A Silent Ocean Away

by DeVa Gantt

  Charmaine was glad when the Mass came to a close. The girls had fidgeted, Pierre was cranky, and Paul’s eyes were constantly upon her, leaving her ill at ease. Did he think it was her fault the children could not sit still? Colette withdrew to her chambers, saying she was not feeling well, and it fell to Charmaine and Rose to care for the children for the remainder of the day. After the noonday meal, Charmaine took Pierre upstairs for his nap. The girls wanted to practice their piano lesson, so Rose decided to remain downstairs with them.

  The boy fell asleep almost immediately, and Charmaine tiptoed from the room to retrieve a book from her bedroom. Fear gripped her when she returned to the children’s chambers: Pierre’s bed was empty. Where is he? She ran from the nursery in a panic, reaching the stairs in a heartbeat. Then she heard it: giggling coming from the apartments directly behind her. Relief flooded in. The door was standing slightly ajar, and Charmaine pushed it open. There stood Pierre, thigh-deep in Paul’s riding boots.

  “Pierre!” she scolded, her eyes darting about the dressing room. “Come here this instant!” He only giggled again, attempting to walk with the boots on. “Pierre, you’re not supposed to be in here. Come here, please!”

  He tripped and laughed harder, wriggling out of the boots and scurrying into his older brother’s bedroom. The chase was on; she had no choice but to dash across the suite, stopping just shy of the bedroom doorway. Thankfully, it was empty as well, save a huge, four-poster bed, under which Pierre was crawling.

  “Don’t make me come after you, young man!” Charmaine futilely admonished. Groaning, she rushed forward, realizing the faster she got the boy out of Paul’s private quarters, the better. Lying flat on the floor, she caught hold of his legs and was just pulling him out from under the bed, when a cough startled her. Afraid to look, but knowing she must, she let go of Pierre and, standing, turned to face Paul, her cheeks flaming red.

  “Have you lost something, Miss Ryan?” he asked devilishly, his shoulder propped against the doorframe, arms and legs casually crossed. “Or perhaps you’ve come to my chambers for another reason?”

  “No, sir—I mean—yes, sir,” she stammered, her mortification nearly unbearable. “I’ve lost something, sir.”

  “Have you?”

  Mercifully, Pierre wriggled out from under the bed and ran directly into his older brother’s arms. Paul scooped him up, his brow cocked in Charmaine’s direction. “So, it’s Pierre you’ve lost? Amazing…Rose is minding the girls in the drawing room, and you were supposed to be caring for Pierre. Tell me, Miss Ryan, is it too difficult to keep track of one small boy?”

  “I thought he was sleeping, sir,” she answered, highly offended. “I left him for only a moment to—”

  “No need to explain, Miss Ryan. As I mentioned during your interview, running after a child can be quite demanding, perhaps too much for you.”

  “Sir, you are wrong,” she bit out, “and someday, you will eat your words.”

  He burst into hearty laughter, inciting another round of giggles from Pierre.

  Charmaine’s temper peaked, and she had to quell the urge to step forward and slap the mirth from his face.

  He recorded her anger, and though his eyes remained merry, his demeanor changed. “I think you’ve proven your worth to my family, Miss Ryan. You’ve done a fine job with the children, especially where Yvette is concerned.”

  His unexpected words were sincere. She didn’t know what to say. “Do you accept my compliment, then?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, her throat dry and raspy.

  “Why don’t you call me Paul? That is, if you’ll allow me to call you Charmaine? We’re not so formal on Charmantes, leastwise not as formal as Richmond society can be. I promise, it is quite easy to pronounce.”

  The mild barb prompted her to reply. “Paul,” she said softly.

  “Charmaine,” he returned with a slight nod. “Now, Charmaine, let’s get Pierre back to his playroom. We wouldn’t want Mrs. Faraday to find us alone in my bedchamber. I fear she’d be scandalized.”

  Charmaine’s cheeks burned anew, and again Paul chuckled.

  In a matter of minutes, Pierre was back in his bed and Paul had left them. But Charmaine trembled for a good hour afterward, her insides pleasantly warm. Paul approved of her, he finally approved of her!

  Later that afternoon, Gwendolyn and Loretta paid her a visit. They spent an hour on the portico while the girls and Pierre played hide-and-seek nearby. Gwendolyn nearly suffered the vapors when Paul emerged from the manor and greeted them. He headed toward the stable and carriage house, which comprised the southern front lawns of the compound. When he was out of earshot, she said, “You are so lucky, Charmaine!”

  Loretta frowned disapprovingly. “Charmaine had best keep a level head.”

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Harrington. I know I’m only the governess. But it is nice to dream.”

  “So long as it remains a dream.”

  Soon it was evening, and Charmaine’s first week in the Duvoisin employ came to a close. But as she tucked the girls into bed, Yvette whispered to her, “You haven’t forgotten about my letter, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t forgotten,” Charmaine whispered back.

  “Good, because I finished it yesterday. I even drew a picture! When are your friends leaving for Richmond?”

  “Not for another week or so. They have to wait for a ship to make port. But I haven’t forgotten, Yvette, and I promise I’m sticking to our pact. May I read your letter tomorrow?”

  Yvette’s eyes widened. “Of course not! It’s private.”

  Charmaine chuckled and gave her a kiss. “You’ve been a fine girl this week, Yvette. I hope that after your letter leaves the island you’ll continue to behave.”

  “Don’t worry, Mademoiselle,” she yawned. “I like you, so I’ll be good.” With a contented smile, she snuggled under her blankets.

  Jeannette was already asleep, but Pierre grew obstinate, crying for his mother, whom he hadn’t seen for most of the day.

  Thankfully, Colette appeared, her face pallid, her legs unsteady. It didn’t look as though Dr. Blackford’s Saturday visit had done her much good. She stayed only long enough to rock her son to sleep. Charmaine decided that as soon as Colette seemed up to it, she would broach the subject of Yvette’s letter.

  Monday, September 26, 1836

  The second week began much like the first with the exception of her newly won respect from Paul. She was glad he no longer treated her with indifference. During that first week he’d been courteous to a fault: Good morning, Miss Ryan. Good evening, Miss Ryan. By Saturday, Charmaine had been certain the man didn’t know how to be friendly, only polite. All that had changed on Sunday, and she smiled with the memory of it. By the end of Monday, she had become comfortable calling him Paul, and he in turn called her Charmaine, inquiring pleasantly as to how her day had been with the children.

  Her new “friendship” with Paul did not go unnoticed by the two maids of the manor, and late that night when she reached her room on the third floor, Felicia and Anna cornered her there. “So it’s Paul, is it?” Felicia sneered. “You wouldn’t be falling into his bed now, would you?”

  Charmaine was appalled by the maid’s vulgarity. “Are you jealous, Felicia? I don’t suppose Paul respects a woman who throws herself at him. I know Miss Colette doesn’t approve.”

  The housemaid’s eyes flashed. “I don’t care about Miss Colette. And what would you know of Paul’s likes or dislikes, anyway? Just stay away from him, you hear me? Stay far away!”

  “Please step aside,” Charmaine replied condescendingly.

  Stunned, the voluptuous woman threw a vexed look to her cohort, the considerably plainer Anna Smith. Charmaine seized the moment and pushed into her room, shutting the door in the servant’s face. Leaning back against the door, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, wishing her room wasn’t on the same floor as Felicia Flemmings’s. She didn’t think the taunti
ng would end with this one confrontation. Annoyed, she grabbed her book and decided to read until her eyes were tired and she’d be able to sleep.

  Tuesday, September 27, 1836

  Where Monday had been rainy, Tuesday dawned sunny. On Colette’s request, Charmaine spent the morning in town. Tomorrow was the twins’ birthday, and Colette needed someone, preferably a woman, to travel to the mercantile. She provided the carriage, and Charmaine had the driver stop at the Browning house to see if Gwendolyn would like to join her. They had great fun fetching the gifts Colette had ordered for her daughters months ago, the most remarkable, two miniature glass horses to add to their animal collection. “The girls love the stable,” Colette had said. “Now they’ll have horses of their own.”

  As noon approached, Charmaine said goodbye to Gwendolyn and had the driver take her back to the manor. Once there, she rushed up to her bedroom and deposited the packages on her bed. She reached the table just in time for lunch.

  “Where have you been?” Yvette demanded.

  “You’ll find out tomorrow,” was all Charmaine would say.

  Later that evening, when everyone was abed, Charmaine wrapped the gifts, spending a great deal of time on the ribbons. Colette had recommended she hide them in the back of the girls’ armoire, behind all their dresses. It was best if she crept down there now, when they were sound asleep. Sure enough, no one stirred. When she was finished, she headed down to the library, crossing paths with Jane Faraday on the stairs.

  “Is there something you require, Miss Ryan?” the head housekeeper queried brusquely.

  Charmaine decided not to take offense. The older woman’s comportment was generally curt. “I was going down to the library.”

  “At this time of night?”

  “I’m not tired, but I find reading by lamplight makes me so.”

  The woman eyed her suspiciously. “Then I suggest you choose a book quickly and take it back to your room on the third floor.” Without further explanation, she continued her ascent.

  Puzzled, Charmaine proceeded on her quest, selecting a novel entitled Pride and Prejudice. The study was inviting, the lighting good, and because she had spent a great deal of time in her bedroom already, she ignored the matron’s directive and settled into one of the high-backed chairs. For an hour, she was lost to the story, unlike any she had ever read, and the characters of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, imagining Paul and herself as the hero and heroine. Oh, to live such a romance!

  Muffled giggles interrupted her revelry. Mrs. Faraday thought everyone was abed. Not so. Charmaine recognized the voices: Felicia and Anna were scurrying about. Paul hadn’t dined with them this evening, and Charmaine wondered if he had just come in. Whenever he was in the house, Felicia and Anna were never far away. What are they doing?

  Charmaine lit a candle and doused the lamp, then crossed the room and cautiously opened the door. The hallway was surprisingly empty and dark, though light cascaded through the French doors in the dining room. She walked toward them, head cocked. No one was there either.

  She stepped into the courtyard, breathing in the soft fragrance of the garden flowers. The breeze was a bit chilly, yet refreshing. The cool air carried the scent of ocean spray, sweet against her face as it washed away the remnants of the hot day. On impulse, she wandered along the garden path, her candle unnecessary, for lamps were lit here and there and a full moon bathed the sanctuary in heavenly light. She blew it out and set it atop her book on a nearby bench.

  She sat down and closed her eyes, thinking about her new life and all that happened over the past month. So many changes, all for the better, she realized. Was she happy? Yes, she answered; she had made the right decision in coming to Charmantes. Like Yvette and Jeannette, she had yearned for adventure and had miraculously found it. Her life was no longer dull, but exciting.

  The hour grew late. It was time to retire. Sighing, she finally rose.

  “Going so soon?”

  Startled, she spun halfway around to confront the deep voice that spoke from the shadows. “I’m sorry,” Paul said as he stepped away from the tree he had been leaning against, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “How long have you been standing there?”

  He walked closer. “Long enough to watch you meander through the gardens and sit down on that bench. Actually, I’ve been intrigued. So many emotions crossing your brow, some of them quite vexing, I’d say.”

  Charmaine stepped back, her legs connecting with the bench she had just vacated. “Vexing?” she queried. “They weren’t vexing, I assure you.”

  “What could someone so young be worrying about?” he pondered aloud, ignoring her remark to the contrary, stilling the hand that wanted to caress her cheek. Her blushes were intoxicating, and he had found himself thinking of her often during the past week, more often since Sunday.

  “I told you, sir, I wasn’t worrying about anything.”

  “Sir?” he queried. “I thought we’d dispensed with that formality.”

  “Paul,” she acquiesced, heart hammering in her chest.

  “Are you content here?”

  “I think so,” she whispered. “Actually—I am content. That is what I was thinking about before you spoke.”

  “You’ve been here less than a fortnight. How can you be certain?”

  “I can’t, but for now, my heart tells me I’m content.”

  He chuckled softly as if he approved of her conclusion, then stepped in so close their bodies were nearly touching. Charmaine closed her eyes, certain of his next move. She was desperately frightened, yet scintillatingly excited. But he didn’t take her in his arms, and her eyes flew open, both relieved and annoyed to find he was now sitting on the bench.

  “Stay awhile longer,” he demanded, grabbing hold of her wrist and pulling her down beside him. “There’s no reason why we should feel uncomfortable in one another’s presence. I know you think of me as your employer, but I’d much prefer our relationship to grow into that of…friends. Would you like that?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “I’d like that very much.”

  “Good…And perhaps, in time, our friendship will blossom into something more. Would that be agreeable to you?”

  He edged closer, his warm thigh coming in contact with hers, branding her through her dress, making it difficult to concentrate on his words. “I think so,” she whispered tremulously.

  He threw his arm around the back of the bench and leaned forward. “Life can be full for you here, Charmaine. I can see to that. You’re a very beautiful young woman, and I can offer you fulfillment.” With a rakish smile, he leaned back, allowing her to take his lead. She seemed to puzzle over his words, leaving him to contemplate the depth of her innocence.

  “You’ve been too kind already, Paul. Just this past Sunday, you could have been angry when I allowed Pierre to run into your rooms, but you weren’t. You’ve insisted I use your given name. I couldn’t ask for more than that. Between you and Colette, I’ve been made to feel very welcome.”

  So, she believed him to be a gentleman, he mused, in the strictest sense of the word. He had played the game well thus far. But she had been living under his roof for nearly ten days now, and governess or not, she had caught his fancy. He knew she found him disconcerting. How many times had she blushed in his presence? More times than he could count. But those blushes were born of an attraction as well. Just now she was longing to have him kiss her. But he wanted more than a casual kiss. He would have preferred bedding a housemaid than the children’s governess. When his efforts to hire her on as a servant had been thwarted, he’d changed his tactics. He had played the gentleman, until tonight. Suddenly, his need to have her was great, the time for the plucking, ripe.

  “I’m not speaking of kindness, Charmaine. I’m speaking of comfort.”

  “I’m quite comfortable, Paul,” she replied, completely misreading his cue. “My room is immaculate and finer than any other I’ve ever had. As for the rest of the manor, it’s beaut
iful, and I feel fortunate to be allowed to roam about, using the library and the piano whenever I wish. From the very first day, everyone has made me feel at home.”

  Paul ran his hand through his hair in mild derision. Must I spell my meaning out for her? Has she no knowledge of men? He found that hard to believe; her comeliness must have captured many a young man’s eye. It wasn’t as if she were a Southern belle, smothered every minute of the day by a hovering chaperone. No, Charmaine Ryan must have had experience in the realm of domination and submission. She was only playing her own game here, perhaps to further her own reward, but that would soon end.

  “Miss Ryan,” he began again, “I’m certain you are not as naïve as you would lead me to believe. I’m pleased you find my house satisfactory. At present, however, that is the furthest thing from my mind. Let us say I’m more interested in our sleeping arrangements—yours and mine.”

  Slowly, the light began to dawn, and Charmaine’s cheeks flamed scarlet. She tore herself away from the bench and the hand that had come to rest on her thigh. “How dare you suggest such a thing?” she spat out, her ire conquering her shame. “I’m a good girl, and I’d never, never do what you are suggesting. I was hired to see to the children’s care—not yours!” Her eyes flooded with unwanted tears, and she suppressed the urge to run from the courtyard; she’d not grant him the satisfaction of laughing at her as well.

  Groaning inwardly, Paul cursed himself for the fool he was. He had known she was different, but in his eagerness to have her, he’d ignored the signs of her possible virtue. Was he so conceited to believe every girl on the island would eagerly jump into his bed? He should have waited. But no; he had overstepped the bounds of propriety. She would leave the gardens tonight with her chastity intact, and he, with the brand “cad” stamped across his chest. From this evening on, she’d be wary of him. Somehow, he must mitigate the damage done, perhaps purge her mind of its dark conclusions.