The night was bitter cold. The snow was softly falling as she walked up the narrow street of Montmartre hill in Paris. The plain brown working dress and shawl she wore gave her little protection from the cold. Even the multitude of petticoats seemed to trap the cold air against her cotton stockings.

She didn’t care. She was determined to see this through. For her, for them.

David had wanted to come with her. He said they were bound by marriage and what she wanted, he wanted. She couldn’t countenance the idea of him being involved. She loved him and if caught they would both be for the guillotine.

She recalled being released from the jail and making her way across to the port. There she begged passage and was offered it on a British schooner. It was bound for the docks in London. He fears of further enslavement were put to rest by the first mate when he told her slavery had been abolished in England over 25 years before.

She remembered the crossing with fear. She spent six weeks at sea cleaning and helping the cook. The men left her alone as she was one of the ugliest women they had ever seen. That was one of the reasons the first mate had allowed her on board. He knew there would be no trouble.

With only the clothes she wore and five shilling, she left to wander East London looking for work. She had to find shelter if she was to survive in this strange place. After a night under a bridge wrapped in a ships blanket, she set out at first light looking for a job.

Her black face, while not that uncommon in London, worked against her. After buying a small loaf and drinking from Clerk's Well, a public well, Clerk's Well, she carried on. Late in the afternoon she was despairing. She had come so far, gained her freedom, but now was destined to starve in this reeking, vast, city.

As she turned the corner of Ravey Street, she heard a woman scream.

“Get away from me you monster. I never would have took the job if I knew. No keep back.”

The woman carrying a large bag ran up the street. A man with scarf covering half his face shook his head.

“Bluddysh shells”

He turned and faced her. She asked if he was well and needed any help. He explained that she was his house keeper and had left him. She could hear there was something very wrong with his voice. She asked him if he knew if there we any jobs she could do for him.

He invited her inside and asked if she would consider replacing his housekeeper. She nearly jumped for joy. David explained his problem. He had a severe cleft palate. If he chose his words carefully, he could be understood, but his appearance scared his staff. He spent most of his life wrapped in a scarf to cover his face and mouth.

Most people never saw his face, but he felt at home he should be able to be himself. He asked if she could put up with looking at him. She could see he was hurting. His face was a horror, but she had seen far worse. She agreed to stay.

She had lodgings, and a salary of £25 a year. Over time they grew close. David had a keen mind and was a shrewd merchant. He had inherited the business from his father. As he had few friends and invited her into his study for conversation in the evenings.

He saw a bright spark in her that had not been nurtured. She learned to read in less than a week. Within months she was helping him with accounts and the rest of his daily dealings. She could afford cosmetics and nicer clothes with the extra money she earned. She was still no beauty, but she was no longer stared at while about town. Now the name she had given herself, Belle, fitted a little easier.

Around that time their love grew. There was nothing physical, as David’s afflictions extended to more than his face. Eventually they married in a small chapel in Kingsbury. She had confessed her own physical problem to David before the marriage. He didn’t care. This was a marriage of minds. Two damaged beings clinging to each other against a cruel world.

Together they grew David’s business tenfold. He now owned ships. One of these ships had transported her to France on that cold December day.

She knocked on the door and the maid answered. She spoke fluent French as she and David had a thirst for leaning.

“I have a message for Madame Lalaurie.”

“Give it to me, I will take it up.”

“No, it must be delivered in person.”

The maid huffed, she dreaded interrupting her mistress. She had a temper and had beaten her before.

Belle could hear angry exchanges upstairs. Then she heard a slap and a cry. Heavy footsteps were coming down the stairs toward the door. She felt for the knife in the folds of her dress. It was now, it was going to happen after eight years of nightmares and fear. She would sleep sound tonight whatever happened after.

The door opened and she gazed upon the face of Madame Lalaurie. Blind panic , fear and hatred welled up within. He legs felt weak and she nearly released her bladder.

Madame Lalaurie looked at her black face in disgust.

“What is the message, quickly!”

Anger finally overcame her panic. She drove the knife hard in the older woman’s stomach and dragged the sharp edged upwards. As her intestines started to spill out of the wound, Belle took down her hood. Through wide pleading eyes she saw a flicker of recognition on that hated face. The face that woke her screaming most nights.

“The message is from the slaves of Royal street. Enjoy hell.”

Belle stood back and let the woman fall. Remarkably there was no blood on her dress. She quickly pulled up the hood of her cloak and hurried to meet David.

As her boots clicked down the hill she heard the maid scream.

“Is it done?”

“Yes my love. No more nightmares.”

As they sat in the back of the cab heading for Calias, David held her. She would finally be at peace.

Her life as Belle could now begin.

Historical Fact or Fiction

In New Orleans at Royal Street mansion , Slaveowner Madame LaLaurie Tortured and Killed her Slaves for Fun

Some had had their mouths sewn shut, and had subsequently starved to death, whilst others had their hands sewn to different parts of their bodies. Most were found dead, but some were alive and begging to be killed, to release them from the pain.

The horror was discovered when the house caught fire. Madame LaLaurie fed the country to live in Paris, where she died in 1842.

What if the "man appeared to be part of some bizarre sex change" survived?

There are many versions of the story of Madame LaLaurie. Perhaps the torture is exaggerated.

https://historyofyesterday.com/slaveowner-madame-lalaurie-to...