Page 9 of Her Submission (Monica & Henry #2)

La Famille Oubilée

There was no stopping the news from hitting everyone they knew. Within twelve more hours, Monica received phone calls from Ethan, Judith, and even her lawyer, all expressing varying levels of sympathy. Ethan offered to come over if she needed anything from him, but Monica told him that this was being handled by the Warrens… and the police.

Still, she would take all the eyes and ears she could get.

“How could nobody know where she is yet?”

Monica couldn’t eat the lunch staring her in the face. She had just received a report from Elson that Winchester Academy called and offered her help from within a school. Because that’s the last place I want to hear from. Monica didn’t want to think about how her daughter should be in school right now. Learning addition and subtraction. Four-letter words. Arts and crafts. Kicking a ball with her friends at recess…

She devolved into more tears at the dining table.

The interview with Gerald revealed nothing they didn’t already know. He didn’t know where his wife went, or that she was planning anythin.

“nefarious.”

He admitted that her phone being left behind and no signs of a struggle didn’t paint a lovely picture of Isabella. She didn’t want to be found or tracked for that matter.

Someone stopped by to pay their respects that evening. Or so Monica determined before she was informed that Damon Monroe had brought his daughter with him.

The girl was the spitting image of her father, with the same black hair, amber eyes, and penchant for long sleeves and wearing black. The eight-year-old who had a rambunctious relationship with Abigail looked as uncomfortable as a bee in a bonnet when she sat with her father in Henry’s office and was brought hot cocoa from the kitchen.

“I’d prefer that we keep the police out of this, for my family’s sake,”

Damon said after settling into the couch with his daughter, whom he protectively shielded with most of his body.

“I understand that this is unorthodox, but we want to help, and Clarise claims that she heard Abigail say something at school Friday.”

Monica perked up once she realized this was something tangible about Abigail.

“What? Tell me everything you know, sweetie.”

Henry held up his hand.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t have the police here to take this down? What if it’s a solid lead that needs to be followed?”

“Then you tell them yourself,”

Damon said.

“Figure out the best way to get the urgency across to them, because I will not have my daughter involved at such a young age.”

Clarise awkwardly shifted in the middle of the sofa, her shoes nowhere close to touching the floor as she sank into the back of the cushion.

“Can we go soon?”

she asked her father.

“As soon as you tell the Warrens what you overheard Abigail say the other day.”

Monica waited with bated breath. Henry circled his arm around her to keep her still.

“I heard her telling Daisy Tipp in first grade that her grandmother was taking her somewhere this weekend,”

Clarise said through a wiggling nose and dour mouth.

“I don’t know where. Something about visiting her niece.”

“Whose niece?”

Henry asked.

“My mother has no nieces. She was an only child.”

Clarise shrugged.

“She said niece. Like a niece and nephew. I know what I heard.”

“Where did you hear her saying this?”

Monica asked.

“I mean, where in the school?”

The girl looked at her as if that were a ridiculous question. Clearly, her father’s daughter.

“In the bathroom during the lunch break. The first, second, and third grade all go to lunch at the same time.”

“Did she know that you were listening?”

Henry asked.

“No. But you should ask Daisy. They’re friends now.”

Monica wiped her face over her hand, hoping that the girl couldn’t see her shaking.

“What exactly do you remember my daughter saying when talking to Daisy?”

Clarise puffed out her cheeks and stared up at the ceiling before making eye contact with her father. Damon curtly encouraged her to share but otherwise remained silent. Only then did Clarise blow out her breath and continue.

“She said, ‘my grandma says we’re going somewhere fun this weekend. We’re going to the niece.”

“That makes little sense…”

“That’s what she said!”

Monica held out her palms in surrender.

“I’m sure that is what she said, honey. I just don’t understand it.”

“I can talk right.”

Clarise looked to her father again. “Right?”

“You’re doing perfectly.”

Damon offered a sympathetic mien to the distraught parents.

“I wasn’t sure if what she overheard would help or not, but wanted to make sure we dropped by to share. Everyone at the school is on high alert and doing their investigation, but since this sounds like a domestic matter… well, my heart goes out to you.”

Monica was of two minds: she could either slap Damon and piss him off for the rest of the year, or she could get up and turn her back to this farce of a scene. No, don’t think of it that way… Clarise and Abigail didn’t get along. Clarise had no reason to hear that Abigail was missing and told her father that she had heard something that might be of use. Nor did Damon have to bring her here as soon as he heard…

“Thank you,”

she said.

“I truly appreciate you taking time out of your day to share this with us. We are desperately trying to find Isabella and Abigail and, well, if that’s what she told our daughter, then we’re going to do our best to decipher it. It’s the only lead we have now.”

She meant it, too. A whole day later, and nobody knew anything. The police had found nothing. Isabella still refused to contact them. There were no signs of violence or other related troubles. The only thing the security cameras on the Warren Manor grounds caught was Isabella and Abigail getting into a taxi Saturday afternoon. They were dressed for a proper trip and carried two suitcases between them.

Abigail was smiling. She was excited. Isabella gave her candies as they got into the taxi and looked like a normal grandmother taking her granddaughter out of town for a few days.

Monica was going to be sick.

Henry saw the father and daughter out, thanking them profusely for coming over. Monica remained in front of the office windows, staring out into the driveway that formed a horseshoe between both wings of the manor. She waited until she saw Damon and Clarise getting back into their car before turning away.

Niece.

What Henry said was true. His mother was an only child and had no nieces or nephews, nor did she call anyone that affectionately. Not to our knowledge. Perhaps Clarise had misunderstood. Or maybe she was making this up as a cruel prank on her best enemy’s family.

No, she wouldn’t do that… would she?

Nothing made sense anymore. Isabella was a deplorable woman, but to kidnap her own granddaughter while everyone else was gone for the weekend? To what end? Where did they go? The only thing keeping Monica from going so feral that she was useless to the investigation was the concentrated hope that Isabella would never harm Abigail.

Now, why would Isabella kidnap her granddaughter? That was the greater question than attempting to figure out where they were.

Henry returned with a sigh.

“Figured it out yet?”

Monica rubbed her fingers together as she continued to scope the office, remembering how Abigail loved sneaking in here to play. Specifically, she loved jumping on that couch because it wa.

“extra bouncy”.

Tears returned.

“Monica…”

Henry crossed his office to hold her, letting Monica weep into his chest as he smoothed her hair and squeezed her back. It wasn’t enough to make the pain stop. Monica knew it never would be.

“We’ll find her. I promise.”

“Yes,”

she gulped into his shirt.

“Promise me we’ll find her, Henry. She’s out there somewhere.”

Monica’s fingers uncurled as she clung to him. If she had been holding anything, she would have dropped the last of her possessions on the floor.

Instead, all she had was her breaking heart.

Eva pounded on their door shortly after they went to bed, tired but unable to sleep.

“Not niece as in somebody’s niece!”

she bellowed when Henry opened the door. Eva rushed in, slightly smelling of alcohol.

“Niece as in Nice! The city! In France!”

Monica bolted upright in her bed. Henry was as confused as before.

“The Beaumonts?”

Eva latched onto her when she realized that Monica was the one who understood.

“Yes! The Beaumonts! I’ll bet all my teeth that our mother took her to the Beaumonts in Nice!”

Henry rubbed his eyes. Monica was out of bed without another word.

“I would not put it past her,”

Eva continued to build her case toward her brother.

“Our mother is a fucking psychopath. She’s been kicking around all these ideas about introducing Abigail to the Beaumonts. She wants some kind of family alliance. Like we can just offer a girl’s hand in marriage again! Ask our visitor from today how I know.”

Monica inserted herself between the siblings, one hand on Henry while she faced Eva.

“How certain are you about this?”

Monica asked.

“About your mother’s intentions.”

Eva may have looked like she would have rather been believed out the gate, but to her credit, she explained the best that she could.

“I told you a while ago that my mother is conniving like that. She still believes in that old-fashioned dowry shit and is forever kicking herself that she wasn’t stricter with Henry and me. She’s gone straight to crazy town since you and Nadia came into the picture. Because she was foolish enough to believe that your husband would still be drawn to a ‘well-to-do’ woman of good breeding or whatever other Eugenics crap.”

“I’m well aware of your mother’s attitudes toward her bloodline being tainted. That still doesn’t explain why she would kidnap my daughter and take her to Nice!”

Henry put a reassuring hand on his wife’s shoulder.

“The Beaumonts are very old friends of the family, going back generations. Rumor has it that our ancestor who came from Scandinavia passed through Nice and helped the original Beaumont patriarch. They kept in touch for years, building their fortunes and helping each other from across the pond. I have… erratic memories of traveling to France and being forced to play with Jean-Pierre, whose idea of a good time was harassing the staff and performing experiments on his mother’s cat. Even as a child, I was not interested.”

“And our mom is still besties with Lily. Do you know how many times I had to hear that I should date Jean-Pierre? The only reason Mom dropped it when I was in college was because that oaf knocked up his girlfriend and was forced to marry her.”

“I’m very aware of Mr. Beaumont’s predilections,”

Monica reminded them.

“He comes to the Chateau a couple of times a year and always requests the same woman.”

Monica had been careful who she suggested take on the heir of the Beaumont clan. It had to be someone who could hold her own and not worry about calling him out for going too far. He liked her enough to keep coming back, and that was all that mattered.

“Anyway, that kid he had was Louis. Mom has been going on lately about how nice it would be for Abigail to become a trans-Atlantic playmate for a boy way too old for playmates. You ask me? She’s taken Abigail to Nice to meet them.”

“If that was all it was,”

Monica said.

“then she wouldn’t have literally kidnapped her. She would have asked to take Abigail to France or at least announced it! Ulterior motives be damned… no…”

She rounded on Henry, who already looked at her as if he suddenly had the same idea.

“This is darker than that. Henry, if this is behind your mother’s actions, then…”

His look of disgust broke her heart again.

“She’s selling our daughter off to them.”

“To preserve the Warren line!”

Eva said in an exaggerated impersonation of Isabella.

Both Henry and Monica were quite awake now. Henry bolted for the closet while Monica hit the button requesting someone from the live-in staff to answer.

Within minutes, both Matilda and Elson arrived, and Henry was dressed to travel.

“We think we know where Isabella took Abby,”

Monica told her employees while Henry threw together a suitcase full of clothes.

“To Nice, France. To barter her off to the Beaumonts.”

Matilda gasped; Elson opened his phone.

“Elson, please call ahead to the airstrip and inform them I need the plane ready to go to Nice in an hour,”

Henry said, the butler already one step ahead.

“Do not inform the Beaumonts that I am coming. Any of you!”

Monica rushed to her husband’s suitcase and asked if there was room for her things.

“I’m coming with you!”

“No!”

Henry grabbed her by the arm on her way to the closet.

“I mean, that’s not a good idea. Somebody should stay here in case we’re wrong and there’s another development.”

“Eva can do it!”

“No, Monica, one of her parents needs to be here. I know the Beaumonts. I will go.”

“And what am I supposed to do? Just sit here and hope to God that everything works out all right? Twiddle my thumbs?”

While Elson was on the phone and Matilda spoke with Eva, Henry wrapped his wife in his arms and whispered.

“Be the rock that we’re all counting on to get us through this.”

She clung to him as if she might never see him again. I might not. Not as the father of my daughter. At that moment, Monica swore that if any hair was harmed on her daughter’s head, there would be nobody in that world who could withstand the maternal wrath of Monica Warren.

Especially not Isabella, who would only have God to answer to when Monica was through with her.