Counterfeit Lady (James River Trilogy 1)

“Did you have a fight with her? Maybe she got a ride back to Arundel Hall.”

Clay turned on Travis. “No! Goddamn it! We didn’t have a fight. She wouldn’t have left without telling me.”

Travis put his hand on Clay’s shoulder. “Maybe she’s in the woods picking walnuts and forgot the time.” His voice said he didn’t believe that any more than Clay did. From what he’d seen of Clay’s new wife, she was a sensible, considerate young woman. “Horace,” he said quietly, “let’s get the dogs.”

Clay turned back toward the house. It was all he could do to keep his rage under control. He was angry at himself for leaving her alone for even a few minutes and angry at her for whatever had taken her from him. But the worst of his anger was helplessness. She could be ten feet away from him, or fifty miles, and he had no idea where to start looking.

No one noticed Bianca standing to one side, a full plate in her hand, smiling. Her work was done now, and she could go home. She was tired of hearing people ask who she was and why she lived with Clay.

The dogs were confused by so many scents from so many people. They seemed to find Nicole’s scent everywhere, and they were probably right.

While Horace worked with the dogs, Clay began to question people. He talked individually to every man, woman, and child on the enormous plantation. But it was always the same—no one remembered seeing her that morning. One of the slaves said he had served her some scrambled eggs but he couldn’t remember what she had done after that.

At night, the men carried torches into the woods. Four men took their sloops up and down the river, calling for Nicole. The far side of the river was searched, but there was no sign of her.

When morning came, the men began to straggle back to the house. They avoided Clay’s hot look of misery.

r /> “Clay!” a woman shouted, running toward him.

His head jerked up immediately to see Amy Evans waving her bonnet at him as she ran from the wharf.

“Is it true?” Amy asked. “Is your wife missing?”

“Do you know something?” Clay demanded. His eyes were sunken in his head, his face covered with unshaved whiskers.

Amy put her hand to her breast, her heart pounding from the run. “Last night, one of the men stopped at our house and asked if we’d seen your wife. Ben and I said we hadn’t, but this morning at breakfast, Deborah, my oldest, said she’d seen Nicole with Abraham Simmons down by the wharf.”

“When!” Clay said, grabbing the stout little woman by the shoulders.

“Yesterday morning. I sent Deborah back to the sloop to see if she could find our shawls because it was too cool without them. She said she saw Abe with his hand on Nicole’s arm, leading her toward the river. She said she never liked Abe, she wanted to stay away from him, so she went to our sloop, got the shawls, and never looked back.”

“Did she see Nicole get on the Simmons’s boat?”

“No, nothing. They were blocked from sight by that big cypress tree, and Deborah wanted to get back to the races. She didn’t think anything about it, didn’t even remember it until this morning at breakfast when Ben and I were talking about your wife’s disappearance.”

Clay was staring at the woman. If Nicole had gotten onto the boat, then she was still alive. She hadn’t been drowned as he’d begun to fear. And there could be a hundred reasons why she’d gone with Abe Simmons. All the man had to do was say someone needed her, and she’d never look back.

Clay’s hands tightened on Amy’s strong shoulders. Then he bent and gave her a resounding kiss on the mouth. “Thank you,” he breathed, his eyes once again regaining color.

“Any time, Clay,” Amy said, laughing.

Clay released her and turned around. His friends and neighbors were standing quietly by. None of them had had a wink of sleep all night.

“Let’s go,” Travis said as he slapped Clay on the shoulder. “Elijah’s wife is probably having another baby, and Abe grabbed the first woman he saw.”

Clay and Travis looked at each other for a long moment. Neither of them believed his words. Elijah was crazy and far from harmless. Abe was a sullen, high-tempered young man who openly resented the wealth of the planters around him.

Clay turned away when someone touched his arm. Janie stood there, a full basket of food held out to him. “Take this,” she said quietly. For the first time since Clay had known her, her cheeks were no longer pink. Her whole face was gray with worry.

Clay took the basket from her and caressed her hand firmly. Then he looked back at Travis and at Wes, who stood beside his brother. He nodded once, and the three men walked quickly toward Clay’s sloop. Wes ran to his sloop first, and when he joined Clay and his brother, he carried a brace of pistols. The men were grimly silent as they cast off and started downriver toward the Simmons’s farm.

All day long, Nicole wavered between sleep and unconsciousness. When she was awake, the trees passing above her seemed unreal, patterns of shade and sunlight. Isaac had placed her carefully on a pile of rags and old feed bags. The slow drifting of the boat and the dull ache of her jaw made her calm, unworried about the bindings on her ankles and wrists, the gag across her mouth.

The river system of Virginia was extensive. Abe sailed the little sloop in and out of tributaries that linked one major river to another. There were some waterways that were so narrow that the two men had to use oars to propel themselves between the enclosing trees.

“Abe, where are you going?” Isaac asked.

Abe smiled secretly. He had no intention of informing his brother of his destination. He’d found the little island years ago, and it’d always stayed in the back of his mind that someday it would be useful. Soon after they’d gotten the woman on board, Abe had let his father off at their farm. He knew that soon the men would be there to search for the woman, and old Elijah would hold them off. Elijah would never lie about the fact that he’d taken the woman, but it would be hours before anyone would make any sense out of his rantings. Abe smiled at his own cleverness. Now all he had to do was control the boy. He glanced back at the woman, tied helplessly, quietly lying on the heap of rags. He smiled and wet his lips.