Counterfeit Lady

by Jude Deveraux

  “Is that bad?”

  Gerard gave her a look of disgust. “The courts frown on adultery.”

  “Courts? What courts?”

  “The courts that will grant him a divorce and will take everything away from you.”

  Bianca slid with her back to a tree until she sat down. “I’ve worked so hard for everything. He can’t take it away from me. He can’t!”

  Gerard knelt before her. “Do you really mean that? There are ways to prevent him from stealing from you.”

  She stared at him. “You mean murder?”

  “Isn’t he trying to kill you? How would you like to return to England a divorced woman? Everyone would say you couldn’t hold a man. What would your father say?”

  Bianca thought of all the times her father had laughed at her. He had said Clay wouldn’t want her after he’d gotten a taste of Nicole. He’d never let her forget it if she returned in disgrace. “How?” she whispered. “When?”

  Gerard sat back on his heels. There was an odd light in his eyes. “Soon. It must be very soon. We mustn’t let him talk to anyone about his plans.”

  Suddenly, a movement caught Bianca’s eyes. “Nicole!” she gasped, then put her hand over her mouth.

  Gerard turned instantly. Adele stood behind him, half hidden by the trees. It had taken Nicole a long time to persuade her mother that it was safe to walk in the woods behind the house. This was only her third time out alone.

  He took one long stride and grabbed his wife’s arm. “What did you hear?” he said, as his hand cut into her flesh.

  “Murder,” she said, her eyes almost whirling in fear.

  Gerard struck her hard across the cheek. “Yes! Murder! Yours! Do you understand me? You say one word about this, and I’ll take Nicole and the twins to the guillotine. Would you like to see their heads roll into the basket?”

  Adele’s expression went past terror to something that only someone who’s known great horror could comprehend.

  He ran his finger across her throat. “Remember,” he whispered, then pushed her away.

  She fell to her knees, quickly picked herself up, and scampered back toward the house.

  Gerard adjusted his cravat, then turned to Bianca. She was standing with her back to the tree, her eyes frightened. “What in the world is wrong with you?” he snapped.

  “I’ve never seen you like that,” she whispered.

  “What you mean is you’ve never seen a man protect the woman he loves.” He continued when he saw her frown. “I had to ensure that she wouldn’t tell what she’d heard.”

  “She will. Of course she will.”

  “No! Not after what I said. She’s insane, didn’t you know?”

  “Who is she? She looks like Nicole.”

  He hesitated. “Her mother.” He went on before she could ask more questions, “Meet me tomorrow at one o’clock where we had the picnic. We’ll make plans there.”

  “You’ll bring lunch?” she asked eagerly.

  “Of course. Now you must go before someone sees you. I don’t want us seen together…Yet,” he added. He took her hand and directed her to the wharf.

  When Nicole returned from the mill, Janie greeted her at the door with a solemn face. “Your mother’s having a bad one. Nobody can calm her down.”

  A horrible scream threatened to shake the roof from the little house, and Nicole ran up the stairs.

  “Mother!” Nicole said, and tried to put her arms around her mother. Adele’s lovely face was distorted so badly it was almost unrecognizable.

  “The babies!” Adele shrieked, flailing her arms about wildly. “The babies! Their heads! They’ll murder them, kill them. Blood everywhere!”

  “Mother, please. You are safe!” Nicole was speaking in French, as was Adele.

  Janie stood at the head of the stairs. “She seemed to be upset about the twins. Is that what she’s saying?”

  Nicole struggled with her mother’s arms. “I think so. She’s talking about the babies. Maybe she means one of my cousins.”

  “I don’t think so. She came tearing into the house a few minutes ago and tried to hide the twins in the little closet under the stairs.”

  “I hope the children aren’t upset.”

  Janie shrugged. “They’re used to her. They crouched in the closet, then got out when I got her upstairs.”

  “He’ll kill them!” Adele screamed. “I didn’t know him. I never knew him. The fat lady will kill them, too.”

  “What’s she saying now?” Janie asked.

  “Just nonsense. Could you get some laudanum? I think the only way she’ll calm down is if she sleeps.”

  When Janie was gone, Nicole continued to try to soothe her mother, but Adele was wild, frantic. She kept talking of murder and the guillotine and a fat woman. When Adele mentioned Clayton, she gained Nicole’s full attention.

  “What about Clay?” Nicole asked.

  Adele’s eyes were wild, her hair flying. “Clay! They will kill him, too. And my babies, all my babies. Everyone’s babies. They killed the queen. They’ll kill Clay.”

  “Who will kill Clay?”

  “Them. The baby-killers!”

  Janie stood at Nicole’s shoulder. “She looks like she’s trying to tell you something. It almost sounded as if she said Clay’s name.”

  Nicole took the cup of tea from Janie. “Drink this, Mother. It will make you feel much better.”

  It didn’t take long for the laudanum to take effect. Downstairs, Gerard was just entering the house.

  “Gerard,” Nicole said. “Did something happen today to upset Mother?”

  He turned toward her slowly. “I haven’t seen her. Is she having one of her fits again?”

  “As if you’d care!” Janie said, passing Nicole on the stairs and going to the fireplace. “Considering that she’s your wife, you’d think you’d have some feeling for her.”

  “I would certainly never share my feelings with such as you,” Gerard retorted.

  “Stop it, both of you!” Nicole commanded. “Neither of you is helping my mother.”

  Gerard waved his hand. “It’s just one of her fits. You should be used to them by now.”

  Nicole moved to the table. “Somehow, this one was different. It was almost as if she were trying to tell me something.”

  Gerard looked at her from under lowered lashes. “What could she say that she hasn’t said a hundred times? All she ever talks about is murder and death.”

  “True,” Nicole said thoughtfully. “Only this time she mentioned Clay.”

  “Clay!” Janie said. “She’s never met Clay before, has she?”

  “Not to my knowledge. And she kept talking about a fat woman.”

  “There’s no guessing who that is,” Janie snorted.

  “Of course,” Gerard inserted with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. “She must have seen Clay and Bianca together, and since they are strangers, she was frightened. You know how strangers terrify her.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Nicole said. “But somehow it seemed more than that. She kept saying someone was trying to kill Clay.”

  “She’s always saying someone is trying to murder someone else,” Gerard said angrily.

  “Maybe, but she’s never confused the past and the present quite like this before.”

  Before Gerard could say a word, Janie stepped forward. “There’s no use worrying about it now. In the morning, you can try to talk to your mother. Maybe after a good night’s sleep, she’ll be able to explain herself more clearly. Now, sit down and eat your supper.”

  The little house was dark and silent. Outside, the river flowed slowly, gently, now that it had come closer to straightening its course. It was especially warm for September, and the four people in the attic bedroom slept without covers.

  Adele was restless. Even under the heavy dose of the sleeping drug, she still tossed and turned, her dreams puzzled and confused. She knew she had something to tell, but she had no idea how to go about it. The king and
queen of France seemed to mingle with a farmer named Clayton, a man whose face she could not see. But she could see death, his death, everyone’s death.

  Gerard stubbed out the thin cigar he’d been smoking and silently stepped out of the bed. He stood and looked down at his wife. It had been many months since he’d taken her in his arms. In France, he’d felt honored to be married to one of the Courtalains, even one as old as Adele. But when he’d seen Nicole, his feeling for his wife had died. Nicole was a younger, more beautiful version of her mother.

  Quietly, without so much as a creak of a floorboard, he went to Adele’s side, then sat on the edge of the bed. He leaned across her for his pillow.

  She opened her eyes for just a moment before the pillow came down over her face. She started to fight but then knew it was no use. This was what she’d waited for. All those years spent in prison, she’d waited each second for death. Finally, it was coming, and she was ready for it.

  Gerard removed the pillow from Adele’s face. In death, she was quite pretty, younger than he’d ever seen her look before. He stood, then walked across the room to the blanket partition that concealed Janie and Nicole’s room.

  He stared for a long time at Nicole, her body barely hidden under her thin nightgown. His hand ached to caress the curve of her hip.

  “Soon,” he whispered. “Soon.”

  He returned to his bed, stretched out beside the woman he’d just murdered, and slept. His only thought was that her tossings would no longer disturb him.

  When Nicole discovered her mother’s lifeless form the next morning, the house was empty. The twins and Janie had gone to pick apples, and Gerard, as usual, was off by himself.

  She sat quietly on the edge of the bed, held her mother’s cold hand in her own, and caressed the cheek so like her own. She turned and very slowly left the house.

  She walked up to the ridge overlooking the mill and the house. She suddenly felt so alone, so isolated. For years, she’d thought her family was dead. Then the reappearance of her mother had given her some solidarity again. All she had left now was Clay.

  She looked across the river to Arundel Hall, so perfect in the early morning sun. But she didn’t have Clay, she thought. She must realize he was gone, as surely as her mother was now gone.

  She sat down on the ground, her knees drawn up, and buried her face. She would never stop loving him or needing him. Now all she wanted was the comfort of his arms holding her, telling her that life would still go on after her mother’s death. Even Adele’s last words had been of Clay.

  Her head shot up. A fat woman was going to kill Clay. Of course! Adele had somehow overheard Bianca planning Clay’s death.

  Nicole’s mind whirled with possible explanations. Bianca could have met someone she had hired on the mill side of the river. If Clay were dead, Bianca would own the plantation.

  Nicole stood and ran to the wharf. She rowed herself across the river in record time. Once on land again, she lifted her skirts and ran to the house.

  “Clay!” she called as she ran from room to room. Even as she ran, even in her urgency, she was aware of the house. It seemed to welcome her with open arms. Beth’s portrait had been replaced over the mantel in the dining room. She gave a quick look and thought she saw a look of concern in Beth’s eye.

  She went to the library last. The feel of Clayton’s presence was overpowering. The desk was cluttered but clean, a place of constant work.

  She knew exactly when he came to stand behind her, but she didn’t turn. The strong smell of his sweat mingled with the leather in the room. She breathed deeply, then slowly turned to face him.

  She had seen very little of him in the past year, only once for any length of time. The humble, quiet Clay who’d come to help them dig the trench was a stranger to her. But this man before her now was the man she’d fallen in love with. His linen shirt was open to the waist, and he was drenched in sweat, his hands and forearms tobacco-stained. The way he stood, feet wide apart, hands on hips, reminded her of the first time she’d seen him, through a spyglass.

  “You’ve been crying,” he said flatly.

  His voice sent shivers up her spine, and she had no idea why she was there. She turned away from him, took one step toward the door.

  “No!” It was a command she obeyed. “Look at me,” he said quietly.

  She turned slowly.

  “What has happened?” His voice was full of concern.

  Sharp tears mounted behind Nicole’s eyes. “My mother…died. I must go home.”

  His eyes held hers for a long moment. “Don’t you know that you are home?”

  The tears were threatening to spill. She had no idea he still had so much control over her. She shook her head, her lips silently forming a no.

  “Come here.” His voice was quiet, but it was the sound of command.

  Nicole refused to obey him. Somewhere, there was a seed of reason in her brain, and she knew she should not renew what had once been between them. But her feet were not so sensible. One of them picked itself up and took a step forward.

  Clay merely stared at her, the current between their eyes nearly tangible. “Come,” he said once again.

  The tears broke, and her feet leaped toward him. He caught her in his arms, nearly crushing her. He carried her to the couch, where he cradled her in his arms.

  “If you’re going to cry, you should do it where you belong, on your man’s shoulder.”

  He held her and caressed her hair while she cried, pouring out her grief at her mother’s death. After a while, he began to ask questions. He wanted her to talk about her mother, about the good times. She told of Adele’s relationship with the twins, how they were like three children together.

  Suddenly, she sat upright and told him what had brought her to Arundel Hall.

  “You came to warn me that you thought someone would try to kill me?”

  “Not someone,” she said. “Bianca. I think Mother meant to tell me that Bianca planned to kill you.”

  He thought for a moment. “What if she’d heard Isaac or one of the other men talking about Bianca? One of my men told me the other day that if he had a wife like mine, he’d probably kill her.”

  “That’s awful,” Nicole gasped.

  Clay shrugged. “Adele could have heard a similar statement. It would probably have come out in the same gibberish.”

  “But, Clay—”

  He put a finger to her lips and stopped her. “I am pleased that you still care enough to warn me, but Bianca is not a murderess. She has neither the brains nor the courage.” His eyes went to her mouth, where he ran his fingertip along her upper lip. “I’ve missed your funny upside-down mouth.”

  She drew back from him, not easy to do considering she was sitting on his lap. “Nothing’s changed.”

  He smiled at her. “True. Nothing’s changed between us since I nearly raped you in the ship’s cabin. We’ve loved each other since our first meeting, and it will never change.”

  “No, please,” she begged. “It’s over. Bianca—”

  He raised one eyebrow. “I don’t want to hear her name again. I’ve had a lot of time to think since the flood. I realized then that you still loved me. It wasn’t Bianca who caused the problems between us; it was our own stubbornness. You knew I was afraid to lose the plantation, and I wasn’t strong enough alone, and you didn’t believe in me enough.”

  “Clay—” she began. She knew in her heart how right he was, but she didn’t like to hear it.

  “It’s all right, love. We’re going to start again. But this time, we’re staying together. This time, no one will be able to part us.”

  She stared at him. They’d been through so much, and yet their love had lasted. She knew they would make it.

  She leaned back on his shoulder, and his arms held her close. “It seems like I haven’t been away.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “You have to get off my lap, or I’m going to throw you down on this couch and have my way with you.�
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  She wanted to laugh and tease with him, but the pain from her mother’s death was inside her too thoroughly.

  “Come with me, sweet,” he said quietly. “Let’s go back to the mill and see to your mother. We have time later to make plans.” He lifted her chin in his hand. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” she said firmly. “I do.”

  He stood her on the floor, then stood beside her. Nicole’s eyes widened at the bulge in his trousers. The room suddenly seemed very warm.

  “Come on,” he said hoarsely. “And stop looking at me like that.”

  He took her hand and led her out of the room.

  Neither of them saw Bianca standing just inside the dining room door. She’d been outside when she saw Nicole running toward the house. She’d hurried after her, planning what she’d say to her about trespassing. Inside the house she’d heard Nicole running through it, slamming bedroom doors, acting as if she owned the place. Bianca had been in the morning room—Nicole moved too quickly for the larger woman to keep pace with her—when she saw Clay. She’d stood outside the door and listened while they talked.

  She had been pleased to hear Gerard’s wife was dead. They’d never spoken of the fact that he was already married, but Bianca knew the woman was old and couldn’t live too much longer.

  She’d frozen when Nicole said Bianca was planning to murder Clay. When she heard Clay say Bianca wasn’t smart enough or courageous enough, she began to thaw. She changed from ice to fire in seconds. She knew now that she’d be able to carry out Gerard’s plan. Clayton Armstrong deserved to die after what he’d said about her.

  She left the house and went to find a child she could send with a message to Gerard. She knew there was little time left before Clay took steps to rid himself of her.

  Nicole stood outside the mill and drank deeply from a gourd dipper. The cool, fresh well water was welcome after a hard morning inside. The autumn grains were fully ripe, and there wasn’t a minute when they weren’t busy.

  At least, the work kept her mind off the plans she and Clay had. They’d buried Adele in Clay’s family plot, next to his own mother. “So she’ll always be near us,” he said. Then, the two of them had gone to Bianca and discussed their futures. Clay said he was tired of secrets and wanted things in the open from now on. Bianca had been quiet, listening carefully to what Clay had to say. The offer he made her for lifetime support was very fair, and both Clay and Nicole knew it would place a great burden on both of them in future years. Clay sought Nicole’s hand under the table. There was a strong sense of support between them now.