Upon Your Return (9 page)

“No, leave us,” she ordered her nursemaid. The woman left the room, frowning. Fara pulled her dressing sacque closer to her bosom and drew a hand across her eyes to stem the flow of tears. She took a deep breath, aware that her heart was hammering itself to death.

“I am sorry to have caught you at a time like this. I know your uncle's death has been hard for you.”

Recovering from her emotional turmoil, she took a deep breath. “
Oui
.” She frowned. “
Capitaine
Hill, it is unlike you to enter a lady's boudoir uninvited.”

“But can you really know,
chère
, what I am capable of?”

“Perhaps not. Yet there are rumors of your bedside manner…”

“Perhaps they are only rumors then,” he said softly as he sat on a nearby chaise.

“
Oui
.” Fara shook her head. “Why are you here, Grant?”

“That does not matter. What will you do now without an escort,
Mademoiselle
?”

Oui
, her uncle was dead and she had no one to look after her. But, why should he care about that? “Are you to fill the position,
Monsieur
?” she countered with a grin.

“Perhaps with your permission. Is it so funny?”

“Only that you feel you must concern yourself with my affairs.”

“Have I not done so since that first night in the harbor?”

“
Oui
,” she replied. “But you are still in my boudoir--”

“Would you have me leave then--”

“Without permission…” she finished.

“Ah,” he exclaimed softly. “Then,
Mademoiselle
, may I enter your boudoir?”

She considered it, but with a smile playing on her lips, she answered, “No,
Monsieur
. You may not.”

He stood quickly and approached her, lifting a hand to gently touch her cheek. “You are a tease,
Mademoiselle
. You like playing with men, I think.” She frowned as he turned to leave. “
Adieu
, Fara. I shall see you on Tuesday.”

“What do you mean?”

He glanced back. “Tuesday. The reading of the will.”

“How do you know about that?”

“I have my ways.” He made his exit, whistling a sailor's tune through the dark hallways outside her bedroom. She heard the front door close.

She groaned. Why did he feel obligated to attend the reading of the will? That was her business. His interference in her life was certainly not helping matters these days. It being Thursday, however, she only had the weekend to prepare for what might happen. She couldn't begin to imagine what the will would say; mostly she feared what was on that piece of paper would change her whole life. Losing her uncle had been enough of a shock; losing everything would be devastating.

* * * *

May 23, 1863

On the following Tuesday, the library was busier than ever before. People mulled around in obvious anxiety about the will. The activity there was not so unfamiliar though. Every once in a while, her uncle conducted business in the house, but only in the library. During the times that he had associates over, she would hear stern tones and chuckling from time to time through the thick door. She had not been allowed to attend his meetings though. The men had most likely discussed political goings-on and business issues. But today, business was a legal affair. Politics were removed from the scene entirely. And the tone was grave, indeed.

Fara was aware of the tall man who stood by the doorway of the library, but she averted her gaze.
He might feel he has a right to be here, but I'm not obligated to acknowledge him.
He had somehow become her shadow at every possible moment, and she was tired of the way he took control of situations when he thought she had nowhere to turn. The man's looks aside, she did not need Grant to direct her affairs as he saw fit. Michel
de
Bellamont had assumed that role since he'd taken her in as a child. It was enough to endure over the years. She did not need that any longer. If society expected a man to act as her escort, she would heed it. But, in no way did she want just any man to believe he could steer her through life as well.

She was alone. She could take care of herself now. Her uncle had been her only caretaker after her parents' deaths and there was no one else who could take over. She was eighteen. Surely some exception existed that allowed even a lowly woman to find the means necessary to support herself without resorting to another man's assistance. Perhaps she could become a seamstress and be employed by the milliner. It was the only skill, aside from a slight knowledge of the pianoforte, which her mother had bestowed upon her before her sudden passing.

A stout, yet well-groomed man with weary brown eyes swept into the room, the same man who had warned her of this event. He took a central place at a writing desk. The others in the room, fellow colleagues of Michel
de
Bellamont as well as the servants, focused on him.
Monsieur
Lumas cleared his throat as he looked down at the large book he held open. “The first order of business here is to establish that all persons present will accept
Monsieur
Bellamont's wishes or those persons may leave.
Monsieur
Bellamont has stated this for certain: if those persons see fit to leave the premises due to some dissatisfaction with his wishes, their given belongings may change hands.”

He glanced up to check that everyone agreed. “I, Michel
de
Bellamont, bequeath my business affairs, including the most recent deals and profits, to
Messieurs
Fawler and Queret. They are both capable of taking such responsibility and will not object to my decision.”

The two gentlemen standing by a tall bookshelf exchanged pleased looks.

“The house will be paid for a year henceforth and then it will be auctioned off. All of the workers employed by me will be in service at the house and be given their wages until my niece finds other lodging.”

Fara glanced at Rosalie, who seemed to take the news well. Perhaps it was the security of a possible year's work that relieved her.

The lawyer continued reading: “My niece is betrothed to
Monsieur
Bordeaux. They are scheduled to be married in six months. If for any reason he behaves contrary to this affianced status, the couple's betrothal will be annulled. Should this occur, my niece will then be placed in the care of
Madame
Devereux, my sister, in Marseille. I trust that she will approve of any other engagements that might ensue. My niece will be able to access her dowry funds once she is wed and her husband may judge what to use it for. However, if my niece does not choose to wed an acceptable man and decides to remain unmarried for any reason, she may have access to her dowry upon her twenty-fifth birthday as long as
Madame
Devereux approves of that decision. These are my wishes if anything should happen to me.”

Fara sighed heavily, feeling a tight knot in her chest. For all his impassivity toward her, he had been unusually fair in most of his dying wishes. Though she was still tied to
Monsieur
Bordeaux, it seemed as if there might be a way out if he did not act as her fiancé. She still had not met the man. There were guidelines to the way an engagement was conducted, such as meeting one's match prior to the wedding. It was only fair.

But, she also knew that despite her own desires, life was never really fair or predictable, especially for women. Now that her uncle's will had been read, everyone would most likely focus on what was said. It would become the subject of gossip flowing through every social circle, the issue that she and
Monsieur
Bordeaux were to be married by the admission of Michel
de
Bellamont's own hand. The news was in writing and
Monsieur
Bordeaux would be obligated to behave as an affianced gentleman. Perhaps she would finally meet her husband-to-be.

“Fara…”

She glanced up at Grant, who had moved from the doorway to stand in front of her. She looked around, realizing that those who had shown up for the reading of the will had begun to disperse and excuse themselves from the house. Her period of mourning now allowed her to avoid most of her duties as hostess. “I'm fine,” she stated flatly, ignoring his penetrating gray eyes.

He shook his head sadly. “You do not lie well.”

Her jaw tightened. “I do not have to listen to you.”

“No, you don't. Think about this, however.
Monsieur
Bordeaux is certainly not acting like your fiancé. If he were, he would have been here today in your time of need.”

She looked up at him, suddenly feeling an ache inside her. “I do not even know the man,” she replied softly.

“Hearing what your uncle wished of you was difficult. The fact that you have not met your fiancé may have been
Monsieur
Bellamont's intention. It is hard to tell how he really felt about anything.”

She could only agree with him there. She swallowed hard. “He never wanted me to do anything that might make him look bad. But, I know this. I do not want to marry a stranger.”

He nodded. “I do not blame you. Yet many women have had to endure such a fate. You would not be alone.”

“Yes, but what if--” She shook her head, unable to voice a small fear that her fiancé might be a scoundrel instead of a gentleman. It had happened with Jean.

He leaned over her, placing a hand on the edge of the chaise. “I do not know how to help you without overstepping the boundaries of common courtesy.”

She nodded. “I know. I will be all right. Everything will right itself in time.”

He pulled back, but he shifted nervously. “How would you feel if I stayed in one of the guest rooms for a few nights? You can't feel very safe alone in this house.”

She lifted a brow, wary of his determined expression. “I have servants. I am not completely alone.”

“You know very well what I meant.”

She needed protection in some way. Pierre was strong, but not knowledgeable in the ways of society. There must be a gentleman on the premises to ensure the protection of any ladies. She hadn't a choice, especially now when she was in mourning. A means of protection was necessary at this time. “Very well,” she agreed reluctantly. Though she could not help but wonder if his presence would only make things more complicated.

Chapter Seven

Monsieur
Lumas came to see her once more a few days later. Grant happened to be checking the doors when the lawyer arrived. Fara felt removed from her duties somehow, but greeted him as cordially as possible and led him to the library because that was the room with which she was certain he would be most familiar. “Is everything all right,
Monsieur
?”

He nodded. “I came to clear up the situation about your guardian.”

“Situation?”

“Your aunt is to take care of you from now on. You do not have to leave yet, but I have sent her notification of her duties.”

“I thought I was to live with her if
Monsieur
Bordeaux did not assume the actions of my fiancé.”

“That is what is stated, however, you will still need a guardian of some kind during those six months before the wedding. Therefore,
Madame
Devereux will be informed within the week and then you may prepare yourself to live with her sometime within the month. If you like, I will make the travel arrangements for you.”

“
Madame
Devereux? That is her name?”

The lawyer frowned at her shock. “
Oui
,
Mademoiselle,
I believe it is Lina Devereux…” He looked at her overlong, as if he expected roots to sprout from her head. “I read the will, if you remember, and it was listed in writing.”

From the doorway of the library, Grant spoke, his arms crossed over one another. “If you remember,
Mademoiselle
Bellamont has lost a family member and you have caught her in a period of mourning. You should not expect her to remember every detail.”

Fara's eyes were drawn to him. She wasn't aware when he'd entered the room, however, that was not as perplexing as the current situation.

“Forgive me then,
Mademoiselle
. But, that is her name.”

“I see.”

Grant approached her, noting her frown. “What is it, Fara?”

“My uncle pointed her out to me at the ball…”

“You know what she looks like then.”

“
Oui
,” she replied. “But I did not know that she was related to me or where she lived. He never mentioned he had a sister. Or where she resides.”

“Leave the arrangements to me. I will get you there safely,” Grant said finally.

She nodded, but part of her did not wish to have his help. He had saved her enough. After the lawyer left, she tried to persuade Grant that she was fine and she could care for herself.

“That is not the issue now. I said I would help you find information about your guardian. I would like also, if possible, to rid you of the obligation of marrying
Monsieur
Bordeaux. I feel that I must do something for you.”

“And I do appreciate it, but, why are you still here?” When he remained silent, she went on. “To protect me? I don't need protecting. Besides, Pierre is outside. And Rosalie is down the hall.”

He sighed. “We've spoken of this before.”

“I was thinking of a temporary arrangement because I have no living male relatives.”

“Temporary or not, I offer my services.”

“I do not see why I would always need that.”

His gaze turned grim. “You're a proud woman, Fara. I won't wound you by being persistent.” He turned to go.

“So you're leaving?”

He looked back at her, frowning. “It's what you want.”

She released a tight breath from her lungs. “I thought you would fight--”

“Do you want me to fight for you, Fara?”

Oui
, she wanted that more than anything. But he was around too often; he seemed to be running her life when she'd never had the opportunity to be alone and try and run it herself. She clenched her fists. Why was she really fighting him? “Yes. No, I--”

“Do you?”

She opened her mouth; then closed it again. “I don't know.” The problem was she knew exactly what she wanted, but circumstances would not allow it. The lawyer was right. Propriety dictated her moves. She needed protection, but being around Grant only made it look suspicious.

“I'm leaving port in two weeks. Perhaps you will decide what you want by then.” Grant hesitated and gave her a long searching look before he left the house. Her uncle's house. The man was dead, but he still owned everything in so many ways. Even from the grave, he could still direct her life. Fara slammed her hand down on the table beside her. Damn!

* * * *

A few days later, Fara stacked her uncle's old books, trying to straighten the library, which had turned more into an office than a social room.

“
Mademoiselle
?” Rosalie appeared in the doorway.

“
Oui
?”

“There is a message for you.”

“
Merci
.” She opened the envelope and saw that it was from Grant.

Fara,

I am sorry about everything. The last thing I want is to intrude on your life. I only wish to protect you from harm and I suppose I thought that taking care of the details would make things less difficult for you. I know you are in mourning and I don't want you to have to worry about those things. But, if it is your wish, I will leave you be. Believe me, though; I only want your happiness.

Your ever faithful companion,

Grant

Her heart fluttered. How could one man touch her in so many ways yet frustrate her so easily? Fara ran to find the stationery and wrote a reply to him. She sent for a messenger to take it to his ship. An hour later, she prepared to have Pierre take her to the park. When she arrived at the gazebo, he stood just inside. She sent Pierre on and approached Grant, climbing the steps to stand near him. “I know I have been difficult…”

“You have every right. You lost someone close to you.”

“That should not be an excuse to treat you as such.” She released a tight breath and looked out across the lawn, leaning over the railing of the white structure. “I won't deny that it has been difficult to handle being alone, but I think I need to figure out my life. Does that make sense?”

He nodded. “I'll give you space if that's what you want. God knows you never had it before.” He glanced at her overlong as if noting an aspect he hadn't before. “Was he not a tyrant to you?”

“Who? My uncle? I do not wish to speak of him.”

“The night of the ball, Fara…”

She looked at him, drawn by his concern. “
Oui
?”

“I saw the way he treated you after our dance.”

The color left her face. “I don't want to talk about him anymore.”

“You cannot avoid the issue, Fara. Your uncle is gone and you need a protector. I am the only one available at the moment, but if you object, I would find a willing replacement with the lift of a finger.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I cannot, though. It is not allowed. There are proprietary concerns.” She was aware of a need to go to him, to touch him, to be embraced by him. She held back. It was not proper to want such things.

“I'm asking your permission to watch you. Nothing else, I promise. Just as that night when those men attacked you, I wish to keep you from harm.” He added quietly, “You know I am not one to parade propriety, but safety is also an issue in this town. And a woman of your station must have some kind of guardian. At least until you go to live with your aunt.” He sighed. “I would try not to intrude on your life if I could help it. I would avoid bothering you at times when you want to be left alone. But, when you go in public, there would be no choice.”

She nodded. “
Oui
, but you are leaving soon.”

“Then you will require a replacement?”

She nodded again, feeling defeated. He was persistent, but not forcefully so. “When the time comes, I will.”

* * * *

Though she hated to admit it, she looked forward to the days he escorted her. When she would have to leave the house for errands, he stayed at her side until he was sure she was safe back at home, but he never stepped beyond the bounds of being her protector. He allowed her space when she needed it, but still kept a watchful eye from a distance. Before she knew it, however, the dreadful day came when he had to leave.

They were at the docks standing next to
La Voyageur
, which was like a dark giant rising above them.

“I supplied you with a replacement to act as your protector as requested.”

“
Oui
,” she agreed, barely glancing at Andrew Spencer, her new escort. She felt horrible being cruel, but she saw the man merely as a substitution.

“I don't know how long I'll be.”

“I know. Is that normal?”

“
Oui
.” He shrugged. “One can never tell what might happen at sea. Storms are quite frequent.”

She nodded. “While you are away, I do not want you to worry about me.”

He chuckled. “I shall not. You'll have a protector. But, I did promise things…”

His obligations, she thought with resignation. He sought to end her engagement, and to find her only living relative, an aunt. “Perhaps you can make good on those promises when you return. I will not travel until those arrangements can be made.”

He nodded. “What else is there to say, Fara? Goodbye?”

Fara cocked her head at him. “We said goodbye once.”

He closed his eyes briefly, as if trying desperately to forget a memory. “
Oui
, you're quite right. Then this is my departure. Very well.” He approached her and took her hand in his. Bending over it, he placed a soft kiss on her knuckles, burning her, while her heart clenched in her chest.

Again, it was a chivalrous gesture, but no longer expected of gentlemen. It touched her in more ways than she cared to admit.

“
Adieu
,
Mademoiselle
Bellamont. We shall reunite?”

She nodded tremulously. “Upon your return,” she agreed. Then she watched as he turned to walk up the gangway. Fara watched as the men prepared to leave, as orders were given and dutifully followed. She watched as
La Voyageur
departed, as it pulled from port. She watched as the ship shoved in the direction of a dying orange ember of sunset. She watched until
La Voyageur
became a small object on the horizon. And then, she felt a hand lightly touch her sleeve and she turned her face up to see him.
Monsieur
Spencer. She had almost forgotten his presence.

“Shall I take you home,
Mademoiselle
?”

“
Oui
,” she whispered. “Take me home.” But inside she felt as if she was crumbling. Inside, she only hoped that Grant Hill would come back in one piece. It was strange how at one moment, she wanted him to leave her alone and then in the next, she needed him on a level she couldn't understand. What he made her feel was so confusing, enigmatic even. Another part of her, however, was always there to remind her of the obligations, that he was a distraction she couldn't afford; she was betrothed to someone else after all. When she tried to focus on that thought, living that life, even if her uncle had promised her to
Monsieur
Bordeaux, just seemed like a lie compared to the living, breathing man she saw almost every day.

* * * *

Fara glanced at the gentleman beside her in the carriage. He was to escort her as she ran her occasional errands. Sometimes she would need to stop by at the market to begin planning for the following week's meals or other such duties. Today, for example, she had to do a quick check at the milliner's shop to be certain of the status of her mourning wardrobe on order.

Dressed in a dull gray muslin riding costume, she held back a sigh of defeat. Grant had left
Monsieur
Spencer to the task of acting as her escort, but she was sure he'd only meant it as a means of protection and nothing else.
Capitaine
Hill was fully aware of his responsibilities as both a professional and a man, and Fara just happened to be one of those obligations. It was a pity, she thought.

Her life had changed much over the last few weeks. Though the house seemed empty without her uncle's intimidating presence, it also seemed strangely comforting. She could be herself and act without fear on inclinations she once would've been reprimanded for. Sometimes she even forgot to let the servants know of their daily agenda or she dared to stay in the comfort of her bedroom for hours without the duty of rising early to see that things were in order. By all means, she would never let the household fall apart on account of her occasional languorous desires, but at the time she felt it was necessary to be lenient and not always so geared toward the goal of perfection.

The problem was that when she left the house, everything changed. It was so much work to be in mourning and to appear that way. The public eye could be intimidating. Society would never accept the same behavior in the open. Fara wanted to join all the other ladies at gatherings and wear the popular styles and shades of the time, but she could not. She was bound by dark, drab colors and limited to the perimeter of the house except for the times when she had to leave for necessary reasons. No one would expect her to show up at a neighbor's wedding feast or to a friend's afternoon tea. She had not spoken to Helene for so long she was sure her friend had forgotten her. She had become an outcast since she'd received the news of her uncle's passing.