The Grand Masquerade (The Bold Women Series Book 4) (18 page)

“I see,” murmured Sydnee.

The nun turned, and they followed her back to the office to discuss more adoption details. Sydnee tried to listen but was too distracted. Before they left, she deliberately dropped her drawstring bag on the floor by her chair.

“Thank you for your help today, Mother Baptista,” Isabel said with a smile.

“God bless you until we meet again,” the nun replied formally, walking them to the door.

Isabel and Sydnee dropped their veils back over their faces and started for the carriage. The moment Isabel stepped into the vehicle, Sydnee feigned surprise and said, “Oh! I have forgotten my bag.”

Turning, she rushed back into Mother Baptista’s office. “I beg your pardon, Mother. I have forgotten my bag,” she explained. After retrieving it, Sydnee lifted her veil and said, “I have a question, if you please, Mother Baptista.”

“Yes?”

“What happens to the mothers of the foundlings?”

Mother Baptista shrugged. “Most we never see. If they do need sanctuary, we can provide it for them but only for one night. Women come to us for many reasons, not just motherhood. Sometimes they are in grave danger, trying to escape from violence. Many are young girls, fourteen, maybe fifteen years of age.”

“Where do they go after they leave here?”

“I would like to think they escape to a safe haven, but alas, I believe most return to the same situation.”

“I see,” said Sydnee thoughtfully. “Thank you, Mother Baptista.”

As she walked out of the convent, she stopped and gave the young woman washing the floor all the coins she had in her purse.

Chapter 18

Everything changed for Sydnee after that day. Her world no longer seemed empty and meaningless. At last the spirits revealed the way. She knew now that she must help women and girls find a safe haven away from lives of bondage and violence. How she would help them break free remained a mystery, but she knew that she would find a way. She managed to escape her own misery, and now she was determined to help others break free as well.

Sydnee was committed to this mission, but she was not naive about the danger it posed. The memories of her own rapes and beatings would haunt her forever, so she knew that caution and vigilance would be of the utmost importance.

For days she took the dogs on long walks trying to gather her thoughts and make plans. Gentlemen and ladies on the street wondered why New Orleans’ premier hostess seemed so distracted. Sydnee would respond to their greetings politely, but she was distant and aloof. In reality, she was looking at the homeless and destitute people all around her. For the first time in years, she noticed the impoverished prostitutes leaning in doorways and waifs begging on the street. She listened to babies crying and heard the raucous laughter in taverns on the wharf. She smelled stale spirits and vomit and noticed the lurid stares of dock workers and sailors. The degradation and the suffering was everywhere, and now it was part of her life again. For a long time she tried to forget this world, but now it was back again.

One sunny afternoon in May, she decided to stop at the Ursuline Convent to speak with Mother Baptista. She knew that she needed the nuns to help her find those in need. Sydnee felt nervous, but she was not about to be deterred.

“Stay,” she said sternly to Vivian and the dogs. Vivian obediently coasted up into a tree, and the dogs sat down at attention by the entry. “I will be back soon,” she assured them.

She collapsed her parasol and pulled the bell cord of the front door. The same novice answered and took her to Mother Baptista’s office.

“Good afternoon, Mother,” Sydnee said shyly. “I am sorry to come without an appointment, but may I speak with you a moment?”

“Of course, Mademoiselle Sauveterre.”

The nun motioned for her to sit down, and Sydnee swept her skirt to the side sitting on the edge of a chair. The nun ran her eyes over the fashionable gown, the perfectly coifed hair, and the soft brown eyes.

“Mother Baptista,” Sydnee said, swallowing hard. “Ever since I visited here several weeks ago, I have been thinking about the fate of the women who come here seeking help.”

“Yes?”

“I would like to help.”

The nun nodded her head. “We are always grateful for donations.”

“No, Mother. I want to help in another way. I want to help them to safety.”

The nun frowned. “To safety? How?”

Sydnee had rehearsed her words. “I want to provide a means of transportation and a network of homes to help women and girls escape to safety and start new lives elsewhere.”

Mother Baptista stared at Sydnee, thunderstruck. It took a moment, but at last she believed she understood.
Here is another spoiled young woman who needs a diversion
.

She chuckled. “I see. You have been moved by the misfortune of others, but you really do not understand, Mademoiselle--”

“Oh yes, I do,” Sydnee interrupted, her eyes growing hard. “I understand much more than you realize.”

“I am very busy today,” Mother Baptista said, standing up. “Please know that you are a nice girl, and your offer is appreciated.”

Sydnee rose too, and although she was shorter than the nun, she looked her in the eye and said firmly, “If you think this is a passing fancy for me, Mother Baptista, you are mistaken.”

The nun’s eyebrows shot up at her audacity. Suddenly she remembered how pale Sydnee had grown in her office several weeks earlier when she spoke of children being used for unspeakable purposes.

They locked eyes until Mother Baptista said, “This is against my better judgment but please sit down.”

When Sydnee was seated, the woman said, “You must understand, we will never interfere with the sacred bonds of matrimony. A wife should always be at her husband’s side.”

Sydnee did not like it, but she knew the church would hold firm on this matter.

“Most of the women who come to us are married, most return home gladly, but we do see a great many prostitutes who may benefit from help. Also some of the girls are apprentices or servants being beaten by employers. These females we could refer to you, but sometimes there are girls who have run away from their parents. Those girls must return home. We cannot interfere with family matters or bonds of legal ownership. Each situation is different and dangerous. You must understand; escape is a highly unusual idea. I have not given my consent but,” and she hesitated. “If I send women to you, where do you propose to house them?”

“At my town house.”

“Out of the question. It is too dangerous. They are frequently followed. You need a neutral location that is private.”

Sydnee stared at her. She had not considered this possibility.

“I will make arrangements,” Sydnee assured her.

“Will you take mothers with children?”

“Yes,” Sydnee replied.

“Where will you take these women and children? You must have housing for them in their new location. You cannot dump them on the street of a new city.”

“I have considered that, and I will be making trips in the next few weeks for that purpose. I did not want to make any arrangements until I had spoken with you.”

“And what transportation will you provide from the convent to their sanctuary in the city here?”

This was another problem that Sydnee had not considered. She lifted her chin and said, “I will have that addressed along with your other concerns before we meet again.”

The nun sighed and shook her head. “You have many obstacles to overcome before you start. I will give it some thought, but I have strong reservations. We can give you no help beyond notification of women in need that qualify.” Mother Baptista studied Sydnee for a moment. She had misjudged this young woman. She knew now that something motivated her beyond mere whim. Something must have occurred in her past to give her this firm resolve.

Sydnee stood up. “Thank you, Mother Baptista.”

“One moment,” the nun said. “At some point you will have to defend yourself, Mademoiselle Sauveterre. Are you prepared for this?”

Sydnee looked out the window at her friends waiting for her outside and said, “That is not a concern, Mother. I have three weapons with me at all times.”

*                   *                   *

It did not take long for Sydnee to realize that Gish Livery was the perfect location to house the women and children before they started their escape to new cities and towns.

“What on earth do you want with a stable, Sydnee?” D’anton asked. They were sitting at his desk in his elegant office on Jackson Square.

“It helps Mortimer to receive a little income, and it helps me,” Sydnee said, offering no more information.

D’anton was making final arrangements for a trip with Tristan to Saratoga when she arrived that afternoon. As an attorney, he had been appointed by Mortimer to lease the livery. There had been little interest in the property until today, and it surprised D’anton that it would be Sydnee who would want to rent the building. He handed her a pen to sign the papers. Thinking that she was merely being a solicitous friend, D’anton shrugged and gave her the keys.

She left the square feeling satisfied and almost ready to approach Mother Baptista once more. As she walked through the streets with the dogs, she noticed New Orleans was emptying out. The searing days of summer were on the way, and the months for illness were looming on the horizon. She knew that many women would be widowed after the summer epidemics, and there would be many new orphans.

Sydnee remembered suddenly that today Isabel was taking Tristan to the convent to meet the three-year-old orphan she wished to adopt. Although the little girl had been malnourished and neglected, she was starting to thrive under the loving care of the Ursulines. Like Isabel and Tristan, the little girl had blue eyes and blonde hair. Tristan had delayed his trip to Saratoga for several weeks to spend time with the infant. They were both very excited. Sydnee smiled. She was happy for them.

She unlocked the service door in the back of the livery and stepped inside the empty stable, followed by the dogs. The livery was dark and smelled of hay. Mice scampered into the corners as they walked. Gradually her eyes adjusted to the low light, and she looked around. Mortimer had left it clean and in good repair. The stalls had been swept, and all the tack and medical supplies had been removed. Aside from the two hearses left by Schinden in the back of the building, the livery was empty.

Sydnee walked into Mortimer’s personal quarters. All the furniture had been removed leaving the room hollow and lifeless. Her heels clicked loudly on the bare hardwood floor. She walked over to the fireplace wistfully remembering the evenings she dined here with him, discussing sick animals and exchanging remedies. Frequently Isabel joined them, and they would speak of their hopes and dreams, exchanging confidences meant only for friends. When the fire burned low, Sydnee would say goodnight and leave the two of them alone.

She pressed her eyes shut a moment longer, trying to savor the memories before harsh reality returned. She sighed and looked around. She must attend to the present. She would have to make these rooms comfortable for others. A table and chairs would be needed as well as a bed, a cradle and perhaps a trundle bed for an older child. There must be wood on hand for a fire and a few cooking utensils. Bedding and even some clothing must be obtained. Although she planned to house the runaways for only a few nights, they must have ample supplies because they could not leave the livery.

Everything seemed to be falling into place. Yesterday Sydnee booked passage for Memphis to visit Mortimer to enlist his help. She was eager to see her old friend once more, but her visit to him was not just social. She was going to approach him about finding places of employment and housing for refugees.

He too had been abandoned as a child, and she knew the beatings he endured from Schinden had scarred him for life physically and emotionally. She believed that he would be sympathetic to her cause and offer assistance.

D’anton had given her Mortimer’s address and told her that he had opened a small livery in the center of town. He said that he was already making a success of himself. Sydnee was not surprised. She knew that before he left he already had many customers in Tennessee and that his skills were renowned throughout the South.

Memphis was just one place she planned on taking women in need, and she was also considering the Natchez Trace as an escape route up to Nashville. She knew that every few miles there were abandoned stands, and these would be perfect hiding places for a journey to the North. Her biggest problem was finding a trustworthy escort.

The last problem for her to solve before returning to Mother Baptista was transportation within the city.  Sydnee rubbed her forehead. She knew that she could not use her carriage. Riding horseback did not provide enough cover, and walking was too dangerous. She considered purchasing a wagon, but too many people would recognize her dogs riding in the back. Putting her fist to her lips, she walked out into the stable, trying to think. Suddenly her eyes rested on the hearses in the corner. Of course, she thought. They were private, enclosed with curtains and the community was used to seeing hearses going in and out of this building. They would assume a new undertaker was housing his vehicles here.

Sydnee nodded her head. This could work. The dogs would ride in back with those trying to escape, and she could drive the coach dressed as a professional mourner. She knew her waif-like figure would serve her well for her disguise as a boy.

“That’s it. I’m ready,” she said. Atlantis and Baloo looked up at her with surprise. “Let’s go speak with Mother Baptista.”

*                    *                 *

Reluctantly Mother Baptista gave her consent to Sydnee’s plan and within days she was on her way to Memphis to see Mortimer. She leaned against the railing of the paddle wheeler and smiled. At last she was riding a riverboat as a lady. Dressed in a cream-colored gown with light green stripes and tiny pink flowers, Sydnee looked crisp and fresh, standing on the upper deck with a white lace parasol resting on her shoulder. She knew that convention dictated she wear a bonnet, but she didn’t care. She liked feeling the wind in her hair. So many bonnets looked dowdy, and they always seemed to make her head ache.

She ran her eyes over the steamboat
. The Jonas Riley
was a beautiful stern-wheeler just recently constructed in Vicksburg and on its second voyage up the Mississippi. It was painted white with a bright red paddle wheel and two tall, black smoke stacks.  Sydnee remembered the first time she had seen a steamboat near Natchez years ago. She thought it looked like a huge, white frosted cake, and she still thought it looked like a fancy confection.

“Cast off the bow line!” the captain called and the whistle shrieked overhead. Passengers started to wave and call to loved-ones on shore as the big red wheel began to turn and splash. The
Jonas Riley
was filled to capacity, stuffed with passengers and supplies bound for the North Country and cooler temperatures.