She felt odd, disjointed somehow, as she spotted familiar places that had been forgotten over the past six years. She scanned people's faces, wondering if she'd known them as children. They passed the Drinker House on Pine Street, and then Natalya glimpsed St. Peter's Episcopal Church on the corner of Third Street. They were turning north, but she leaned out the window, staring at the magnificent brick church where she had attended services for so many years.
Parishioners were gathered in clusters outside while others strolled away toward home. Church must be over, Natalya thought, and her heart began to pound at the thought of meeting her family. Would they all be at Grandmama's, as she had predicted? Suddenly the dear faces of her relatives filled her mind and she felt like a little girl again as she imagined embracing her parents.
Her grandparents' home came into view on the left side of Third Street, completely and reassuringly unchanged. The other occupants of the post chaise were forgotten as they drew up in front.
"This is the Beauvisage home," the driver said.
Grey paid him and asked him to wait, impressed by the simple grandeur of the three-story Georgian mansion with its white shutters. There were white marble keystones above each window and a fanlight over the front door, which was supported by Doric columns on either side.
Natalya stepped out onto the footpath without a word, walked up to the house, and knocked at the paneled door. Grey followed after telling Speed and Charlotte to wait in the carriage. He stayed a few steps behind Natalya as she waited for the door to open. Remembering his own homecoming, he half expected someone she didn't know to appear and tell her that the house had changed hands.
"Yes?" The door swung back to reveal an exquisite, tiny old woman. Her white hair was pinned up neatly, and she wore an older-style gown of dark blue silk edged with white pleated lace. Pearls and diamonds sparkled at her throat and ears, and she wore a diamond ring on her wedding finger. Her expression was alert and gracious; behind tiny golden spectacles, emerald green eyes twinkled, then widened. Grey, expecting a servant, was taken by surprise.
"Grandmama..." Natalya whispered the name in a voice thick with tears. "I am home."
"I thought I was dreaming," the old woman murmured. Her arms opened, and her granddaughter rushed into them, weeping. "How I have missed you, dearest!"
"Oh, Grandmama, when I heard about Grandpapa I thought my heart would break, and I wanted more than anything in the world to come home and be with you. I am so sorry!"
Antonia Beauvisage drew back, gazing at Natalya's face and smiling. "It was time for Jean-Philippe to go, my dear, and we were prepared to be parted. Your grandpapa was nearly ninety. It was becoming difficult for him to walk, and there was so much that he could no longer enjoy in life. He is with God now, and I have no regrets." She paused. "Your mother and father and sister are in the garden. We've just come from church. I hope Caro doesn't faint when she sees you; do you know, just this morning she told me that she misses you so much, she has been trying to persuade your father to take her to Europe. You must go to her—but first tell me how you have accomplished this miracle! These days sea travel is far too perilous for a young woman traveling alone."
Suddenly Natalya remembered Grey. "Uncle Nicky enlisted the aid of an Englishman who had been a French prisoner of war to help me leave France. Grandmama, I would like you to meet Grey St. James, who brought me to London and then on to Philadelphia." She gestured for Grey to come forward, conscious of her grandmother's curious gaze.
Grey bowed over the old woman's tiny hand and kissed it. "It is a great honor to meet you, Mrs. Beauvisage."
"You must call me Antonia. How can we thank you, sir, for delivering our beloved Talya to us? This is truly a day for celebration."
Natalya interceded. "I hope you'll excuse Mr. St. James, Grandmama. He only wanted to be certain that I had safely reached my family, and now there must be far more important matters for him to attend to."
"Oh, but everyone will want to meet you, sir," Antonia protested.
"I have no pressing business," he replied lightly. "I am at your disposal."
Natalya gave him a dark look, which he pretended not to notice. Just a few more minutes, she told herself. Still, she didn't want him to meet any more of her family; she didn't want Grey to seep into the new life she was beginning today. It would be easier to keep what the two of them had done together in a separate compartment in her heart if the people she loved in Philadelphia knew nothing about him except his name and what she chose to divulge.
"Mr. St. James is ever the gentleman, Grandmama, but we must not detain him for more than a few minutes," she said in a sweet voice. "His carriage is waiting outside, and there must be a great deal for him to do before his ship sails back to England."
"I plan to remain in Philadelphia for a short time," Grey interposed. "My crew needs a rest and so do I." He turned his back to Natalya's shocked stare and offered Antonia his arm. "Lead on to the garden, dear lady."
Antonia glanced back at her granddaughter. "Let us go ahead of you so that I can soften the shock."
Given her turmoil over Grey's refusal to exit her life, Natalya did an admirable job of overlooking his glaring presence in the midst of her long-awaited family reunion. She stood inside the glass doors that led outside and watched as Grandmama and Grey approached the distant figures of her parents and sister. The garden behind the Beauvisage home was part of a large enclave shared by several mansions. There were flagstone walkways lined with ribbon grass, sculpted boxwood hedges, and clusters of daffodils dancing above borders of grape hyacinths. Alec, Caro, and Kristin were standing near one of the brick walls, apparently surveying a new piece of statuary.
Natalya's heart began to hammer when she saw her mother and father turn toward the house as Grandmama approached. How well and wonderful they looked! A few words were spoken, then Antonia glanced back and nodded to her. She pushed open the door and stepped into the April sunlight, tears blurring her vision. It was as if she were five again, running to her parents after Etienne teased her or she took a tumble.
"Natalya!" Familiar arms were holding her fast, and she smelled the soft, fresh scent of her mother. They were the same size, and their tears mingled as they kissed; then Caro drew back for a long look. "I cannot believe it! It really is you! My dear, you'll never know how we've missed you!"
"Maman..." She smiled into her mother's warm golden-brown eyes. "I missed you, too. I had to come home!"
Then Alec was reaching for her, cradling her against him as he had all her life. "Darling Talya," he murmured. "Welcome home."
"Oh, Papa..." Tears of joy ran down her cheeks, and he produced a handkerchief.
"Your grandmother tells us that this man St. James brought you all the way from France," Alec said, glancing back toward Grey. "I owe him a proper thank-you."
Kristin appeared then, and Natalya's eyes widened in surprise when she discovered that her little sister was now taller than she. "Look at you, Krissie—you're a woman!" They hugged, and then she stepped back for another look. "And so beautiful! My goodness, you were still in the schoolroom when I left!"
Resplendent in her new morning gown of blue-and-white-striped muslin, its hem fetchingly ruffled, Kristin twirled in the sunlight. "Do you really think I look pretty? As pretty as the women in France and London?"
"Oh, certainly!" Natalya smiled with fond indulgence. "Now, when are you and Malcom getting married? I hope I'm not too late for the wedding."
Kristin made a moue. "I've broken the engagement. I want to be certain that, when I marry, I shall never regret it."
"That sounds very... prudent." She glanced toward their mother, who lifted her brows for an instant. "We have so much to talk about. I cannot tell you how anxious I am to see Belle Maison again, to have everything just as it was—" Natalya broke off when Grey and her father came up beside them.
Kristin was staring appreciatively at the Englishman. "I don't believe we've met, sir," she murmured.
&nb
sp; "This is Grey St. James, Kristin," Alec said. "He is responsible for delivering your sister home from France, and, of course, we owe him a great debt of gratitude. Caro, I've invited Grey to come back with us for Natalya's welcome-home supper. I thought it would be a splendid opportunity for all of us to become better acquainted."
"By all means," Caro agreed, with a radiant smile.
"Oh, yes!" Kristin exclaimed.
Natalya stared in horror and said frantically, "But I'm certain Mr. St. James has better things to do and is probably too polite to say so. Really, Papa, you must not put him in so awkward a position. He's quite bored with this entire business, and—"
"Miss Beauvisage," Grey said coolly, "you couldn't be more wrong. I can think of nothing I would enjoy more than a day with your family, and I am delighted to accept this invitation. Unless, that is, you have some objection to my presence?"
Everyone's eyes were fixed on her. Blushing, trying to conceal her fury, Natalya managed to smile. "I? Object? How silly!"
Chapter 17
April 28, 1814
"My lord?" Charlotte Timkins inquired hopefully as the hired post chaise turned off Germantown Road.
Grey sat across from her and Speed, his gaze fixed on the verdant spring countryside. Now, his eyes flicked back to the young woman and he murmured, "I have asked you to call me Mr. St. James, Charlotte."
"I beg your pardon, sir." Recognizing that his attention was already wavering, she plunged onward. "Mr. St. James, what if my mistress no longer needs me when she gets to her parents' house? What if there is a family retainer she would prefer to have wait upon her? What if—"
"Enough, my dear Miss Timkins," Grey cut in, holding up a hand. "Let us wait and see rather than expect the worst. And then, if your fears should come to pass, you will simply remain in my employ... and eventually return to England with me, if you so choose."
"You aren't going back immediately?"
Grey shook his head, staring out at the chestnut trees that lined the drive leading to Belle Maison. Daffodils grew wild, like yellow stars sprinkled amid the lush green grass. "My plans are tentative at this time." He glanced back at Charlotte, aware of her curiosity. "And I must ask that you refrain from discussing my plans, or lack of same, with Miss Beauvisage. Do I make myself clear?"
Charlotte widened her blue eyes. "Aye, I suppose that you do, sir."
"Thank you."
"Mum's the word," Jasper Speed chimed in.
"Exactly."
The carriage ahead of them began to slow, and Grey caught his first glimpse of Belle Maison, Natalya's girlhood home. The large house was a beautiful example of Georgian architecture. Constructed of red brick, it was square and solid, shaded by huge elm trees and generously framed by sweeping lawns and exquisite beds of tulips. Fourteen perfect, many-paned windows, all with pure white casements, marched across the front of the house, surrounding a magnificent white front door with brass fittings. The Beauvisage carriage stopped right in front of the patterned brick walkway that led to the house's entrance. Grey watched, pensive for a moment, as Natalya stepped giddily onto the path and turned in slow circles, her fingers pressed to her lips in silent wonder. Alec stopped beside her, and she looked up at him, eyes bright with tears.
"Oh, Papa, it seems like a dream. I don't think I realized how desperately I've longed for home... until now."
Arm in arm they went into the house while Grey, Speed, and Charlotte disembarked from their post chaise. Caro was waiting for them while Kristin lingered nearby, staring at Grey.
"I can't tell you how pleased we are that you could join us," Caro said sincerely, taking Grey's arm. "I'm going to have Pierre, our butler, send someone to take these two lovely people out to our kitchen for a good, hot meal... and a nap if that would be desirable. Meanwhile, we'll sort out who is staying and who is going...." She continued to chatter on as they reached the front door, at which point a wizened little old man appeared. "Mr. St. James," she said, "I should like to present Pierre DuBois, who is our major domo and in charge of running our home."
"Bonjour, m'sieur!" Pierre greeted him, dark eyes twinkling with interest. "This is a happy day! Life has been a trifle dull here of late, I must confess—indeed, I had been deliberating on a way to enliven this household. But you, sir, have relieved me of that burden by returning Miss Natalya to the fold."
Grey was charmed to see that Pierre wore an old-fashioned suit, not unlike the one he himself had donned to elude Auteuil and Poujouly during his and Natalya's flight across France. Pierre's coat and breeches were mustard-yellow satin, his buckled shoes sported two-inch heels, and his powdered wig was set off by a long waistcoat of gold-and-red brocade. Never had Grey encountered a butler like this in England! Before he could reply to the old man's speech, Natalya had come between them to hug Pierre, who blushed with delight.
"Pierre, when did you come back to Belle Maison? Did Maman write to me and have I forgotten?" She half turned to explain to Grey, "Pierre was Papa's valet for years, and before that he sailed with my grandpapa on his pirate ship, didn't you, Pierre? Then, when he married Hyla Flowers, who helped Aunt Lisette run her coffeehouse, they took it over together when Lisette and Nicholai went to live in France. That was twenty years ago, when I was just a little girl, but I remember very well how sad we all were when you left Belle Maison, Pierre! You used to sneak me treats from the kitchen and let me choose flowers for my very own...."
"You were a dimpled little peach blossom as a child, mademoiselle, and remain so as a woman," Pierre said effusively. "It's a great pleasure to welcome you home. I have been back in your parents' employ nearly two years now, and Hyla is here, too, overseeing the kitchen. We're not as young as we used to be, you know, and the unceasing activity in the coffeehouse became tiring. Do you remember James Stringfellow, the barman?" When Natalya nodded, Pierre said, "Stringfellow and his wife, Nancy, purchased the coffeehouse from us. Their two sons are nearly grown, and I think they were ready for new challenges."
"How lovely that everything has worked out so neatly," she exclaimed, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Kristin had managed to place herself in front of Grey.
"Mr. St. James, all this family gossip must be fearfully dull to you," Natalya's sister said, brushing back a stray ebony curl from her cheek. "Would you like me to show you around?"
He smiled carefully. "I'm not bored in the least, but it's kind of you to offer, Miss Beauvisage, and I would very much like to see more of your home."
"That's an excellent idea, Krissie," Natalya approved, her voice sounding hollow. Obviously her sister was rapidly becoming starry-eyed over the handsome Englishman, and it bothered her to see Kristin trying to improve the acquaintance. But she reminded herself once again that Grey would soon be gone and that she ought to put him out of her mind and enjoy her homecoming.
For his part, Grey was fascinated by Natalya's family and their home. The style of Belle Maison was very different from that of grand homes in either England or France. It was much simpler, and yet the house possessed an appealing elegance and warmth that London mansions lacked.
The entry hall was laid with a diagonal pattern of bricks, and the paneled walls were lovely with their plain coat of ivory paint. There was no gilding or marble to be found in Belle Maison. Kristin led the way through a graceful arch with double doors that brought them into the stair hall. Two spacious, lovely parlors opened off of each side of the stair hall, and Grey wandered off into the north parlor.
"Is your mother responsible for the design of these rooms?" he asked. "Did she choose the furnishings?"
"For the most part, no, I think not," Kristin replied, walking over to stand beside him. She could scarcely believe that he was real, so potent was his attraction. Grey St. James looked much as she imagined her father must have thirty years ago. "Maman found Belle Maison so beautiful when she first came here that she has always striven to keep it much the same. This was Papa's house, you know. He told me when I was a little girl that
our home had been orphaned during the Revolution. A battle was fought in the village of Germantown, and the owner of this house was killed accidentally. His family fled, leaving nearly all their possessions."
"An ideal situation for a single man," Grey remarked, "particularly if he approved of the previous owner's tastes!"
"Well, Maman has tried to make gradual changes, adding pieces and replacing worn items over the years. I'm sure it must be grander now than when Papa first acquired it." Kristin's long-lashed gaze touched upon paneled walls painted a soft, pale green, a graceful wing chair beautifully embroidered with crewelwork, a Chippendale settee upholstered in rose damask, and the stunningly patterned English rug that covered the wide boards of the floor. "Maman says that the style of our home is timeless, but to me it is... reassuring." She turned her head a fraction so that she was looking directly into Grey's eyes. "If you truly want to return to England, you shouldn't remain here long, Mr. St. James. I believe that my family and our home are under an enchanted spell, and no one who is here for any length of time ever wants to leave..."
Laughing, Grey walked away from her, over to the fifteen-paned glass doors that opened onto the lawns and gardens behind Belle Maison. "You are amusing yourself at my expense, aren't you, Miss Beauvisage? You know, I come from England, not Ireland. We don't put much stock in leprechauns and faeries back in London." His gaze swept appreciatively over the impeccable flowerbeds divided by mossy brick footpaths. "In any event, your theory doesn't quite fit Natalya, does it? She has thrived thousands of miles away from Belle Maison. Your brother's left, too, hasn't he?" He glanced back at her, gently arching a black brow. "Perhaps your belief in this house's golden aura is an excuse for you to linger here with Maman and Papa, long after most of your friends have married and established homes of their own."
Kristin swept past him, her back straight, leading the way into the back hallway. "I shan't dignify such outrageous effrontery with a response, except to say that I am unmarried by choice, Mr. St. James. I am unashamed of the happiness I own here, and until I meet the perfect man, I see no reason to leave."
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