Defiant Impostor (43 page)

"Well, Mr. Spencer, you might think what I have to
tell you is a little strange—"

"Spit it out, man! I'm in a hurry."

"It's about the convict I hauled back a while ago
to the prisoners' quarters, Keefer Dunn. He's regained consciousness and he's
been asking for you, over and over—not just babbling but making some sense. He
says he has something important to tell you—"

"And you think I should talk to him?"
Dominick cut him off scornfully, remembering how the convict had pleaded the
same thing with him until he had been lashed into senseless silence.
"You're going soft on me, Dobson, and anyway, the man dies tomorrow
morning as an example to the rest of his surly friends. You know that. Now get
back to the fields."

"If you'd hear me out, Mr. Spencer. I told him to
shut up many a time and even hit him across the face with the butt of my whip,
but he kept stubbornly insisting that he see you. He said he knows something
about that young woman who was here earlier, and when I told him her
name—"

"You did what?" Dominick glared at the man.

"I didn't see any harm in it, and I got the
impression it had something to do with why he was asking for you. Well, when he
heard that her name was Camille Cary, or used to be before she became Adam
Thornton's wife, he yelled out that no, her real name is Susanna Guthrie. He
told me that he knew her in London before she went to work as a waiting-maid
for a Miss Camille Cary, who was living with her aunt, Baroness Redmayne, at
Fairford."

"You're talking gibberish, man!" Dominick
shouted, yet he was stunned that a common criminal would know so much about
Camille's family background. How had the man stumbled upon such information?
The only person he had told any of this to was Cleo, and she wouldn't have
dared to say anything to anybody. She knew better.

"Maybe so, Mr. Spencer, but the bloke seemed to
know a lot about the lady, and since it's common knowledge even among the
slaves that you and Miss Cary had reached a decision to marry right before she
suddenly wed Adam Thornton—" Seeing Dominick's scowl deepen, the overseer
quickly added, "You made no secret of it, Mr. Spencer. Anyway, I thought
you might be curious as to what he's talking about. I know I was. That's why I
came here to tell you about it."

A vein in his temple throbbing, Dominick didn't like at
all the fact that he was the object of discussion among his laborers, but he
had to admit his curiosity was aroused despite that he wanted to leave for
Yorktown as soon as possible.

"All right, Dobson, five minutes. That's all I'll
give him."

***

The stench of sweat, urine, and filth in the prisoners'
run-down quarters was unbearable, but Dominick, after commanding the
disappointed overseer to wait by the door, quickly made his way between the
wooden cots to the one where the beaten convict lay on his stomach. When
Dominick stopped beside the soiled, foul-smelling mattress, the man slowly
turned his head, wincing from the pain that small movement cost him.

"So ye've come, Mr. Spencer. I thought ye
might."

Paying no heed to the convict's bare, bloodied back,
Dominick grated, "Mr. Dobson said you wanted to see me, Dunn. What is this
nonsense about Miss Camille Cary?"

The man licked his cracked lips, his dark-yellow eyes
turning shrewd as he answered, "She's not wot she seems t' be, 'tis
all."

"And what exactly does that mean . . . not what
she seems to be?"

"Simple. I put two and two together when I saw 'er
today, recognizing 'er as I did, and I tried t' tell ye when they were drivin'
away, but ye wouldn't listen t' me . . ." He shifted on the mattress for
emphasis, grimacing, but when he received no words of apology, he grudgingly
continued. "She was the girl ye planned t' marry, right? The one who stood
ye up fer another man?"

Dominick nodded, angered anew that his private life had
become a topic of keen interest to his workers. But like Dobson had said, he'd
made no secret of it. From the Tuesday Camille had visited him to Wednesday,
when he had arrived at the Tates' to find her gone, he had told several
neighbors his good news and a number of the house servants, including Cleo.
Word of his upcoming betrothal, and its swift demise, must have flown about the
plantation like wildfire.

"Well, ye should be glad ye didn't marry 'er
because the chit's an impostor. I don't know 'ow she's done it, passin' 'erself
off as 'er mistress Camille Cary, but that Susanna Guthrie was always a clever
wench."

"An impostor?" Dominick queried suspiciously.
"That's not possible. Camille fits every description I've ever heard of
her before she even set foot in Virginia."

"It
is
possible and I'll tell ye 'ow, Mr. Spencer. But first ye must make Keefer Dunn
a promise."

Dominick's temper flared. He should have known this
wretch would demand payment.

"You're hardly in any position to barter, Dunn. I
could just as easily whip the information out of you."

"Aye, ye could, and I could just as easily die on
ye, too, like wot happened t' me friend Tommy a short while ago. 'E wasn't
strong enough t' take such a beatin' like me, but another so quickly after the
first? I don't know that I'd live through it, and then where would ye be? Left
hangin', t' be sure."

Realizing this man was a very cunning one, Dominick
decided to humor him. "Very well. Name your price."

"Make me an overseer. I'll work 'ard at it, I
will, and ye'll find none more loyal. I'll keep these blokes in line as good as
any ye've seen. There'll be no more escape attempts because I know 'ow their
minds work, and I'll be watchin' 'em like a hawk ev'ry second. Wot do ye
say?"

Dominick was silent for a moment, feigning
consideration, then he said, "I suppose that could easily be arranged, but
what makes you think that whatever you might tell me is of any interest to me
now? Miss Cary married someone else. The matter is closed."

"No matter is ever closed when a wench 'umiliates
a man," Keefer muttered bitterly, groaning as he lifted himself up on his
elbows. "The girl 'umiliated ye, didn't she? She turned ye down fer a man
who used t' be yer servant, didn't she? I can't imagine that fine turn of
events made ye too 'appy, Mr. Spencer. I've discovered in me year at Raven's
Point that yer a man who doesn't like t' be crossed. I would think wot I have
t' say is o' great interest t' ye. Per'aps it might help ye t' think of a way
t' pay 'er back . . . ye know, fer wot she did t' ye. And in me own way, I'd be
gettin' back at 'er, too."

"How so?" Dominick asked, becoming more
intrigued in spite of himself.

"Not so fast. Ye 'aven't said yet that ye'll pay
me price. Now, will ye or no?"

"An overseer?"

"Aye, with a good 'orse and a whip. I'll work off
the five years left t' me sentence, then I'll be on me way and ye'll never see
me in these parts again. Are we agreed?"

Hating that he must strike a bargain with a common
thief, even if he was only pretending to, Dominick tersely answered,
"Agreed."

"I 'ave yer word on it?" Keefer queried,
still leery.

"You have my word as a gentleman." As the
convict visibly relaxed, Dominick knew he had him. "All right, Dunn. How
do you know that the woman I planned to marry is an impostor?"

"Because by some fluke o' nature, Susanna
Guthrie's got the same 'air and eyes as 'er mistress, Camille Cary. I knew
Susanna in London, and a fine beauty she was even at twelve years. Ye never
forget such a face and figure, and I couldn't believe it when I saw 'er this
mornin'. Her father, Daniel, was me good friend, and one night 'e agreed t'
sell me 'is daughter fer a night's tumble. The chit ran away when she found
out, and as me and 'er father were chasin' her, Daniel was run over by a
hackney coach. And who do ye think was inside that fine carriage? Baroness
Redmayne and 'er grandniece, Camille Cary."

"How did you find out all of this?" Dominick
demanded, scarcely able to believe what he was hearing, yet finding it
difficult not to.

"A constable was summoned, and I watched
ev'rything from a nearby alley, way back in the shadows. The baroness decided
t' take Susanna 'ome with 'er rather than send the chit t' an orphans'
work'ouse, I s'pose out o' pity. The rest I found out the next day. It's easy
enough t' bribe a constable's clerk fer information, Mr. Spencer, and I learned
wot I needed t' know."

When Keefer paused to roll himself on one elbow,
grunting in pain, Dominick said impatiently, "Go on, man!"

Throwing him a resentful glance for the misery he was
suffering, the convict nonetheless continued. "A few weeks later, I
followed Susanna t' Fairford in Gloucestershire t' try and get 'er back. I'd
paid good money for that wench! She owed me a tumble! I couldn't get near the
manor, but that Sunday mornin' I saw the two girls comin' out o' church lookin'
like peas from the same pod. That's wot made me realize today in an instant
that me Susanna is now playin' a much cleverer game than pickin' pockets and
beggin' as she once did in London. I only wish I knew 'ow she managed it."

"I think I know," Dominick murmured,
everything suddenly making perfect sense to him. "Camille's ship was
struck by typhus fever during the crossing."

"There ye 'ave it, Mr. Spencer! The real Camille
died, God rest 'er soul, while her waitin'-maid became the lady. Ye 'ave t'
'and it t' her. Susanna's managed quite a swindle."

Until now, Dominick thought grimly, feeling as if a
crushing load had miraculously been lifted from his shoulders.

Adam Thornton had married an impostor. Was it possible
that he already knew? Could that be why Camille . . . Susanna had so abruptly
married that scum? He must have found out the truth about her and, wanting to
carry out his revenge, had married her anyway, probably forcing her into it by
threat of exposure. Well, now the tables were turned to Dominick's favor for
once in his life. Fortune had finally smiled upon him.

"You never said if you got your tumble or
not," he prompted Dunn, the woman who called herself Camille now nothing
more than a whore in Dominick's eyes. How could she be anything but that,
having been both a thief and a beggar, and knowing the likes of this man?

Keefer shook his shaggy head. "One o' me own paid
thieves who envied me position in London alerted the parish constable that I
was at Fairford, and I was arrested before I got a chance t' talk to 'er, let
alone touch 'er. I was carted t' Newgate Prison where I spent five years, then
they shipped me 'ere t' Virginia."

"Hard luck."

"Not anymore. I've come a step up in the world,
eh, Mr. Spencer?"

"That you have," Dominick said smoothly,
moving to the foot of the cot. "Get some rest, Dunn. I'll have one of the
house girls bring you some ointment for your back, and a hot meal. She can help
you wash . . . and whatever else you might fancy her to do for you."

"That's right decent o' ye. I 'aven't 'ad a woman
since I left Newgate, and buggery with the lads 'as never been to me
likin'." Keefer glanced at Dobson, who was still waiting in the distant
doorway, his pleased expression fading to a scowl. "Do ye think ye could
call off yer burly watchdog there? I don't fancy another slam in the face while
I'm recuperatin'."

"I'll tell him to leave you alone," Dominick
replied, starting to walk away.

"One more thing, Mr. Spencer."

Irritated but trying not to show it, Dominick paused.
"What?"

Keefer gestured to the rusty length of chain that bound
his left ankle to the cot. "When will this bloody shackle come off me
leg?"

"First thing in the morning," Dominick
promised, thinking of the deadly punishment with currycombs and salt that he
still intended to have enacted. This man couldn't be allowed to live knowing
what he did, nor Dobson either, if the overseer chose to give him any trouble.
Such astonishing information was for him alone, especially when he was now
going to use it to save his own neck and the future of Raven's Point.
"There's something I must ask of you, Mr. Dunn."

Appearing startled that Dominick would address him with
such courtesy, the convict blurted, "Anythin', Mr. Spencer. Joost name
it."

"Don't mention our discussion to your mates when
they return from the fields later this afternoon, or to anyone else for that
matter, not even Dobson. Until you're out of here tomorrow, you don't want to
risk the other convicts finding out that you'll soon be the one wielding the
whip over their heads. Oh, yes, and the girl will have to be gone back to the
house before they arrive.

Keefer grinned a lusty, gap-toothed smile. "I
should be through with the wench by then, and ye' 'ave me word about the other.
I'll not suffer a lynchin' just when me luck's about t' change."

Dominick said nothing more and quickly left the
building, desperate to escape the foul air. He gestured for his overseer to
follow him outside; his eyes were watering when he turned to face the man.

"It was nonsense, Dobson, all of it. Just lies
made up to try and save his skin. Say nothing more to that prisoner, do you
hear? In fact, don't even go near him. I'm sending over a girl to see to his
back and give him a little pleasure before tomorrow morning."

"That's unusual, isn't it, Mr. Spencer?"

"Are you questioning my orders?" he snapped
angrily.

"No, sir. Not at all."

"Good. Keep it that way."

Without another word to the startled overseer, Dominick
strode back to the house, his thoughts already upon the damning letter he
planned to write to Adam Thornton, to be delivered by messenger that very
afternoon. If what that fool Dunn had told him was true, and he had every
reason to believe it was, then he imagined he would be receiving by nightfall
an equally swift reply that met all of his demands.