Decision and Destiny

by DeVa Gantt

  “Now, remember,” he warned when they rose from the table, “with every treasure hunt, there is always an adversary—a rival—who is searching for the treasure as well. So, you must be careful not to be caught.”

  “Caught? By whom?”

  “Who else?” he snickered. “Auntie Agatha—the deadliest enemy of all!”

  The ease with which he garnered their mirth still astounded Charmaine.

  “Don’t laugh,” he chided seriously. “If she catches you, the fun is over.”

  “Yes, yes,” Yvette said, and tugging her sister’s arm, they bounded off.

  “Me, too!” Pierre declared, pushing away his bowl of half-eaten porridge.

  “You, too, what?” Charmaine asked, tucking in the napkin that had come loose from his collar.

  “I wanna look for them presents, too.”

  “When you’ve finished,” Charmaine answered, lifting a spoon to help him.

  He grabbed at it, insisting, “I do it myself!”

  Charmaine relinquished the utensil with a squeeze of his shoulder and a kiss on his head. But as she turned back to her own food, she caught John’s warm gaze upon her, a self-conscious moment when their eyes locked. To her surprise, John broke away first, returning to his newspaper.

  “Good morning, everyone!” George hailed from the hallway. He espied the serving bowl of porridge, sat down, and pulled it in front of him. “Is anybody eating this?”

  John snickered. “Have all you like, though the hogs will be disappointed.”

  George ignored John’s japing and poured liberal amounts of cream and sugar atop the oatmeal, and then, to Pierre’s delight, ate from the large dish using the serving spoon.

  “I suppose, George, you have come to the table for another reason?” John interrupted. “Aside from a second breakfast, that is.”

  “Reason? Oh yes. I’d almost forgotten. The children’s birthday…”

  He caught John’s swift shake of the head and fell silent. Too late! Charmaine’s attention had been snared, her inquisitive eyes on him. “It is the twins’ birthday,” he repeated, attempting to mask his blunder, “isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she agreed suspiciously, “but you knew that.”

  “And I was just wondering how you were celebrating it. Do you have something special planned for the day?”

  “Only their presents and now this treasure hunt. But I did promise them no lessons. They can decide what they’d like to do, within reason, of course.”

  “Of course,” George nodded, his brow arched in John’s direction.

  Though Charmaine’s curiosity was piqued, John smiled passively in return; the strange exchange yielded no clues.

  “So George, did all go well?” John asked.

  “I moved the shipment early this morning, if that’s what you want to know.”

  “Then everything is settled?”

  “Everything is in order, just the way you wanted it, except—” George held up one finger “—there is the matter of finances.”

  “Finances?” John queried. “I gave you the money weeks ago, or have you forgotten?”

  “No, John, I haven’t forgotten. But neither am I a fool. That money was for the payment of the p—eh…the merchandise. It did not cover my fees. Now, I do admit I am your friend, but after I spent a good portion of yesterday avoiding Paul to work on this project for you, I do believe you owe me something in return, and I don’t mean gratitude.” With that, he held out his hand, palm up.

  Charmaine giggled, for he looked like a beggar. Intrigued, she watched John pull out a wallet and hand him a sheaf of bank notes, a sum that rivaled her week’s wages. What favor could have merited such a hefty allowance? George straightened the bills, counted them meticulously, and smiled at her as he tucked them into his pocket. She was oddly disconcerted by that smile, as if she were an involuntary participant in the transaction. Her eyes traveled to John for an answer, but he was reading his newspaper again. She did not trust him. George, however, was her friend and wouldn’t lead her to harm. Neither would he lie to her. She’d question him about it when they were alone.

  Pierre scattered her thoughts when he began banging his spoon on his empty dish. She quickly confiscated it, sending him into a fit of tears.

  “I’m sorry, Pierre,” she said, “but it’s impolite to make such a racket.”

  He continued to wail, refusing the milk she offered him and turning his face aside when she tried to wipe it.

  John abruptly stood and stepped behind the boy’s chair. Certain he intended to usurp her authority and seize the utensil, her grip tightened on it. But he ignored her completely and lifted Pierre from his seat, holding him high in his arms. “What is all this fuss about?” he asked. “Surely you’re not crying over a lost spoon? Or maybe you are not the Pierre I know. Could that be it? Maybe you’re some other lad come to take his place, because the Pierre I know never cries. He is always smiling, especially at Mainie. Isn’t that so?”

  The tears stopped. “I’m Pierre,” the boy declared. “But I have to go potty.”

  “No,” John corrected wryly, “you had to go potty.”

  “Oh my!” Charmaine groaned, immediately comprehending the boy’s crankiness. “Come, Pierre, let’s go to the nursery and change you.”

  But John drew back as she reached for the child. “Let me carry him. There’s no point in soiling your dress as well.”

  Before she could object, he headed into the hallway. There they found Jeannette, sitting on the landing, knees drawn up to her chin, shoulders sagging.

  “What is this?” John asked. “Have you uncovered all your gifts already?”

  “No,” she pouted, her eyes fixed on the floor. “I’ve only found one…a rock! Yvette found three of hers, and they were all real presents: candy, a book, and some funny-looking knickers. But all I got was a wrapped-up rock!”

  “Well, perhaps that’s all there is for you,” he jested.

  “Don’t say that!” Charmaine hissed. “You’ll have her crying as well!”

  He took her point to heart. “Don’t give up so easily, Jeannette. There are just as many presents for you.”

  “But where can they be? I’ve searched everywhere!”

  “Everywhere?” he probed.

  “Everywhere but out—” Her words gave way to comprehension, and her face brightened. “They’re not in the house, are they?”

  “One clue is all you get.”

  It was enough. Jeannette stormed the front portico, leaving John to chuckle all the way to the nursery.

  He’s having as much fun as the girls, Charmaine thought.

  “Put him on his bed,” she directed over her shoulder, retrieving a set of undergarments, knickers, and a towel from the armoire.

  John deposited his wet charge, then stood with arms spread wide, surveying his saturated shirt and damp jacket. Charmaine stopped in her tracks, dropping everything but the towel on a nearby chair. “Oh, no! Your jacket is ruined! And your shirt! Oh, I’m sorry!” Without thought, she began to wipe vigorously across his shirtfront and down to his waist, blotting the fabric dry. Suddenly, she realized her impropriety, and her hands dropped to her sides. Cringing, she looked up at him, then slowly stepped away. “I—I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t move, his raised arms mourning the space she had vacated, his crooked smile nourishing the blush that was deepening upon her cheeks.

  “I—I’d better see to Pierre.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, his smile broad now, “and I had better leave before I develop a further complication that won’t be remedied with a dry cloth.”

  Once Pierre’s clothes had been changed, Charmaine led him out onto the balcony to look for Jeannette. The main doors opened below and George and John came into view. John had changed into a white shirt, fawn-colored pants, and high boots. Completing the ensemble was the leather cap he wore, the garb lending itself to a day in the saddle. Evidently, he and George planned on riding out together.

  Th
ey were absorbed in conversation, and although Charmaine couldn’t catch the phrases, their easy banter bespoke a deep-rooted friendship. Even after six weeks, she puzzled over their camaraderie: a chuckle here, the shake of a head there, a raised hand to emphasize a point, or an arm clasped around the other’s shoulder. Most brothers would envy such a bond.

  A squeal of delight punctuated the air, and the twins bounded from the stable, racing to their brother. Yvette reached him first, hugging him fiercely. “Oh, they’re beautiful, Johnny! Wherever did you get them?”

  His response was too soft to hear. Then both girls were dancing around him, grabbing his arms and pulling him toward the paddock. “We can go right now!” They stopped when he spoke again. “Yes!” Jeannette laughed.

  “Let’s get her!” Yvette added, turning toward the house, espying Charmaine in the process. “There she is!”

  The troop took a few steps in her direction. “Mademoiselle Charmaine!” Jeannette shouted. “Wait until you see what Johnny gave us!”

  “Stay right there,” Yvette interjected, “and we’ll bring them out!”

  Charmaine surmised what the presents were, and she watched as the girl disappeared into the stable with George. Jeannette continued across the lawn with John, her face radiant. “Just wait until you see!” she reiterated. “They are the most wonderful presents in the whole world! Better than anything I expected this morning! Better than any treasure!”

  George led two ponies through the stable door. They were gorgeous creatures, meticulously groomed for the occasion and perfectly matched to the twins’ dispositions. One was coal black, a proud animal, prancing wickedly against the bit in its mouth, its head held high. The other was powder white, docile, but no less handsome.

  “They’re beautiful, girls,” Charmaine said, anticipating their next request.

  “Johnny said he would take us riding if you gave your permission.”

  “There’s no point in owning a pony if you cannot ride him, is there?”

  “No!” Jeannette agreed. “And will you come along, too?”

  “Me?” Charmaine asked in flustered surprise. “No, I’m afraid you’ll have to enjoy your ride without my company. I’ll just remain behind with Pierre and worry over your safety.”

  “Oh, please come, Mademoiselle!” the girl implored. “It won’t be fun without you, and you promised to spend the day any way we wished.”

  “And I will,” Charmaine reaffirmed, “as soon as you return. Now don’t look so glum. It is you who have received such fine animals, not I, therefore, you should enjoy them.”

  “But Johnny purchased a horse for you, too!”

  Charmaine paled. “I’m afraid I don’t understand…” But she understood all too well, and already her mind was racing for a suitable excuse to extricate herself from the promises she had made over the past two days.

  John read the turmoil on her face. “Miss Ryan,” he called up to her, “I took into consideration your diligent supervision of the children and knew you would insist on joining us today.”

  When George stepped out of the stable this time, he led a speckled horse over to the corral. The dappling gray was just as majestic as the ponies, its silver coat shimmering in the morning sun, its dark mane and tail rippling in the breeze.

  Charmaine was dumbfounded. All that had passed between the two men at breakfast was suddenly clear: the raised brows, the riddle conversation, and the monetary transaction. “I cannot accept such a gift from you! It is quite inappropriate.”

  “Do not think of it as a gift,” he replied. “Think of it as a tool, one required for your job. Then it becomes entirely appropriate.”

  “What?” she fumed.

  “The twins will want to ride frequently, and I won’t always be around to accompany them. As you’ve often reminded me, the children are your responsibility, so you will need a horse if you are to go with them.”

  “You must hurry, Mademoiselle Charmaine!” Yvette beckoned from below. “You can’t stand there all day. The horses will grow impatient!”

  “And so will we!” Jeannette added.

  “That’s right,” John concurred. “Change into something more comfortable, a dress you can afford to soil, and come down quickly.”

  “I can’t!” Charmaine protested, angry at his matter-of-fact attitude, his confidence she would do his bidding. “I have to stay with Pierre.” She looked to her young charge, who had grown bored and was now running up and down the length of the balcony.

  “Pierre is coming with us,” John asserted.

  “Really? And where do you propose we put him?”

  “He can ride with me. Now, we are wasting precious time. Find a suitable garment and get down here before dusk is upon us and the day is gone.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I am not going anywhere on that animal. I won’t be held responsible for him.”

  “Her,” John corrected, “and I told you, the horse is yours.”

  “I don’t believe you. No one in their right mind would purchase an expensive animal like that for a governess.”

  “Whether you believe me or not, Miss Ryan, I have, and you are going to accompany us on this outing,” he persisted, matching stubbornness for stubbornness. “As the children’s governess, you are obliged to supervise them throughout the day. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But what?”

  “I don’t know how to ride!” she blurted out, stung by the twins’ laughter and Yvette’s exclamation of: “I told you!”

  John’s frown struck them mute. “We shall teach you,” he said, his manner thoughtful and persuasive. “The mare is gentle. So, no more excuses. We will wait at the stable. If you haven’t joined us in ten minutes, I shall come for you.” He grasped the girls’ shoulders and walked them back to the paddock.

  Charmaine sighed. “Now what are we to do?” she asked Pierre as he scurried past her.

  He stopped and looked up at her. “Go.”

  She chuckled ruefully. “Then go, we shall.”

  Millie Thornfield hesitated before knocking on Frederic’s antechamber door, drawing a deep breath and tightening her grip on the basket she carried when he bade her enter. He looked up from the periodical he was reading and beckoned her to come closer. “Well?”

  “I have them, sir,” she whispered. “The prettiest two of the litter.”

  “May I see?”

  She set the basket down and uncovered it, revealing two kittens, one gray, the other orange. They immediately awoke, and as the marmalade feline yawned and stretched, the gray tabby pounced on her, igniting a fierce tussle. Millie giggled despite her surroundings. Then, remembering where she was, she reined in her sudden joy and looked back at the master of the house, surprised to find him smiling as well.

  “Thank you, Millie. You had an excellent idea. My daughters should be pleased. Even Pierre will enjoy watching them play.”

  Charmaine arrived at the stable with Pierre, clothed in a time-worn dress. Jeannette was ecstatic, exclaiming it was going to be a marvelous day. Charmaine shuddered, knowing John would return and the real disaster would begin. If only Paul were around; he would put a stop to such folly. But no, her fate rested in his brother’s hands.

  The twins had named their ponies Spook and Angel, and were asking George about their gender when John appeared with Phantom. “Angel is female, and Spook is male,” George said. “I believe they will be serving more than one purpose.”

  “And what is that?” Jeannette innocently asked.

  Yvette clicked her tongue. “Now what do you think? Making foals like Phantom and Chastity did. Isn’t that so, Johnny?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And can we watch this time?” she inquired, eliciting an embarrassed frown from Charmaine. “I don’t understand what happens, and I’d like to find out.”

  “You would, would you?” he queried, unfazed.

  George, however, pulled at his collar, which bolstered Charmaine�
�s fear an explanation of conception and birth was at hand.

  “It will have to wait, Yvette,” John said instead. “The day is wasting away. Fetch the picnic basket while I help Jeannie and Miss Ryan into their saddles.”

  “Picnic basket?” Charmaine exclaimed.

  “Now, my Charm, what would a picnic be without a picnic basket?”

  “It wouldn’t be a picnic,” she supplied. “I don’t want to go on a picnic with you. One was quite enough, thank you. And I’ve forgotten my bonnet.”

  “You’ll disappoint the children…on their special day.”

  Trapped! John and George’s clever interrogation at breakfast had uncovered her plans for the day. She had played right into John’s cunning hands. “I’ll not ride far from the house,” she stipulated.

  “Not far at all,” he reassured, though she was certain he lied.

  “What are you waiting for, Yvette?” he pressed. “Go and fetch the basket!”

  She immediately jumped to do his bidding.

  The nursery was unusually quiet, both bedchamber and playroom empty. “Set the basket on the floor, Millie,” Frederic directed. “I thought they’d be here for lessons.”

  “Would you like me to go and find them, sir?” she offered.

  Laughter wafting off the front lawns drew him to the French doors. “That won’t be necessary,” he muttered, hobbling out onto the balcony. There he stood, inconspicuous in the shadow of the large oak, watching the drama unfold below.

  John finished adjusting the girth strap on Jeannette’s pony. Once secured, he motioned to her. In the next instant, she was seated squarely on Angel’s back, laughing gaily. He raised her stirrups a hair higher, then stepped back. She knew what she was doing, for she nudged the animal, and it loped away.

  John turned to Charmaine next, and a violent panic rose up inside her. There would be no escape now, and wide-eyed, she looked to George for reassurance. He smiled in return, stroking the mare’s speckled neck. “Don’t be alarmed, Charmaine. She’s quite complacent and easy to ride.” He led the horse to her side and relinquished the reins to John, taking charge of Pierre while the man worked the mare’s saddle straps.