Horror on Royal Street

Aimee remembered a night just after Mignot had "disappeared." The Mistress had called her into her room early one morning to brush her hair. The Master was gone that night, out looking after one of the Bellefontaine twin girls who had come down with the ague. Aimee, still sleepy, had stood behind the Mistress as the woman sat at her vanity dresser, sitting in all her vainglory, sure of her beauty. Aimee had avoided the Mistress' eyes staring at her in the mirror, putting her sight here and there, everywhere but. She had felt, rather than saw, the smile that came on the woman's face. Then in a sudden fury, the Mistress had turned...

"Look at me!"

Aimee had instead cast her eyes down.

"You ugly thang you...LOOK AT ME!"

Aimee's eyes had remained down, though, afraid more of those eyes than she was of the beating she was sure to get.

The brush came down suddenly on her back again and again until skin broke and blood began to seep through. Only then did the Mistress smile again, as though she needed a bloodletting to calm her. Then she had sat Aimee down in one of those big chairs, cooing...

"I didn't mean what I said Aimee. Don't know what got in me. You're quite a lovely girl. Very lovely as a matter of fact. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"No ma'am..." Aimee had whispered back, suddenly more afraid now that the beating was over. The pain was growing. She would have to put salve on the break.

"There, there now..." the Mistress said, stroking Aimee's long plaits, then letting her hands move to the younger woman's face, cupping each side.

And then the Mistress had slowly leaned forward and touched her small lips to Aimee's fuller ones. Aimee had sat frozen until the kiss deepened. Finally, Madame finally broke away, her face flush.

"I will enjoy you," the white woman had said so quietly that Aimee hadn't been sure that she heard her. But then those eyes settled on her and Aimee knew more than ever that if she didn't get away soon, she never would.

"Finish my hair," the Mistress said as she sat back down at the vanity table, her back to Aimee once again.

Aimee had looked down at the brush on the floor. "But Mistress, it's got blood on it..."

"Do not argue with me! Finish my hair."

Aimee had picked up the bloodstained brush from the floor and continued stroking the woman's long, raven hair, trying not to notice the red streaks she was brushing into it.

Aimee sat quietly as the last hour came slowly around. The Mistress would still be downstairs entertaining her friends. All she had to do was stand near the window over the courtyard and wait for the signal. Then she would take her things and head for the stairs leading down to the kitchen.