by DeVa Gantt
Your last letter upset me. You know I am not one to judge others before I have actually met and come to know them, but I cannot help but be deeply troubled over your description of John Duvoisin. I pray the man is not quite so intolerable as he seems, but still, you have me worried. Perhaps there are other reasons behind his dark moods…
Dear Lord, Charmaine groaned. She would have to answer Loretta tonight, scripting a letter that would erase the scurrilous image she had painted of John. She did not know how she would bring herself to write about Pierre’s death.
The hour was late. Charmaine had just finished her prayers and was getting into bed when a knock fell on her door. She pulled on her robe and opened it. John was standing there. “Were you asleep?” he asked.
“No, not yet,” she replied.
“I must speak with you for a moment, Charmaine,” he said, gesturing for her to come into the hallway.
She felt uneasy, knowing she wasn’t going to be happy with what he had to tell her. She followed him to his dressing room and stepped inside. He closed the door and leaned back against it. She turned to him, waiting for him to speak.
“I am leaving for Virginia before daybreak tomorrow.”
She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. Didn’t she already know this was coming? ˜e girls will be devastated.
“I have imposed upon your kindness already, Charmaine,” he continued, “but I hope you will do me another favor, and give Yvette and Jeannette my goodbye. I didn’t tell them myself because I cannot endure their pleading for me to stay. I do not want to refuse them.”
“Must you leave?” she whispered.
“Aside from my sisters, there is nothing left for me here. If I could, I would take all three of you with me, far away from this hell. But my father rejected that request a week ago, and he will be less inclined to allow it now.”
She was stunned and could see the bitterness smoldering in his eyes, aware of his thoughts. If he had been allowed to take them, Pierre would still be alive.
“Don’t tell them that,” he enjoined, reading her expression, his voice dead serious. “They will hate him for it. I do not hold my father responsible for what happened, only myself. None of us would be suffering this misery if it weren’t for my terrible judgment four years ago.” The room fell silent until he spoke again. “So, will you tell the twins goodbye for me?”
“Yes, of course I will,” she ceded. “Will you come back?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. Then, seeing the despair in her eyes, he added, “In the spring, perhaps my father will change his mind and allow the girls to visit Virginia, once the turmoil has settled here.”
“They are going to be very upset with this,” she said. “They will miss you. And what of you? You will be all alone. You should not be alone right now.”
“I cannot stay. In Virginia and New York, I have work to occupy me, and I have friends there. I neglected much while I was here.” He sighed. “So, I will take a page from my brother’s book and keep busy.”
She nodded in resignation. Though she wanted to press him to change his mind, she knew he wanted to avoid an emotional scene. It would be cruel to attempt to sway him. She said instead, “I will miss you.”
He smiled for the first time, a hint of warmth reaching his eyes. “Well, then, at least one good thing came from my visit.” He opened the door. “I will miss you, too, my Charm.”
As she reached the doorway, she hesitated and looked up at him.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
She knew what he was doing could not be easy. She was compelled to comfort him, to convey some small measure of mercy and kindness before he set out to bear his crucible alone. She breached the short distance between them and encircled his waist with her arms. Closing her eyes, she pressed her cheek against his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. She took comfort from his arms closing around her shoulders, his chin atop her head. “Goodbye, John,” she whispered, pulling him tighter to her, emotion now rising painfully high in her throat, “goodbye.” Then she pulled away and fled the room.
Sunday, October 15, 1837
The next morning, George greeted her and the twins at the chapel doorway. They were early for Mass and stood in the empty ballroom, smiling sadly as he walked toward them. He’d come to convey the news Charmaine already knew and had told the girls when they awoke: the Falcon had set sail at dawn, and John was aboard, heading back to Virginia.
“He left notes for you,” George said. “They’re on the table in the foyer.”
As the girls ran to retrieve them, Charmaine looked back at George. “I’m worried about him, George. He’ll be alone.”
“He wants to be alone, Charmaine,” George replied softly. He never thought he’d hear such concern for John from her. “He will be all right.”
The girls returned with their letters; one was for her. She ushered them through the vestibule and sank into the nearest pew as she opened and read the brief words penned in masculine scrawl.
Charmaine,
I am grateful for your kindness these past days. Mostly, I thank you for the love you gave Pierre. You are a fine person, and the twins are fortunate to have you. I know you will give them the comfort they will need in the days to come, and I hope they will do the same for you. If you are ever in need of anything, do not hesitate to call on me. George knows where I can be reached.
John
Charmaine folded the letter and slipped it into her pocket. She looked up at the crucifix above the altar. The words in the note left her empty: very kind, friendly, detached. And who will comfort you, John? her mind screamed.
But she understood John’s departure in the same way she now understood why he had come home. The things that had drawn him to Charmantes no longer existed. Colette and Pierre were gone, and he was estranged from his father. And though she knew he cared deeply for the twins, they belonged to Frederic, not him. He no longer had a reason to stay.
She looked to the girls and read the disappointment in their blue eyes. They turned away in misery and slowly walked to their usual seats at the front of the chapel. Charmaine marveled over their fortitude; neither of them pressed the matter with the lamentations they had used before. Perhaps they knew they could never recapture those happy, carefree days before Pierre’s tragedy.
Charmaine resigned herself to that reality as well and began to pray she’d be able to accept it. There was nothing she could do. John’s decision had been made, and there was no turning the Falcon back now. It was time to move forward, to find comfort in the mundane and routine. They had done so before, they would have to do so again, difficult though it might be. But as she willed herself to look to the future, a terrible loneliness stole over her. It was as if she were losing Colette all over again, and for the first time, she realized John had swept that feeling of loneliness away the moment he had stepped into her life.
She was just about to rise when Frederic entered the chapel. She didn’t breathe as he limped past her and joined his daughters. She watched in wonder as Jeannette swiftly stood, hugged him, and coaxed him to sit first.
Agatha was equally surprised when she entered the sanctuary moments later. Charmaine heard the woman whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me you were attending Mass? I would have come down with you,” but she couldn’t discern Frederic’s response. To Yvette’s displeasure, her stepmother sat next to her.
Charmaine remained exactly where she was, leaving without a word as soon as the Mass was over. She had no desire to converse with the master of the manor and knew the twins could find her in the nursery. She even avoided breakfast. But at lunch, Travis informed her Frederic wanted to see her privately in the study at one o’clock sharp.
She was stunned by the message. Why the study? Why the meeting in the first place? He’d had days to mull over what she knew. Had she become a liability, a shameful reminder of his terrible secret, just as she’d suggested to Rose? Would he dismiss her after all? Rose had assured he
r this would not happen. Still, she was upset.
At five minutes to one she left the girls in their room and made her way to the library. She was trembling as she knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
The room was unusually bright with both sets of French doors thrown open, sunbeams splashing onto the large desk and across the carpet. Frederic was seated at the secretary, papers strewn over it, stacks of ledgers piled on the floor nearby.
“How are you, Miss Ryan?” he asked, motioning for her to sit down.
“I am well, sir,” she lied, unable to read his intent from the polite opening. “You wished to speak to me?”
“Yes. I won’t detain you for long. I wanted to let you know I am making some changes in my daughters’ schedule.”
Charmaine gulped back her dread. Here it comes.
“From now on, they will spend their Saturdays with me. They are to be dressed and in the dining room at nine o’clock this coming Saturday morning. They will be in my company for the whole of the day, so from nine in the morning until seven in the evening, you are released of your duties.”
“Released of my duties?” she repeated, confused, noting only the word “released.” Is he dismissing me?
“You are free to spend your Saturdays as you wish. I will only infringe upon that freedom on those days I am indisposed or otherwise occupied. Is this satisfactory to you?”
Charmaine paused, unsteady. “It is not a matter of what is satisfactory to me, sir, but to respect your wishes regarding your daughters.”
“Miss Ryan,” Frederic smiled, “I am giving you a day off each week. Your wages will not be affected, as I will expect you to be able to change your Saturday plans if you are needed. Is this not satisfactory?”
“It is quite satisfactory, sir.”
“Good. Then you will have my daughters ready at nine o’clock six days hence. That is all, Miss Ryan. You may return to the twins.”
Charmaine let out a great sigh of relief as she closed the study door behind her. Not dismissed! More important, Frederic had acted as if nothing had happened between them. She was immensely grateful.
Yvette was not happy with the news, decrying this latest turn of events. “He’s just trying to copy Johnny! He’ll never be like Johnny! Now our Saturdays are ruined!”
Charmaine looked at Jeannette, who remained ever so quiet, then back to Yvette. “Perhaps your father wants to make time for you both while he’s still able. Even if he is imitating John, is that such a bad thing?”
Yvette pondered Charmaine’s reasoning, then flung herself into a chair. “But what are we going to do with him all day?”
“Why don’t you start thinking of some ideas? I’m certain your father will appreciate the help.”
The girls took up her suggestion, leaving Charmaine to wonder just how Frederic would execute the grand plans they had already conjured: picnics, excursions into town, ship rides, and lawn games. He had barely left his chambers in four years. Would he really be out and about with two nine-year-olds? Charmaine shook her head and laughed in spite of herself. What other changes would they face in the coming days?
There was a knock on the door. Yvette jumped up, but her hopeful face dropped when Paul stepped into the room. “Good afternoon,” he smiled.
She grumbled a greeting and trudged back to her desk.
“Good day, Paul,” Jeannette greeted cheerfully.
“I’ve brought you a surprise,” he offered pleasantly.
Yvette looked up in renewed interest.
“A cargo came in from England yesterday with a whole cask of sweets made from the sugar grown on Charmantes. I thought you’d like some.” He produced a paper bag from behind his back and offered it to Jeannette.
She snatched it from him quickly, exclaiming an enthusiastic “thank-you.” Yvette joined her sister to inspect the booty and pick out the choice pieces.
Paul looked to Charmaine. “There were fresh kegs of tea as well. Fatima is brewing some now. Would you like to join me for some on the porch?”
“That would be nice,” she answered, leaving the girls to their plans.
“You were working today?” Charmaine asked once they were sitting outdoors.
“It couldn’t wait. But the cargo was inventoried by early afternoon.”
“The cargo was from the Falcon?”
“Yes,” he replied, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Did you see John this morning?” Charmaine asked softly.
“We rode into town together.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“Not much.” He sighed. “John wanted to go back to Virginia, Charmaine. I don’t blame him. It’s been unbearable here the past few days. He’s neglected a lot the last two months, and at least in Virginia he’ll have the distraction of work.” His voice was sympathetic. “I knew the girls needed some cheering up. They couldn’t have been happy with the news.”
“They did, and the candy helped. It was kind of you to think of them.”
Fatima arrived with the tea and poured two cups.
“How are you faring?” Paul asked. “Any better since Friday night?”
“I’m doing what I need to do to get through the days,” she replied honestly. “I try not to think about it. And still, I curse myself for leaving Pierre that morning.” Tears sprang to her eyes.
“It wasn’t your fault, Charmaine,” he comforted, taking her hand. “It wasn’t John’s fault, either. How many times had you left him to nap or come downstairs at night when you were certain he was asleep in his bed? You only did so knowing he was safe and sound. It wasn’t a lapse of responsibility to do that, Charmaine. Every parent does the same.”
“I know you are right,” she replied, dabbing her eyes. “Still it’s difficult not to think ‘if only I’d done this, or if only I’d done that.’ And it doesn’t help because I miss him terribly.”
“I know you do,” he replied, his warm hand stroking hers. “I do, too.”
They fell silent, sipping the piping hot tea, until Charmaine broached the subject of John again. “John told me everything that morning,” she mused tentatively, a little nervous Paul might grow weary or angry with the topic.
He looked at her, but did not seem annoyed. “But you’re still curious.”
“I’m curious to know how you feel about it. I never imagined you met Colette first.”
He leaned back in his chair and drew another long sip from his tea. “I was not in love with Colette, if that’s what you would like to know. I cared for her as a friend, a friendship that grew deeper with time. When we first met, I was attracted to her. She was beautiful. She knew her way around Paris society and introduced me to her circle of friends. So when John caught her fancy, I wasn’t jealous, not after a while anyway. There were plenty of women to pick and choose from, most of them willing…”
She could feel a blush rising to her cheeks. “But you were so angry at John those first few days after he came home.”
He shook his head. “He was bent upon provoking me. So, in my anger, perhaps I overreacted. Still, I never understood why John took the relationship as far as he did, and I blame him for that. Granted, he was engaged to Colette, and yes, my father should never have interfered. But once Father did, and Colette made her choice, John should have left it alone. Instead, he chose to torment her. He hated our father so much, he drew her into an impossible situation.”
“And Colette had no free will in the matter? John controlled everything?”
Paul massaged his forehead. “Charmaine, neither Colette nor John ever provided me with the details on how their affair started, or how long it lasted. What I do know is John was not lacking for other prospects. There were many women who, at the drop of a coin, would have fallen at his feet, ready and willing if he’d only given them the time of day. So why a love affair with a married woman—no, worse—his father’s wife, when the alternative is so easy and clear? John hurt my father deeply, and not just physically. Imag
ine how it felt to be cuckolded in his home, by his son, and afterward, wonder how many others in the house knew about the scandal.”
Live by the sword; die by the sword, Charmaine thought, though she didn’t say so. “But John loved her,” she insisted instead. Fleetingly, she read surprise in Paul’s eyes, as if that possibility hadn’t occurred to him before.
“Then I don’t understand love,” he replied, exasperated now. “Perhaps I haven’t experienced it yet to judge whether one loses his rational mind over it.”
Enormously disheartened, she couldn’t respond, and again they fell silent. But as her distress dissipated, she measured his remark and, for the first time, understood his disdain for John’s actions. Even so, his view of the matter was highly impersonal—that one woman could so easily be replaced by another.
She poured him a second cup of tea, not wanting the conversation to end on this contentious note. “Your father called me to the study earlier this afternoon.”
“The study?” Paul asked quizzically.
“Yes. It looked like he was working there. He’ll be taking charge of the girls on Saturdays from now on. I’ll have that day off,” she finished on a laugh.
Paul was astonished and smiled. “Well, then, I’ll have to work harder during the week so my Saturdays are also free.”
Frederic was present at the dinner table that night, and although he worked at being cordial, his efforts fell short. The girls spoke to him, but only to answer his questions, their responses stilted. With a resigned smile, he dropped the artificial repartee, allowing his daughters their melancholy.
Before the meal was over, Yvette asked to be excused, complaining of fatigue and a stomachache. She promised to go straight to her room. But when Charmaine reached the nursery, the girl was nowhere to be found. The week, culminating with John’s unannounced departure that morning, had taken its toll on the headstrong nine-year-old.
After a quick search of the house, Charmaine found her in the stables, sitting on a pile of hay in the corner of Phantom’s stall, clutching her kitten and crying. Her stoic façade had crumbled.
