Page 41 of The Wondrous Life and Loves of Nella Carter

And I was on my way to meet Jacques to start a new life in Paris.

I couldn’t go back.

I couldn’t change anything.

I couldn’t save Silas.

William stopped the carriage and helped me down, careful with his touch in the public eye—no passion there, only comfort.

“Are we going to Paris?”

I nodded.

“Are you going to be all right?”

I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know if anything would ever be all right again.

“Get on the ship. I must drop off the carriage, but I’ll return with my things. We can talk then ... I’ll come and ensure you’re well once Mr. Jacques gets settled in.” William gathered the last of my trunks and handed them to the steward, who helped me toward the ship.

He climbed back into his seat, then turned to look down at me, his eyes full of bittersweet hope. “I’ll return soon.”

The ship’s steward guided me to my room, one of the few proper cabins on the vessel. I lay on the bed, completely numb. It was one thing to think Silasmightbe dead, but to have it confirmed was another thing altogether.

Jacques trundled into our room close to departure, smiling. “Why don’t we go up on deck?” he said. “We’re casting off soon.”

“You go. I ... need a moment.”

He took my hand and kissed it. “All right, I suppose I’ll see what William has gotten up to. Don’t worry, I won’t let the ship leave without him.” He strode out the door, whistling a tune, oblivious to so many things ...

But the idea that the ship could leave without William began to gnaw at my heart. After a while, I rose and made my way to the rail of an upper deck to watch for him. The sun shone bright, warming my shoulders. The sky was robin’s-egg blue, a mockery of my despair. Gulls called, beckoning our ship to sea.

It wasn’t long before I saw William striding toward the pier. A small bit of my heart lifted. He would understand my pain; he would hold me in my grief.

I held my hand above my head and called to him. “William!”

He looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun, searching for me.

I began to wave, and meant to call again, but the words died on my lips.

Three men in sailor’s uniforms lurched from the shadows.

My heart seized. I knew them. The men from Mardi Gras, the night we’d found where Silas was kept.

“William!” I shrieked. He continued to search for me and didn’t notice as the sailors made for him. They were on him in an instant, dragging him into an alley full of cargo, until he was out of sight.

The world spun. I heard a shout from the ship’s gangplank: “Stop! Stop there!” It was Jacques. He and three members of our crew ran to where William had disappeared.

None of it seemed real. It couldn’t be happening. The echo of Jacques’s voice calling William’s name was the last thing I heard before the world went black.

I woke in the cabin. For a moment I believed, I hoped, the entire thing had been a dream. Then I noticed Jacques settled heavily on the end of the bed, his head in his hands.

He turned to me. Dark circles ringed his eyes. “Noelle, there’s something I have to tell you.”

I touched his shoulder. His body shuddered, and he went on.

“A fight broke out on the docks. Three sailors. They spotted ... they spotted someone and carried him off. The crew and I gave chase, but they had knives and a musket. We were too late.”

The silence hung in the air. I prayed to God, to Death, to any force in the universe to keep the words from coming from Jacques’s mouth.