she had given herself to him freely and had nothing to show for their time together. But still, at night, as she lay alone trying to sleep in the suffocating humidity and heat of the New Orleans' summer, she would think back on the time they had spent together. She would pull up in her mind Ben's smile, gentle eyes and his persuasive lips on hers. She would tremble remembering the touch of his strong hands with their long fingers-so elegant and gentle. And Julia would feel the tears steal out from the corners of her eyes. "Don't think about him," she would tell herself. But she couldn't help but do otherwise. And one morning she dreamed in the wee hours that he was there, kissing her to wake her up but when she opened her eyes, she realized that it had been a dream and yet the pain of his absence upon awakening was so sharp that it was as if a knife had been slid between her ribs.

One night she went upstairs, heavy with exhaustion, to her apartment and there was a small package outside her door wrapped in heavy, brown paper. It had been tied with string and had odd markings on it as if stamped by many hands in at least three languages. Suddenly she was sure she knew the sender and after lighting a lamp, she carefully examined the writing. It was from 1st Mate, B. Cartwright. Julia sat down at the small vanity she had in her room and with shaking hands, used her small pair of scissors to cut the string and unfolded the heavy paper. It revealed a wooden box and she opened it. Inside, was an envelope. She lifted it up and then below she saw what made her catch her breath. Tucked in the red satin was a pair of earrings, wrought gold with a single golden, teardrop-shaped pearl dangling below.

Julia held them up to her ears as she looked in the mirror, then quickly undid one of the earrings she was wearing and slipped in one of the pearl earrings. It seemed to glow next to her face. Then Julia turned to a small pouch that was also in the box. She lifted it up and immediately recognized the weight of coins. She opened the pouch and poured the contents on the vanity top. Ten gold coins. Julia gasped. She quickly picked up the envelope, slid her finger underneath the flap which broke the seal and unfolded it. In Ben's elegant handwriting, she read:

My dearest Julia,

I hope this letter finds you well. I have thought many times of you and the tears you shed at our parting so I send two teardrops back to you, eternized in the pearls. Wear them for me when I see you again. I hope that you will be able to use the small amount of coinage I have sent you. Yes, my darling, they have the face of a foreign emperor on them but they are still worth a great deal.

I shall be back in New Orleans within the next four months. I shall be signing on with another captain, a Captain Stoddard and his clipper ship. I do not know in what position I am to be hired but my captain on the Resonance has decided to become a privateer and I fear trouble. Captain Stoddard, although not a likeable man, appears to be a decent one.

I look forward to being with you again and as each day passes, I grow more and more eager to view your great beauty and to hear your voice next to me in the dark. Take care, mon ange.

My love to you,

Benjamin

And that night, Julia slept with Ben's letter under her pillow.

The next morning, the sun blazing, Julia took the coins Ben had sent her and went to the bank where she set up the authority to write drafts. She was very nervous and had made a point to wear a rather plain frock and hat to appear what she considered more respectable and she wore the pearl earrings from Ben. The man at the bank was overly polite but Julia was nervous-he kept looking at her in an odd way. And then as she stood and thanked him, he smiled at her in a lewd manner and said that if she needed anything else, anything at all, he would be willing to help her. She was such a pretty, young minx and he pinched her cheek.

Julia knew some vulgar words from being around the sailors that she often used against them-they could scorch the bristles off a pig's back but she held herself together and instead, slapped his hand away and icily told him, "Thank you for your generous offer, but no." But as she left the bank and tried to gather herself, she noticed her gloved hands shaking. Ah, but she wished Ben were there already. He would hold her and all her cares would be gone, dissolved by his masculine power. It was so frightening to be so alone in the world, in the world of men who had all the power.

Julia walked briskly over to the gambling establishment, La Palais de la Chance, owned by Edouard D'Arcy. It was the grandest place in New Orleans and Julia knew that all the wealthy men went there in the evenings as a way to find entertainment and to take them away from their wives. Julia knew that women were allowed there but she also knew that D'Arcy hired women as well as men to run his tables, beautiful women, and if she was able to work for him, then she could possibly learn more about running such a fine place to her own benefit.

It was only ten in the morning but Julia walked into the front doors of the establishment and went to the man who was behind the bar-an elegant piece of furniture, heavy maple with a pink marble counter top. Julia looked at her reflection in the large, gilded, framed mirror above it. Her walk from the bank had given her cheeks a flush and the perspiration gave her skin a luminous glow.

"Bonjour, Madame," the man said to her. Julia could see the admiration of her beauty in his face.

"Mademoiselle," she corrected with a small smile. It wouldn't do to be supercilious with him; she hoped to work with him.

"Excusez-moi, Mademoiselle. Que puis-je faire pour vous?" The man looked her up and down appraisingly and confidence flooded her. Here her beauty would help her.

Julia decide that she would switch to English so that the man would know that she would be able to converse with a man, no matter what language he spoke. "I would like very much to speak with M. D'Arcy. Is he available?"

"Who may I say is asking for him-other than la femme la plus ravissant que je crois que j'ai vu de vre." The man came around from behind the long bar.

Julia lightly laughed. "I find it hard to believe that more beautiful women that I have never graced such a marvelous establishment. Please tell him that it is Mlle. Bulette. Julia Bulette."

"Oui, Mademoiselle. won't you have a seat?" The man pulled out a chair for her at one of the small round gambling tables. "I'll be back shortly."

Julia pulled off her gloves, folded them on the table beside her bag and waited and looked around at the golden room with its lush, shirred draperies and gilded furniture. Yes, Julia thought to herself. This is where I belong, in a place like this.

The man returned and told her that M. D'Arcy would be there shortly and asked if she would like a drink. Julia's instincts told her that this may be a test; no one with a yen for alcohol would be hired. Julia had seen too many women at the seaside bars who had become slovenly drunks and therefore had been relegated to working just to pay for their addiction but along with that, she had seen many of the women destroyed by their addiction for the opium that some of the sailors smuggled into the country. Julia was determined that she would never be one of them. So she asked for a glass of cool water. The man smiled and agreed that it would be a warm day-very warm, and he brought her a glass of pristine water. He put it in front of her and he told her that his name was Franz.

As Julia sipped from her glass, she heard noise to her left and soon a tall, handsome man stood beside her. "May I sit down?" he asked in his deep voice with a charming French accent.

"Please do," Julia said, looking up at him from under her lashes. She knew that it was just a formality. She recognized Edouard D'Arcy, his sensual face that expressed his desire for carnal pleasures and knew that since it was his place, he didn't need to ask permission to sit down.

Giving a quick bow, the man sat. "Franz has informed me that you have asked to see me. Had I known that such a beautiful woman waited, I would have wrapped up my business sooner. What may I do for you? You have only to ask."

Julia looked at the man who relaxed in the chair opposite her, his long legs stretched out under the table and she felt one of his feet touch hers and stay pressed up against it. Julia knew how to play this game.

"I have come to offer my services to you." She sat, touching the glass in front of her with both hands, a smile playing on her lips.

"I can only hope what those services might be. My imagination is leading me to all sorts of scenarios, yes? But, since I need a faro dealer, do you know that game?"

Julia had the impression that he meant a "game" other than faro. "I am familiar with the game, yes. And I learn quickly."

"I am sure you do. Would you care to work for me?" He smiled at Julia. She was incredibly beautiful, delicate but already hardened and Edouard weighed whether or not she would come to his bed easily or if he would have to "court" her in his way. He could sense that Julia wouldn't respond to threats of sleeping with him or being let go-she would quit. She was cunning, Edouard could see that, but she would help him in his business and first and foremost, Edouard D'Arcy was a businessman; his first love was money.

D'Arcy stood up. "Franz," he said. "Please show our new employee, Mlle. Bulette, around the parlor and familiarize her with our faro tables." Franz responded and walked over to Julia. "And Mlle. Bulette," Edouard said looking down at her with an enigmatic smile, "I do believe that our relationship will be profitable for both of us." He gave a small bow and then turned when he heard a woman's laughter from without the main parlor.

Julia had stood as well and she turned to see a young woman with golden blonde hair wearing a rose-pink dress that was elegant and that complemented her figure, walk into the parlor on the arm of a tall, handsome man. Julia noticed how D'Arcy's face lit up when he saw the woman and Julia felt as if she had swallowed a stone; it was Marie de Val.

"My beautiful cousin," D'Arcy said, reaching out and then holding both her hands as she smiled up at him. "You have just made the sun come out for me. But my dear, aren't you usually still asleep at this hour?'

Marie laughed, a laugh that reminded Julia of the chimes she had had hanging on her balcony, waiting, hoping for a breeze to stir them. Julia noticed that Marie quickly glanced at her and then, suddenly recognizing her, returned her gaze to Julia.

"You are Julia Bulette, are you not? You were one of the charity cases at the Couvent des Ursulines. I remember you." Marie did not smile; she did not care for Julia, she never had. Julia was a guttersnipe and had once called Marie many names in a disagreement over a game. Julia spoke words that Marie did not know but she was sure they were insulting. So Marie had asked the nuns what the words meant and then, when asked where she heard such words, Marie told them that Julia had called her those names. And Julia was punished for her vile and vulgar language, had her palms smacked five times with a thin rod by the nuns and sent to bed without dinner. And Julia, the child, hated Marie who had the perfect nose and the golden pigtails and was the pet of the nuns. Even when Marie had torn her dress by climbing up one of the trees to peek at the men and women outside the convent carrying on their secular lives, she was not punished except to be denied desert that evening at dinner.

"Yes, I am Julia Bulette." Julia flushed with shame. Now Edouard would know that she had been an urchin, had been educated on the charity of the church and might pity her and of the whole gamut of emotions, pity was the one that Julia despised the most.

"Oh," Edouard said, smiling. "Well, ma chere, Mlle. Bulette is going to be one of my faro dealers. Is that to your approval?"

Marie smiled up at Edouard; she could not be bothered about this woman of the streets. "It is of no concern to me-I never play faro." And she laughed accompanied by Edouard and the man with her. "But the reason I have come to visit you so early, mon cousin, is to introduce you to Jean DeMarigny-again. He is back from his school in France."

"Ah, yes. I felt you were familiar. I remember you as a young boy. Welcome back to New Orleans. Your mother must be delighted at your return." And at that, Julia was forgotten as the three of them, Marie in the middle with her arms through the men's, walked back to D'Arcy's private quarters. Julia looked after them with envy and longing.

"Mlle.," Franz said, "please, come with me." And Julia went with him to learn the necessities of her job.