A Silent Ocean Away (11 page)

Charmaine looked directly at him. “There is nothing surprising about playing the piano, Mr. Duvoisin. Mrs. Harrington spoke of my ability to do so during Friday’s interview.”

“So she did,” Paul agreed with the hint of a smile. “Tell us, Mademoiselle, what else do you intend to teach my sisters and Pierre?”

“Whatever they would like to learn.”

As his smile broadened, butterflies took wing in her stomach. Flustered, she looked away.

“We’ve shown Mademoiselle Charmaine the entire house,” Jeannette supplied. “And she thinks it’s beautiful.”

“Yes,” Paul mused, “I’m certain she does.”

Charmaine was grateful when the conversation turned to other things. Having dinner night after night with Paul in attendance was going to be disconcerting. But at least he had noticed her, and of course, his presence at the table was preferable to his absence.

She wondered why George was there. Then his last name registered.
George Richards, Rose Richards
…
I’ve just now returned your sisters to my grandmother.
George was Rose’s grandson. She remembered Yvette’s remarks during her interview.
She can’t keep
up with us the way she did with Johnny, Paul, and George.
Apparently, Rose had been a surrogate mother to all three boys. Now she understood why George was at the table and why there appeared to be a great camaraderie between him and Paul. Like his grandmother, he was more than an employee; he was considered a part of the family.

When the meal was over, Anna and Felicia cleared the dishes away. Charmaine watched as the latter fawned over Paul a second time. Earlier, Charmaine had been uncertain of the serving girl’s intentions, but there was no mistaking the signals Felicia was sending now: the batting eyes and swinging hips. With olive skin, dark hair, and shapely curves, Felicia Flemmings was fetching. More than once, Paul leered at her.

Colette noticed it, too. “Felicia,” she sharply remarked, “I’d like to speak with you tomorrow morning, in my chambers.”

The maid’s face dropped. She curtseyed and scurried away, not to be seen again for the remainder of the evening.

After dessert, Colette rose, and the family retired to the drawing room. Paul and George declined to join them. “We have a number of things to accomplish in the study,” Paul told Colette. “Unfortunately, a few of these matters I need to discuss with Father. Nothing taxing, just—”

“That’s fine, Paul,” Colette interrupted. “It would be good for him to get involved in Duvoisin business, the more taxing the better. He’s sat too long.”

With a nod, he and George entered the library. Charmaine suddenly realized the library and the study were one and the same room.

By nine o’clock, the children were asleep, and Charmaine returned to her room on the third floor. So much had happened during her first day in the grand house, and both her mind and heart
were full. It had been a good day, and she looked forward to tomorrow. With a sigh, she climbed into bed and fell swiftly to sleep.

But her dreams were disturbing. At first, she was on the wharf, watching Paul scowl at Jessie Rowlan. Then, Jessie Rowlan was her father, and Paul was lifting him clear off the dock, his fist knotting the shirt at the base of her father’s neck. Next, John Ryan lay sprawled on the floor of the meetinghouse, and Paul was snarling to the island priest, “Tell Mr. Ryan who his daughter is married to.”

She awoke in a cold sweat. Though her heart fluttered with Paul’s insinuation that
she
was his wife, images of John Ryan remained vivid.
You’re safe now…Paul will protect you. That’s what your dream was telling you. He will protect you.
Even with that thought, it was a long time before she fell back to sleep.

Sunday, September 25, 1836

Charmaine’s first week as governess passed without incident. True to her word, Yvette was the perfect child, and Charmaine began to wonder if Paul’s anger of the Sunday past had been exaggerated. Nevertheless, Rose and Colette commended the girl on her good behavior. When her praises were sung, Yvette’s eyes would travel to her governess, a silent reminder of Charmaine’s end of the bargain. A wink sufficed to confirm their pact.

Yvette continued with her piano lessons, her sister in attendance. Their interest had not diminished; both girls practiced over an hour each day, and by Friday, they were able to play a few simple tunes with ease.

When Saturday proved sunny, Charmaine decided to take them on a picnic. Dr. Blackford had arrived early in the day, and Colette was closeted away with him. When Rose insisted on caring for Pierre—“You’ll have a better time with the girls if he stays
behind”—Charmaine and the girls set out for the nearby southern beaches, a hearty picnic lunch in hand. They collected seashells, waded knee-deep in the warm water, ran and laughed and told stories. The girls wanted to hear all about Charmaine’s past, which she recounted, omitting the sordid details of her family life. They were interested in “being poor” as they put it and decided it would be a far more exciting life than the one they led “being rich.” Charmaine snorted. She wished she’d had so terrible a childhood as they.

On Sunday, everyone attended Mass in the small stone chapel, everyone except Frederic. Charmaine began to wonder if she were ever going to meet the Duvoisin patriarch.

Like the week before, Father Benito’s verbose sermon was uninspiring and fraught with condemnation. Charmaine’s mind wandered to Father Michael Andrews. His homilies had been eloquent, his redeeming message of love and forgiveness, fulfilling. She thought of her mother, recalling her words of praise whenever she spoke of the spiritual priest. Father Benito could derive some inspiration from Father Michael.

Charmaine was glad when the Mass came to a close. The girls had fidgeted, Pierre was cranky, and Paul’s eyes were constantly upon her, leaving her ill at ease. Did he think it was her fault the children could not sit still? Colette withdrew to her chambers, saying she was not feeling well, and it fell to Charmaine and Rose to care for the children for the remainder of the day. After the noonday meal, Charmaine took Pierre upstairs for his nap. The girls wanted to practice their piano lesson, so Rose decided to remain downstairs with them.

The boy fell asleep almost immediately, and Charmaine tiptoed from the room to retrieve a book from her bedroom. Fear gripped her when she returned to the children’s chambers: Pierre’s bed was empty.
Where is he?
She ran from the nursery in a
panic, reaching the stairs in a heartbeat. Then she heard it: giggling coming from the apartments directly behind her. Relief flooded in. The door was standing slightly ajar, and Charmaine pushed it open. There stood Pierre, thigh-deep in Paul’s riding boots.

“Pierre!” she scolded, her eyes darting about the dressing room. “Come here this instant!” He only giggled again, attempting to walk with the boots on. “Pierre, you’re not supposed to be in here. Come here, please!”

He tripped and laughed harder, wriggling out of the boots and scurrying into his older brother’s bedroom. The chase was on; she had no choice but to dash across the suite, stopping just shy of the bedroom doorway. Thankfully, it was empty as well, save a huge, four-poster bed, under which Pierre was crawling.

“Don’t make me come after you, young man!” Charmaine futilely admonished. Groaning, she rushed forward, realizing the faster she got the boy out of Paul’s private quarters, the better. Lying flat on the floor, she caught hold of his legs and was just pulling him out from under the bed, when a cough startled her. Afraid to look, but knowing she must, she let go of Pierre and, standing, turned to face Paul, her cheeks flaming red.

“Have you lost something, Miss Ryan?” he asked devilishly, his shoulder propped against the doorframe, arms and legs casually crossed. “Or perhaps you’ve come to my chambers for another reason?”

“No, sir—I mean—yes, sir,” she stammered, her mortification nearly unbearable. “I’ve lost something, sir.”

“Have you?”

Mercifully, Pierre wriggled out from under the bed and ran directly into his older brother’s arms. Paul scooped him up, his brow cocked in Charmaine’s direction. “So, it’s Pierre you’ve lost? Amazing…Rose is minding the girls in the drawing room, and
you were supposed to be caring for Pierre. Tell me, Miss Ryan, is it too difficult to keep track of one small boy?”

“I thought he was sleeping, sir,” she answered, highly offended. “I left him for only a moment to—”

“No need to explain, Miss Ryan. As I mentioned during your interview, running after a child can be quite demanding, perhaps too much for you.”

“Sir, you are wrong,” she bit out, “and someday, you will eat your words.”

He burst into hearty laughter, inciting another round of giggles from Pierre.

Charmaine’s temper peaked, and she had to quell the urge to step forward and slap the mirth from his face.

He recorded her anger, and though his eyes remained merry, his demeanor changed. “I think you’ve proven your worth to my family, Miss Ryan. You’ve done a fine job with the children, especially where Yvette is concerned.”

His unexpected words were sincere. She didn’t know what to say. “Do you accept my compliment, then?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, her throat dry and raspy.

“Why don’t you call me Paul? That is, if you’ll allow me to call you Charmaine? We’re not so formal on Charmantes, leastwise not as formal as Richmond society can be. I promise, it is quite easy to pronounce.”

The mild barb prompted her to reply. “Paul,” she said softly.

“Charmaine,” he returned with a slight nod. “Now,
Charmaine,
let’s get Pierre back to his playroom. We wouldn’t want Mrs. Faraday to find us alone in my bedchamber. I fear she’d be scandalized.”

Charmaine’s cheeks burned anew, and again Paul chuckled.

In a matter of minutes, Pierre was back in his bed and Paul had left them. But Charmaine trembled for a good hour afterward, her insides pleasantly warm. Paul approved of her, he finally approved of her!

Later that afternoon, Gwendolyn and Loretta paid her a visit. They spent an hour on the portico while the girls and Pierre played hide-and-seek nearby. Gwendolyn nearly suffered the vapors when Paul emerged from the manor and greeted them. He headed toward the stable and carriage house, which comprised the southern front lawns of the compound. When he was out of earshot, she said, “You are so lucky, Charmaine!”

Loretta frowned disapprovingly. “Charmaine had best keep a level head.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Harrington. I know I’m only the governess. But it is nice to dream.”

“So long as it remains a dream.”

Soon it was evening, and Charmaine’s first week in the Duvoisin employ came to a close. But as she tucked the girls into bed, Yvette whispered to her, “You haven’t forgotten about my letter, have you?”

“No, I haven’t forgotten,” Charmaine whispered back.

“Good, because I finished it yesterday. I even drew a picture! When are your friends leaving for Richmond?”

“Not for another week or so. They have to wait for a ship to make port. But I haven’t forgotten, Yvette, and I promise I’m sticking to our pact. May I read your letter tomorrow?”

Yvette’s eyes widened. “Of course not! It’s private.”

Charmaine chuckled and gave her a kiss. “You’ve been a fine girl this week, Yvette. I hope that after your letter leaves the island you’ll continue to behave.”

“Don’t worry, Mademoiselle,” she yawned. “I like you, so I’ll be good.” With a contented smile, she snuggled under her blankets.

Jeannette was already asleep, but Pierre grew obstinate, crying for his mother, whom he hadn’t seen for most of the day.

Thankfully, Colette appeared, her face pallid, her legs unsteady. It didn’t look as though Dr. Blackford’s Saturday visit had done her much good. She stayed only long enough to rock her son to sleep. Charmaine decided that as soon as Colette seemed up to it, she would broach the subject of Yvette’s letter.

Monday, September 26, 1836

The second week began much like the first with the exception of her newly won respect from Paul. She was glad he no longer treated her with indifference. During that first week he’d been courteous to a fault:
Good morning, Miss Ryan. Good evening, Miss Ryan.
By Saturday, Charmaine had been certain the man didn’t know how to be friendly, only polite. All that had changed on Sunday, and she smiled with the memory of it. By the end of Monday, she had become comfortable calling him Paul, and he in turn called her Charmaine, inquiring pleasantly as to how her day had been with the children.

Her new “friendship” with Paul did not go unnoticed by the two maids of the manor, and late that night when she reached her room on the third floor, Felicia and Anna cornered her there. “So it’s Paul, is it?” Felicia sneered. “You wouldn’t be falling into his bed now, would you?”

Charmaine was appalled by the maid’s vulgarity. “Are you jealous, Felicia? I don’t suppose Paul respects a woman who throws herself at him. I know Miss Colette doesn’t approve.”

The housemaid’s eyes flashed. “I don’t care about
Miss
Colette. And what would you know of Paul’s likes or dislikes, anyway? Just stay away from him, you hear me? Stay far away!”

“Please step aside,” Charmaine replied condescendingly.

Stunned, the voluptuous woman threw a vexed look to her
cohort, the considerably plainer Anna Smith. Charmaine seized the moment and pushed into her room, shutting the door in the servant’s face. Leaning back against the door, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, wishing her room wasn’t on the same floor as Felicia Flemmings’s. She didn’t think the taunting would end with this one confrontation. Annoyed, she grabbed her book and decided to read until her eyes were tired and she’d be able to sleep.

Tuesday, September 27, 1836

Where Monday had been rainy, Tuesday dawned sunny. On Colette’s request, Charmaine spent the morning in town. Tomorrow was the twins’ birthday, and Colette needed someone, preferably a woman, to travel to the mercantile. She provided the carriage, and Charmaine had the driver stop at the Browning house to see if Gwendolyn would like to join her. They had great fun fetching the gifts Colette had ordered for her daughters months ago, the most remarkable, two miniature glass horses to add to their animal collection. “The girls love the stable,” Colette had said. “Now they’ll have horses of their own.”