A Silent Ocean Away (29 page)

“Charmaine
is
helping me, Agatha,” Paul bit out, his jaw twitching with contained anger. “If you’d care to notice, we are sorting through a stack of invoices that accompanied the
Heir
.” He produced the folder to support his statement. “John has created another headache by misplacing the most important papers. Charmaine was merely—”

Agatha’s face turned livid. “John—always John! How do you withstand it? Why does your father
force
you to withstand it?”

“I don’t know,” Paul answered, baffled by her reaction. “I believe you wanted to speak to me about Miss Ryan?”

“Yes,” she agreed reluctantly, scrutinizing Charmaine again. “I think I have the right, as the children’s stepmother, to determine who cares for and educates them.”

“No, Agatha, you don’t have that right,” Paul countered. “Your
marriage to my father changes nothing. However, since we disagree, I suggest we take the matter to him immediately, and have
him
settle it.”

“Very well,” she hesitated.

“Good. Let’s have done with it.”

Charmaine was trembling as she preceded Paul out of the study, bewildered when he led her to the nursery. “There’s no need to accompany us, Charmaine. I’ll let you know how everything turns out.” With that, he nudged a miffed Agatha toward his father’s quarters.

Charmaine entered the nursery. Rose, who had been reading to the children, lifted her brow in silent inquiry, but Charmaine only shrugged, aware Yvette was all ears. “Well?” the precocious twin asked. “Don’t you think we should know what happened?”

“Yes, Mademoiselle,” Jeannette agreed. “We’re worried. We don’t ever want to lose you.”

“I don’t think you will,” Charmaine offered gently. “Paul is determined to override any harsh decision your stepmother attempts to make.”

“What does that mean?” Jeannette asked.

“It means he is doing what Johnny would do if he were here,” Yvette explained, “and I’m proud of him.”

Charmaine chuckled, remembering Paul’s earlier words about Yvette. “Paul is speaking with your father right now. He wasn’t in the mood to hear Agatha’s complaints.”

“Why not?” Yvette asked.

Charmaine eyed her for a moment, uncertain if she should tell the eight-year-old what she had learned from Paul. “He was upset with your brother over some missing invoices.”

“Johnny? Do you think Paul is talking to Father about him, too?”

“I don’t know…Maybe…Why?”

“No reason,” Yvette answered nonchalantly. “I don’t want Johnny to get into any more trouble, that’s all.”

Not long after, she left the nursery saying she needed to use the water closet.

Agatha cast a series of aspersions against the governess, saving the worst for last: Charmaine Ryan’s background.

Renitent, Frederic sat back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest, and looked her straight in the eye. Thanks to Paul, he’d heard it all many months ago. “Charmaine Ryan was chosen by Colette to care for the children,” he said. “They remain her children, not yours, Agatha. If for no other reason than to respect her wishes, Miss Ryan will retain her position in this house.”

“But Frederic—” she demurred.

“No buts, no more discussion. I am pleased with Miss Ryan. Regardless of her past, she’s demonstrated great love and affection while mothering my children. That is what they need right now, Agatha, a mother. I do not see you lending a hand with them.”

Chastised, Agatha turned aside, saying, “I shan’t bring the matter up again.”

“Good.”

She recovered quickly, spurred on by a new thought. “I fear the entire incident has been blown out of proportion. I had only intended to speak with Miss Ryan today. I would never have dismissed her as Paul has led you to believe. He was upset over other matters and misunderstood.”

“What other matters?” Frederic asked, his regard diverted to his son.

Paul still clutched the folder from the
Heir
. “John, just John,” he answered, tossing the invoices into his father’s lap.

“What has he done this time?”

His ire rekindled, Paul delved into the aggravating story, for
getting Agatha was there. His father listened patiently, shaking his head on occasion. His eyes hardened as he viewed the salacious sketches, complete with obscene remarks. “He’s up to no good again,” Frederic snarled, “as if he has nothing better to do with his time.”

“May I see those?” Agatha asked, arm outstretched.

“No.” Frederic shoved the papers back into the folder and threw them into the dustbin.

Agatha bristled. “Why do you allow Paul to suffer such nonsense?”

“Yes, Father,” Paul interjected, capitalizing on Agatha’s propitious allegiance. “Why must I abide his malicious antics? We’re no longer children. John refuses to behave like an adult, and yet, he’s in charge.”

Frederic smiled sardonically. “You are in charge here, and John is in charge in Virginia.”

“That’s not how I see it. John is in charge above and beyond the Virginia operations. John changed the shipping routes, which led to this fiasco. We never had this problem before. Direct packets carry island supplies, nothing else.”

Frederic nodded, but remained silent.

Paul pressed on, venting his anger. “Beyond that, you and I both know John controls the purse strings that affect the growth of your entire estate.”

“That is owing to the fact he lives on the mainland,” Frederic said, bringing folded hands to his lips. “What would you have me do?”

“Take him off the will!” Agatha cut in. “Then he shall see where his vicious games have gotten him.”

“Really? You think we have problems now?” Frederic paused for a moment, allowing the question to sink in. “We need John in Virginia. For all his faults, Paul knows no one else could command
John’s end of the family business as well as John does. As for removing him from the will—if John enjoys a prank when he holds a vested interest in Duvoisin enterprises, what games do you think he’ll play if he knows his actions hurt or benefit only Paul? You can’t begin to guess. He’d have a heyday.”

Paul had not considered this; his father was a wise man. He glanced at Agatha, who seemed to be searching for a rational rebuttal. There was no love lost between aunt and nephew. John was downright cruel to her, and she preferred he remain abroad. With her marriage to Frederic, Paul surmised she worried over her future should his father die and John inherit. He snickered to think of his brother ousting Agatha from the house, if not the island. Clearly, she needed an ally, and he had been chosen. But the Duvoisin empire needed John. As long as John resided in Virginia, he would remain the heir apparent.

Yvette had been gone a long time. Suspicious, Charmaine left the nursery. “Yvette?” she called, knocking on the privy door. “Are you all right?”

“I had a stomachache. But I’m feeling better now. I’ll be out in a minute.”

She returned, followed by Paul. He had wonderful news: Charmaine had his father’s approval. Agatha would not question her position again.

“Mademoiselle said a ship docked from Virginia,” Yvette interjected when the adult discourse ebbed. “Were there any letters from Johnny?”

“No, there weren’t any
letters
from Johnny,” he answered curtly. “But there was a letter for Miss Ryan, which completely slipped my mind.”

Paul pulled an envelope from his shirt pocket, addressed in Loretta Harrington’s hand. Charmaine eagerly accepted it. It had
been months since she’d heard from the woman, and her eyes flew over the contents.

“What does it say, Mademoiselle Charmaine?” Jeannette asked.

“Mrs. Harrington writes of the new railway into Richmond.”

“Railway?”

“Last year there was much ado about it, but I left Richmond before I had the chance to see the station. She, Gwendolyn, and Mr. Harrington booked passage to Fredericksburg, where two of her sons live, and rode directly behind the huge steam engine.”

Charmaine looked from eager face to eager face. Even Pierre showed interest. The children had been reading about the locomotives in a periodical Paul had brought back from Europe.

“In just over an hour they traveled fifty miles and arrived in Fredericksburg without delay!”

“Was that city named after Papa?” Jeannette asked innocently.

“No, sweetheart,” Charmaine replied as Pierre climbed into her lap.

“That is why I want to visit Johnny in Virginia,” Yvette announced. “I want to have a ride on that great big steam engine.”

“Me, too!” Pierre piped in.

Charmaine hugged him. “Maybe someday we will visit there,” she said, befuddled to find Paul frowning when she smiled up at him.

Saturday, July 16, 1837

Agatha sorted through the papers strewn atop her husband’s desk. He was visiting with the children, which afforded her an hour to tidy up. She was astonished when she came across his will. Had he removed it from the safe because he intended to change something? Had he given some thought to her comments concerning John?

She had just finished reading it when Frederic entered the room. He instantly realized what she held and turned livid. “How dare you rummage through my personal things?”

Agatha replaced the document with a great show of dignity. “I wasn’t rummaging, Frederic. I was merely straightening out this mess. Your will was amid the papers.” She crossed the room, then stopped. “I am your wife now. I didn’t think it was a secret. Obviously, I was wrong, and now I know why.”

Frederic’s rage diminished. “If there is something you want to know, ask.”

“Paul is going to be devastated,” she choked out, tears glistening in her eyes. “You realize that, don’t you? If he finds out, he’s going to be devastated.”

“Finds out what?”

Frederic grimaced. Paul stood in the doorway. “Agatha has read my will,” he replied hesitantly. “It names Pierre as second in line to inherit—after John.”

The room plummeted into a paralyzing silence. Only a sense of betrayal hung in the air. Paul forced himself to speak, to break free of his father’s perfidy. “I see…I mean, it makes sense…After all…he is legitimate.”

“Paul,” his father beseeched, his sorrowful eyes growing steely when it looked as if Agatha would interrupt. “You know this has nothing to do with legitimacy. I have tried to provide for all three of you. That is why I’ve given you Espoir. My will is merely a formality. In fact, I was preparing a new docu—”

“Father, you don’t have to explain,” Paul cut in, his throat constricted with emotion. He was angry with himself, revolted by the wave of jealousy that engulfed him, the harsh judgment he’d been ready to pass. “As you say, you’ve given me Espoir. You’ve financed the entire operation, including the shipping. I’ve no right to ask for more, to be envious of Pierre or John.”

“But I should have told you about Pierre,” Frederic murmured. “I’m sorry you found out this way.”

“No, Father,” Paul countered. “There’s no need to apologize, not when you’ve given me so much.”

Sunday, July 30, 1837

Frederic pored over the documents he held, studying each element and computing each figure with swift precision. When the papers offered no further information, he placed them aside and turned a satisfied smile on his son, who waited patiently for his opinion. “They appear to be in order.”

Paul concurred. “I’m very pleased. In fact, I’m surprised we’ve not confronted any delays since taking over the defaulted contracts in January. The shipbuilders have been prompt in meeting our schedule. They were relieved to have someone step in and purchase the titles. The financial panic made it difficult for them to come up with the capital to finish the vessels. We enabled them to put their men back to work and remain solvent at the same time.”

Paul gestured toward the papers on his father’s desk. “Once you’ve signed the remaining documents, I’ll see them transported to Mr. Larabee when the next ship sets sail. On his end, he’ll liquidate the securities and instruct Edward Richecourt to proceed with the final installment of funds. It was wise to go with the New York firm, and a stroke of luck to boot. Newportes Newes and Baltimore held promise, but I’m glad I continued north. Because the vessels were well under construction, they’ll be ready in a third of the time, and we’ve obtained three ships for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars when we expected to pay one-eighty.”

“You are not disappointed with fully rigged merchantmen?”

“From what Thomas Harrison indicated, it will be years before the merits of steam outweigh wind propulsion. Paddlewheels may be faster, but fueling their engines becomes a concern. No,
we’re better off waiting until they are perfected. I’m quite pleased with the three-masted clippers. Their hulls sit high out of the water, a brilliant bit of engineering that will greatly reduce the time at sea.”

Frederic nodded. “And on this end?” he queried. “Will Espoir be ready?”

“We’ve expanded the dock. Two ships can berth simultaneously. The house is nearly completed and beautiful. The architect proved reputable. He returned to Europe two months ago with a list of furnishings, which he will purchase on my behalf and transport to Espoir when the vessels make their maiden runs. As for island operations, the men have cleared half the land, and three fields have been sown. By next year, they will be on a one-tract-per-month rotation.”

“We may need to increase the size of the fleet,” Frederic said with a smile.

“Let’s see how the routes work out first,” Paul advised.

Frederic’s smile broadened. His son had a good head on his shoulders. “I’m proud of you, Paul, very proud. You’ve met your own grueling schedule despite the chaos and tragedy of the past four months. I realize the burden hasn’t been light, and yet, you’ve continued to manage operations on Charmantes amid the press of Espoir’s development. You haven’t shirked your responsibilities, even though you’ve lost George’s able hands.”

Paul frowned. He hadn’t mentioned George and wondered how his father knew of his prolonged absence. He doubted Travis had shared the information.

“I know about George,” Frederic said. “When do you expect him back?”