Natalya (24 page)

Small is the worth

Of beauty from the light retir'd:

Bid her come forth.

Suffer herself to be desir'd,

And not blush so to be admir'd.

Edmund Waller (1606-1687)

Chapter 16

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

April 27-28, 1814

The casement was open just enough to allow the warm, sunny breeze to float into the upstairs library, tease the curtains, and coax Caroline Beauvisage to put down her book. Curled on the window seat, her stockinged feet tucked beneath her, Caro gazed out over Belle Maison's vast, vividly green grounds. Diamond-shaped beds of tulips, daffodils, and hyacinths were jewel bright in the spring sunshine. Leaf buds were bursting open on the tree branches near her window, and the birds were trilling sweetly. "Maman? Am I disturbing you?"

Caro turned to discover her youngest child, Kristin, framed in the sunlit doorway. Shining blue-black curls escaped the Grecian knot high atop her head to frame her arrestingly beautiful face. Physically Kristin was the image of her father, right down to the dark turquoise hue of her black-lashed eyes. Taller than her mother or older sister, she had a willowy figure and small, firm breasts, set off today by a simple powder blue chemise frock. At twenty-one, Kristin Beauvisage was said to be the fantasy of every eligible bachelor within Philadelphia and its environs.

Holding out her arms to her daughter, Caro smiled. "You could never disturb me, love. What is it?"

"Hollis Gladstone has asked to escort me to the theater again," Kristin said in plaintive tones as she crossed the Persian carpet and kissed her mother's cheek. "I have invented excuses three times in reply to his invitations, hoping that he would give up, but instead he only becomes more determined. This morning, when I encountered Hollis on Market Street and he asked me again, I told him that I would have to consult my engagement diary. He's calling at four o'clock to receive my answer."

Caro moved over to make room for Kristin and patted the cushion next to her. "Why are you so set against the idea of attending the theater with the man? It's hardly a proposal of marriage." Wrapping an arm around her daughter, she added, "And who is this Hollis Gladstone? The endless procession of ardent men who march through your life makes it difficult to remember...."

Rolling her eyes, Kristin replied, "He works at Girard's bank, and is quite a favorite of Stephen Girard's. Don't you remember, Maman, when Hollis attached himself to us at that showing of Thomas Sully's portraits a few weeks ago?"

"Oh, yes!" Caro's memory produced the unremarkable face of a serious young man, sandy-haired and rather rumpled, with a physique that could be kindly described as cuddly. "Mr. Gladstone has nice eyes, doesn't he? They are green, if memory serves. I found him quite agreeable. Do I know his mother?"

"Hollis's parents died in a carriage accident when he was eighteen. They were Quaker, and although he has become an Episcopalian, he still behaves like a Quaker much of the time."

"There's nothing wrong with Quakers, Kristin," her mother said firmly. She tucked an errant curl into the silken bandeau that secured her hair, a warm honey hue now softened with strands of white. "Quakers are fine people. How sad for Hollis to lose his parents when he is still so young. Is he all alone?"

"No, he lives with an aunt, I think." Kristin yawned. "There's really no point in this conversation, Maman. Hollis is nice enough, but certainly not my idea of a suitor. I was hoping that you would help me think of a gentle way to discourage him."

Caro smiled with loving forbearance. "It occurs to me that you have never told me what you
are
looking for in a suitor. Since you have made and broken two engagements thus far, perhaps this is a subject that ought to be explored."

"You are being very difficult, Maman," Kristin complained, pressing her rosy lips together. "If I knew exactly what sort of man I wanted to marry, I wouldn't have gotten engaged to John or Malcolm, would I? Obviously I haven't found the right person, but I do know that he won't be like Hollis Gladstone." She gazed out the window and sighed. "He'll be handsome, like Papa, and strong and smart and able to laugh in the face of danger. He'll be rich and have beautiful things, and he'll pamper me—"

"Good heavens," Caro interrupted, "with a list of requirements like that, you'll never leave home! Kristin, it seems to me that you are setting standards no mortal man can meet. You're not buying a horse, you know. We all have flaws; they are the basis of our humanity."

"Papa is human. If I can find a man like Papa, he'll be perfect enough to satisfy me," Kristin insisted, twisting the sapphire ring that sparkled on her right hand.

Losing patience, Caro replied, "I can most definitely assure you that your father is very human and
imperfect!
He's stubborn and volatile and—" She broke off suddenly when she saw Kristin staring at the doorway. Turning, Caro discovered that her husband was standing there. "Alec! I didn't think that you had returned from town yet."

A wry smile curved his handsome mouth. "Don't allow my presence to interrupt your catalog of my character defects, dearest wife. I find this highly enlightening."

"Maman didn't mean any of that, Papa," Kristin said. "She was just trying to convince me to settle for a husband less wonderful than you. Can I help it if I've been raised by parents whose own love story is indescribably romantic? Can you blame me for wanting no less for myself?"

"Darling, all I ask is that you give each young man a fair chance." Caro patted her daughter's soft cheek. "Will you do that for me?"

"Certainly, Maman." Kristin gave her a bright smile, then rose to meet her father and kiss his cheek. "I'll leave you two now. I must think of what I'm going to say to Hollis Gladstone when he arrives."

"Perhaps you could
accept
his invitation," Caro called after her departing daughter.

"I'll consider it," she replied before disappearing down the corridor.

Alexandre Beauvisage went to his wife, who rose and stepped thankfully into his arms. "Oh, Alec, whoever said that it was easier to raise daughters than sons was surely mistaken. Etienne has always known his own mind and moved with assurance through the stages of his life, while his sisters..."

"Also know their own minds, but are thwarted by a society that rewards subservience in women." He kissed Caro's brow and moved toward his Chippendale desk to look through some papers. "I can hardly blame Natalya for going to Europe to extend her years of independence, nor can I blame Kristin for changing her mind about marriage more than once. As long as she remains in this house, she is free to be and do as she pleases."

Caro followed him, perching on the edge of the desk. For a moment she regarded her husband, thinking how well the years had treated him. Alec was past sixty, but he remained fit and handsome. His black hair had gone white, but it was very striking, accentuating his bronzed face and gleaming turquoise eyes. Caro realized she was as vulnerable now to his physical appeal as she had been thirty years ago. Could she have followed the advice she gave Kristin? she wondered. Would she love Alec differently if he were bald and paunchy?

"It's a shame that Kristin cannot pursue other goals, the way men can," Caro said to her husband, "and as her sister has done with her writing. She loves to ride and garden, but those are hardly occupations. You know, Alec, she is very aware of the power of her beauty, and these flirtations she conducts with men are her chief source of amusement. She is twenty-one years old. This cannot go on forever."

He put aside his papers and slipped a hand caressingly around his wife's waist. "Kristin's situation will resolve itself in time, and all your worrying will not speed up that process. Try to be patient and trust her."

"She wants to find a man like you." Caro smiled into his eyes. "A magnificent knight on a charger who will carry her off on an eternal love affair. There has only been one man like you, and I worry that she will spend her life searching for someone who doesn't exist."

"My darling, your bias is most flattering." He cupped her cheek in his hand and rubbed a fingertip over the pattern of delicate lines at the corner of her eye. "Your vision of me is colored by love, and when Kristin finds the man God has created to be her mate, she will feel that
he
is the most extraordinary human being alive and that she is the luckiest woman."

"I hope you are right." Caro sighed and kissed his palm. "Have you any word of the Raveneaus? I've been thinking of them so much today."

"I saw Lion Hampshire at the Junto Club," Alec replied. "He said that Andre and Devon Raveneau decided to go to England, just as we hoped. They and their daughter should set sail any day now."

"How I wish that we could go, too!" Caro exclaimed suddenly. "I even thought of asking you. I haven't said very much, but I've been missing Natalya terribly lately. I try not to think about it, but April is always the worst month for me because it was in April that she left six years ago. I never dreamed that she would stay away so long."

"Darling, you know that the war has been to blame. She is unable to come home."

Caro couldn't hold back the tears that brimmed over her lashes. "I
miss
her! When I allow myself to think of her, I miss her so much that I ache. No mother should be separated from her child for so many years. I cannot even read the book that she has written! If we went to England, we might be able to get to France. Wouldn't you adore seeing Nicky and Lisette, too?"

Alec sighed and rubbed his jaw. "Let us wait a bit and see how the war progresses. Perhaps something will be resolved before autumn, and then I'll reconsider." He gathered his wife in his arms, tipping up her chin to kiss her salty cheeks and then her sweet lips. "I understand what you are feeling. I miss Natalya, too. This house hasn't been the same since she left...."

* * *

The scene on the wharf in Philadelphia was one of pandemonium. After the relative calm of the sea voyage, Natalya felt rather overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of sailors arguing on the docks, trunks being carried on board and off, and women bidding good-bye to men in uniform. The cool morning air carried the scents of fish, tar, hemp, and fried pastries.

"How does it feel to be home?"

She turned to find Grey St. James standing behind her, drawing on a pair of doeskin gloves. His hair shone in the early sunlight and ruffled back from his strong face like the feathers of a raven. For the first time in weeks, he wore a high collar and a cravat, flawlessly tied and white against his deeply tanned skin. A pearl silk waistcoat, gray frock coat, white trousers, and gleaming black boots all fit his powerful body like a second skin. Natalya suppressed an urge to sigh.

"It feels... rather odd," she answered, returning her gaze to the waterfront and the neat red brick city beyond. "Everything looks different, but I suppose it hasn't really changed. I'm very used to Europe. Philadelphia seems so... new!"

Charlotte Timkins and Jasper Speed came up behind them then, and Grey said, "If everyone is ready, we'll go ashore now. Fedbusk has hired a carriage for us." He gestured toward the simple post chaise on the street beyond the wharf. Its driver tipped his hat at them.

Natalya had been steeling herself to say good-bye to Grey. Indeed, she had only been able to endure the past two days—and the ever-present memories of her brazen invasion of his bed—by telling herself that once they reached Philadelphia, they would part forever. Grey would keep her secret, she believed, and even if he did not, he would soon be thousands of miles away in London. Yet for all the blushing she did whenever she thought about what had passed between them, she had no regrets. In fact, it was rather exciting to think that she was returning to Philadelphia with a
past.

Natalya had dressed that morning with the "farewell scene" in mind. A demure gown of white muslin and a spotless white lawn tucker, both trimmed with heather-rose ribbons, lent her an air of unimpeachable dignity. She also wore a high-crowned, chip-straw bonnet that covered most of her curls and effectively shaded her face. Assessing her reflection in the cabin's tiny mirror, she had practiced the calm, sophisticated, yet poignant words of parting she would speak when Grey took her hand for the last time.