A Silent Ocean Away (4 page)

“Legitimate?”

Jonah cleared his throat. He’d said too much, yet felt compelled to explain. “Frederic adopted Paul as an infant and raised him as his own, but his was an illegitimate birth. He’s Frederic’s son,” Jonah finished, anticipating the next query. “Of that I’m certain.”

“But why would a man favor a bastard child over—”

The inappropriate epithet was out before Joshua could catch himself. He reddened and looked at Charmaine, but her composure remained intact; apparently, she hadn’t understood.

Jonah, however, did not seem pleased with the crude appellation. “Frederic respects both of his sons, but Paul works harder than John, so I suppose that has forged a stronger relationship.”

“And John’s mother?” Joshua asked, further surprised. “What is her reaction to all this?”

“Elizabeth died in childbirth over twenty-five years ago. Some say Frederic blamed John for her death, but that’s nonsense. Canards of that kind stemmed from the fact that Frederic grieved for many years after her death.”

Charmaine was suddenly confused. “But I thought”—she faltered—“then Colette Duvoisin is Mr. Duvoisin’s
second
wife?”

“He remarried ten years ago,” Jonah answered succinctly.

Frederic grieved for many years after her death…

Charmaine canted her head, sensing evasiveness, unable to pinpoint the heart of her perplexity. Frederic Duvoisin, clearly an older man, had two grown sons, one by his first wife, another by a
lover, and he had three other children, the youngest a baby, really, these brought forth by a
second
wife.

“Is she an islander?” Charmaine asked.

“Who? Miss Colette? Oh, my, no.” The captain chuckled. “She is French, pure aristocrat. Arrangements were made by her mother, I believe,” he added, uncomfortable with Charmaine’s intense frown, attempting to thwart the idle talk he knew she was bound to hear.

“Her mother?”

“Colette was quite young at the time.”

“How young?”

Jonah, who had waxed loquacious for the past hour, grew laconic. To Charmaine’s further trepidation, Joshua Harrington allied himself to the man. “Arrangements of this sort are made all the time by the upper classes, aren’t they, Captain Wilkinson?”

“Just so,” Jonah hastily agreed.

Charmaine shivered in the blazing sun. She had thought the wealthy enjoyed unlimited choices, yet here was a young woman, much like herself, imprisoned more surely than she would ever be.

“An arrangement?” she mused. “A more apt word would be bondage.”

“Bondage?” Jonah objected with a false laugh, then added, “Miss Colette may have borne her husband three children, but I assure you, she enjoys a most comfortable life,” as if that fact made their coupling palatable.

Charmaine bit her bottom lip, terribly troubled, and her mind ran far afield, to an island she had yet to tread.
A loveless marriage.
Her mother had suffered such a union. Suddenly, Charmaine’s life no longer seemed suffocating. She had never appreciated how free she truly was.

The evening meal was served in the captain’s cabin with Charmaine and the Harringtons as his guests. The food, though mediocre,
was tempered with good conversation. Even Loretta ate without discomfort, quickly approving of their warm host. Charmaine had shared all the things she had learned that afternoon, so Loretta didn’t hesitate to ask her own questions, artfully starting with the Duvoisin’s more distant past, one that seemed shrouded in a web of mystery. Jonah, who’d spent many evenings in the company of three generations of Duvoisin men, was happy to oblige…

In the early 1700s Jean Duvoisin left his native France and traveled to the American colonies. The younger son of a wealthy and politically connected family, he set out to find his own fortune, taking with him a sizable sum of money, a fast ship, and his father’s blessings. He settled in Newportes Newes, a thriving community and burgeoning shipping center at the mouth of the James River. When he heard of William Byrd II’s plans to establish a new town some ninety miles northwest, he moved his young family to the site in 1737. Richmond was so dubbed in honor of Richmond on the Thames, England, and it was Jean Duvoisin who helped bolster her success. The Byrd trading post and warehouse, or Shocco as the Indians called it, was in need of a full-time shipper. Jean saw financial potential in assuming such a role and had a second ship commissioned in Newportes Newes. Byrd sanctioned the lucrative endeavor, then guaranteed its success by awarding him substantial acreage west of Richmond. In less than ten years, the entire parcel had been cleared and planted. In addition, Jean now owned three merchantmen that not only brought him wealth through the supplies he shuttled from Europe, but enabled him to transport his own tobacco inexpensively and expediently. When he died some twenty years later, both ventures had exceeded his wildest expectations. The plantation had tripled in size, he owned vast stretches of land throughout
the Virginia territory, and the shipping operation belonged exclusively to his eldest son.

Jean Duvoisin II followed in his father’s footsteps of expanding the Duvoisin empire, but he took to the seas to do so. The shipping industry became his obsession, the prosperity of the future. Upon his sire’s demise, the family plantation was left to the care of other men. Jean II had already conquered the deserted islands he named Les Charmantes (pronounced “lay shar-mont,” meaning “the charming ones”). Searching for a base location amidst the expanding routes of his ever-growing fleet, he tamed the wilderness of the largest island and built himself a villa that would allow him privacy. Rumors spread that the house, the very isle, was nothing more than a prison where he locked away his beautiful wife, earning him the title of gentleman pirate. Island lore held that he had kidnapped her from under the nose of a Richmond rival and feared losing her while he was at sea, so he brought her to his isolated paradise so she’d never escape him.

She was the first to give birth on Charmantes, as the main island was being called, bringing into the world six children. The three middle sons perished in a fire that claimed her life as well, leaving behind an eldest son, Jean III, a daughter, Eleanor, and a youngest son, Frederic, twelve years his brother’s junior. Years later, Jean and Frederic both traveled to Virginia, taking charge once again of the investments there.

When Jean II fell ill in 1796, his elder son returned to Charmantes and became involved in the American and French West Indies dispute. It cost him his life. Within the year, Jean II died as well, and the Duvoisin fortune fell into Frederic’s lap. He was only twenty-three. Finding it impossible to guard Charmantes while residing in Virginia, and fearing its possible loss, he journeyed back as well, expanding his father’s farming enterprise into
a full-fledged sugarcane plantation run on the work of slaves and indentured servants whom he personally hand picked.

He was already in his thirties when he married Elizabeth Blackford, a young Englishwoman fifteen years his junior. She left her family—a mother, father, brother, and sister—and traveled from Liverpool to the islands where she began her life with her new husband. But she died in childbirth less than a year later, leaving behind an embittered husband.

“The island has grown over the years,” Jonah went on to say. “The sugarcane operation led to the building of a harbor where ships could unload supplies and take on raw sugar for transport. From there a town emerged, built by the freed bondsmen. Having served their time, Frederic encouraged the better men to continue on in his employ for set wages. These were the first men to truly settle Charmantes, some sending for families. Frederic’s close associates maintained he was mad, his idea sheer folly; in Europe, these men were criminals. But many had been punished for petty crimes. Poverty can make a man do foolhardy things. On Charmantes, they had an opportunity to start over, and most were happy to take it. They are rough around the edges, but there is little crime on the island. In a manner of speaking, they keep the peace. As the population multiplied, Frederic sponsored other businesses. First Thompson’s mercantile was built, supplying the islanders with the staples. After that, a cooper opened up shop, crafting all the watertight casks necessary for sugar transport. Of course, Dulcie’s was next.”

“Dulcie’s?” Loretta asked.

“The saloon,” Jonah explained, stopping to take a sip of his black coffee. “Then a livery went up, and next a meetinghouse which serves as a church on Sundays. That was constructed about ten years ago. Miss Colette is a devout Catholic and insisted on it for the townspeople.”

“Do they truly have a reverend to conduct services?” Loretta queried, astonished. “I thought my sister exaggerated when she mentioned Sunday Mass in one letter.”

“No exaggeration there. The man is a Roman Catholic priest and has resided on Charmantes for years now.”

“Isn’t that a bit strange?” Joshua asked. “It seems to me the Church wouldn’t be sending priests to small, distant islands.”

“You underestimate the size and scope of Charmantes,” Jonah replied. “They even have a bank. It’s run by one of Frederic’s friends from Virginia. Many influential men have invested in Duvoisin enterprises, primarily the shipping end of his business, while a good many islanders are purchasing land on the outskirts of town, an option open to them as long as they build a house or business on it. The Duvoisin wealth intrigues them, whets their appetite. They feel they can grasp Frederic’s good fortune just by owning a parcel of his land.”

“And have they?” Joshua asked.

“In a day or two you’ll set foot on Charmantes and see her people. Then you can decide if they live the good life or not.”

Loretta leaned forward. “I know my sister and her husband are pleased with their move to the Caribbean. And I must admit, after your description, Captain, I’m looking forward to arriving. It sounds wonderful, doesn’t it, Charmaine?”

But the girl was pensive, deaf to their conversation.

“Charmaine?”

“I’m sorry—what did you say?”

“Les Charmantes sounds like a lovely place to call home,” Loretta prompted. “But you seemed awfully far away.”

Charmaine rubbed her brow. “No,” she murmured, “I’m listening.”

Loretta knew better. The girl had lamented Colette and Frederic Duvoisin’s courtship throughout the afternoon, imagining the
most wretched scenarios, refusing to consider other possibilities. Loretta was determined to ascertain the truth before Caroline had a chance to bend their ears.

“Captain Wilkinson,” she began, “if I’m not being too presumptuous, could you tell us a bit more about Colette Duvoisin?”

Jonah responded with a frown, and Loretta diplomatically digressed. “My sister loves to prattle, but hates to write. Her short letters are few and far between. Charmaine may soon be working for Mr. and Mrs. Duvoisin. Surely you can appreciate her eagerness to become acquainted with them.”

“What would you like to know?” he relented, realizing there was no point in trying to avoid what they’d eventually find out.

“Charmaine seems to think Miss Colette is young enough to be Mr. Duvoisin’s daughter.”

“She is. Younger than his two sons, in fact.”

Charmaine gave Loretta an “I told you so” look.

Jonah read it, too. Folding his arms across his chest, he said, “Miss Colette’s family was suffering from financial difficulties. Frederic saw them through all of that. There was also a brother, who was quite ill. Frederic’s wealth defrayed the expenses from his prolonged malady. Now, some might call such an arrangement ‘bondage,’ but I’m sure it’s not the word Miss Colette would use.”

Charmaine ignored Jonah’s final assertion, horrified. Her mother’s life had been deplorable, but at least that had been Marie’s choice. Colette Duvoisin, on the other hand, had been married off for monetary reasons, like chattel. Charmaine felt terribly sad for the woman.

Jonah leaned back in his chair. “Miss Colette is not as unhappy as you imagine her to be, Miss Ryan.”

“That is something I will have to decide for myself, Captain,” she replied.

Loretta patted Charmaine’s hand, certain the captain was
right. “At least the mistress of the manor will be someone closer to your own age,” she placated. “You may become friends.”

Charmaine hadn’t thought of this and hoped that might come true.

Monday, September 12, 1836

She awoke early the morning of her fourth day at sea. Captain Wilkinson expected to sight the islands with the break of dawn, and she wanted to be above deck as they came into view. She dressed quickly, choosing her best Sunday dress of pale green, and was brushing out the last tangles in her thick, unruly hair when the awaited shout resounded from above. “Land ho!”

Indecisive for only a moment, she threw the dark brown locks over her shoulder, where a cascade of curls fell to her waist. No bun today, lest she forfeit the coveted sight. Let the wind take the tresses where it would; they’d not spoil this glorious day, which promised the start of a new life. Stealing a final peek in her hand mirror, she smiled in satisfaction, then hastened from the cabin.

Captain Wilkinson took no notice of her when she reached the upper deck, his eyes raised to the rigging and the crew that prepared the
Raven
for docking, some climbing the ratlines to adjust the sails. Surmising Joshua was still abed, Charmaine moved out of harm’s way to a vacant spot at the port railing.

The tarrying men began to ogle her, and she bowed her head to their crude comments. Although she’d turned their heads a number of times during the voyage, their perusal had never come close to a leer. She glanced down at her dress wondering if her attire was somehow indiscreet, but finding nothing there, she focused on the great expanse of ocean, hoping to catch sight of land. They were forging into a stiff headwind, and the gales swirled round her, capturing her unbound hair one moment and molding her skirts against her legs the next.

When one man whistled, Jonah’s attention was snared. He chuckled. By all outward signs, the girl was trying to ignore his surly crew. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he walked over to her. “Good morning, Miss Ryan.”