Counterfeit Lady

by Jude Deveraux

  “I thought the dinner bell would bring you back,” he said lazily. He ran his hand across his unshaven jaw. “No matter what happens, the mere mention of food brings you running.”

  “You disgust me,” she sneered, and went into the dining room. The big table was heaped with food. Maggie was one of the few servants who’d stayed with Clay over the past year. Bianca seated herself carefully and spread a linen napkin in her lap as she studied the food.

  “Such hunger!” Clay said from the doorway. “If you were able to look at a man like that, you’d own him. But men don’t interest you, do they? The only interests you have are food and yourself.”

  Bianca put three fried crullers on her plate. “You know nothing about me. It may interest you to know that some men find me quite attractive.”

  Clay snorted and took a deep drink of the bourbon. “No man could be that big a fool. At least, I hope I am the only one who’s that stupid.”

  Bianca continued to eat, slowly and steadily. “Did you know your dear, lost Nicole was sleeping with Isaac Simmons?” She smiled at the look on his face. “She always was a slut. She used to meet you, even while you lived with me. Women like that can’t live without a man, no matter what kind of man he is. I bet she slept with Abe as well. Maybe I was a matchmaker when I put them on the island together.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Clay said under his breath. “Isaac’s a boy.”

  “What were you like at sixteen? Now that she’s free of you, she can do whatever she wants with whomever she wants. I bet you taught her some of your dirty little bed tricks, and now she’s teaching dear, innocent Isaac.”

  “Shut up!” Clay yelled, and threw his glass at her head. Either he was already too drunk to aim straight or she was becoming adept at dodging, because he missed her.

  He slammed out of the house, making his way past the office and toward the stables. He rarely went into his office these days; there didn’t seem to be any need. In the stables, he grabbed a jug of bourbon and headed toward the river.

  He sat down slowly at the edge of the water and leaned back against a tree. From here he could see Nicole’s planted fields. The house and mill were out of sight, and he was glad for that. Just seeing the health and productivity of her fields was more than enough. He wondered if she ever thought of him, even remembered him. She lived with that little Frenchman Maggie said most of the women in Virginia drooled over. He dismissed the idea of Isaac. Bianca’s mind was sick.

  Clay drank deeply of the bourbon. It took more and more of the liquid to make him forget. Sometimes, at night, he woke from a dream where his parents, Beth, and James all accused him of forgetting them, of destroying what was theirs. In the morning, he’d wake with new convictions, new hope, plans for the future. Then he’d see Bianca, the filthy house, the fallow fields. Across the river, the sound of laughter or the shout of one of the twins would reach him. Without thinking, he’d reach for the whiskey. The whiskey dulled his senses, made him forget, kept him from hearing or thinking.

  He didn’t pay any attention when the clouds covered the sun. The day progressed, and the clouds grew darker. They rumbled and rolled lazily but powerfully. In the distance, a sharp flash of lightning cut across the sky. The heat of the day vanished as the wind began to rise. It blew across the fields of wheat and barley. It blew across Clay, tugging at his loose shirt. But the whiskey kept him warm. Even when the first drops fell, he didn’t move. The rain began in earnest. It pelted against Clay’s hat, collected on the wide brim, then ran down his face. He didn’t even notice the cold wetness as his shirt stuck to his skin. He just sat and drank.

  Nicole looked out the window and sighed. It had been raining for two days, not letting up even for a minute. They’d had to stop the millstones because the river had risen so much that it was difficult to control the water coming over the shoot. Isaac had assured her that her crops were safe as long as the stone walls held, and it looked as if they would. The water was draining down the terraced field into the river. They were safe from the rain if they didn’t have to worry about erosion.

  She jumped when a loud pounding on the door began. “Wesley!” she said, glad to see him. “You’re drenched. Come in!”

  He pulled the oilcloth raincoat off and shook it. Janie took it from him and hung it up to dry.

  “Why in the world did you come out in this?” Janie said. “Did you have any trouble with the river?”

  “Plenty! Is there any coffee? I’m as cold as I am wet.”

  Nicole handed him a large mug of coffee, which he drank as he stood before the fire. Gerard sat in a corner of the room, silent, staring, uninvolved. Wes could hear the twins upstairs, probably with Nicole’s mother, a woman he’d seen only once.

  “Well, we’re waiting,” Janie demanded. “What brings you here?”

  “Actually, I was on my way to Clay’s. There’s going to be a flood if this rain keeps up.”

  “A flood?” Nicole asked. “Will Clay be harmed?”

  Janie gave her a sharp look. “More to the point, will we be all right?”

  Wes was watching Nicole. “Clay’s land’s always been susceptible to floods, at least that bottom piece is. It flooded once before when we were kids. But, of course, Mr. Armstrong had his other fields planted then.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Wes knelt and, with a piece of kindling, he began to draw a diagram of Clay’s land, Nicole’s, and the river. Just below the mill, the river took a sharp bend toward Clay’s land, causing the land to fall away sharply, creating a flood plain. On Nicole’s side, the land was high, but Clay’s was bottomland with rich, fertile soil, but it was also the basin that would catch the river’s overflow.

  Nicole looked up from the drawing. “Then, my land is draining into Clay’s, helping the river to rise.”

  “I guess you could look at it like that, but I hardly think it’s your fault if Clay loses his crops.”

  “Loses! All of them?”

  Wes ran a poker through the ash map. “It’s his own fault. He knows about the floods. Every year, it was taking a chance to plant there, but the land is especially rich. He’s always protected himself by planting more crops on the higher ground. Clay’s dad used to consider it luck when he harvested those fields.”

  Nicole stood. “But this year, the only crops he has are the ones in the bottomland.”

  Wes stood beside her. “He knew better. He knew what could happen.”

  “Isn’t there something that could be done? Does he have to lose everything?”

  Wes put his arm around her shoulders. “You can’t control the rain. If you could get it to stop, then he’d be saved, but that’s the only thing that would do it.”

  “I feel so helpless. I wish I could do something.”

  “Wesley,” Janie said sharply, “I bet you’re hungry. Why don’t you have something to eat?”

  He grinned at her. “I’d love something to eat. Tell me what’s been going on here. You think maybe I could see the twins?”

  Janie went to the foot of the stairs. “The Duke of Wesley is here to see their royal highnesses.”

  Wes looked at Nicole in disbelief. She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and sighed, then held up her hands in helplessness. Wes choked on his laughter. The twins came scampering down the stairs and launched themselves into his arms. He twirled them around, tossing them into the air as they screamed with laughter.

  “You ought to get married, Wes,” Janie said in a deadly serious voice as she gave a meaningful look at Nicole.

  “I will, as soon as you agree to marry me,” he laughed. “No! I can’t. I remember, I’m already promised to one of Isaac’s little sisters.”

  “It’s a good thing,” Janie sniffed. “You ask me to marry you, and I will. Now put down those young ’uns and come over here and eat.”

  Later, as Wes ate and answered the twins’ questions, he noticed Nicole’s face. He knew what was upsetting her. He reached across the table and squeezed her ha
nd. “Everything will work out, you’ll see. Travis and I will see he doesn’t lose the plantation.”

  Nicole’s head shot up. “What do you mean lose the plantation? Losing one year’s crops shouldn’t make him lose the whole place.”

  Wes and Janie exchanged looks. “Ordinarily, it shouldn’t, but then men rarely lose their entire crops. Clay should have planted above the flood level.”

  “But even if he does lose the crops, surely he has enough cash reserve to survive. I can’t believe the plantation could go under in just one year.”

  Wes pushed his plate away. The rain thundered down on the roof. “You might as well know the truth. Last year, Clay let his crops rot in the field, but because of his hard work in the years before and his father’s and brother’s work, financially, the place was solid. But Bianca—” He faltered, watching Nicole’s eyes. She tried to keep them blank, but he could read them, could see how Bianca’s name hurt her.

  “Bianca,” he continued, “has run up some extraordinary debts. I saw Clay about a month ago, and he said she’d been borrowing money, using the plantation as collateral, in order to send money to her father in England. It seems she’s trying to get back what used to be her family’s house.”

  Nicole stood, walked toward the fire, and idly twirled the poker in the ashes. She remembered the park outside Bianca’s house, the one that had once been Maleson property. Bianca never ceased to talk about how she would someday get her family home back. “And Clay just let her use his land? That doesn’t sound like Clay.”

  Wes waited a while before he answered. “I’m not sure it is Clay. He’s changed, Nicole. He doesn’t really care what happens to the place or to himself. He never moves without a glass of whiskey in his hand. When I tried to reason with him, he wouldn’t listen. He just ignored me. In a way, that was worse than anything else. Clay’s always had a temper, and he’ll strike out before he thinks, but now—” He trailed off, not finishing the sentence.

  “So Clay lost last year’s crops and now this year’s. Are you trying to tell me he’s bankrupt?”

  “No. Travis and I have talked to the creditors, and we’re backing Clay. I told Clay he had to keep Bianca from spending any more, though.”

  She turned to face him. “And did you tell Clay you were going to stand behind his debts?”

  “Of course. I didn’t want him to worry.”

  “Men!” Nicole said fiercely, then said some things in French that made Gerard, who listened passively to everything, raise his eyebrows. “How would you like for Clay to tell you he knew you couldn’t handle your own land, but not to worry, that he’d take care of you?”

  “It wasn’t like that! We’re friends; we’ve always been friends.”

  “Friends help each other, they don’t destroy each other.”

  “Nicole!” Wes warned, getting angry. “I’ve known Clay all my life, and—”

  “And now you throw an anchor to a drowning man, that’s what!”

  Wes stood up, his face growing red, his hands clutching the table.

  Janie interceded. “Stop it, you two! You’re acting like children. Worse than children, since the twins never act like that.”

  Wes began to calm down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get angry, but Nicole, you’re accusing me of some awful things.”

  She turned back to the fire, the poker still in her hand. She’d redrawn the bend in the river that Wes had shown her. She stared at it as she spoke. “I didn’t mean anything. It’s just that Clay’s so proud. He loves the plantation, and he’d rather give it up than lose it.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  She shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t. Maybe I’m having difficulty expressing myself. Wes, isn’t there any way we could keep the river from flooding?”

  “Pray, maybe. If the rain stopped, the water might recede.”

  “Why doesn’t that land flood every year? Why is it such a sometime thing?”

  “The course of the river is changing. Clay’s grandfather told us when we were boys that, when he was a boy, there was no bottomland, but each year the river moved a little and left some more lowland.”

  “Here,” she said, stepping back from the map in the ashes. “Show me what you mean.”

  He knelt over the hearth. “I guess the river’s trying to bend itself. This curve used to be straighter, broader, but over the years it’s changed.”

  She studied the map. “What you’re saying is that the river is eating away my high ground and creating this low, flat land of Clay’s.”

  Wes looked at her in surprise. “I don’t think you have to worry about it. It’ll take fifty years for the river to take much of your land.”

  She ignored his look. “What if we gave the river god what it wanted?”

  “What are you talking about?” Wes snapped. He thought she was being selfish because she was worried about the river taking her land.

  “Nicole—” Janie said. “I don’t like that tone of voice.”

  Nicole took a piece of kindling. “What if my land were cut away here?” She drew a line from one curve of the river to the other. “What would happen?”

  “The land is wet and steep, and it’d probably break away and fall into the river.”

  “And how would that affect the water level?”

  His eyes widened as he began to understand what was going on in her mind. “Nicole, you can’t do that. That would take days of digging, and the land that would fall away is covered with your wheat.”

  “You didn’t answer my question. Would it lower the water level?”

  “It would give the river another place to go, to expand—maybe. How can anyone know?”

  “I’m asking for an opinion, not an absolute answer.”

  “Yes, damn it! The river would probably love to swallow your land instead of Clay’s. What does the goddamn water care?”

  “I would appreciate it if you would watch your language in front of the children,” Nicole said primly. “Now, we’ll need shovels, and picks for the roots and rocks, and—”

  Wes interrupted her. “Have you looked outside? That rain is coming down so hard it could kill, and you’re talking about working in it.”

  “I know of no other way to dig a trench. Perhaps you could bring the ditch indoors for us where it is nice and warm.”

  “I can’t let you do this,” Wes said flatly. “Clay can make it without your sacrifice. Travis and I will lend him the money, and next year will be better.”

  Nicole gave him an icy stare. “Will it? Will next year be better? Look at what we’ve done to him. We’ve all abandoned him. He’s a man who needs a family. He was happy when he had his parents, James, Beth, and the twins. Then, one by one, they all left him. For a while, I gave him my love, but then I took that away—along with the twins.” She lifted her arm and pointed toward the direction of Arundel Hall. “Once that was a happy house, full of people he loved and who loved him. What does he have now? Even his own niece and nephew live with a stranger instead of with him. We’ve got to show him that we care.”

  “But Travis and I—”

  “Money! You’re like a husband who gives his wife money instead of the attention and love she needs. Clay doesn’t need money; he needs to know that someone cares. He’s got to feel that he isn’t alone in the world.”

  Wes stood and stared at her, as did Janie and the twins. Gerard lowered his lashes in a lazy way, but they didn’t flicker.

  “Are you guessing at the way Clay feels?” Wes asked quietly. “Or are you transferring your feelings to him? Is it you who is lonely and wants to feel someone cares?”

  Nicole tried to smile. “I don’t know. I don’t have time to think of it right now. Every minute we waste, the river is rising and getting closer to Clay’s tobacco.”

  Wes suddenly grabbed Nicole and hugged her. “If I ever find a woman who loves me half as much as you love Clay, I’m going to hold on to her and never let her go.”

  Nicole pushed awa
y from him and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “I’d like to have a few secrets, please. And, besides, I have no doubt you’ll be as ridiculous as Clay and I have been. Now!” she said sharply. “Let’s organize this. You wouldn’t happen to have some shovels, would you?”

  Janie untied her apron, hung it on a peg by the door, and then grabbed Wes’s slicker.

  “Where are you going?” Wes asked.

  “While the two of you sit there and talk, I’m going to do something. First of all, I’m going to borrow some clothes from Isaac. Running around in this rain in wet skirts is not my idea of getting something done. Then I’m going to get Clay.”

  “Clay!” Nicole and Wes said in unison.

  “The two of you may think he’s an invalid, but I know better. He can dig as well as anybody, and he’s still got a few men left who work for him. I just wish there was time to get Travis here.”

  Nicole and Wes still sat staring at her.

  “Are the two of you going to grow roots? Nicole, come with me to the mill. Wes, you go stake out where the trench’ll have to be cut.”

  Wes grabbed Nicole’s arm and propelled her to the door. “Let’s go! There’s work to be done!”

  Chapter 21

  JANIE WAS SHOCKED WHEN SHE SAW ARUNDEL HALL. There was a big leak in the porch roof, and the floor was flooded. The door to the house stood half open, and the Oriental runner was soaked along one edge. She stepped inside the house and tried to push the door shut. The constant humidity of the rain had made the door swell until it was impossible to close. She rolled the wet carpet away from the door, then gasped at the warped and ruined floor before the door. The oak would have to be replaced.

  Angry, she looked about the wide hallway. The oppressive wetness made the dirt and refuse inside the house stink. She closed her eyes for a moment and apologized to Clay’s mother. Then she stalked down the hall toward the library.