The Creole Princess Read Online Free PDF Page B

understand.” The Spaniard winked at Lyse. “I defer to the collective wisdom. Yes, and an order of beignets and—do you have the chicory coffee? I develop the taste for strong drink since I live in New Orleans.”
    Zander kissed his fingers again in approval. “Oh, yes, she will grow the hair on m’sieur’s chest! And for ma’m’selle?”
    “Regular coffee for me.” If she was going to be shooed out of the dining room, she might as well enjoy it first.
    After Zander ambled away, she picked up her napkin, cupping it in her hands. One more minute and she would put it in her lap.
    The Spaniard’s eyes were caressing her face. “You live in the Mobile for all your life, Señorita Lanier?”
    She nodded. “I am Creole—native-born Louisianan . My papa runs the ferry across the bay.” When he wasn’t in gaol. “Also my grandpapa and his brother own ships here and in New Orleans. Perhaps you know the Lanier Brothers Transport company?”
    Don Rafael tilted his head. “I have seen the ships. This is an important business, I think.”
    The popinjay had beautiful manners. She couldn’t tell from his expression whether he considered it strange for a descendant of such a well-known family to be walking about barefoot.
    “I suppose.” It always came down to Papa and his rash decisions. But then, if he hadn’t made those rash decisions, she wouldn’t be here. She took the napkin bird by its beak, shook it briskly, andlaid it in her lap. “We can take the ferry down to Dauphine Island today, if you like. It’s a pretty day to be on the water.”

    Holding her skirts clear of the mud and standing water, Daisy took the schoolhouse steps two at a time, praying nobody would see such an unladylike and undignified dash. But she had discovered from unfortunate experience that if the primer spelling list wasn’t on the chalkboard before the students arrived, she would face an hour of mayhem from which the day might never recover. She had thought Lyse might wake her, but the other side of the bed was empty, and no trace remained of her friend’s presence except a slight dent in the other side of the bolster.
    Hurriedly she fished in her pocket for the key and let herself in. The one-room building, adjoined to the brick hospital situated on Conception Street, was constructed on a raised platform in the vain hope that frequent floodwaters wouldn’t rise into the schoolroom. This morning the floors were still damp from a heavy rainstorm earlier in the week, but at least there was no standing water under her desk, which happened to be the lowest point of the room.
    Straightening desks along the way, she hurried to the blackboard at the front of the room and found a small piece of chalk in her desk drawer. Her father had the desk made for her as soon as he realized she was determined to stuff education into the children who wandered the downtown streets like feral cats. Tongue between her teeth, she started writing the spelling list.
    She dearly wished that she might hold classes at least five days a week, but so far she had not convinced her father to allow her more than two. He insisted that she must reserve time for supervising the upkeep of their home. Besides, many of the children she wanted to teach were needed in running the various business endeavors of their parents. She herself had had the benefit of a governess who had taught her her letters, as well as deportmentand a smattering of languages and music. Dear widowed Mrs. Calder had willingly included Lyse in the lessons, and both girls grieved when she caught yellow fever and passed away last fall.
    Determined to pass along the benefit of her expensive education, she tried to convince the young mothers she met socially that their children would make more capable artisans, businessmen, fishermen, citizens , if they knew at least the basics of arithmetic, reading, and writing. To her joy, her little class had grown to the point that they must soon look for a bigger