grateful that he was offering her employment, she had just stared at
him again, as if she were seeing a ghost. And then she had coolly
rebuffed his invitation to go dancing.
He
chuckled at the memory. She was an odd one, all right, but also feisty, filled
with spirit. And mysterious. Jacques was mightily intrigued, looking forward to
getting to know Bella better.
He
greatly anticipated seeing her at the theater tomorrow. How would he pique her
interest? Eyeing Crystal, who hurled him a sullen glance from across the room
as she danced with another, he mused that there were ways to stir a female's
passion. Yes, there were always ways . . .
Chapter Eleven
Back
to Contents
A
repetitive clicking sound slowly drew Bella toward consciousness. She opened
her eyes, staring through the wispy mosquito netting toward the window, where a
brisk breeze was knocking the edge of the roller shade against the window
casement.
With
a soft gasp, she sat up, gazing around the Victorian bedroom in awe. Soft light
splashed across the wooden floor, gleaming on magnificent cherry and rosewood
furniture and dancing through the prisms hanging from the old Baltimore gas
lamp on the dresser.
So
it wasn't just a dream—she really had traveled back in time to the
nineteenth century! Quite possibly she was stuck here.
Her
gaze settled on the girandole clock on the bedside table. She tensed, drawing
her fingers through her mussed hair.
“Oh,
no! Is that the time?” she cried.
“Bella,
is something wrong?” muttered a sleepy voice.
Bella
turned to Helene, who was yawning and sitting up beside her. “I'm sorry, I
didn't mean to awaken you. It's just that—it's nine thirty, and heavens, I'm
due for my audition at ten.”
Her
green eyes growing huge, Helene threw back the coverlet. “So you are! Gadzooks,
we had better step lively!”
Bella
touched her arm. “No, Helene, there's no reason for you to rush. Please go back
to sleep.”
“Don't
be silly—I'll be happy to help you,” Helene declared.
The
two women sprang into motion. Helene found Bella fresh undergarments,
stockings, and shoes, as well as a pretty yellow dimity frock to wear, then
rushed off to brew up a pot of cafe au lait. Bella hastily performed her
toilette, and breakfasted on no more than a couple of bites of beignet and a
few sips of the milk and coffee brew.
Helene,
still in her nightgown, followed Bella to the door, unceremoniously plopping
last night's ribboned straw hat on her guest's head. “Can you find your way to
the theater?”
Bella
adjusted the brim of the hat. “Yes, of course.”
Helene
pressed a coin into Bella's hand. “Here. For lunch.”
Touched,
Bella glanced at the silver dollar. “I can't accept this. You've done too much
for me already.”
“Nonsense.
I can't let you starve.” Helene playfully shoved Bella toward the door. “Now go
on and make your best impression on Etienne Ravel. I'm sure he'll accept you
into the chorus. Won't it be fun if we can share a dressing room?”
Bella
smiled, remembering Dixie, with whom she'd shared a dressing room in the
present. “Yes, that would be nice.”
“I'll
see you at rehearsal this afternoon.”
“Thanks,
you're the greatest!” Bella exclaimed, quickly hugging her hostess, then
rushing out the door.
Despite
her cumbersome shoes, Bella quickly made her way down the two flights of
stairs, breathing in scents of nectar from lush flowering baskets and the
plants in the patio below. Dashing through the courtyard, she smiled at a young
couple who sat there eating breakfast. Once outside the building, she hurried
up St. Ann Street toward Royal, amid the peal of the St. Louis Cathedral bells.
She passed businessmen opening their shops and a black vendor carrying a pack
of kindling on his back and towing along a small alligator on a leash. Amazed,
Bella gave the reptile a wide berth.
She
skidded to a halt at the corner of St. Ann and Royal, grabbing her hat as a
gust of wind battered
him again, as if she were seeing a ghost. And then she had coolly
rebuffed his invitation to go dancing.
He
chuckled at the memory. She was an odd one, all right, but also feisty, filled
with spirit. And mysterious. Jacques was mightily intrigued, looking forward to
getting to know Bella better.
He
greatly anticipated seeing her at the theater tomorrow. How would he pique her
interest? Eyeing Crystal, who hurled him a sullen glance from across the room
as she danced with another, he mused that there were ways to stir a female's
passion. Yes, there were always ways . . .
Chapter Eleven
Back
to Contents
A
repetitive clicking sound slowly drew Bella toward consciousness. She opened
her eyes, staring through the wispy mosquito netting toward the window, where a
brisk breeze was knocking the edge of the roller shade against the window
casement.
With
a soft gasp, she sat up, gazing around the Victorian bedroom in awe. Soft light
splashed across the wooden floor, gleaming on magnificent cherry and rosewood
furniture and dancing through the prisms hanging from the old Baltimore gas
lamp on the dresser.
So
it wasn't just a dream—she really had traveled back in time to the
nineteenth century! Quite possibly she was stuck here.
Her
gaze settled on the girandole clock on the bedside table. She tensed, drawing
her fingers through her mussed hair.
“Oh,
no! Is that the time?” she cried.
“Bella,
is something wrong?” muttered a sleepy voice.
Bella
turned to Helene, who was yawning and sitting up beside her. “I'm sorry, I
didn't mean to awaken you. It's just that—it's nine thirty, and heavens, I'm
due for my audition at ten.”
Her
green eyes growing huge, Helene threw back the coverlet. “So you are! Gadzooks,
we had better step lively!”
Bella
touched her arm. “No, Helene, there's no reason for you to rush. Please go back
to sleep.”
“Don't
be silly—I'll be happy to help you,” Helene declared.
The
two women sprang into motion. Helene found Bella fresh undergarments,
stockings, and shoes, as well as a pretty yellow dimity frock to wear, then
rushed off to brew up a pot of cafe au lait. Bella hastily performed her
toilette, and breakfasted on no more than a couple of bites of beignet and a
few sips of the milk and coffee brew.
Helene,
still in her nightgown, followed Bella to the door, unceremoniously plopping
last night's ribboned straw hat on her guest's head. “Can you find your way to
the theater?”
Bella
adjusted the brim of the hat. “Yes, of course.”
Helene
pressed a coin into Bella's hand. “Here. For lunch.”
Touched,
Bella glanced at the silver dollar. “I can't accept this. You've done too much
for me already.”
“Nonsense.
I can't let you starve.” Helene playfully shoved Bella toward the door. “Now go
on and make your best impression on Etienne Ravel. I'm sure he'll accept you
into the chorus. Won't it be fun if we can share a dressing room?”
Bella
smiled, remembering Dixie, with whom she'd shared a dressing room in the
present. “Yes, that would be nice.”
“I'll
see you at rehearsal this afternoon.”
“Thanks,
you're the greatest!” Bella exclaimed, quickly hugging her hostess, then
rushing out the door.
Despite
her cumbersome shoes, Bella quickly made her way down the two flights of
stairs, breathing in scents of nectar from lush flowering baskets and the
plants in the patio below. Dashing through the courtyard, she smiled at a young
couple who sat there eating breakfast. Once outside the building, she hurried
up St. Ann Street toward Royal, amid the peal of the St. Louis Cathedral bells.
She passed businessmen opening their shops and a black vendor carrying a pack
of kindling on his back and towing along a small alligator on a leash. Amazed,
Bella gave the reptile a wide berth.
She
skidded to a halt at the corner of St. Ann and Royal, grabbing her hat as a
gust of wind battered
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