Read Online The Price of Innocence (The Legacy Series) by Vicki Hopkins - Free Book Online
Authors: Vicki Hopkins
Ads: Link
away.
Madame Laurent sensed her teasing had gone far enough and decided to end the conversation abruptly. “I’ll leave you to your duties. You may let yourself out the way you entered.”
“Thank you, Madame,” she answered in a low voice.
Suzette watched the woman depart and went about her job. Neatly, she lined up the pristine white linens, left the empty basket, and picked up the one filled with dirty sheets. With a sigh of relief, she retreated to the back door. Her feet stepped over the drunk on the stoop and quickly left the alley carrying another load on her sore hip.
The trek back to the washhouse was excruciating. She still wore the same floppy shoes stuffed with paper in the toes and her feet hurt. The physical activity caused sweat to bead on her brow as she struggled with the load. She realized how weak and out of shape her body had truly been, after boasting she could handle the weight. It would have to change soon, or there would be no surviving her new job if Brouchard found out.
When she returned, Flora said little, except to give her instructions on what to do with the sheets she had hauled from the Chabanais. The routine had begun, and Suzette tried hard to accept her new station in life. It wouldn’t be easy.
Chapter Six
The weeks passed, and Suzette’s depression deepened as she toiled in the heat and stench, learning the life of a laundress. Daily her boring schedule repeated itself, starting with tiring trips back and forth to the Chabanais. She hauled the laundry in all sorts of weather conditions. It made no difference to Monsieur Brouchard whether it was sunshine or rain; the items had to be delivered. If it rained, it was her responsibility to make sure the load did not get wet during the two-mile trek. She usually arrived looking like a drowned rat, but faithfully covered and shielded her basket, so that it would arrive dry.
Every morning, Suzette woke from a restless sleep on a lumpy mattress. Flora seemed to have an internal clock after years of toiling and would wake Suzette at four-thirty. With only a half hour to freshen for the day and barely time to take a bath, Suzette was required to be dressed and at her work station by five “ come hell or high water ,” as Brouchard so aptly put it.
After weeks of toiling back and forth and little interaction with anyone at the brothel, Brouchard suddenly announced that she could make her delivery to the Chabanais an hour later. Suzette did not question the change, but wondered if Madame Laurent had somehow found pity on her poor soul and requested a later time. Suzette was thankful nonetheless.
When seven o’clock arrived, she would throw her basket of laundry on her hardened hip and make the walk to the Chabanais. As she had done countless times before, she entered through the back door, proceeded to the linen cabinet, and neatly restocked the sheets. Because her visits were early in the morning, she rarely encountered any prostitutes, except Nadine who was the rude woman she met the first day. Madame Laurent rarely said a word when their paths crossed, except to glide her eyes up and down her petite frame. It made Suzette feel uncomfortable.
On her return from the Chabanais, she hauled the dirty linens back to the washhouse. Her hips had become use to carrying the weight, and her arms grew stronger each day from hauling the baskets. It was easy, now, for her to pick up the heavy linens with little effort on her part.
As spring gave way to summer, conditions worsened in the washhouse. Between the hot air outside and the sweltering steam inside, there were days Suzette felt dizzy from the heat. She continued to push herself in fear of finding displeasure in Brouchard’s eyes.
Flora was instructed to teach Suzette washing of the linens, so her duties expanded beyond folding and delivery. It was just more work to accomplish in the same amount of time, and Suzette could barely keep up with the demands.
The Chabanais and
Madame Laurent sensed her teasing had gone far enough and decided to end the conversation abruptly. “I’ll leave you to your duties. You may let yourself out the way you entered.”
“Thank you, Madame,” she answered in a low voice.
Suzette watched the woman depart and went about her job. Neatly, she lined up the pristine white linens, left the empty basket, and picked up the one filled with dirty sheets. With a sigh of relief, she retreated to the back door. Her feet stepped over the drunk on the stoop and quickly left the alley carrying another load on her sore hip.
The trek back to the washhouse was excruciating. She still wore the same floppy shoes stuffed with paper in the toes and her feet hurt. The physical activity caused sweat to bead on her brow as she struggled with the load. She realized how weak and out of shape her body had truly been, after boasting she could handle the weight. It would have to change soon, or there would be no surviving her new job if Brouchard found out.
When she returned, Flora said little, except to give her instructions on what to do with the sheets she had hauled from the Chabanais. The routine had begun, and Suzette tried hard to accept her new station in life. It wouldn’t be easy.
Chapter Six
The weeks passed, and Suzette’s depression deepened as she toiled in the heat and stench, learning the life of a laundress. Daily her boring schedule repeated itself, starting with tiring trips back and forth to the Chabanais. She hauled the laundry in all sorts of weather conditions. It made no difference to Monsieur Brouchard whether it was sunshine or rain; the items had to be delivered. If it rained, it was her responsibility to make sure the load did not get wet during the two-mile trek. She usually arrived looking like a drowned rat, but faithfully covered and shielded her basket, so that it would arrive dry.
Every morning, Suzette woke from a restless sleep on a lumpy mattress. Flora seemed to have an internal clock after years of toiling and would wake Suzette at four-thirty. With only a half hour to freshen for the day and barely time to take a bath, Suzette was required to be dressed and at her work station by five “ come hell or high water ,” as Brouchard so aptly put it.
After weeks of toiling back and forth and little interaction with anyone at the brothel, Brouchard suddenly announced that she could make her delivery to the Chabanais an hour later. Suzette did not question the change, but wondered if Madame Laurent had somehow found pity on her poor soul and requested a later time. Suzette was thankful nonetheless.
When seven o’clock arrived, she would throw her basket of laundry on her hardened hip and make the walk to the Chabanais. As she had done countless times before, she entered through the back door, proceeded to the linen cabinet, and neatly restocked the sheets. Because her visits were early in the morning, she rarely encountered any prostitutes, except Nadine who was the rude woman she met the first day. Madame Laurent rarely said a word when their paths crossed, except to glide her eyes up and down her petite frame. It made Suzette feel uncomfortable.
On her return from the Chabanais, she hauled the dirty linens back to the washhouse. Her hips had become use to carrying the weight, and her arms grew stronger each day from hauling the baskets. It was easy, now, for her to pick up the heavy linens with little effort on her part.
As spring gave way to summer, conditions worsened in the washhouse. Between the hot air outside and the sweltering steam inside, there were days Suzette felt dizzy from the heat. She continued to push herself in fear of finding displeasure in Brouchard’s eyes.
Flora was instructed to teach Suzette washing of the linens, so her duties expanded beyond folding and delivery. It was just more work to accomplish in the same amount of time, and Suzette could barely keep up with the demands.
The Chabanais and
Similar Books
