Counterfeit Lady (James River Trilogy 1)

Nicole rose and went to the fire. “You had little choice. You could either turn her over to the committee or get her out of the country, under another name, of course.”

Gerard smiled at her quick understanding. “And what better disguise than the truth? We were quietly married, then went abroad on our honeymoon. In England, I found Mr. Maleson, who told me you had worked for his daughter and both of you had gone to America.

“Maleson was a strange man,” he said. “He told me the strangest tale, which I did not half understand. He said you were married to his daughter’s husband. How can that be? Is a man allowed to have two wives in this country?”

Janie gave a derisive snort before Nicole could answer. “Clayton Armstrong makes his own laws in this part of the country.”

“Armstrong? Yes, that is the name Maleson said. He is your husband, then? Why is he not here? Is he away on business?”

“Business!” Janie said. “I wish he were. Clay lives across the river in a big, beautiful house with a fat, greedy snob, while his wife lives apart from him in a miller’s shack.”

“Janie!” Nicole snapped. “You’ve said quite enough.”

“The problem is, you’ve said too little. Anything Clay tells you, you just bow down and say, ‘Yes, Clay. Please, Clay. Whatever you want, Clay.’ ”

“Janie! I will not listen to any more of this. We have a guest, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything!” she snapped as she turned toward the fire, her back to Nicole and Gerard. Every time she thought of Clay and the way he treated Nicole, she got angry. She didn’t know if she was angry at Clay for the way he behaved or at Nicole for so calmly accepting the treatment. Janie felt Clay didn’t deserve Nicole, that she should end the marriage and look at other men. But every time Janie said this, Nicole refused to listen, saying she trusted Clay as well as loved him.

The thoughts of everyone stopped as the screams began again, echoing through the little house, the sheer horror of them raising chills on Janie and Nicole.

Slowly, tiredly, Gerard rose. “It’s the new place that frightens her. Once she gets used to it, the screams will be less frequent.” He went toward the stairs.

“Do you think she will recognize me?” Nicole asked.

“Who can tell? For a while, she had lucid days, but now she is always frightened.” He shrugged before disappearing into the attic, and moments later the screams quieted.

Cautiously, Nicole went into the attic. Gerard sat on the edge of the bed, one arm thrown carelessly across Adele’s shoulders as she clung to him, looking about her wildly. Her eyes opened wide in alarm when she saw Nicole, but she didn’t resume her screaming.

“Mother,” Nicole said quietly, slowly. “I am Nicole, your daughter. Remember the time Father brought me a pet rabbit? Remember how it got out of its cage, and no one could find it? We looked through every wing of the chateau, but we couldn’t find it.”

Adele’s eyes seemed to become calmer as she stared at Nicole.

Taking her mother’s hand in her own, she continued. “Do you remember what you did, Mother? To play a joke on Father, you released three female rabbits in the chateau. Remember the nest of baby rabbits Father found with his hunting boots? You laughed so hard. But then Father laughed when more rabbits were found inside the chest with your wedding gown. And remember Grandfather? He said you were both children playing games.”

“He organized a hunt,” Adele whispered, her voice hoarse from a throat raw with screaming.

“Yes,” Nicole whispered, tears blurring her vision. “The king was visiting that week, and he and Grandfather and fifteen of their men dressed as if they were going to war and set out to find all the rabbits. Do you remember what happened then?”

“We were soldiers,” Adele said.

“Yes, you dressed me in my cousin’s clothes. Then you and some of the court ladies dressed in the soldiers’ costumes. Remember the queen’s old aunt? She looked so funny in men’s trousers.”

“Yes,” Adele whispered, caught up in the story. “We had fish for supper.”

“Yes,” Nicole smiled. “The ladies caught all the rabbits and let them loose on the grounds, and to punish the men for being such bad soldiers, you only allowed fish to be served for supper. Oh! Remember the salmon pâté?”

Beginning to return the smile, Adele answered, “The chef shaped it into rabbits, hundreds of little rabbits.”

With tears on her cheeks, Nicole waited.

“Nicole!” Adele said sharply. “Whatever are you doing in that awful gown? A lady must never wear wool. It is too confining, too concealing. If a gentleman wants wool, he should be a shepherd. Now, go and find something in silk, something made by butterflies, not by those nasty old sheep.”

“Yes, Mama,” said the obedient daughter calmly, kissing her mother’s cheek. “Are you hungry? Would you like a tray brought to you?”

Adele leaned against the wall behind the mattress set on the floor, seeming to be unaware of Gerard, who dropped his arm from around her. “Send something light. And use the blue and white Limoges china for today. After I eat, I will rest, then send the chef so we can plan menus for next week. The queen will be here, and I want to plan something very special. Oh, yes, if those Italian actors arrive, tell them I will speak to them later. And the gardener! I must talk to him about the roses. It is so much to do, and I am so tired. Nicole, do you think you could help me today?”

“Of course, Mama. You rest, and I will personally bring you something to eat. I will speak to the gardener myself.”