A Silent Ocean Away (10 page)

“And the woman’s name?”

“Charmaine Ryan.”

“Paul says she’s very young. Most probably inexperienced.”

Astonished and instantly agitated, Colette spoke without thought. “He discussed this with you? How dare he go behind my back?”

“I may ask the same of you, Madame,” Frederic snarled derisively. “I am your husband and master of this house. Paul shouldn’t be informing me of matters concerning the children—you should. Or is that too much to ask?”

“No,” she whispered, lowering her gaze to the floor, fighting the tears that rushed to her eyes, “it is not too much to ask.”

Frederic heard the tremor in her voice and gritted his teeth, his outrage engulfed by self-loathing. “Tell me about Miss Ryan,” he urged.

Colette composed herself. “She is from Richmond and heard of the governess position through Harold Browning. Harold’s wife is related to her previous employers, the Harringtons. She worked for them for three years and has had quite a bit of experience with their grandchildren. She is well educated and—”

“—you highly recommend her for the position,” he finished for her.

“Yes,” Colette murmured. She was losing this battle of wills.
In an attempt to regain her poise, she retreated to a chair a few feet away from him.

But he moved to where she sat, towering above her. “This is all fine and good, Colette, but it doesn’t make one whit of sense to me. You, who have never left your children unattended for even a moment, are looking for someone else to tend them? And don’t tell me this has anything to do with their education. You could teach them all they’d ever need to know. Why, then, are you situating a stranger in this house, forfeiting the care of our children to someone else?”

“I’m not forfeiting their care, but I’m not as strong as I was a year ago. Robert insists the children are a burden. Though I do not agree, I don’t want my limitations to restrict their activities.”

“You should never have had the boy,” Frederic stated sharply. “You were told no more children after the twins.”

“It wasn’t Pierre. I was fine after his birth. It was the fever last spring.”

Frederic’s scowl deepened, forcing her mute. The minutes ticked uneasily by until he cleared his throat. “And Robert recommended a governess?”

“His sister did.”

“She doesn’t approve of this one.”

“And how would you know that?” Colette asked suspiciously.

“She asked Paul to speak with me. According to Agatha, Charmaine Ryan is too young and vivacious.” He limped back to the adjoining door, paused, then faced Colette again, his eyes briefly sparkling. “I’d say Miss Ryan is exactly the type of governess our children need.”

Colette smiled, and for the first time in months, Frederic’s heart expanded. Tears sprang to his eyes, and he swiftly turned away. “I promised Paul I would speak to you on Agatha’s behalf,
and I have.” When she didn’t respond, he opened the door and returned to his own chambers. Colette had won his approval.

Despite her tardy departure from the Browning house, Charmaine arrived at the Duvoisin doorstep on time. Shaking her skirts free of any wrinkles, she faced the formidable manor and, with the deepest of breaths, began the short ascent up the portico steps. The front door opened, and a man rushed out, head down, oblivious of her. His pace increased, and Charmaine stepped aside to avoid the collision. Too late! He ran headlong into her, nearly knocking her to the ground. Impulsively, he grabbed her arms and steadied them both.

“Excuse me,” he chuckled self-consciously, but as he set her from him, his perusal turned fastidious, and his smile deepened. “My, my!”

Charmaine couldn’t help but smile in return, completely at ease with this lanky stranger.

“I shouldn’t have come galloping out of the house like that, but bumping into you made it all worthwhile.” Without further ado, he grasped her elbow and assisted her with the remaining steps. “And might you have a name?”

Her eyes never left his lean face. “Charmaine Ryan.”

“Oh, the new governess.”

“Am I?” Charmaine queried.

His face sobered, and he groaned inwardly. “Not exactly, but you are being considered. I’m sorry for getting your hopes up, though I’m certain—”

“George, weren’t you supposed to help Wade sharpen the saw at the mill?”

Paul Duvoisin stood in the main doorway, arms folded across his chest, a scowl marring his face. Charmaine hadn’t noticed him
there, and suddenly her cheeks burned crimson. “Well?” he queried.

“It’s Sunday,” George replied defensively. “The saw can wait until tomorrow. Besides, I’ve spent the better part of the afternoon with
your
sisters, having just now returned them to my grandmother. The rest of the day is mine.”

Paul didn’t respond, yet Charmaine read the silent exchange that passed between the two men. “I guess I could look in on Alabaster,” George added.

Paul’s brow lifted. “Why?”

“Phantom bit him a little while ago.”

“How in the hell did that happen?” Paul demanded.

George cleared his throat, adding emphasis to the slight nod he effected in Charmaine’s direction. But Paul ignored the gesture, unmoved by her presence. Finally, George answered. “Yvette was—”

Paul held up a hand, highly perturbed. “I don’t want to hear it! But I promise you this—and you can tell Rose for me—one of these days Yvette is going to go too far, and when she does, I’m going to put her over my knee and take the greatest pleasure in giving her a damn good spanking!”

George coughed again, louder this time, and glanced at Charmaine, whose face was scarlet. Paul was looking at her, too, a smile replacing his scowl, and she became the recipient of his remarks. “But, perhaps, where everyone else has failed, Miss Ryan will have some positive effect on my sweet little sister. If she does, it will attest to her experience with children.”

“I’ll check on Alabaster,” George broke in. “Good day, Miss Ryan. I hope to enjoy your company in the near future. Good luck!”

“Thank you,” she said, grateful that someone was interested in putting her at ease. “It was nice to meet you, even though we were never introduced.”

“I’m George,” he replied. “George Richards.”

“Mr. Richards,” she nodded. “And thank you, again.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” he said. On impulse, he grabbed her hand and kissed it. Then he was striding happily down the steps and across the lawns, unable to suppress the urge to give Paul a backward glance. His friend’s jealous scowl did not disappoint him. Yes, Paul
had
been warning him off.

“Miss Ryan,” Paul said as he dragged his eyes from George, “I see you have arrived promptly.”

“It was very kind of your family to send the carriage for me,” she answered, her voice steadier than she believed possible.

“Yes…Shall we go into the house? I know Colette is anxious to see you.” He didn’t wait for a reply, stepping forward to fill the spot George Richards had vacated. With the slightest pressure to her elbow, he prodded her forward.

Her breathing grew shallow with the trip-hammer of her heart. No words were spoken as he directed her through the doors, across the foyer, and up the south staircase, presumably to the Lady Colette’s private chambers. Charmaine welcomed the silence, for it gave her time to compose herself.

“It’s not much farther,” he said. “Colette thought you’d be more comfortable in her suite. Unfortunately, it’s at the far end of the house.”

“I knew the manor was large, but…”

“You didn’t realize how large,” he concluded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“This is the south wing,” he explained, stopping at the crest of the massive staircase. “The rooms on this side of the house are relegated to the family. The north wing”—he motioned across the empty cavity below, where the staircase dropped and rose again on the other side—“is vacant for the most part, and used only when my father entertains guests.”

“I see,” Charmaine said with great interest, noticing that a hallway ran the length of the front of the house, connecting north wing to south wing. Ten other rooms opened onto this gallery.

Paul’s eyes followed her avid gaze. “The rooms at the front of the house face east and receive the sun in the morning. My brother’s former room”—he pointed out, not far from where they stood—“and the children’s nursery, complete with bedchamber and playroom,” which sat opposite the south wing corridor, “and if you follow this closed hallway, you enter the south wing of the manor.”

He led her down that passageway now. She was becoming accustomed to his voice. Without thinking, she asked, “What of your room?”

If he thought her brazen, he gave no such indication. “We just passed them. They are directly opposite the staircase.”

“You have more than one?”

“Yes, a dressing room and a bedroom. Most of the rooms on the second floor were designed that way. It allows the occupants freedom and space.”

“Freedom from what?” Charmaine asked, astonished by the grandeur.

“The world, if they choose. But if they decide differently, the sitting room can be changed into a dressing room, as I have done.”

“It is good to know you’re not escaping from the world,” she answered a bit too enthusiastically.

They had reached the end of the hallway, and Paul turned toward her, smiling roguishly. He was so close she could see the flecks of green in his olive eyes.

“No, I’m not doing that,” he reassured softly, sending shivers of delight up her spine. “Shall we?” he asked, inclining his head toward the last door on the left. When she nodded, he knocked, and at Colette’s insistence, they entered the mistress’s private quarters.

Colette Duvoisin’s sitting room was elegantly appointed, yet far from grandiose. There were only a few items of great and expensive beauty, catching the eye quickly and holding it. In the center of the chamber was an Oriental rug, a miniature of the huge carpet that adorned the oak floor of the drawing room. To one side there was a high-backed ottoman, and in front of it, a serving table with marble top. Two mahogany chairs were set to either side, facing the divan. Across the room was an armoire and a chest of drawers adorned with fresh cut flowers arranged in a tall vase. Next to this was a dressing table with jewelry chest. On the far wall, nestled between two sets of French doors, was a desk. Colette had moved its chair slightly and sat in front of the open glass doors.

She rose slowly, allowing Charmaine a moment to admire the room, then suggested they sit on the sofa. Paul bade them good afternoon and left, allowing them the private meeting Colette had promised in her letter.

They spent an hour together, alone: no children and no introduction to the master of Charmantes. Charmaine surmised this interview had been arranged to ease her anxiety and to reach an understanding that Colette would remain an active participant in her children’s lives as long as her health permitted.

“Mrs. Duvoisin,” Charmaine dared to say, “excuse my impertinence, but from what illness do you suffer?”

Colette leaned forward. “Please, you must call me Colette. I insist.”

“Very well,” Charmaine ceded, “Colette.”

Satisfied, Colette said, “It is not an illness, really. I had a difficult delivery with the girls, and the doctor recommended no more children. When I realized I was expecting again, everyone grew concerned. Thankfully, my son’s birth proved easy. But when I fell ill earlier this year, Dr. Blackford claimed the strain of carrying
Pierre made it difficult to fight the unknown malady. I fear he is right, for I have yet to recover. Robert is optimistic and foresees an improvement if I don’t exert myself. Hence, daily Mass has been suspended, excursions into town forbidden, and the need for a governess a priority. And with that accomplished now, I leave the rest in God’s hands.”

Charmaine sat stunned, uncertain of Colette’s meaning until she stood and extended her arms with the words, “Welcome to the Duvoisin family.” Charmaine laughed outright, then cupped a hand over her mouth, rose, and fell into Colette’s embrace. She had the job!

While sharing tea, they discussed her salary, a figure tantamount to a king’s ransom in Charmaine’s eyes. Her wages would be nearly thrice what she had earned while working for the Harringtons. Once a month, the money would be deposited in the town’s bank where she could draw upon it whenever she liked. Her services would be required seven days a week, although only the weekdays would be dedicated to lessons. The weekends could be spent in any manner she wished, so long as the children were included. Neither her room and board, nor her meals would be deducted. After a few years in the Duvoisin employ, Charmaine would be an independent woman.

As she rode back to the Browning house, she was both happy and relieved and about to embark on a new life.

Monday, September 19, 1836

C
HARMAINE
arrived at the mansion early the next morning. Colette had insisted she take a full day to settle into her room on the third floor. Thus, she wouldn’t step into her role as governess until Tuesday. Loretta and Gwendolyn had accompanied her, and together, they entered the huge foyer, where Charmaine stifled the first of many giggles. Gwendolyn’s “oohs” and “aahs” were plentiful.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it, Gwendolyn?” she whispered, awaiting Colette’s introductions of the house staff.

Charmaine met Mrs. Jane Faraday, an austere widow and head housekeeper of the manor. Falling directly under her authority were Felicia Flemmings and Anna Smith, two maids, a bit older than Charmaine, whose duties included housecleaning, laundry service, and table waiting at each meal. Next, there were the Thornfields, Gladys and Travis, and their two children, Millie and Joseph. Millie was Gwendolyn’s age, and Joseph twelve. They accomplished odd jobs around the mansion and its grounds while their parents attended to the personal needs of the master and mistress.
When Travis was not serving as Frederic Duvoisin’s valet, he assumed the role of butler. Unlike Mrs. Faraday and her two charges, the Thornfields seemed very pleasant. But of all the servants Charmaine met, Mrs. Fatima Henderson, the rotund black cook, became her favorite. Warm and loud with a devilish twinkle in her eye, Charmaine liked her from the start.

With Travis and Joseph’s help, Charmaine’s belongings were carried up to the third floor via the servant’s staircase at the back of the north wing. She spent the morning unpacking and arranging the bedroom more to her liking, the finest she had ever slept in, Loretta and Gwendolyn offering their advice.

Just before noon, Millie invited them downstairs for lunch, not in the servant’s kitchen, but rather, the family’s dining room.

Forty feet long and nearly as wide, it was situated between the library and kitchen of the north wing’s ground floor. Two of its four walls were comprised of continuous French doors, all open, leading out to the wraparound veranda on one side and an inner courtyard on the other. Like a crystal palace, the chamber dazzled the eye in the midday sun. In the center was a lustrous red mahogany table, with matching chairs to seat fourteen. The table could accommodate twice as many, yet was dwarfed in the magnificent room. Suspended above it were three chandeliers, sparkling in imitation of the French doors. On the wall abutting the library was a liquor cabinet, opposite that, a baroque cupboard displaying an array of fine chinaware.

A splendid meal awaited them. The children were there, and in a matter of minutes, the discourse turned spontaneous, the girls delighting in the company they were entertaining. When Charmaine marveled over the manor, they insisted on showing her the entire house, but Colette told them that would have to wait for the next day, as Charmaine’s duties didn’t begin until then.

When the last dish was cleared away, Charmaine walked
Gwendolyn and Loretta to the front portico, taking a deep breath when Loretta turned to hug her goodbye. Charmaine read joy in her eyes.

“You are going to be fine here, Charmaine.”

“I know I am,” Charmaine concurred, battling a pang of melancholy. “You’ll be leaving for Richmond soon, won’t you?”

“Not until I’m certain you’re happy. I can withstand my sister’s company for another week or two.” When Gwendolyn laughed, so did Loretta and Charmaine. “Besides,” Loretta added, “we don’t know when the next ship will put into port.”

Charmaine watched as they boarded the carriage and drove away. Turning back into the mansion, she realized the rest of the afternoon belonged to her. With nothing to do, she wished she had taken the girls up on their offer to investigate the house. Nevertheless, Colette had told her the manor was her home now and she was free to roam wherever she liked.

She ambled into the front parlor and was drawn to the piano. Ever so carefully, she lifted the lid and stroked the beautiful ivory keys. But before she could sit down to play, a voice came from the doorway. “There you are!”

It was Yvette, and she was alone. Paul’s words of yesterday surfaced:
One of these days Yvette is going to go too far
…
But perhaps Miss Ryan will have some positive effect on my sweet little sister. If she does, it will attest to her experience with children
…Obviously, Paul’s opinion of her remained unfavorable. What Charmaine wouldn’t give to prove him wrong and, in the process, demonstrate that children could be handled without need of a spanking.

“Yvette?” she queried. “You are Yvette, aren’t you?”

“Yes, it’s me,” the girl replied. “Have you finished unpacking?”

With Charmaine’s affirmation, she continued. “Perhaps you can spend the rest of the day thinking of some fun things to do with us tomorrow.”

“Fun things?” Charmaine asked. “Why do you say that?”

“Everything has been so boring lately. Nana Rose is old,
very
old! And with Mama feeling ill all the time, we never do anything that’s fun or exciting anymore. We’re always cooped up in that silly nursery!”

“I see. I will think about it. How does that sound?”

Unconvinced, Yvette’s shoulders sagged. She flung herself into a chair and mumbled, “It sounds wonderful.”

Charmaine took stock; the child’s discontent might work in her favor. “I’ve an idea. You look like the kind of a girl who enjoys a good bargain.”

She had Yvette’s complete attention. “Yes?”

“I’ve heard you can be very difficult.”

“Who told you that?”

“It’s not important. But if we could come to an agreement, I’m certain we’d both be happy with the outcome.”

“What sort of an agreement?” Yvette asked suspiciously.

“Last Friday you mentioned your brother, John, in Richmond.”

“What about him?”

“I could possibly get a letter to him.”

Yvette’s eyes widened. “Really?” Then, as if she knew she was being duped, she said, “How? You’re staying here now.”

“But my friends, the Harringtons, are returning to Richmond in a few weeks. And Mr. Harrington has met your brother. He could locate him.”

“
Truly?
”

“I believe so,” Charmaine replied, tickled by the girl’s renewed exuberance.

Yvette grew cautious again. “What do I have to do?”

“Be well behaved,” Charmaine answered simply.

“Well behaved? That’s it?”

“From what I’ve heard, that will be a great deal for you. You are to obey and respect me the way you do your mother. No mischief making.”

A myriad of expressions ran rampant across the girl’s face as she weighed the pros and cons of the pact.

“Of course,” Charmaine pursued, “it might be too difficult for—”

“I’ll do it!” the girl cut in. “Do you want to shake hands?”

Charmaine nodded, reaching for Yvette’s extended hand, puzzled when it was abruptly withdrawn. “One other thing,” Yvette said, arm tucked behind her back. “You had better not tell Mama or Papa, or I won’t be allowed to send it.”

Charmaine was perplexed. Certainly the child’s parents wouldn’t forbid her to write a simple letter to her older brother. “Why would they mind?”

“They are angry with Johnny. That’s the real reason I haven’t been able to send him a letter. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but he caused Papa’s seizure. It’s the big family secret! But you were bound to find out. Everybody in the house knows what happened. Johnny didn’t mean it, I know he didn’t. At least Papa didn’t die.” The girl sighed. “Now I’m not even allowed to mention his name. I know they won’t let me write to him.”

“I’ll speak to your mother about it,” Charmaine reasoned gently.

“No!” the girl persisted. “No secret, no deal! Because if you tell her about the letter, it will never leave this island.”

Charmaine frowned. She didn’t like being manipulated, and she certainly didn’t want to go behind Colette’s back. “I shall have to think about it.”

“Never mind,” Yvette groaned, clearly upset. “I knew you’d be too scared to do something daring.”

“Yvette,” Charmaine cajoled, certain she was courting an enemy
now rather than a friend, “if it means that much to you, I promise we’ll get a letter to your brother one way or another.”

A long silence ensued. Charmaine stood her ground, allowing Yvette her assessment. She smiled hesitantly. “Are you certain? You’re not just saying that?”

“I’m certain, and I do promise. Now come, I’ll take you back to the nursery before Nana Rose or your mother comes looking for you.”

Yvette artfully turned to the piano. “Do you play?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Would you teach me?”

“I suppose I could. You’ll be my first student, though.”

“I don’t care. I’d like to learn. Johnny plays very well,” she imparted, striking one key. “He’d be very surprised if he came home and could hear me play. I’d really like to surprise him.”

Charmaine smiled down on the girl, who so obviously cherished her elder brother. “Very well, Miss Duvoisin. If you are willing to practice an hour a day, by Christmastide you should be able to play a number of simple melodies. Would you like to begin now?”

Receiving an alacritous nod, they sat at the piano. “Now, this is middle C.”

It was thus Colette found them. She smiled contentedly.

When Yvette tired of the piano, Charmaine accompanied her back to the nursery and insisted the girls give her the grand tour. She was in awe of all the things they pointed out, most especially the water closet situated near the crest of the south wing staircase and its companion washroom on the first floor directly below. Complete with washstand and chamber seat, its interior plumbing was fed by a water system devised by the girls’ grandfather at the time of the mansion’s construction. Rainwater was collected off the roof and funneled into a holding tank one story above. Charmaine jumped back when Yvette cranked a huge lever and a surge
of water “flushed” the toilet. The girl laughed merrily. “Haven’t you ever seen a privy before?” This type, she hadn’t. Not even the Harringtons had so modern a lavatory facility.

In the south wing, she was shown the grand ballroom and banquet hall, huge and empty, comprising the entire ground floor of that wing, echoing their hollow footfalls as they crossed to a side doorway that led to the family chapel. The stone edifice was built eight years ago, and was the only structure oddly out of balance with the entire house.

Next, the girls took her to the gardens nestled in the courtyard between the north and south wings. Frederic’s father had hired a gardener to plant out the nearly enclosed area with various shrubs and exotic flowers. Travis and Gladys tended it now. It was remarkably cool amongst the many overhanging boughs of scarlet cordia and frangipani trees, their abundant blooms of deep orange, white, pink, and yellow vibrant and sweet smelling. Marble benches were placed along the cobblestone walkway, beckoning any wanderer to sit and enjoy the placid beauty and fragrant flowers. A grand fountain graced the very center, water spurting upward, dropping back to marble basins of graduating diameter, three melodious waterfalls spilling to a shallow pool below.

“You have a little paradise right here,” Charmaine said to the girls.

“Still,” Yvette commented, “once you’ve gotten used to it, it’s boring.”

“Yes,” Jeannette agreed, “it’s much more fun to go on picnics or riding the way we used to before Mama became ill.”

So, Charmaine thought, there is the crux of the matter. They were tired of the same old thing, and she couldn’t really blame them. Children were meant to run free. Tonight, she would start planning how she could make their lives more adventurous. Though she knew their studies were important—Colette had already made
certain her daughters could read and write—Charmaine remembered the manner in which they spent the weekends would be up to her choosing. Perhaps a few picnics would be nice, so long as the rainy weather they were due to experience cooperated.

At seven o’clock, everyone headed for the dining room. Charmaine was to have her first supper with her new family. As at lunch, Rose and Yvette walked to the far side of the table and took two center seats. Colette helped Pierre into the chair adjacent to her own, there at the foot of the table, nearest the kitchen. Charmaine assumed that when Frederic joined them, he would sit opposite his wife at the head of the table. Colette beckoned Charmaine to once again take the chair to Pierre’s right, and Jeannette quickly sat next to Charmaine.

“Is this all right, Mama?” she asked politely.

“As long as Nana doesn’t mind being cast aside.”

Rose shook her head. “Let Jeannette sit near Charmaine. That’s fine.”

Voices resounded from the hallway, and George Richards and Paul appeared. To Charmaine’s utter surprise, Paul sat at the head of the table, while George took the chair to his right. Evidently, Frederic Duvoisin would not be joining them. Unbidden came the thought of Paul and Colette as husband and wife.

Agatha Ward was the last to enter the room. Charmaine had only seen the dowager once the entire day, when she had insisted Colette take a nap. She graciously greeted everyone, then sat across from Pierre.

The family fell into easy banter, and dinner was served. Charmaine enjoyed the food immensely, not realizing how hungry she was, although the noontime fare had been delectable. She helped with Pierre’s plate, while talking with the girls, Rose, and Colette. Halfway through the meal, George spoke to her. “Well, Charmaine Ryan, how was your first day as governess?”

“It was wonderful.”

Colette chuckled. “Charmaine wasn’t supposed to begin her duties until tomorrow. However”—she sent a mock frown down the table toward her daughter—“Yvette took it upon herself to obtain a piano lesson from Miss Ryan.”

All eyes went to the girl, save Paul’s, whose gaze rested on Charmaine.

“That’s right,” Yvette piped up, “Mademoiselle is teaching me how to play.”

“She’s going to teach me as well!” Jeannette chimed in.

Paul leaned back in his chair. “Miss Ryan is full of surprises, isn’t she?”