Decision and Destiny (16 page)

“Just a tiny sand crab,” John shrugged, looking from Charmaine to Yvette. “Nothing to be frightened of.”

“I wasn’t frightened!” Yvette objected vehemently.

“No? Then why did you jump so high?”

“I was playing it safe.”

“And now, Miss Ryan is safe as well. Delivered from one black monster…” He let his words trail off, leaving her to draw her own conclusions. “I believe I should thank you, my Charm.”

“Thank me? For what?”

She received a raffish leer for an answer as he lifted Pierre into his arms. “That was not a nice thing to do to your governess,” he chided lightly.

“Yes, it was!” Pierre giggled.

“Aren’t you going to say you’re sorry?” John probed.

“No. It was funny.”

“Well, then, if you’re not going to apologize, you will have to be punished.”

Shocked, Charmaine was momentarily anchored to the spot. John was already walking back to the blanket, where he set Pierre down. He couldn’t be serious. He didn’t seem angry. She rushed up the beach after them.

Yvette shook a finger at the boy. “You should have apologized while you had the chance, Pierre. Now you’ll catch it!” She grinned crookedly at John, as if savoring thoughts of the boy’s chastisement. “What will the treatment be?”

“The usual, of course.”

Charmaine began to tremble as he bent toward the boy, intent upon carrying out his ambiguous threat. To her horror, Pierre only chortled and slapped his hand away.

“So…it’s a battle you’re after!” John declared, his voice bordering on the wicked. He caught Pierre in his grasp—easy prey.

“No!”

Charmaine’s cry was muffled by John’s proclamation: “Now I’ve got you!”

He sat squarely on the blanket, tucked the boy between tented legs, and began tickling him. Pierre’s laughter intensified to a fevered pitch as he squirmed and writhed. But no sooner had he blocked one part of his body than another was exposed. “Stop it! Do it again!” the three-year-old cried over and over again, heaving and out of breath. He managed to roll beneath John’s knees and crawl to safety. Exhausted, John did not pursue him.

“Now I get the punishment!” Jeannette exclaimed, stepping forward.

“Only those who’ve offended Miss Ryan get the punishment.”

“Let’s all tickle Johnny then!” Yvette suggested. “He’s offended Mademoiselle Charmaine lots of times!”

The girls fell on him, pressing the battle. He met their onslaught with one of his own, pinning and tickling each in turn. Recovered, Pierre attempted to join in, but was unable to penetrate the melee. He devised his own plan of attack, scooping up sand and dumping it on John’s head. When he delivered a second load, John tore away and stood up. “Good God!” he complained, raking his fingers through his matted hair. “My head feels like an ant hill.”

Charmaine’s happy laughter drew him around. “You find this amusing?” he asked, sand still clinging to the wet strands.

“You laughed when he put a sand crab in my hair!”

“True, but I also attempted to coax an apology out of him. What’s your excuse for not intervening?”

“I have no excuse. I believe you’ve gotten exactly what you deserve.” She threw him a mischievous look.

“That is a most offending statement if ever I’ve heard one,” he
mused. “Don’t you agree, girls? I think Miss Ryan deserves the punishment.”

“Oh, no!” Yvette reproved. “That’s only fun for you!”

John missed Charmaine’s blush as he regarded his sister in astonishment. “Fun for me?” he inquired tactlessly. “And how would you know that?”

“Because I’ve had experience.”

“Experience?” John reiterated facetiously. “With whom? Joseph?”

“No, not with Joseph. Not with anybody. But I have eyes and ears. I know when things are happening.”

“Oh really? And you’ve seen and heard these ‘things’ firsthand?”

“That’s right,” she nodded haughtily.

“When?”

“When we were alone in our rooms about a year ago—the week before Mademoiselle Charmaine came to live with us.”

“Really? And what exactly happened?”

“Mama had just left us. She had one of those long appointments with Dr. Blackford. He kept coming to the house…at least once a week. And each time he left, Mama seemed worse. She kept saying he was helping her with his elixirs, but I didn’t believe that. I knew she wasn’t telling us the truth, and I was worried, so I decided to find out for myself. I told Jeannette to tell anybody who came to our room I had gone to the privy. That way I’d have time for my spy mission. First, I ran to the kitchen, and I got a glass from the cupboard—the one that picks up the sound best. Then I—”

“Yvette,” John interrupted, “what are you talking about?”

“Let me finish!” she huffed. “Since it was too risky to listen from the hallway, especially with Auntie Agatha patrolling the house, I decided to use Paul’s room. That spot would be perfect, because the wall of his bedchamber meets Mama’s dressing room wall, and I figured Paul wouldn’t be home since it was the middle of
the afternoon. Well, was
I
wrong! Not only was he home, but he was
in
his room, and he wasn’t alone, either. That rude maid Felicia was with him, and she was only wearing her chemise. At first I was surprised, so I just stood at the bedroom door and watched. She was laughing because he was tickling her. Then, he pulled her real close and bit her neck like a vampire.”

Mortified, Charmaine suffered through the narrative, certain her burning cheeks branded her the fool, and John basked in the heat of her misery.

“Oh, it was disgusting!” Yvette continued. “And I told them so. I suppose I should have tiptoed out of the room, or better still, hid and watched, but I didn’t think of that until much later.”

John burst into uproarious laughter, imagining his brother’s stunned surprise when he was caught red-handed in Felicia’s buxom embrace, his rapacious appetite whetted, but not satiated.

“What’s the matter?” Yvette demanded, sure he was laughing at her.

“Nothing, Yvette,” he breathed, “just continue the story; I’d very much like to hear how Paul extricated himself from this one.” He continued to snicker and shake his head, vivid images of the man’s volatile temper coming to the fore.

“Well, I don’t have to tell you how angry he was!” she elaborated, confirming John’s thoughts. “In fact, I’ve never seen him so angry! First, he chased me around the room a couple of times—”

“Don’t flower it up, Yvette. Just tell me what happened. That’s all I want.”

“All right. He did cuss something fierce…words I’ve never heard before, not even on the docks. I tried to remember them all, and even Joseph didn’t know what some of them meant. Anyway, I knew I was in
real
trouble, and if I wanted to stay alive, I had better get out of that room. So, as he grabbed his shirt, I ran out and raced down the stairs. But he was behind me before I could hide. Was I glad when Auntie Agatha walked into the foyer with a tray of food!
I ducked behind her, and Paul stopped in his tracks when he realized I’d been rescued.”

“Rescued?”

“Well, I’m not stupid,” Yvette declared. “I knew Paul didn’t want
her
to know what he was doing. He didn’t want anybody to know, so before he could say a word, I just mentioned Felicia’s name. Then he told Auntie I’d gotten into some ‘mischief’ in his room and he was taking me back to the nursery. Once we were alone, he gave me a hard shake and warned me never to tell anyone what I had seen. He even threatened me with a spanking. But I only glared at him and promised nothing. After all, what could he really do? I suppose I’m still safe, even though I’ve told you.”

“Unbelievable,” John muttered, laughing all over again. “You seem to have a knack for uncovering the inconceivable, Yvette, and your story couldn’t have come at a better time.”

“Why is that?”

“Miss Ryan and I were discussing a similar matter on our ride here this morning. Isn’t that right, my Charm?” he insisted, humiliating her all the more. “That is about as concrete as evidence gets.”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind. Oh, what I would have paid to have seen his face.”

“I could do it again,” Yvette offered, “and you could wait outside his room. How much are you willing to pay?”

“No, dear sister, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

“I’ll give you a discount if you listen carefully for all the swear words and tell me what they mean.”

“I think not,” he said, as he walked around the blanket and retrieved his clothing. “Your vocabulary is diverse enough.”

“Huh! You’re just afraid he’ll say words you don’t know!”

“You are probably right, Yvette,” he answered. “But I hope that was the last time you went into Paul’s room to eavesdrop.”

“Don’t worry, the next time I used the back staircase that opens right into Mama’s old bedroom. But Doctor Blackford didn’t say anything interesting, so I never tried again.”

Charmaine’s utter shock gave way to acute disapproval. “Well, young lady, I will keep a better eye on you in future.”

Yvette looked at her askance, smiling when she received another soft chuckle from her older brother.

Ignoring him, Charmaine directed the twins to slip out of their wet undergarments. Yvette protested, begging to go back into the surf, but John responded with a peremptory “no,” saying the sea was unusually rough, the cove unnaturally turbulent, and a storm was likely brewing. A second swimming lesson would have to wait for another day.

Charmaine turned from them and bent low to Pierre, who had been tugging incessantly at her skirts to gain her attention. “What is it, my little man?”

“I need to go potty!” he insisted.

She hadn’t thought to ask him about such necessities and realized she, too, was in need of such an accommodation. But before she could usher him to the seclusion of the brush, John intervened. “Let me take him.”

“No, it’s all right. He needs to…relieve himself.”

“And I have similar business to attend to. Please, let me take him.”

Realizing John’s absence would allow her to see to her own needs, she agreed, and he and Pierre disappeared into the woods.

The bedraggled girls wiggled out of their wet petticoats, giggling when they realized they’d be wearing very little beneath their dresses for the remainder of the afternoon. Charmaine slipped away, glad to find them working out the knots in their tangled hair when she returned.

John reappeared, fully dressed, with Pierre riding upon his
shoulders. The three-year-old laughed hysterically when the man broke into a trot, bouncing him higher. “Guess what, Mainie?” he said when John set him at her feet. “Johnny has a really big—”

John’s hand clamped over Pierre’s mouth, muffling the remark. Frowning, Charmaine looked up at the man, his reaction as baffling as his crimson face. Then she understood, and a mixture of discomfiture and amusement washed over her. She’d never seen John embarrassed before, and a part of her longed to laugh out loud, but when he hoisted Pierre high in his arms again and whispered in his ear, “I told you not to say that,” she turned away.

For the next half-hour, Pierre squealed as the foamy waves trickled over his feet. Charmaine had taken off her shoes and stockings as well and stood in the shallow surf, enjoying the cool water lapping around her ankles. It was as if it were washing away the pain of the past, replacing it with warm memories. Her mother’s presence was strong, not in sorrow, but in contentment. Once, when she was a child, they had visited an aging friend who resided near the ocean. During that month, she and her mother had spent hours on the beach, enjoying a tranquil respite from their harsh life.

Presently, she looked up to the azure sky. Thick clouds were moving in from the southeast. A gull circled high above the water, its wings outstretched, gliding effortlessly. A battering gale sent it careening toward the water in a screaming dive. The bird was inches from the surface when another gust catapulted it upward. It flapped its wings vigorously and reclaimed its lofty flight, soaring out to sea. So near disaster, a brush with death.

Death. Charmaine thought of her mother again, but now she dwelled on the memory of her demise, those miserable days when her mother lay unconscious before passing away. Death. She remembered Colette and those anxious days when everyone was praying and hoping for a miracle. Death. With growing unease, Charmaine feared it stalked her still, the gull a tenebrous warning it wasn’t yet satisfied and would take charge of her life again.

“Charmaine?” John’s gentle voice brought her around. “You were awfully far away. Richmond, perhaps?”

“Yes, Richmond,” she nodded.

“It is difficult to forget the past,” he said, as if he understood her deepest insecurities. Odd how he had read her mind. He was holding Pierre against his chest, and she found she liked the combination. Her mother’s presence grew strong again, washing away her anxiety.

As they turned back to the blanket, she noticed the twins were missing. “Where are the girls?”

“They ran off into the woods. They promised to return shortly.”

“The woods?
Dear Lord!
What of the rattlesnakes?”

“Snakes?” John asked, and then, “Good God! How could I have forgotten!” His hand went to his chest and his brow creased in a show of concern, yet he made no move to find them.

Dismayed, Charmaine dashed up the beach. John raced after her, wearing a wide grin now, finally catching up and grabbing her arm.

“How can you laugh? I’ve just this minute had a premonition!”

“Charmaine,” he said when she tried to wrench free, “there are no snakes.”

The struggle ceased. Still, he held her. “What?”

“There are no snakes, rattlers or otherwise. I fabricated the story to get you back on the mare.”

She twisted free with an irascible snarl. “
You lied?
I can’t believe it! I can’t believe you would go to such lengths to get me to ride!”

He chuckled deeply, and his eyes took on a leering gleam. “Ah, Charmaine, you can’t begin to imagine the lengths to which I’ve gone. And if they could get you to ride, it would be worth the retribution of a thousand lies.”