by DeVa Gantt
Just before noon, Millie invited them downstairs for lunch, not in the servant’s kitchen, but rather, the family’s dining room.
Forty feet long and nearly as wide, it was situated between the library and kitchen of the north wing’s ground floor. Two of its four walls were comprised of continuous French doors, all open, leading out to the wraparound veranda on one side and an inner courtyard on the other. Like a crystal palace, the chamber dazzled the eye in the midday sun. In the center was a lustrous red mahogany table, with matching chairs to seat fourteen. The table could accommodate twice as many, yet was dwarfed in the magnificent room. Suspended above it were three chandeliers, sparkling in imitation of the French doors. On the wall abutting the library was a liquor cabinet, opposite that, a baroque cupboard displaying an array of fine chinaware.
A splendid meal awaited them. The children were there, and in a matter of minutes, the discourse turned spontaneous, the girls delighting in the company they were entertaining. When Charmaine marveled over the manor, they insisted on showing her the entire house, but Colette told them that would have to wait for the next day, as Charmaine’s duties didn’t begin until then.
When the last dish was cleared away, Charmaine walked Gwendolyn and Loretta to the front portico, taking a deep breath when Loretta turned to hug her goodbye. Charmaine read joy in her eyes.
“You are going to be fine here, Charmaine.”
“I know I am,” Charmaine concurred, battling a pang of melancholy. “You’ll be leaving for Richmond soon, won’t you?”
“Not until I’m certain you’re happy. I can withstand my sister’s company for another week or two.” When Gwendolyn laughed, so did Loretta and Charmaine. “Besides,” Loretta added, “we don’t know when the next ship will put into port.”
Charmaine watched as they boarded the carriage and drove away. Turning back into the mansion, she realized the rest of the afternoon belonged to her. With nothing to do, she wished she had taken the girls up on their offer to investigate the house. Nevertheless, Colette had told her the manor was her home now and she was free to roam wherever she liked.
She ambled into the front parlor and was drawn to the piano. Ever so carefully, she lifted the lid and stroked the beautiful ivory keys. But before she could sit down to play, a voice came from the doorway. “There you are!”
It was Yvette, and she was alone. Paul’s words of yesterday surfaced: One of these days Yvette is going to go too far…But perhaps Miss Ryan will have some positive effect on my sweet little sister. If she does, it will attest to her experience with children…Obviously, Paul’s opinion of her remained unfavorable. What Charmaine wouldn’t give to prove him wrong and, in the process, demonstrate that children could be handled without need of a spanking.
“Yvette?” she queried. “You are Yvette, aren’t you?”
“Yes, it’s me,” the girl replied. “Have you finished unpacking?”
With Charmaine’s affirmation, she continued. “Perhaps you can spend the rest of the day thinking of some fun things to do with us tomorrow.”
“Fun things?” Charmaine asked. “Why do you say that?”
“Everything has been so boring lately. Nana Rose is old, very old! And with Mama feeling ill all the time, we never do anything that’s fun or exciting anymore. We’re always cooped up in that silly nursery!”
“I see. I will think about it. How does that sound?”
Unconvinced, Yvette’s shoulders sagged. She flung herself into a chair and mumbled, “It sounds wonderful.”
Charmaine took stock; the child’s discontent might work in her favor. “I’ve an idea. You look like the kind of a girl who enjoys a good bargain.”
She had Yvette’s complete attention. “Yes?”
“I’ve heard you can be very difficult.”
“Who told you that?”
“It’s not important. But if we could come to an agreement, I’m certain we’d both be happy with the outcome.”
“What sort of an agreement?” Yvette asked suspiciously.
“Last Friday you mentioned your brother, John, in Richmond.”
“What about him?”
“I could possibly get a letter to him.”
Yvette’s eyes widened. “Really?” Then, as if she knew she was being duped, she said, “How? You’re staying here now.”
“But my friends, the Harringtons, are returning to Richmond in a few weeks. And Mr. Harrington has met your brother. He could locate him.”
“Truly?”
“I believe so,” Charmaine replied, tickled by the girl’s renewed exuberance.
Yvette grew cautious again. “What do I have to do?”
“Be well behaved,” Charmaine answered simply.
“Well behaved? That’s it?”
“From what I’ve heard, that will be a great deal for you. You are to obey and respect me the way you do your mother. No mischief making.”
A myriad of expressions ran rampant across the girl’s face as she weighed the pros and cons of the pact.
“Of course,” Charmaine pursued, “it might be too difficult for—”
“I’ll do it!” the girl cut in. “Do you want to shake hands?”
Charmaine nodded, reaching for Yvette’s extended hand, puzzled when it was abruptly withdrawn. “One other thing,” Yvette said, arm tucked behind her back. “You had better not tell Mama or Papa, or I won’t be allowed to send it.”
Charmaine was perplexed. Certainly the child’s parents wouldn’t forbid her to write a simple letter to her older brother. “Why would they mind?”
“They are angry with Johnny. That’s the real reason I haven’t been able to send him a letter. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but he caused Papa’s seizure. It’s the big family secret! But you were bound to find out. Everybody in the house knows what happened. Johnny didn’t mean it, I know he didn’t. At least Papa didn’t die.” The girl sighed. “Now I’m not even allowed to mention his name. I know they won’t let me write to him.”
“I’ll speak to your mother about it,” Charmaine reasoned gently.
“No!” the girl persisted. “No secret, no deal! Because if you tell her about the letter, it will never leave this island.”
Charmaine frowned. She didn’t like being manipulated, and she certainly didn’t want to go behind Colette’s back. “I shall have to think about it.”
“Never mind,” Yvette groaned, clearly upset. “I knew you’d be too scared to do something daring.”
“Yvette,” Charmaine cajoled, certain she was courting an enemy now rather than a friend, “if it means that much to you, I promise we’ll get a letter to your brother one way or another.”
A long silence ensued. Charmaine stood her ground, allowing Yvette her assessment. She smiled hesitantly. “Are you certain? You’re not just saying that?”
“I’m certain, and I do promise. Now come, I’ll take you back to the nursery before Nana Rose or your mother comes looking for you.”
Yvette artfully turned to the piano. “Do you play?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Would you teach me?”
“I suppose I could. You’ll be my first student, though.”
“I don’t care. I’d like to learn. Johnny plays very well,” she imparted, striking one key. “He’d be very surprised if he came home and could hear me play. I’d really like to surprise him.”
Charmaine smiled down on the girl, who so obviously cherished her elder brother. “Very well, Miss Duvoisin. If you are willing to practice an hour a day, by Christmastide you should be able to play a number of simple melodies. Would you like to begin now?”
Receiving an alacritous nod, they sat at the piano. “Now, this is middle C.”
It was thus Colette found them. She smiled contentedly.
When Yvette tired of the piano, Charmaine accompanied her back to the nursery and insisted the girls give her the grand tour. She was in awe of all the things they pointed out, most especially the water closet
situated near the crest of the south wing staircase and its companion washroom on the first floor directly below. Complete with washstand and chamber seat, its interior plumbing was fed by a water system devised by the girls’ grandfather at the time of the mansion’s construction. Rainwater was collected off the roof and funneled into a holding tank one story above. Charmaine jumped back when Yvette cranked a huge lever and a surge of water “flushed” the toilet. The girl laughed merrily. “Haven’t you ever seen a privy before?” This type, she hadn’t. Not even the Harringtons had so modern a lavatory facility.
In the south wing, she was shown the grand ballroom and banquet hall, huge and empty, comprising the entire ground floor of that wing, echoing their hollow footfalls as they crossed to a side doorway that led to the family chapel. The stone edifice was built eight years ago, and was the only structure oddly out of balance with the entire house.
Next, the girls took her to the gardens nestled in the courtyard between the north and south wings. Frederic’s father had hired a gardener to plant out the nearly enclosed area with various shrubs and exotic flowers. Travis and Gladys tended it now. It was remarkably cool amongst the many overhanging boughs of scarlet cordia and frangipani trees, their abundant blooms of deep orange, white, pink, and yellow vibrant and sweet smelling. Marble benches were placed along the cobblestone walkway, beckoning any wanderer to sit and enjoy the placid beauty and fragrant flowers. A grand fountain graced the very center, water spurting upward, dropping back to marble basins of graduating diameter, three melodious waterfalls spilling to a shallow pool below.
“You have a little paradise right here,” Charmaine said to the girls.
“Still,” Yvette commented, “once you’ve gotten used to it, it’s boring.”
“Yes,” Jeannette agreed, “it’s much more fun to go on picnics or riding the way we used to before Mama became ill.”
So, Charmaine thought, there is the crux of the matter. They were tired of the same old thing, and she couldn’t really blame them. Children were meant to run free. Tonight, she would start planning how she could make their lives more adventurous. Though she knew their studies were important—Colette had already made certain her daughters could read and write—Charmaine remembered the manner in which they spent the weekends would be up to her choosing. Perhaps a few picnics would be nice, so long as the rainy weather they were due to experience cooperated.
At seven o’clock, everyone headed for the dining room. Charmaine was to have her first supper with her new family. As at lunch, Rose and Yvette walked to the far side of the table and took two center seats. Colette helped Pierre into the chair adjacent to her own, there at the foot of the table, nearest the kitchen. Charmaine assumed that when Frederic joined them, he would sit opposite his wife at the head of the table. Colette beckoned Charmaine to once again take the chair to Pierre’s right, and Jeannette quickly sat next to Charmaine.
“Is this all right, Mama?” she asked politely.
“As long as Nana doesn’t mind being cast aside.”
Rose shook her head. “Let Jeannette sit near Charmaine. That’s fine.”
Voices resounded from the hallway, and George Richards and Paul appeared. To Charmaine’s utter surprise, Paul sat at the head of the table, while George took the chair to his right. Evidently, Frederic Duvoisin would not be joining them. Unbidden came the thought of Paul and Colette as husband and wife.
Agatha Ward was the last to enter the room. Charmaine had only seen the dowager once the entire day, when she had insisted Colette take a nap. She graciously greeted everyone, then sat across from Pierre.
The family fell into easy banter, and dinner was served. Charmaine enjoyed the food immensely, not realizing how hungry she was, although the noontime fare had been delectable. She helped with Pierre’s plate, while talking with the girls, Rose, and Colette. Halfway through the meal, George spoke to her. “Well, Charmaine Ryan, how was your first day as governess?”
“It was wonderful.”
Colette chuckled. “Charmaine wasn’t supposed to begin her duties until tomorrow. However”—she sent a mock frown down the table toward her daughter—“Yvette took it upon herself to obtain a piano lesson from Miss Ryan.”
All eyes went to the girl, save Paul’s, whose gaze rested on Charmaine.
“That’s right,” Yvette piped up, “Mademoiselle is teaching me how to play.”
“She’s going to teach me as well!” Jeannette chimed in.
Paul leaned back in his chair. “Miss Ryan is full of surprises, isn’t she?”
Charmaine looked directly at him. “There is nothing surprising about playing the piano, Mr. Duvoisin. Mrs. Harrington spoke of my ability to do so during Friday’s interview.”
“So she did,” Paul agreed with the hint of a smile. “Tell us, Mademoiselle, what else do you intend to teach my sisters and Pierre?”
“Whatever they would like to learn.”
As his smile broadened, butterflies took wing in her stomach. Flustered, she looked away.
“We’ve shown Mademoiselle Charmaine the entire house,” Jeannette supplied. “And she thinks it’s beautiful.”
“Yes,” Paul mused, “I’m certain she does.”
Charmaine was grateful when the conversation turned to other things. Having dinner night after night with Paul in attendance was going to be disconcerting. But at least he had noticed her, and of course, his presence at the table was preferable to his absence.
She wondered why George was there. Then his last name registered. George Richards, Rose Richards…I’ve just now returned your sisters to my grandmother. George was Rose’s grandson. She remembered Yvette’s remarks during her interview. She can’t keep up with us the way she did with Johnny, Paul, and George. Apparently, Rose had been a surrogate mother to all three boys. Now she understood why George was at the table and why there appeared to be a great camaraderie between him and Paul. Like his grandmother, he was more than an employee; he was considered a part of the family.
When the meal was over, Anna and Felicia cleared the dishes away. Charmaine watched as the latter fawned over Paul a second time. Earlier, Charmaine had been uncertain of the serving girl’s intentions, but there was no mistaking the signals Felicia was sending now: the batting eyes and swinging hips. With olive skin, dark hair, and shapely curves, Felicia Flemmings was fetching. More than once, Paul leered at her.
Colette noticed it, too. “Felicia,” she sharply remarked, “I’d like to speak with you tomorrow morning, in my chambers.”
The maid’s face dropped. She curtseyed and scurried away, not to be seen again for the remainder of the evening.
After dessert, Colette rose, and the family retired to the drawing room. Paul and George declined to join them. “We have a number of things to accomplish in the study,” Paul told Colette. “Unfortunately, a few of these matters I need to discuss with Father. Nothing taxing, just—”
“That’s fine, Paul,” Colette interrupted. “It would be good for him to get involved in Duvoisin business, the more taxing the better. He’s sat too long.”
With a nod, he and George entered the library. Charmaine suddenly realized the library and the study were one and the same room.
By nine o’clock, the children were asleep, and Charmaine returned to her room on the third floor. So much had happened during her first day in the grand house, and both her mind and heart were full. It had been a good day, and she looked forward to tomorrow. With a sigh, she climbed into bed and fell swiftly to sleep.
But her dreams were disturbing. At first, she was on the wharf, watching Paul scowl at Jessie Rowlan. Then, Jessie Rowlan was her father, and Paul was lifting him clear off the dock, his fist knotting the shirt at the base of her father’s neck. Next, John Ryan lay sprawled on the floor of the meetinghouse, and Paul was snarling to the island priest, “Tell Mr. Ryan who his daughter is married to.”
She awoke in a cold sweat. Though her heart fluttered with Paul’s insinuation that she was hi
s wife, images of John Ryan remained vivid. You’re safe now…Paul will protect you. That’s what your dream was telling you. He will protect you. Even with that thought, it was a long time before she fell back to sleep.
Sunday, September 25, 1836
Charmaine’s first week as governess passed without incident. True to her word, Yvette was the perfect child, and Charmaine began to wonder if Paul’s anger of the Sunday past had been exaggerated. Nevertheless, Rose and Colette commended the girl on her good behavior. When her praises were sung, Yvette’s eyes would travel to her governess, a silent reminder of Charmaine’s end of the bargain. A wink sufficed to confirm their pact.
Yvette continued with her piano lessons, her sister in attendance. Their interest had not diminished; both girls practiced over an hour each day, and by Friday, they were able to play a few simple tunes with ease.
When Saturday proved sunny, Charmaine decided to take them on a picnic. Dr. Blackford had arrived early in the day, and Colette was closeted away with him. When Rose insisted on caring for Pierre—“You’ll have a better time with the girls if he stays behind”—Charmaine and the girls set out for the nearby southern beaches, a hearty picnic lunch in hand. They collected seashells, waded knee-deep in the warm water, ran and laughed and told stories. The girls wanted to hear all about Charmaine’s past, which she recounted, omitting the sordid details of her family life. They were interested in “being poor” as they put it and decided it would be a far more exciting life than the one they led “being rich.” Charmaine snorted. She wished she’d had so terrible a childhood as they.
On Sunday, everyone attended Mass in the small stone chapel, everyone except Frederic. Charmaine began to wonder if she were ever going to meet the Duvoisin patriarch.
Like the week before, Father Benito’s verbose sermon was uninspiring and fraught with condemnation. Charmaine’s mind wandered to Father Michael Andrews. His homilies had been eloquent, his redeeming message of love and forgiveness, fulfilling. She thought of her mother, recalling her words of praise whenever she spoke of the spiritual priest. Father Benito could derive some inspiration from Father Michael.