Forever Waiting (21 page)

“She was precisely where I said she would be,” John replied, “in the chapel, praying.”

Yvette’s voice rang out from the north wing. “There you are! Jeannette and I have been looking for you everywhere.”

“Where have you been, Mademoiselle?” her sister asked, rushing forward. “We were worried when we didn’t find you in your room.”

Charmaine looked at each of them, quickly formulating an answer under Paul’s scrutiny. “I couldn’t sleep after all the excitement.”

“You didn’t go to bed at all?” Paul interrogated.

To John’s amazement, she looked him in the eye and replied, “I was upset by something I saw from the balcony last night.”

Paul appeared shaken.

“What was it?” asked Yvette.

“Nothing important,” Charmaine answered laconically, turning to the girls and reminding them they had best get ready for Mass.

A short while later, she entered the chapel again, this time with Jeannette and Yvette on either side of her. It was empty.

They had just finished their prayers when John appeared in the doorway. Yvette saw him first. “What are you doing here?” she whispered incredulously as he lifted Jeannette over his lap and placed her to his right so he could sit next to Charmaine.

“Attending Mass,” he stated simply, a twinkle in his eyes.

Charmaine was astounded as he took her hand and cradled it affectionately on his warm thigh. He had left them to bathe and shave, and she’d assumed she wouldn’t see him again until breakfast. But now, here he was beside her, feeding her pride. Blissful beyond measure, she looked up at him with a brilliant smile. In reply, he raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them tenderly. The twins exchanged glances and giggles.

Charmaine could only wonder what the other family members thought when they saw John there. She kept her head bowed, more in thanksgiving than to avoid suspicious eyes. John, however, gave a friendly nod to anyone who looked his way. Frederic’s brow rose, Agatha’s eyes narrowed, Anne stuck her nose high in the air, Rose’s lips curled with a knowing smile, and Paul simmered.

The entire congregation stood as Father Benito entered the sanctuary. Charmaine hardly heard the opening prayer, but her pulse quickened with the pronouncement: “This Mass is being offered for the repose of the soul of Colette Duvoisin at the request of her husband and her children.”

Charmaine’s eyes closed in silent agony.
One year ago today! How could I have forgotten?
John grasped her hand and squeezed her fingers. She stole a glance at him; he was smiling. The sorrow passed, and her heart grew light.

She couldn’t concentrate on the Mass, her mind possessed of her incredible experience the night before. She blushed, and noticing John studied her, the color in her cheeks deepened.

During the Consecration, she began to fret over taking Communion. But when the time came, John nudged her up and out of the pew, his hand under her arm. He remained close and prodded her toward the altar. Unable to protest without making a scene, she found a spot to kneel with John beside her. Father Benito reached him first, and with great reverence, the host was placed on his tongue. John bowed his head and waited for Charmaine. They rose together and rejoined the twins in the pew. As she knelt down once again, she offered up her petition and asked the Lord to bless her new family this day, most especially her husband.
Forgive me for receiving your precious gift while in a state of mortal sin
, she silently whispered
, but I do love him so
. John’s head remained bowed long after she had finished.

Later, she asked him why he had prompted her to receive the Holy Eucharist. He looked at her with a mischievous smile. “Of all the grave sins in this world, my Charm,” he replied, “making love to you will never be one of them.” His wise words were a tender absolution.

The ceremony ended, but Father Benito detained the assembly a moment longer. “Godspeed to our guests who will be journeying home. Before you leave, John would like to say a few words.”

To everyone’s surprise, John stood and walked to the front of the chapel. “Good morning,” he greeted, glancing over the congregation. “Because you are all here, family and friends alike, this is the perfect time to introduce you to my wife—the woman I love— Charmaine Duvoisin.”

Charmaine heard her married name pronounced for the first time, and her heart leapt.

His eyes rested momentarily on the twins. “We were married earlier this morning, and we want to share our happiness with all of you.”

He gestured for Charmaine to stand, and though disconcerted by the large, attentive crowd, she proudly rose to her feet. He went to her side and took hold of her arm. Someone started clapping and the twins immediately joined in gleefully.

“Oh, Johnny, oh, Mademoiselle Charmaine, is it true? Is it really true?”

“Yes, Jeannie, it’s really true.”

They were stopped numerous times as they wended their way to the chapel doors, guest after guest stepping forward to offer congratulations. The family held back until the end. Rose shook a crooked finger at John, but hugged him close, a long, heartfelt embrace. George nudged his grandmother along, giving John another hearty clap on the back. Mercedes hugged Charmaine again. Paul was next. His eyes were dark, and Charmaine shivered. He had to be told sooner or later, and this was the best way for him to find out. He said nothing, but glared at John, who, undaunted, stared him down. Agatha extended them cordial good wishes.

Frederic was the last to leave the sanctuary, offering his hand to John. To Charmaine’s surprise, John took it. “Congratulations, son,” he said, his voice husky, “may you be truly happy.”

“I intend to be,” John responded without acrimony.

“And you, Mrs. Duvoisin,” Frederic added, “welcome to my family. I hope you know what you’re entering into,” he quipped.

“I think so, sir,” she said timidly as he bent forward and embraced her, his lips lightly brushing her cheek.

“Shall we break the fast?” He gestured toward the dining room, allowing Charmaine and John to lead the way.

The twins remained by his side, bantering happily as they skipped along. “Isn’t it wonderful, Papa? Charmaine is part of the family now! We told you it would be a good thing to invite Johnny home. We were right, weren’t we?”

“Yes,” the man breathed expansively, “you were both very right. Come now, I’m famished. Let us see what Fatima has prepared for us.”

Charmaine enjoyed Cookie’s reaction most of all. Choking back tears, she exclaimed, “Only thing could’ve made me happier today, Master John, would’ve been if you’d have married me.”

John gave her a huge hug, and Fatima had all she could do to contain herself.

“Master John, you know better than to kiss me like that. Now look what you’ve done—you’ve gone and made me cry! Now you get out of here and save your hugs for Miss Charmaine.”

If there was any talk about the early morning wedding, Charmaine was unaware of it. Throughout the day, she received many warm wishes, and John happily introduced her over and over again to anyone who approached them.

She saw little of Paul. After breakfast, he left with two of his guests. She was thankful he kept his distance, but she dreaded the inevitable confrontation.

For the first time in years, John and Frederic carried on a cordial conversation at the table. Charmaine looked away when she caught their eyes on her. If she could have read Frederic’s thoughts, she would have been abashed.

He wondered about the hasty marriage. Had John seduced Charmaine last night? Her crimson face led him to think so. But no matter; John had chosen well, and Frederic felt a fondness for his son as never before. John had finally buried Colette and was willing to accept Charmaine’s wholehearted love. Frederic knew Paul was angry. Nevertheless, Paul wouldn’t have allowed Charmaine to slip away if his feelings ran as deeply as John’s. Frederic hoped Paul would accept the marriage without interfering—that history wouldn’t repeat itself.

As the day drew on, the guests departed, sent off with endearing farewells. They would get settled for the night on the
Falcon
, the
Raven
, and two of Paul’s new merchantmen, setting sail for home at the break of dawn.

Agatha breathed a sigh of contentment when the last carriage pulled away. The week had been well worth her grueling efforts. This was her destiny. For the first time, she was truly recognized as the mistress of the Duvoisin manor. John’s marriage to the governess was the icing on the cake, a balm for her little setback with Frederic last night. When John left Charmantes, perhaps in the next few days, Charmaine Ryan would go with him. Perhaps they’d even take the twins. Then she’d send Paul to Espoir and have her husband all to herself, reliving those days of blissful rapture before cruel, twisted fate had wrenched him from her all those years ago. It was time to pay her brother a visit and relate the good news …

Robert expected to a find a desperate patient on his doorstep, but was surprised to see his sister instead.

“Oh, Robert,” she declared as she stepped over the threshold, “the gods have smiled down upon us this day!”

She spun around to greet him, a brilliant smile lighting the whole of her face. But he had already returned to his bedchamber where he had been busy before she came calling. Agatha followed him. Something was amiss. A trunk was open at the foot of his bed, packed with clothing.

“Are you going somewhere?” she queried in consternation.

“Yes. I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? You can’t be serious. The past few days have been fortuitous. Our plans—”

“Your plans, dear sister, not mine,” he said softly.

“What do you mean,
my
plans? You’ve shared in all my dreams and desires.”

“Yes,
your
dreams and
your
desires.”

“Now, Robert,” she soothed, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“I have desires, too,” he sneered, his eyes meeting hers. “I thought you understood that. You led me to believe I mattered. But last night, after watching you
admire
your husband, I realized I’ve been a dolt these many years, a simpering dolt, happy with the scraps you’ve tossed my way.”

She bristled, but he continued. “Frederic offers us security,” he mimicked in an effeminate pitch. “I must right the wrongs perpetrated against me—and then, Robert—then we will be together.” Suddenly, his voice was no longer mewling, but hard and clipped. “You’ve no intention of leaving Frederic, even now when you have everything you want, even after all he has done to you. You love him! Have always loved him, even when you’ve hated him!”

“Yes, I love him!” she screamed.

“Then why pretend with me? You used me. I know that now. That was why you kept me around. You used me for your own conniving ends.”

“Now, Robert,” she purred, coming close to him, “that’s not entirely true. And you yourself conspired in the beginning.”

“Because I loved you—and cursed the man who nearly destroyed you!”

“And I shall always love you,” she whispered, brushing her lips across his sallow cheek. “You are my brother, after all.”

“Enough! No more games!” He shoved her aside and grabbed more clothing from his armoire. “You don’t need me anymore. And I think I’ve finally had enough of you. Like your guests, I shall be aboard the ship that departs for Richmond tomorrow. And I shan’t be back.”

“But how will I explain your departure?”

He eyed her with a crooked smile and snapped shut the trunk. “You don’t need me to come up with ideas, dear sister. After all, duplicity suits you.”

She did not press him and left without a backward glance.

Through the slit between curtain and window, Robert watched her go, combating tears as she climbed into the carriage. All hope she would beg him to stay faded as it lurched forward and rolled away.

Agatha Blackford, the other half of his soul, was gone—forever. But he had never really possessed her. He’d spent the whole of his life convincing himself she loved him, that someday, when she was completely healed, when she was vindicated, she would belong to him. But in his heart of hearts, he knew the truth. He sat hard on his bed and, with head in hands, looked back on the thirty years that had brought him to this despicable moment.

As children, he and Agatha had been close, even into adolescence—too close, as their father would say. But their mother indulged that “love”; they were twins after all. Lucy Blackford idolized her eldest children and spurned her daughter, Elizabeth, five years their junior and the apple of their father’s eye. Lucy turned a blind eye to the ridicule Elizabeth endured at Robert and Agatha’s hands.

Robert Blackford senior had been a merchant on the Mersey River in the heart of Liverpool, a modestly wealthy man. And so, he could afford to send Robert to university to study medicine. But only men went to Oxford, and Robert missed Agatha terribly while he was away. He did not know one of their father’s wealthiest suppliers, Frederic Duvoisin, had caught her eye, or he would have hastened home earlier and put a stop to the blossoming love affair. Even now, he was consumed with jealousy as he remembered those first few months when Agatha’s eyes lit up at the mere mention of Frederic’s name.

“Don’t be silly, Robert,” she’d cajoled. “I’m a spinster, for heaven’s sake, and people are talking about us! I don’t love him, and I will always have you close. Marrying him will keep up appearances and afford us security at the same time. Besides, someday I may wish to be a mother.”

Soon they were planning a wedding. Frederic Duvoisin loved her, Agatha averred. In truth, Frederic was sealing a business deal with Robert senior, forging a robust family enterprise. The two men had included Robert in a late night conversation, tallying the benefits both sides would reap from the union. Frederic would supply the imports; Robert senior would secure buyers and distributors.

“So much the better if Agatha fancies herself in love with Frederic,” his father confided that night as they left the inn where Frederic was lodged.

“She is not in love with him, Father,” Robert bit out.