Read Online The Price of Innocence (The Legacy Series) by Vicki Hopkins - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vicki Hopkins
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the heat and lack of hydration made her feel sick. She would succumb to a small amount of alcohol to quench her thirst when nothing else was available, but she despised the taste of cheap wine.
Her only comforts were the quiet evenings she found by herself as she lay on her cot. In her distress, she found prayer necessary to seek solace from a higher power. She was still angry with God for taking her father, but she tried to forgive Him, and she prayed for forgiveness and grace for her bad attitude.
The one memory she clung to for as long as faith allowed her happened to be the folded letter that she had kept from her jewelry box. As delicately as she did many nights before, she unfolded the parchment, read the words, and returned it once again to its new hiding place within her purse. Of course, there was nothing of value in her purse any longer except a piece of paper, a rosary missing a few beads, pictures of her parents, and a few francs to show for her hard labor.
Suzette’s reading of the letter gradually lessened as the weeks turned into months. Like dreams fade when one awakes, so did the words on the page. They held no meaning or encouragement, and Suzette finally came to a place where she didn’t wish to feed her fanciful dreams any further. She did not have the strength to destroy the letter, but neither did she desire to read it again. It finally found a resting place of neglect in the bottom of her purse after the third month of her life as a laundress.
Her only reprieve was the Chabanais. The poverty and stench gave way when she entered through the brothel doors. As soon as she stepped inside, she inhaled the scent of perfumed air and held it in her lungs as long as she could retain it in order to replace the putrid smells of the washhouse.
One day as she made her way to the linen closet, Suzette walked past the opulent parlor. Her eyes always glanced inside, but she never stopped. Like a little mouse, she would scurry past the entrance, catching glimpses of red settees, gold-gilded furniture, ornate rugs, mirrors, and palm plants. She refused to linger and stare for fear of getting in trouble.
After returning all of the linens to the cupboard in a neat stack, she picked up the full basket of dirty laundry and flung it on her hip. She quickly sprinted down the hallway, but failed to watch her step. The toe of her foot caught on the edge of an area rug. Suzette stumbled and dropped the basket. She gasped when it landed full-force at the parlor entrance, strewing dirty laundry across the floor. Quickly, she lowered herself to her knees and grabbed the linens stuffing them into the basket. She bit her lower lip, as she glanced at the scene teasing her from the corner of her vision. Curious, she stopped and slowly turned her head to look inside the glorious room. Like a little girl in a candy shop, her eyes grew large in wonder.
“Like what you see?”
The voice of Madame Laurent startled her, and she jumped to her feet.
“Oh, Madame, I’m sorry. I tripped, and everything went flying. I apologize.”
Suzette grabbed the last piece of laundry and shoved it in the basket as quickly as possible. She stood to her feet and hurled the basket upon her hip and darted for the door. Madame Laurent reached out and grabbed her arm, preventing her departure.
“Do you wish a tour?”
She wanted to see, but feared accepting such a daring invitation. Suzette hesitated, then slowly turned and faced Madame Laurent.
“It looks quite beautiful, Madame, but I’m sure Monsieur Brouchard would be quite angry should he find out. I don’t wish to lose my job.”
“To hell with Monsieur Brouchard,” she said, empathically. “Put the basket down and follow me.” The mistress of the house turned around and walked into the parlor, fully expecting her visitor to comply with her wishes.
Suzette dropped the basket at her feet with a thud and gave her curiosity free reign. She stepped cautiously through the entranceway.
Her only comforts were the quiet evenings she found by herself as she lay on her cot. In her distress, she found prayer necessary to seek solace from a higher power. She was still angry with God for taking her father, but she tried to forgive Him, and she prayed for forgiveness and grace for her bad attitude.
The one memory she clung to for as long as faith allowed her happened to be the folded letter that she had kept from her jewelry box. As delicately as she did many nights before, she unfolded the parchment, read the words, and returned it once again to its new hiding place within her purse. Of course, there was nothing of value in her purse any longer except a piece of paper, a rosary missing a few beads, pictures of her parents, and a few francs to show for her hard labor.
Suzette’s reading of the letter gradually lessened as the weeks turned into months. Like dreams fade when one awakes, so did the words on the page. They held no meaning or encouragement, and Suzette finally came to a place where she didn’t wish to feed her fanciful dreams any further. She did not have the strength to destroy the letter, but neither did she desire to read it again. It finally found a resting place of neglect in the bottom of her purse after the third month of her life as a laundress.
Her only reprieve was the Chabanais. The poverty and stench gave way when she entered through the brothel doors. As soon as she stepped inside, she inhaled the scent of perfumed air and held it in her lungs as long as she could retain it in order to replace the putrid smells of the washhouse.
One day as she made her way to the linen closet, Suzette walked past the opulent parlor. Her eyes always glanced inside, but she never stopped. Like a little mouse, she would scurry past the entrance, catching glimpses of red settees, gold-gilded furniture, ornate rugs, mirrors, and palm plants. She refused to linger and stare for fear of getting in trouble.
After returning all of the linens to the cupboard in a neat stack, she picked up the full basket of dirty laundry and flung it on her hip. She quickly sprinted down the hallway, but failed to watch her step. The toe of her foot caught on the edge of an area rug. Suzette stumbled and dropped the basket. She gasped when it landed full-force at the parlor entrance, strewing dirty laundry across the floor. Quickly, she lowered herself to her knees and grabbed the linens stuffing them into the basket. She bit her lower lip, as she glanced at the scene teasing her from the corner of her vision. Curious, she stopped and slowly turned her head to look inside the glorious room. Like a little girl in a candy shop, her eyes grew large in wonder.
“Like what you see?”
The voice of Madame Laurent startled her, and she jumped to her feet.
“Oh, Madame, I’m sorry. I tripped, and everything went flying. I apologize.”
Suzette grabbed the last piece of laundry and shoved it in the basket as quickly as possible. She stood to her feet and hurled the basket upon her hip and darted for the door. Madame Laurent reached out and grabbed her arm, preventing her departure.
“Do you wish a tour?”
She wanted to see, but feared accepting such a daring invitation. Suzette hesitated, then slowly turned and faced Madame Laurent.
“It looks quite beautiful, Madame, but I’m sure Monsieur Brouchard would be quite angry should he find out. I don’t wish to lose my job.”
“To hell with Monsieur Brouchard,” she said, empathically. “Put the basket down and follow me.” The mistress of the house turned around and walked into the parlor, fully expecting her visitor to comply with her wishes.
Suzette dropped the basket at her feet with a thud and gave her curiosity free reign. She stepped cautiously through the entranceway.
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