The Merchant's Daughter

by M J Lee

Starting at the bottom, she scrolled upwards. David and Rachel Marlowe. Sir Harold Marlowe and Lady Elspeth Marlowe, nee Brough. Two brothers and one sister for Sir Harold, one sister for Lady Elspeth. All annotated with dates of birth and death.

  She continued to scroll upwards past grandfathers and great-grandfathers; cousins once, twice and three times removed. Name after name all linked together in the branches of a family tree.

  She scrolled further back through Victorian times, and Regency and Georgian, the Marlowe surname being passed from generation to generation. Past the Restoration and the Civil War, past the Wars of the Roses and the Black Death (the family had survived even that). Past Edward the First, the Hammer of the Scots, past the Warring Period of Stephen and Matilda, to just one name. Robert de St Malo, born 1042, died 1086.

  And there it stopped.

  Obviously, the name had changed through the ages, becoming more English as the family let their Norman heritage lapse. St Malo had translated into Marlowe, the name they still used today.

  Jayne pulled back to see the whole family tree on one screen. A mass of name after name, branch after branch of a family who had resided in the same area of west Cheshire for over a thousand years.

  Surely, the DNA result must be a mistake. This family could trace their line back through countless generations. And on checking the family tree, it looked like the line was unbroken through male heirs for the last millennium, at least.

  This investigation was like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Where should she start?

  And then it struck Jayne like a Manchester bus. What if the African DNA had come from a marriage, not directly from a male Marlowe ancestor? Would that mean she needed to research every line that had married into the family too? An impossible task in just six days.

  As she stared at the family tree with its long list of Marlowe descendants, only one thought dominated her mind.

  Perhaps this job was too much, even for her.

  Chapter Ten

  Saturday, August 17, 2019

  Didsbury, Manchester

  After staring at the screen for fifteen more minutes, Jayne decided to sleep on it.

  ‘Focus, Jayne, focus,’ she said out loud to herself.

  She couldn’t possibly investigate all the marriage lines in less than one week, she had to concentrate her efforts. To her, the Marlowe family tree looked too perfect, too correct. And an unbroken male line for over one thousand years? It was possible – she was sure some aristocratic families might have such a lineage – but it was not that common.

  She rubbed her eyes.

  Tomorrow would be another day and she could attack the family tree then, comparing it with census results until at least 1841. After that, she would have to go into parish registers. With a family as prominent as the Marlowes, they would have strong links with the local church closest to Wickham Hall.

  There was also the DNA test that Rachel had undertaken. What sort of test was it? And which company had performed it? She would have to ask Rachel for more details on that.

  Jayne had first tested herself ten years ago, when DNA for genealogy was in its infancy, and had repeated the test with Ancestry.com three years ago.

  Her test had revealed that she had Irish, Scottish and French forbears. She hadn’t taken it any further, for the same reasons she hadn’t investigated her own family tree up until then; she was always too scared to find out what she would discover. But after the recent events with her father and grandmother, perhaps it was time to look at her own DNA past again.

  She had to know more, and that was when she thought of Tom Carpenter. She had met him after a talk she had given to the local family history society. He was a professor at Manchester University, specialising in DNA. She could give him a call tomorrow and pick his brains; she still had his card in her Rolodex.

  Except tomorrow was Sunday. Would he mind being disturbed? She decided to send him an email. If he said no, she would have to find somebody else.

  Hi Tom,

  Remember me? It’s Jayne Sinclair, we met at the Didsbury Family History Society when I gave a talk.

  I remember you saying your specialism was DNA. I’m in the middle of a case at the moment and I wonder if I could ask you a few questions?

  I know it’s the weekend, but would it be okay to call you tomorrow morning at 10 a.m.? It’s rather urgent, you see.

  Don’t worry if it’s not convenient, I’ll find the answers somewhere else.

  Best regards,

  Jayne

  She sent the email and went to the fridge to pour herself another glass of sauvignon blanc. She knew it was sacrilege to keep her white wine in there, but she liked it cold, especially on a warm day like today.

  As she was pouring the wine, her email pinged with a reply.

  Hi Jayne,

  Happy to hear from you and happier to help. Please call at 10 a.m. tomorrow morning, it won’t be a problem.

  All the best,

  Tom

  Wonderful! And at least she had made a start on the case. What would she discover?

  She yawned, long and loudly, realising just how tired she was. But before she went to bed, she’d better find out more about the DNA test taken by Rachel before she rang Tom tomorrow.

  She picked up her mobile and rang the actress. The call went through to voicemail.

  ‘This is Rachel Marlowe. I’m either on set, sleeping or desperately avoiding people at the moment. If you leave a message I’ll get back to you just as soon as I can.’

  Jayne waited for the beep and then spoke. ‘Hi Rachel, it’s Jayne Sinclair. Do you have the details of your DNA test and can you send them to me? If you do, it could help shorten the research immensely. Thanks and goodbye.’

  Jayne put down her phone. As she did, it occurred to her that in the last six hours she hadn’t thought once of Paul or the divorce. That was the beauty of genealogical research; you threw yourself into it and everything else vanished. All problems, all arguments, all issues. But eventually she would have to deal with it. Should she call Paul? Or simply hire a solicitor and handle everything through them?

  She asked herself what was the right thing to do. And after just a few seconds, decided to call him tomorrow. Perhaps they could solve this amicably. Paul wasn’t a bad man, nor was he a vindictive one, they just didn’t love each other any more.

  She drained the last of her wine and switched off the computer. She checked the patio doors and windows were locked before climbing the stairs to her bedroom. Mr Smith would come home in his own sweet time.

  Just as she placed her foot on the bottom step, the phone rang. Was that Rachel returning her call? But it was her home phone ringing – how would Rachel have found that number?

  Jayne was tempted to ignore it. But the ringing became more insistent. Perhaps it was somebody from her father’s nursing home? She rushed back into the kitchen and lunged for the phone. If it was somebody calling her about double glazing, she would reach down the telephone line and wring the twerp’s neck.

  ‘Is this Jayne Sinclair?’

  The voice was slow, with a drawl added to her last name as if the speaker was too lazy to finish the sentence.

  ‘Speaking.’

  ‘Jayne Sinclair, the woman who styles herself as a genealogical investigator?’

  She didn’t much care for the words ‘styles herself as’.

  ‘Yes, how can I help you?’

  ‘My name is David Marlowe, I believe you met my sister Rachel this afternoon?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Good. Please don’t be offended by what I have to say, Mrs Sinclair, but I’m afraid my sister has involved you in a waste of time. I researched our family history some years ago, and I can assure you there is no hint of African blood anywhere. We have lived in the area for over a thousand years, since my ancestor came over with William the Conqueror and defeated Harold at the Battle of Hastings.’

  There was pride in the voice. Jayne decided to bring hi
m down to earth.

  ‘The science would suggest otherwise, Mr Marlowe.’

  ‘Please, call me David. Are you talking about the DNA results?’

  ‘The DNA would suggest you have a African ancestor somewhere in your past.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ he said loudly, before his voice softened and the charm returned. ‘I am sorry to be so blunt, Mrs Sinclair—’

  ‘It’s Ms Sinclair, I am no longer married.’ The words sounded so formal, so bitter to her own ears even as she said them.

  ‘Ms Sinclair,’ he repeated, as if spitting out a sour lemon. ‘I am sorry to be blunt, but I had my own DNA tested two years ago and there was no hint of African ancestry. Mainly Anglo-Saxon, some Welsh and Irish, and a smidgeon of Viking. No other ancestry at all. The results from the programme must be mistaken. I would be quite happy to show you my DNA results if you so desire.’

  Jayne thought for a moment. ‘That won’t be necessary, Mr Marlowe.’

  ‘Good. So you will cease your investigation immediately and return my sister’s money to her.’ Again, the voice expected to be obeyed.

  ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mr Marlowe. Your sister is my client and only she can tell me to cease my work.’ He began to speak but Jayne carried on. ‘And for your information, I have accepted no money yet from your sister. Is that clear?’

  There was silence at the end of the phone. The response, when it came, surprised Jayne.

  ‘Why don’t you come down to Wickham Hall? I can show you my own DNA results and take you through the family tree I compiled. You can even meet some of the ancestors.’

  ‘Meet your ancestors?’

  ‘The family portraits. It was a tradition to have them done in our family. We still have some of them. One is by Gainsborough.’

  ‘I don’t know, Mr Marlowe.’

  ‘If I can’t persuade you to cease the investigation, Ms Sinclair, at least do me the courtesy of allowing me to present my side of the story. It’s only fair, isn’t it?’

  Jayne felt herself being manipulated by this family again. ‘Well, I...’

  ‘Good, that’s decided. Shall we say three p.m. tomorrow at Wickham Hall? We can take afternoon tea together.’

  Jayne heard herself saying yes and then asking where the Hall was.

  ‘You’ll find it in most of the guidebooks. We open the gardens for people to wander around in the summer.’

  ‘You must find it tiresome to have hordes of tourists trotting through your home?’

  ‘I quite enjoy it actually.’ And then the voice changed, becoming harder. ‘I’m very proud of my family and its history, Ms Sinclair. I wouldn’t want it to be sullied in any way.’ And then back to Mr Charming. ‘I do look forward to meeting you tomorrow. Genealogy is one of my favourite subjects, it will be interesting to discuss the various research methods. See you at three.’

  The phone went dead. Jayne stood there a moment, wondering why she had said yes to driving all the way to the countryside of Cheshire to meet this man. Was she becoming soft in her old age?

  Chapter Eleven

  Sunday, August 18, 2019

  Didsbury, Manchester

  Jayne was awake bright and early on Sunday morning, as was Mr Smith. As soon as she entered the kitchen, he miaowed loudly and went to stand next to his bowl.

  This cat had a bottomless pit for a stomach, but apparently didn’t put on weight. Jayne fed him and then made an espresso for herself from the machine.

  She sat down in front of her computer and switched it on, inhaling the aroma from the coffee as she did. What was it about coffee and mornings? Somehow the two had fused themselves together and now she was unable to begin the day without her strong espresso.

  The computer gurgled into life and she entered her password. Checking her mailbox, there was another email from Rachel with the DNA results enclosed in the Ancestry.com format.

  She replied, thanking her client, and then waded through the rest of her emails – advertising from fitness clubs; an invitation to make a speech to a local genealogical society; three messages from friends whom she had not seen in a long while, complaining about her lack of contact; and twenty other sorts of advertising junk mail which she immediately deleted. She then checked her Facebook, Instagram and Twitter pages, avoiding most of the rubbish that people posted on social media. She had a particular aversion to pictures of food. Why people persisted in photographing every meal they ate was beyond her. But she knew she also had her own preferences. She was a sucker for a cute cat or dog video.

  She glanced at the clock: 9.50 a.m. Could she call Tom now? It wouldn’t hurt to try. He answered after three rings.

  ‘Tom Carpenter.’

  ‘Hi, Tom, it’s Jayne Sinclair.’

  ‘Hi, Jayne, how can I help you?’

  She quickly explained the case and asked him to explain what DNA testing was in words of less than one syllable.

  ‘I’ll try, Jayne. Basically, DNA – or deoxyribonucleic acid – is a self-replicating material which is present in nearly all living organisms as the main constituent of chromosomes. It is the carrier of genetic information and is the building block of every human being, genetic material being handed down from each ancestor and stored in the DNA molecule. With me so far?’

  ‘I think so. So everybody has it and they get it from both parents.’

  ‘Correct. There are a few exceptions, but that’s generally true. I’ll email you some reading material after this call.’

  ‘Great, so when it comes to genealogy, why do we test DNA?’

  ‘With DNA, we’re really looking for the DNA inputs that constitute every human being. For people interested in genealogy, there are three main tests available. Y-DNA testing, Mitochondrial testing and Autosomal testing.’

  ‘Whoa, big words, all with more than one syllable.’

  ‘Don’t worry, the tests themselves are fairly straightforward. Y-DNA testing looks at the DNA in the Y-chromosome, a sex chromosome that is responsible for maleness. All biological males have one Y-chromosome in each cell and copies are passed down virtually unchanged from father to son in each generation. As a woman, this wouldn’t be available to your client as she doesn’t have a Y chromosome. But she could test her brother and her father.’

  ‘It definitely wasn’t that sort of test for my client.’

  ‘The second kind of test available is the Mitochondrial test. This looks at female ancestry handed down through the mitochondria in the biological mother’s egg. Mitochondria, or mtDNA, is passed down by the mother, unchanged, to all her children, both male and female. A mitochondrial DNA test can therefore be taken by both men and women. Are you with me?’

  ‘Yes, got it.’

  ‘The third DNA test is an Autosomal test and, from your description, it sounds like this is the one your client took. Most of the big companies like Ancestry.com use it. The 22 pairs of chromosomes that we inherit from both parents are called autosomes. Each pair is inherited from the father and from the mother. The chromosomes they pass on to their children are a mixture of the ones they inherited from their own parents. So you can use it to trace either side of your family. Autosomal DNA testing is much more information-rich than either Y-DNA or Mitochondrial tests, since it can reveal more about your ethnicity and who you are related to.’

  ‘So that’s how they could come up with the percentages for my client? 56% Anglo-Saxon, 22% Irish, 10% Viking and 6% African.’

  ‘I would be less confident in the numbers on the actual percentages.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To take a complicated procedure and condense it into one sentence: testing companies look at a large amount of genetic data in a bunch of different ways and come up with the best possible ethnicity numbers. They then compare this data to a reference population of DNA samples from modern individuals living in various regions. Essentially, they are using modern-day populations to help make predictions about where our ancient ancestors lived.

  ‘Okay, I get it.�
��

  ‘The best way to use ethnicity estimates is to combine them with traditional genealogical research methods. As more people get tested and contribute both their DNA test results and their family trees to online databases, scientists like myself will be able to identify additional patterns and draw more accurate conclusions. The accuracy has improved immensely over the last five years and will continue to improve exponentially.’

  ‘How far back is the Autosomal testing accurate?’

  ‘Each person gets roughly fifty per cent of their DNA from Mum and fifty per cent from Dad. But that means fifty per cent of each parent’s DNA gets left behind. Also, what gets passed down and what gets left behind is completely random. That’s why even siblings can have different ethnicity estimates. With each generation, your odds of inheriting DNA from any one individual in your family tree decrease. So your family tree is actually full of people who might not show up in your DNA test results, but they’re still family. This is especially true the further back you go in the tree. Because of the way it is inherited, autosomal DNA can only help you go back about six or seven generations.’

  ‘Great, so if Rachel was tested using autosomal testing, her African ancestor must have been alive within the last six or seven generations.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Thank you, Tom, you’ve been really helpful.’

  ‘No worries, Jayne, glad to be of use.’ There was a pause at the other end of the phone. ‘If you’re free for dinner one night, I’d love to tell you more.’

  Was that the offer of a date?

  ‘I’d love to, Tom, but I’m a little busy at the moment. Maybe in a few weeks?’

  ‘Great, I’ll call you. Good luck with the research.’

  The phone clicked off. Jayne held the receiver in her hand. She liked Tom, he was a good man, but she didn’t know if she liked him in that way. She put the phone down.

  Don’t overthink it, Jayne Sinclair, it’s just dinner. Remember, you still have a divorce to sort out.

  The thought of Paul sent a shiver down her back. Time for another coffee and then she’d call him. She couldn’t put it off any longer.