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.
“Excuse me,” she now heard herself saying instead, “but there is no reason for you to accompany me any farther, Grey. We can simply bid one another adieu here. I know that you have much more important matters to attend to, and I am perfectly capable of traveling the short distance to my parents’ home unescorted.”
“I won’t hear of it,” he said firmly. “All the arrangements are made. Surely you don’t imagine that I would abandon you on the waterfront after all we’ve endured to come this far? I owe it to your uncle to see that you are safely returned to your parents.”
She felt uncontrollably flustered. “But—really, there is no need—I mean, I insist!”
“No, I insist,” Grey countered in steely tones. He then turned away, giving orders for Natalya’s trunks and boxes to be transferred to the waiting post chaise.
Natalya saw that it was useless to argue with him. Jasper Speed was already guiding her down the gangway while the Wild Rover’s crew gathered at the rail to call out their farewells. On the wharf, Natalya turned to look back at the ship, her cheeks pink with pleasure as she waved to the men. Grey came down the gangway then and caught her elbow.
“They’ll miss you, but Fedbusk won’t,” he remarked. “He contends that it’s bad luck to have a woman on board, not to mention the fact that you’ve transformed his disciplined crew into a mob of slobbering idiots.”
Was that a note of admiration in his voice? A compliment hidden in his words? “Nonsense,” she declared, slightly perplexed. “The crew were all perfect gentlemen.”
“With the possible exception of their captain?”
Natalya glanced up in surprise but found that Grey was staring straight ahead, his expression only mildly sardonic. Then he was handing her into the carriage, next to Charlotte, while he and Jasper took the seats facing them. Inexplicably Natalya found herself staring at the long muscles in Grey’s thighs and then at the lean, dark hands resting lightly upon them. She knew what the rest of his body looked like and remembered every hard curve; she could even close her eyes and recall the texture of the crisp black hair on his thighs and calves. She had touched him, caressed him, kissed his wonderful hands—palms, fingers, even the scar he had refused to discuss....
“Natalya?”
Her eyes flew up to meet his silvery gaze and she felt her cheeks burning. “Yes?”
“You’ll have to tell the driver the name of your parents’ estate. Did you say that it was north of Philadelphia?”
Natalya knew only that she had to separate herself from Grey St. James in order to regain her peace of mind, and the sooner the better. “There’s no need to go all that way. My grandmother lives near here, on Third Street, between Spruce and Willing’s Alley. I’d really rather stop there first. My grandfather died last year and I am anxious to see dear Grandmama.” Seeing Grey’s doubtful expression, she tried another tack. “Also, it is Sunday. My family will doubtless be at church, and invariably they go to Grandmama’s afterward. I can return to Belle Maison with them.”
Grey acceded with a shrug and gave the driver the address. As the carriage pulled away from the waterfront and into the pretty, orderly part of Philadelphia known as Society Hill, all its occupants were temporarily distracted by the new sights. The brick footpaths were teeming with people on their way to or from church. Many were Quakers, garbed in plain black and white, while others wore gowns and suits that would have blended perfectly in London society. Natalya felt a rush of pride as she surveyed the fine Georgian and Federal brick homes that lined the wide, poplar-shaded streets. She had nearly forgotten how neat Philadelphia was, its streets and squares laid out at exact right angles, completely unlike the winding mazes of Paris and London.
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.
“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!”