A Silent Ocean Away (35 page)

“Don’t worry,” Charmaine avowed. “I intend to.”

“Good. Now, before I talk with the
devil
, I’m supposed to tell you the children are with my grandmother in her chambers.”

“How did you know where they were?”

“After four months away, my first order of business was to visit my grandmother. The children were with her when I knocked on her door.”

“I had better see to them,” Charmaine replied.

George watched her go. Shaking his head, he strode to the guestroom John now occupied. According to his grandmother, the man had been apprised of all the events leading up to his return home, namely Colette’s death and Agatha’s reign. John had to be furious if he’d confronted Frederic already. George cringed with the thought of facing his friend just yet. Perhaps this was not a good time, he concluded, the fist he’d held suspended dropping to his side.

Monday, August 21, 1837

Sunday was mercifully uneventful, and when the day ended, Charmaine thanked the Lord she had been spared John Duvoisin on the Sabbath. She’d anxiously anticipated another rancorous
altercation with him, but her worries had been needless. He hadn’t attended Holy Mass and was absent for all three meals, locking himself away in his chambers, his presence signaled only by the footfalls of Anna or Felicia as they scurried to his door to deliver another bottle of spirits. Nevertheless, Charmaine had been afraid to venture from her own quarters. Their dispute over Colette’s letter was too fresh in her mind, and she hoped to postpone their next confrontation for as long as possible.

For that reason, she rose early today and hastily ushered the children down to breakfast. With any luck, the detestable man would abstain from eating again, or would rise late, and she could successfully evade him for a second day.

As Fatima set four steaming bowls of porridge on the table, Charmaine reeled with the realization she loathed a man she had only known for forty-eight hours. Her conscience chastised her, but she reasoned others were suffering his return as well, the house teetering on an undercurrent of tension. Family and servants alike seemed to be awaiting his next move, the thundering crash, the ultimate explosion. Charmaine vowed to be absent for it.

To that end, she was determined to finish breakfast with the children as quickly as possible and retreat to the safety of their rooms. However, Yvette was just as determined to sabotage her plan. She dallied through the meal, distracting Jeannette and Pierre. Every time Charmaine pointed a finger at her cereal, the girl protested. “Too many lumps!” So, the oatmeal grew cold, and Charmaine had run out of threats.

“I’m going to get some milk!” Yvette announced. “I’m incredibly thirsty!”

“You stay right there,” Charmaine enjoined. “I will get it for you.”

Upon returning to the dining room, Yvette was nowhere in sight. “Where is your sister?” Charmaine demanded.

“Gone,” Pierre replied, taking hold of his glass and sloshing milk down his shirt before greedily drinking it.

“Back to our room,” Jeannette elaborated. “She changed her mind.”

Charmaine did not believe it for a second, and wiped Pierre’s dampened chest in rigid restraint. Sure enough, the nursery proved empty. Now she feared the worst: the eight-year-old had begged all weekend long to visit her older brother’s apartments.
That
was her destination.

When Jeannette promised to read to Pierre, Charmaine took a deep breath and set out in pursuit of the errant twin. She walked quietly along the veranda, stopping just shy of John’s quarters, head cocked, listening. No voices, though the French doors were open. Tiptoeing closer, she peered in at an angle, a small section of the chamber visible. Nothing—nobody. She leaned forward and spied the foot of the bed. A little farther, and boots came into view. She jumped back, stumbling over her own feet and nearly falling, plastering herself against the face of the manor. Someone was reclining there—John! When her heart stopped hammering, she chuckled softly, foolishly, and relaxed. He was alone; she’d been wrong.

Where to look now? She crossed through her room and began with the second floor of the north wing, next the servant’s staircase to the kitchen, then the kitchen itself. No Yvette. She cracked the door that opened onto the dining room, relieved to find only Anna and Felicia moving around the table, setting down teacups and saucers. She walked casually across the room, ignoring their sidelong glances, and entered the study. It was empty as well. She was growing more frustrated by the minute and feared her original assumption was correct: Yvette had stealthily made her way up to John’s chambers.

Gritting her teeth, she stepped into the drawing room and circled the piano, the two sofas, the high-back chairs, and the
coffee table. She looked behind the curtains. Still, no Yvette. She moved to a table near the French doors. It was covered with a lace cloth that fell to the floor. She had just bent over to peer under it when a crisp, masculine voice resounded behind her.

“Searching for something, Mademoiselle?”

Charmaine’s heart leapt into her throat, and she straightened so quickly she nearly toppled the table.

John leaned placidly against the hallway doorframe, arms and legs crossed, a bemused smile on his lips. The easy portrait ended there: his eyes were bloodshot, his complexion ruddy, and his cheeks covered in stubble. He seemed oblivious of his unsteady state as he persisted in demeaning her.

“You didn’t have to straighten up so fast. Your derrière is the finest bit of fluff I’ve had the pleasure to see in quite some time, save for the other night.”

Charmaine reddened, irate more than embarrassed.

His smile broadened. “What are you searching for so diligently? Perhaps I could help locate it? If not, I’d be happy to assist with anything else that comes to mind.” His eyes, which had scanned the room, now raked her from head to toe, indifferent that she was deeply offended.

She steeled her emotions and walked briskly toward the archway where he stood. He did not step aside; rather he placed his palm flat against the doorjamb, blocking her path.

“Once again, Mademoiselle,” he stated in irritation, “you haven’t answered my question. Perhaps you thought the wind had blown a letter under the table, and you felt it your duty to pick it up and
read it
.”

He expected an angry response and was unprepared when she ducked under his extended arm and raced into the main foyer. She had reached the steps by the time he’d whirled around, but his chuckle followed her up the stairs.

Safe in her bedchamber, she cursed herself for running from him like some frightened child, or worse yet, a guilty one. She should have stood up to him, and she stamped her foot. “Oh, that miserable, despicable man!”

She entered the nursery, praying that by some miracle Yvette had returned.

“Did you find her?” Jeannette asked, looking up from the book.

“No,” Charmaine replied in exasperation, only half-aware of Pierre, who had left his sister’s lap to give her a big hug. “Jeannette, do you have any idea where she could be?”

Jeannette’s negative response set her to pacing. Soon the household would be stirring, and she fretted over the mistress’s severe reprimand should Yvette turn up in some forbidden area. Her heart missed a beat when there was an unexpected rap on the hallway door.
Agatha already?

Charmaine reached it, cringing when Yvette bounded in, leaving her to face not Agatha, but John.

“I’m returning one missing twin to where she belongs at this hour in the morning,” he said. “She was what you were looking for, yes?”

“Yes,” Charmaine replied curtly. “Thank you.”

She pushed the door closed, not caring it would shut in his face. But he braced his hand against it, stopping it midway. “Before you lock me out,” he smirked, “I’d like to have a word with you.”

“You’ve already had a word with me,” she rejoined audaciously.

“I’ll have another word with you, then,” he countered sharply, gesturing for her to step into the hallway.

For all her bravado, his temper was unsettling, and so she complied, counseling herself calm as he closed the door, hands folded primly before her, eyes lowered.

“Aren’t you the least bit interested in where I found her?”

“No,” she replied stubbornly.

“I see,” he mused. “Incompetent
and
stupid.”

Charmaine’s eyes widened, both hurt and angry, but she didn’t have the opportunity to defend herself.

“You would be wise to remember the children are your responsibility, Mademoiselle, at least for now. Yvette has no business eavesdropping on adult conversations, which she undoubtedly will hear if she escapes your eye and takes cover in the drawing room. Yes, that is where I found her.”

Charmaine burned, his supercilious stance and smug smile giving rise to the words, “May I ask you if you are annoyed with me—or yourself?”

His brow raised in surprise. “Mademoiselle, Yvette is your responsibility.”

“And I fail to see how she would have come to harm in the drawing room, unless you are embarrassed by what she overheard: your adult conversation—derrière and all! Furthermore, if you hadn’t interrupted my search, she wouldn’t have remained hidden for long.”

John found her outburst entertaining, her large eyes just as diverting. But it wouldn’t lead to victory, not even a small one. He’d sparred with intimidating opponents in his day and always won.
What else can I say to fire her up and garner more ammunition to use against her?

“I don’t care what she heard, Miss Ryan, and even less by whom. But
I
am the exception in this household. I know Mrs. Duvoisin, or even my dear brother wouldn’t take too kindly to Yvette eavesdropping on them. If
they
find her in some hidden niche, I guarantee there will be all hell to pay, and the bill that hell charges will come directly to you. That will be all,
my Charm
.”

It was the last straw. As he walked away, Charmaine pursued
him. “No, that won’t be all!” she spat at his back, drawing him round as he reached the crest of the staircase and took one step down. She stepped in front of him, closer to eye level now, her temper out of control. “There is one more thing,
Master
John. You needn’t remind me of my duties, and I take offense you’ve judged me incompetent. Obviously, you are unaware that I have managed quite well with the children for close to a year now, and not once has their welfare been jeopardized. But you are right about Mrs. Duvoisin: her reaction would have been just like yours. As for Paul, he has always supported me.”

For the first time, John appeared stymied. Charmaine smiled triumphantly. He didn’t remain mute for long, however. “Miss Ryan, I know you’ve made it well worth my brother’s while to ‘support’ you, but you underestimate me.”

“
Really?
” she returned, astounded by the scope of his crude conclusions. “You should know your father has also commended me.”

John’s eyes hardened. “
Miss
Ryan, you have no idea how miserable I can make your life if it strikes my fancy. It hasn’t come to that—yet. But, use my father to threaten me, and it will.”

Charmaine felt the blood drain from her face.

Mercifully, Agatha emerged from the south wing hallway, an unlikely buffer for her sudden intimidation. “What goes on here?” she demanded.

“Miss Ryan was just comparing the two of us,” her nephew replied.

“Comparing us?” she choked out. “Surely there is no comparison!”

“Indeed!” John agreed wryly, raising his hand in salute.

Then he was gone, leaving Charmaine to contend with the confused woman. With a mumbled “good morning,” she quickly retreated to the nursery.

There she spent the next four hours lamenting her loose tongue. Why had she spoken so brashly, boastfully?
Pride goeth before a fall
…She’d grown overconfident and
had
underestimated John’s authority. Should she take the matter up with Paul and tell him about the incident with the letter? She instantly discounted that idea; it would lead to more trouble. Yes, Paul might support her, but he was second in line. And if he went to his father, Frederic would never condone her unscrupulous behavior, no matter how she pleaded her case. Somehow, her future had been placed in John’s hands. He held all the cards, had held them since Saturday morning. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d just added more fuel to the fire. He was right—she was stupid!

The morning wore on, and the children grew bored. Charmaine had repeatedly quelled their requests to leave their sanctuary, but as lunchtime neared, she couldn’t quarantine them any longer. Panic seized hold as they approached the dining room. What if John were there? Thankfully, he wasn’t. Even so, his wraith was present; every little noise made Charmaine jump.

“Where is Johnny?” Yvette asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied, then added under her breath, “As long as he’s not here, he can be anywhere he likes.”

“You don’t like him, do you?” Yvette demanded, canting her head.

“I never said that!”

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll change your mind sooner or later.”

Charmaine nearly choked on her food. The child had never been more wrong in her life. She’d sooner declare her father a “man of God.”

Lunch was over, but the children refused to return to the playroom. “I’m tired of playing with those silly toys or reading those fairytale books,” Yvette protested. “We haven’t left the nursery for days!”

She was right. They couldn’t spend the rest of their lives sequestered. “Then let us have our piano lesson,” Charmaine offered.

Yvette objected again. “Johnny might hear us, and I want to surprise him.”

Charmaine sighed, but Jeannette’s suggestion met with everyone’s approval. “We wouldn’t be spoiling the surprise if you played for us, Mademoiselle.”

Minutes later, they clustered around the piano, and Charmaine placed her hands to the keys, performing her usual repertoire of children’s tunes while they sang along. Even Pierre joined in, the serious tremor in his voice spawning contagious giggles. All their woes were forgotten, and gaiety ruled the afternoon.