Caroline (20 page)

Three long days passed before Caro met Alec again face to face. Each morning she jumped out of bed with the sunrise to station herself in the window seat. Alec appeared without fail at the first pink glimmer of light, then stopped at each of the outbuildings. He always looked rested and alert, wearing casual riding clothes and boots that somehow assumed an unquestionable elegance on his lean, hard body. She would watch as he conversed at length with the gardener, pausing to greet each serving person who hurried from the kitchen to the main house. The fresh-faced young maids turned radiant smiles up at him, and Caro wondered how many were secretly in love with their employer.

Alec would stop in the orangerie, emerging with a large, perfect piece of fruit, then continue on to the stables. By the time he and Ivan appeared back in the sunlight, the orange would be gone, and moments later he would mount the stallion and disappear into the trees. That would be her last view of him for the entire day. She had no idea where he went or how he spent his time, and was uncomfortable asking Natalya or Grandmere such questions.

For her own part, there was enough right at Belle Maison to occupy her days. Natalya gave her a detailed tour of the house the morning after their Philadelphia excursion, even revealing the secret passageways that wound behind the walls. When they followed the tunnel that ran under the garden to Grandmere's little cottage, Caro got her first view of the charming interior. When Grandmere asked the girls to join her for tea, Natalya declined and returned to the main house, but Caro stayed behind. She found Grandmere to have a curiously relaxing effect on her, for all her witty outspokenness, and she seemed to have no doubts about the promise of her future.

"You are made of fine fiber, Caroline," she told her confidently. "Do not doubt that Sacha knows it too, or he would not have brought you to his home. He is a stubborn, proud man, and it will take him some time to realize the truth."

The old woman would never come directly to the point when she spoke of Alec and his relationship to Caro, but she seemed to have definite ideas about it—at which she chose only to hint.

Grandmere spent the bulk of her days in her cottage or outside in its tiny private garden. She usually appeared in the main residence for tea and meals, but if she was not present no one worried.

"I must have a life of my own," she explained to Caro. "Sacha has the same streak of independence running through him, so we understand one another."

Needlework appeared to be her greatest pleasure and her house was filled with the fruits of her labor. There were seat covers, pillows, quilts, and samplers of every description. Caro learned that she also enjoyed painting. On the walls hung several lovely views of the garden in bloom, as well as some remarkable portraits of family members.

After her first visit to Grandmere's cottage, Caro found an excuse to return each afternoon until it became an unspoken habit.

One cold twilight found her seated on Grandmere's richly carpeted parlor floor, not far from a blazing fire. The older woman was perched in a huge wing chair, embroidering a linen tablecloth. Caro took a comforting sip of her hot tea and looked back over her shoulder.

"Grandmere... would you tell me about your youth? What was it like in France when you were my age?"

The old woman peeked over her spectacles with a smile, continuing to work as she began:

"I was raised as any young girl of noble birth.so very important—you know, the art to sit, to stand, to walk." Light, gay laughter filled the cozy room. "I was taught Latin, and how to sing and play the harpsichord. Later, I went away to
"
She made a face. "I had a governess, then tutors, and a dancing master. This was in Paris, where these things were
le couvent
to finish my education like other girls my age."

"A convent?" A shower of sparks scattered through Caro's head, but the memory disappeared as quickly as it had come, like a comet on a summer night.

"
Oui.
It was the custom to keep girls locked away until a marriage could be arranged. My father did this to me, but I was not so willing. I was
soupe-au-lait,
you know? Hotheaded! They took me home for this wedding—"

"How old were you?"

"Quinze ans."

"Fifteen!" Caro gasped.

"My father was very pleased, for he had found for me an important man
Cherie
, many other girls were married at younger ages. Betrothals were made for mere children of seven!
—le marquis!
Etienne's parents had died with smallpox and he was in need of a dowry to restore his chateau in Touraine, on the Loire River. He was not quite so young.
..
twenty-one. So, the day that he came to my home to meet me, I decided to escape. On the grounds, I encountered a stranger—
tres beau et charmant!"
Her eyes sparkled in memory. "I thought him to be a new stable boy, or some such, and begged him to help me escape from the ogre who would marry me. He laughed, and I fell in love in that instant—a marvelous adventure, yes?"

"Yes!" Caro agreed. "Did he help you run away?"

"
Oui.
Gladly. All the way to his chateau in Touraine!"

"Oh, Grandmere—it was Etienne?"

"
Naturellement! But
, two days passed before he confessed to me that
he
was the ogre
—
and by then I was lost... and my virtue as well!" She chuckled and Caro blushed. "Ah, he was such a man! A man to produce a son such as Jean-Philippe and grandsons like Sacha and Nicholai."

"Tell me the rest, won't you?"

Grandmere laughed softly, delighted by Caro's interest.

"and Jean-Philippe may be there even now. Ah... when my children were small
Bien
... we lived a long and happy life together. Etienne died but ten years past. Our chateau is splendid... it belongs to us still; Antonia
,
those were happy times. I had three—Jean-Philippe, Camille, and Brigitte. Camille lives now in Cherbourg, but Brigitte... died many years ago."

"Oh—I'm so sorry."

"No, my lover for more than fifty years. We kept a lovely house in Paris where we would go for weeks to enjoy the excitement of the lovely city. There was opera, ballet, concerts, carriage rides in
cherie—
this is part of life. I have had much happiness. Etienne was
le Jardin du Roi...
and our life in Touraine was rich with joy. The country there is lush and rolling, with the river Loire twisting throughout. You must have Sacha take you there to see our chateau one day! There are splendid horses—Etienne's passion—and our vineyards give delicious wines...."

Natalya suddenly burst through the door to call them to supper. That conversation was ended, but it would be repeated in countless variations as the relationship between Caro and Grandmere warmed and mellowed.

Pierre remained at Belle Maison most of the time, and he and Caro began to play cards to pass the long evening hours. Sometimes they were successful in persuading Natalya and Grandmere to join them in a game of lanterloo. The old woman protested her ignorance loudly, then invariably scored a resounding victory, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

* * *

That night of Caro's visit to Grandmere's cottage, she retired quite late, finally deciding that Alec would not be making an appearance at all. Before she fell asleep, though, she heard movement in the room next to hers, followed by the sound of Alec's deep voice in muffled conversation with Pierre. She was surprised at the tide of happy relief and contentment that swept over her at the knowledge that he was nearby. Before she could think anymore, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep that enveloped her like a warm embrace.

The second night was much different, for she lay awake for what seemed like hours, listening in anticipation. But the next morning Alec was in the garden as usual, so she assumed he must have been in his room at some point during the night.

That afternoon, Caro returned from her visit with Grandmere earlier than usual. She lay on her high, deep bed and tried to rest, but found her mind too full of thoughts. The prospect of another long, uneventful night filled her with dread, for not even Natalya planned to be at home. She had an invitation to dine with one of her many beaux and Caro had urged her to go.

Impulsively, she decided that a distraction was in order—in the form of literature. The prospect of escaping for the evening into a book was immensely appealing.

Caro hopped off her bed and went to the wardrobe to find a dress she could easily slip into. Several of her new gowns had already arrived, and she hastily withdrew one. Fashioned of simple white muslin with no overskirt, it boasted a wide rose-colored sash at the waist, and the neckline was cut low to reveal the curves of her breasts. Caro cared little for her appearance, however, as she slipped out of her room in her stocking feet and scampered down the hall to the library.

The Persian rug was soft beneath her feet as she perused the book shelves. Familiar names and tides leaped at her from the fine leather bindings: Voltaire, Locke, Milton, Cicero, Bacon, and Johnson. Eagerly, Caro gathered up several of these volumes, along with copies of Richardson's novel
Pamela
and John Trumbull's popular
Progress of Dullness.
Shafts of sunshine broke through the trees on the west side of the house, illuminating the cushioned window seat in that corner of the library. Caro settled herself there, tucking her feet beneath her skirt, and began poring over the books. She had already finished two chapters of the seductive
Pamela
when a deep voice broke her reverie.

"I am so pleased to see you are making yourself at home, Caro!"

She looked up, startled to see Alec standing by his desk, his mouth quirked in an ironic smile.

"I did not even hear you come in!" she exclaimed, suddenly conscious of her feet tucked beneath the crumpled white skirt and her breasts nearly spilling out of her bodice as she leaned forward over the book. Alec watched with devilish amusement as Caro tried unsuccessfully to straighten herself out. When she untangled her legs, tiny white-clad feet peeped out, and her attempt to restore modesty to her neckline brought an open grin to his dark face.

"Please, do not move anymore! I am only human, you know. Perhaps not even that."

She flushed, wishing she could pull the nearby drapery around her body. Alec was, as ever, maddeningly cool as he perched on the corner of his desk, eying her with enjoyment. He was clad in an open-necked white shirt with a plain ruffle at the wrists. The muscles in his thighs showed beneath buff-colored breeches, which contrasted perfectly with dark leather boots.

Alec's eyes were boldly fixed on her bosom as he inquired, "Am I to understand that this is one of your new gowns?"

"Yes," Caro replied miserably, trying to shrink back farther into the corner. He bit the corner of his mouth in an effort to repress another grin.

"If this is a sample of your new wardrobe, then I approve!"

"I cannot help but believe that this gown is your doing, sir. Pray do not look so innocently surprised at the sight of it!"

Alec threw back his head, laughing—a gesture that Caro had nearly forgotten.

"To be frank, it is not the dress itself that holds my interest!"

Caro turned her head away to conceal the blush that was creeping up her cheeks, searching all the while for a retort. Unable to think of one, she looked back at Alec, wrinkled her nose, and promptly put out her tongue. His response was less than satisfactory, for he only laughed again.

"Ah, you have delivered the ultimate insult!"

She was seething until he walked over to her and grasped her tiny wrist. At the touch of his hand, Caro went weak. Coherent thought was difficult, anger impossible as she gazed helplessly into his eyes.

"Tell me the truth," Alec said in a more serious tone. "Are you happy with your gowns? I trust that the others are not so—ah, attractively revealing. I should not like the rest of the men in Philadelphia to enjoy the beauty upon which I gaze now...
"

"Don't be foolish! And so far this is the only gown which is made like this."

Her heart stopped as he lightly trailed one brown finger over the firm curve of her breast.

"That is a relief," he grinned.

A voice inside Caro cried out that she should slap his hand away and coldly sweep from the room. However, she neither moved nor spoke.

Softly, he touched her cheek. "The hour grows late and I had better have a bath before we dine. I'll see you downstairs."

He had almost reached the door when Caro regained her composure and scrambled to her feet, calling, "Please wait!"

He paused, looking back at her expectantly.

"I must thank you for the gowns! Do not think that I am ungrateful, for in fact I am quite overwhelmed by your extravagance! You truly shouldn't have—"

"But I wanted to. You deserve beautiful things." He smiled at her with uncommon sincerity. "I shall never forget the day we walked in New York and you wore that new green and ivory gown..." Alec's voice died away when he caught sight of Caro's radiant face. "I'll see you at dinner, then."

* * *

Caro had a long bath before the evening meal, soaking in a brass tub filled with steaming jasmine-scented water. The prospect of an evening with Alec lifted her spirits immeasurably, and Natalya was surprised to find her humming cheerfully when she popped into the room.