Free A Silent Ocean Away by DeVa Gantt Page B

written in her own hand, suggesting the interview be held on the sixteenth of September at four in the afternoon. Charmaine had found it exceedingly difficult to sleep last night, smiling weakly when Harold Browning suggested accompanying them. “Less formal,” he had said. She knew he hoped to ease her mind, and she had thanked him, but his presence did not lessen her anxiety.
    When it seemed the ride would go on forever, the pine trees began to thin. Charmaine was the first to see it—the magnificent mansion nestled on a lush blanket of rich green, a white pearl set on an emerald carpet. As the carriage closed the distance to the metal fencing that guarded the grounds, it loomed larger than any edifice she had ever seen, grander than any of Virginia’s great estates. Palatial and breathtaking, it required no words of compliment or description; in truth, only the greatest poet would do it justice.
    Ten Doric columns rose heavenward from a wide portico, supporting not only a second-floor veranda, but a third story as well. The massive colonnade ended beneath a broad, red-tiled roof with dormer windows. Both porch and balcony ran the length of the main structure and wrapped around either side, disappearing along the wings set at right angles. They boasted evenly spaced French doors, all thrown wide to catch the afternoon breezes. The manor’s main entrance luxuriated in the shade of two towering oak trees that grew on either side of the central drive. The entire edifice was framed by papaya and palm trees, which extended along the side wings of the house from front to back. But the eye was drawn back to the enormous oaks, unusual, yet majestic. Harold told them Frederic’s father had transplanted saplings from Virginia in memory of his deceased wife. Now, some fifty years later, they flourished on Charmantes, a reminder the Duvoisin fortune had itsorigins in America. The pair accentuated the symmetry of the stately mansion, and not even the small stone structure attached to the south wing could mar the perfect balance and beauty.
    No one spoke as the carriage passed through the main gates and rolled along the cobblestone driveway. It stopped in the shade of the oaks, where the company of four alighted, each acutely aware of their station in life. With stomach churning, Charmaine allowed Harold Browning to escort her up the short, three-step ascent, across the porch, and to the only set of oak doors.
    The butler was awaiting their arrival, for the door swung inward before they could knock. “If you will kindly step this way,” he said, “I shall tell Miss Colette you are here.”
    The spacious foyer had a lofty ceiling, crown moldings, an ostentatious chandelier, marble floors, and an enormous grandfather clock. Directly opposite the main entryway was an elaborate staircase. Its ornate railing followed curved steps up to a wide landing, above which hung a stunning, life-sized portrait of a young woman. There, the stairway split in two, each rising to opposite wings of the house. Overlooking these were huge mullioned windows, capturing the afternoon sun and bathing the awed assembly in its golden light.
    They were led through the north wing and into the library where they were invited to make themselves comfortable. Volumes of books lined three of the four walls. A huge desk, sofa, and armchairs graced the center of the room. It was dark within, but not unpleasantly so, for the dimness embraced the cool ocean breezes that whispered through the open French doors.
    Loretta settled in a wing chair. “It’s quite humbling, is it not?”
    “Yes,” Charmaine murmured, doing the same.
    “And did you notice the painting in the foyer?” Loretta asked. “I wonder who the beautiful young lady might be?”
    “That is Miss Colette,” Harold offered.
    Loretta smiled. “Well, Charmaine, now we know why Mr. Duvoisin married her. I don’t think you’ll have a problem convincing Mrs. Duvoisin to hire you.”
    Charmaine was