by DeVa Gantt
“Jeannette and I are looking for Mademoiselle Charmaine,” she answered.
John helped Charmaine slip into her robe, then led her into the dressing room. “Stay here,” he whispered, brushing his lips across hers, “and don’t leave this room without me.”
He pulled clothes from his armoire, grabbed his boots, and stepped back into the bedchamber, closing the connecting door behind him.
“. . . she’s not there, either,” Yvette was saying as he yanked on his trousers. “Have you seen her?” The silence behind the door annoyed her. “Open up!”
“I’m getting dressed,” he called. “Did you look downstairs?”
“I told you—we can’t find her. Open up!”
“I’m coming,” he said, pulling on his shirt.
Yvette snatched the five-dollar note out of Paul’s hand and pocketed it before John opened the door. He was astounded to find Paul there, too.
“Good morning, Paul. Are you looking for Charmaine as well?” he inquired nonchalantly, fastening the buttons at his neck.
“In fact, I am,” Paul replied, peering over John’s shoulder and into the empty room. “We’re concerned. Apparently, she didn’t sleep in her bed last night.”
“And you suspect she slept somewhere else,” John remarked sarcastically, glaring at his brother in disgust. “Is that it?”
Paul thought better of responding.
John returned to the bed. “Did you check in the chapel?” he asked as he sat and pulled on his boots.
Yvette wrinkled her nose. “It’s too early to be there.”
“Well, that’s where I’ll look,” he stated, his eyes on Paul as he stepped out of the room and closed the door. “Perhaps she was upset about something and went there to be alone.” He turned to his sisters. “Why don’t the two of you check upstairs? Maybe it was too noisy last night, and she decided to sleep there. And Paul, why don’t you check the boathouse?”
Paul’s eyes narrowed. John must have seen him with Anne last night.
“The boathouse?” Jeannette asked. “Why would she be there?”
“Just a thought,” he said with a shrug. Then, with a wicked smile and lighthearted gait, he left them.
The twins headed toward the servants’ quarters, but Paul hesitated at John’s door, his eyes riveted on the knob. Charmaine might have taken cover in the dressing room. Indecisive, he contemplated going in, but decided against it. If Charmaine had slept with his brother last night, John would have flaunted the conquest. Besides, she wouldn’t do something that dimwitted.
Suddenly, he was very hungry. Dismissing the thought of Sunday Mass, he went back to the dining room for breakfast.
Not a half-hour later, John returned to the dressing chamber with fresh bed linens and clothing for Charmaine. He found her working out the tangles in her hair with his comb. He hadn’t thought to retrieve her brush.
She turned quickly when he entered the room and blushed, memories of their night together rushing in.
She was radiant, and John’s heart missed a beat as her shy manner swiftly aroused him. There would be time for that later. He smiled joyously, knowing he would have limitless nights with this woman.
“The coast is clear, my Charm,” he said, taking her in his arms. “The girls are searching for you upstairs, and I’m to find you in the chapel, awaiting Mass.”
He wondered if she had heard his brother’s voice in the hallway, but didn’t ask. Instead, he cupped her chin and kissed her tenderly.
It served as a stirring reminder of their lovemaking and left her so incredibly giddy she grabbed hold of him for support.
“It was worth the wait, my Charm.”
He stepped out of the dressing room so she could dress. When she returned to his bedchamber, she found him spreading a clean sheet over the soiled one and looked at him quizzically. “You’ll understand tomorrow,” he explained. Without a word, she helped him make the bed.
“Now, come with me,” he commanded, scanning the hallway before he led her from the bedroom.
They descended to the foyer and walked through the messy ballroom. The staff had retired late, and the tedious task of cleaning up hadn’t begun. The lavish hall was empty and quiet.
“It’s early for Mass,” Charmaine said as John led her to the chapel doors. Like a bolt of lightning, a new thought struck her, and she froze.
“What is the matter?” he queried.
“I’m in a state of mortal sin,” she moaned, bringing her hands to her mouth. “Everyone will know when I refuse communion.”
“Don’t fret, Charmaine.” Though his voice was kind, she was certain he would mock her religious conviction. Instead, he said, “We haven’t come for Mass. We’ve come to exchange marriage vows. That is—if you’ll have me?”
Charmaine was dumbfounded. When John had left her this morning, cold reality set in, and she’d chastised herself for succumbing to her physical yearnings. She was a good girl, had always been a good girl! Not even the memory of their intimacy—that crowning moment when she had been one with him—could assuage her belated misgivings. Yes, she had given herself to this man, but until this very moment, she had been afraid to hope he wanted her as completely as she wanted him.
“Have you?” she asked incredulously. “Surely you jest?” But one look at his earnest face, quietly waiting, and she knew he was dead serious. Her joy burst forth, and she threw herself into his arms. “Of course, I’ll have you!” He lifted her clear off the floor and whirled her around. By the time he set her back down, she was shaking all over, tears streaming down her cheeks.
They stepped into the chapel and found Father Benito preparing for a large congregation of worshippers. John grasped her hand and pulled her to the altar with him. When he explained his reason for being there, the priest immediately objected, contending he could not officiate over the holy sacrament of matrimony during the solemn Lenten season. “Today is Passion Sunday. It is entirely inappropriate. And there is the matter of confession,” he continued. But before he could finish protesting, John fanned a wad of ten-dollar notes under his nose. Charmaine gaped in disbelief as Benito snatched them and, without so much as one repentant word from either of them, made the sign of the cross and intoned a general prayer of absolution.
The chapel door opened, and George and Mercedes stepped in.
“Our witnesses, my Charm,” John explained.
In less than five minutes, they had spoken their vows and were husband and wife. Charmaine thought she was dreaming.
“Where to now, my Charm?” John asked. “Mass doesn’t begin for another hour, and we can’t hide here forever.”
“No,” she agreed, “and the girls are probably still looking for me.”
“Why don’t we go back to the nursery?” he suggested. He wanted to take her back to his room, but that would have to wait until tonight.
They passed a few guests as they made their way upstairs, all too exhausted to pay them much notice. Still, Charmaine breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the nursery. She didn’t fancy coming face-to-face with Paul just yet. It was short-lived, however; Paul’s chamber door swung open, and he stepped into the hallway.
“So, you’ve found her,” he said.
Charmaine wondered what he meant. Paul’s assessing eyes raked her from head to toe as if plumbing for secrets, making her terribly uncomfortable.
“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 twi
ns. 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.”
