Forever Waiting (6 page)

At the close of the day, Agatha shut her ledger and leaned back in her chair.

“Finished?”

Frederic drew her away from her preoccupation. She nodded contentedly.

“I have three cooks and six maids assigned to Espoir. Fatima has chosen an additional two for our kitchen. On the morning of the ball, those from Espoir shall be transported here to assist. Jane will spend the next month training the housekeepers, including the four I’ve hired for us. All ten should perform splendidly; they know five permanent positions are available on Espoir. In addition, Anne London has graciously arranged a retinue of waiters and table staff to depart her country estate and arrive here a week before the banquet.”

“Agatha, you’ve assumed the role of mistress with the authority it demands,” Frederic praised. “Paul’s debut will be remembered for years to come.”

Her heart soared with his admiration. “Thank you, Frederic,” she murmured tearfully. “With all the money you’ve spent, how could I not lend it my best effort? I’ve done this as much for you as I have for Paul. I’m so pleased to see you up and about again, as strong as ever.”

She stood and went to him, running her hands down his arms, brushing a stray lock of hair back into place. “I love you, Frederic.”

He caught hold of her wrist and brought her fingers to his lips. “I thank you for all you’ve done.”

Sunday, February 25, 1838

George Richards was smitten.

He’d accompanied Paul to the harbor because the
Destiny
was due in port. Stephen Westphal’s daughter, Anne London, was expected to be aboard. Since Paul planned to escort her back to the house, George would take charge of unloading the vessel. The ship arrived, and the mooring went very smoothly.

Anne was above deck, anxiously waiting for the gangplank to be lowered. Paul, George, and Stephen climbed the ramp to greet her. George took an immediate disliking to her. She was pretentious and cloying, and she wore too much rouge. In a matter of seconds, she gave her father a dismissive kiss on the cheek and turned her smothering attention upon Paul. Irked, George jumped at the opportunity to get her luggage from her cabin.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light as he stepped inside. Then he saw her: a young woman gathering up parcels. She had long auburn hair, hazel eyes, olive skin, and high cheekbones. She was exotic and took his breath away.

“Good day,” he greeted, “I’m here to collect Mrs. London’s things.”

She nodded and blushed, lowering her eyes to the floor before scurrying through the doorway.

He hastily grabbed a few bags and rushed out in pursuit. It was bright and warm above deck. The young woman was not far ahead of him. As she reached the gangplank, she stumbled and grasped for the railing, the parcels spilling out of her arms. George dropped his baggage and hurried to help her.

“Are you all right?” he asked, taking her elbow until she regained her balance. He picked up the packages, their eyes locking as he straightened up.

“Thank you,” she replied with another blush.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled. “Here, take my arm.”

She slid a delicate hand into the crook of his elbow, and he walked her down the ramp to Paul and Anne.

“You’re going to need another carriage,” he commented.

“I’ll hire one from the livery,” Paul replied, “if you’d get the other trunks.”

George agreed, but by the time he’d returned, the first carriage was rolling away, Anne, Paul, and the lovely young lady inside.
Who is she?

A ruckus resounded in the hallway. Charmaine stepped out of the nursery with the twins close behind. Travis and Joseph had deposited a mountain of leather traveling cases outside John’s bedchamber door, then disappeared down the steps. Charmaine looked at the twins, who returned her regard with quizzical shrugs. Yvette dashed back into the nursery and out onto the balcony.

“Come and see, Mademoiselle!”

Jeannette and Charmaine followed. Two carriages had pulled up to the portico, and two women were on the lawn, one of them conversing with Paul and Stephen Westphal. She was elegantly garbed in a pale yellow dress, cut low to reveal the swell of her ample bosom. A wide-brimmed hat was cocked to the side of her head, and she held a parasol. She had strawberry-blond hair that was swept up and pinned neatly under her hat. Her face was heart-shaped, with expressive brown eyes and a finely arched brow. Her cheeks were rosy, and she had a curvaceous body. She was quite attractive, though she did not come close to the delicate, graceful beauty of Colette Duvoisin. Anne London, Charmaine surmised. The woman’s eyes were locked on Paul, her head tilted back and a smile tugging at her lips.

Her companion was younger, perhaps Charmaine’s age, and dressed in plain clothes. She was tall and slender, her long hair tied back with a ribbon and falling to her hips. She was busy unloading hatboxes from the second carriage, which was piled high with luggage. The top box wobbled, then fell altogether, spilling a frilled bonnet onto the lawn.

“Really, Mercedes,” Anne London exclaimed with a click of the tongue, “do be more careful! I haven’t even worn that hat yet, and already you’ve managed to soil it!” Mercedes scrambled to pick up the expensive item, blushing in embarrassment as both Stephen and Paul turned to see. “Why don’t you follow the butler and bring the boxes up to my room?”

“Who is it, Mademoiselle?”

“Mrs. London,” Charmaine replied, gaining Yvette’s grimace.

“Good thing Johnny isn’t here!”

Charmaine chuckled.

Again, they heard the commotion in the hallway. Travis had opened John’s dressing room door and was carrying two trunks into the chamber. Charmaine was instantly annoyed. “Mr. Thornfield,” she called when he reappeared empty-handed, “what are you doing?”

“Delivering Mrs. London’s things to her room, Miss. Why do you ask?”

“You have the wrong room,” she replied.

“Master Paul told me to bring them here, Miss Ryan.”

“Take them to another room,” she insisted. “Two doors down will be fine.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Paul and Anne arrived. “Is something the matter?” Paul interrupted.

“Miss Ryan seems to think I’m placing the baggage in the wrong room.”

Paul turned quizzical eyes on Charmaine, and Anne’s gaze followed.

Charmaine watched her nose wrinkle disdainfully and knew what she was thinking:
So this is the governess, Miss Ryan, the daughter of a murderer—worse than common
. Charmaine tore her eyes away and looked pointedly at Paul.

“May I speak with you privately, Paul?” she pressed, pleased when Anne appeared aghast at hearing her use his given name. “It will only take a moment.”

Paul seemed oblivious to the silent exchange. With a courteous smile, he excused himself and followed Charmaine into the nursery.

“Those are John’s quarters,” she said when he had closed the door behind him. “Mrs. London can stay in another room.”

“What difference does it make?” Paul asked, entirely befuddled.

“Those chambers belong to John and shouldn’t be disturbed. He was pushed out when I took his room. Now it’s happening again. It’s not right.”

“But he’s not here, Charmaine. I don’t think he would care—”

“I
care,” she replied, unmindful of his annoyance. “And what if he should come home for your celebration?”

“That is unlikely,” Paul replied, taken aback by her disappointed expression. “Very well,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

He returned to Anne and directed Travis to move her bags to the next suite. “The children are early risers, Anne,” he explained urbanely. “You’ll have peace and quiet if we place a little distance between your quarters and theirs.”

“How kind of you,” she smiled artificially, glancing Charmaine’s way.

“Would you like to join us for lunch?” Charmaine asked from the door.

The young woman turned from her task of hanging dresses in the armoire. “I have to unpack all these gowns first,” she told Charmaine and the twins.

“It’s getting late,” Charmaine remarked. “You must be hungry. Can’t you finish this after lunch?”

“I had better do it now. Mrs. London will be furi—upset if they’re wrinkled.”

“Well, then, let us help, so you can have lunch, too. Come, girls.”

Charmaine stepped into the chamber, followed closely by the twins, and proceeded to take one beautiful garment after another out of the traveling cases.

“I’m Charmaine Ryan, Yvette and Jeannette’s governess,” she offered, extending a hand to the lady’s maid. “Welcome to the Duvoisin manor.”

“I’m Mercedes Wells. It is nice to meet you.” For the first time, the young woman smiled. Charmaine knew she had made a friend.

Thursday, March 1, 1838

George admired Mercedes from the armchair where he sat, as he’d done for the past three nights after dinner. Paul had invited Anne London’s personal maid to join them. Though George was pleased to enjoy her company, if only from afar, the words he’d exchanged with Paul earlier at the mill still rankled him.

“Not this one, Paul— you’re not going to have this one.”

Paul threw him a puzzled look. “What are you talking about?”

“You know goddamn well what I’m talking about—encouraging Miss Wells to join the family after dinner.”

Paul remained bewildered. “She and Charmaine have struck up a friendship. Don’t tell me you’re annoyed I’ve invited her to … ” Suddenly, Paul was laughing. “Oh, now I understand. You’re jealous.”

George’s face reddened. “Just leave her alone.”

“She’s not beautiful, George,” Paul teased, “comely, but not beautiful.”

“The hell she’s not!”

Paul chuckled again. “If she were beautiful, my friend, do you think she’d be Anne London’s attendant? I assure you, Anne would never place a delectable dish so near her own plate. She’s far too vain.”

George remained tight-lipped, simmering.

“I’m not interested in Miss Wells, George. I leave her to you.”

Mercedes Wells
was
beautiful— in George’s eyes, the most beautiful woman in the room. Abruptly, he stood and walked over to her chair.

She looked up in surprise.

“Miss Wells,” he heard himself say, “will you take a stroll with me in the gardens?” He was elated when she murmured, “Yes.”

In the days that followed, Charmaine saw very little of Paul. He was busy with preparations for the celebration, and when he was free, Anne London rarely left his side. She now commanded his Saturdays.

Anne and Agatha got along famously. When Paul wasn’t around, they spent much of their time together. Agatha was engrossed in planning every detail of the affair, from receiving invitation responses to selecting flower arrangements, preparing menus, organizing table settings, hiring musicians, establishing lodgings and other accommodations. Anne advised Agatha on all these matters, and they spent many an hour locked away in Agatha’s boudoir.

Charmaine and Mercedes’s friendship continued to grow. Mercedes was a sensible, down-to-earth woman, with a keen perception of people and their motives. Because she was Anne London’s lady’s assistant, she was at the widow’s beck and call for anything and everything. Up and out of bed well before dawn, she laid out Anne’s clothes and placed her breakfast order before she awoke. When Anne did rise, Mercedes didn’t know a moment’s peace until long after lunch, shuttling food trays to and from the widow’s chambers and helping with her morning toilette and coiffure, a laborious process that took hours. Afterward, she ran errands: posting Anne’s letters, acquiring incidentals from the mercantile, bringing her drinks, or fetching her books from the library. Anne was condescending and abusive, constantly threatening to dismiss her for the most minor infraction or mishap.

Mercedes despised Anne London, but she was paid well, and she needed her job. Like Charmaine, her mother had died a few years earlier, after a prolonged illness. Mercedes’s father was a stable-master on a Virginia estate, and she had an elder brother, also a stable-master, who had a wife and children. Her father was rarely around, and Mercedes felt it was time she set out on her own in the world. Because she’d grown up around horses, she was an experienced rider.

When Yvette told Frederic this, he gave the young woman free rein to ride Colette’s mare, Chastity, since the horse was in dire need of regular workouts. So in the afternoons when Anne went off with Agatha, Charmaine, Mercedes and the twins went riding to all corners of the island, having a fabulous time.

Whenever he could, George returned to the manor for lunch, and after work, he avoided Dulcie’s, preferring to go straight home. Occasionally, he’d get lucky and Mercedes would go for a walk with him after dinner. He despised the way Anne London treated her. Much as he wanted to defend her, he didn’t dare, certain Anne would dismiss her on the spot.

Some weeks before Paul’s gala, George asked Mercedes to be his partner at the banquet and ball. She accepted eagerly, but the very next day, she told him Anne had forbidden her to attend.

“This isn’t a servant’s affair,” Anne had remonstrated sarcastically. “It’s a business engagement and a society soirée, reserved for gentry with social status. It will be very embarrassing for Mr. Duvoisin and for me if you show your face there. I will not allow it.”