Lady Jayne Disappears

by Joanna Davidson Politano

  “Come sometime and see the way he speaks to Dahlia. It would surprise you so, to see that side of him. He comes quite often, now that he knows of her. And I know he wouldn’t tell a soul she’s there.”

  “You must be speaking of a man, the way your cheeks are flushed.” Juliette glided back to us and draped a delicate necklace about my neck. “Is it Alexander? I shall have to tell him that you were discussing him before you even met. I’m sure he’ll find it wonderfully romantic.”

  “It was Mr. Rotherham.” I couldn’t bring myself to lie, even though it was tempting.

  “Still?”

  Chills climbed my exposed arms.

  “A fine gentleman, is all.” Nelle clasped the necklace and stood back, eyes cast down.

  Juliette eyed the girl. “Is he, now?” Her assessing gaze flicked from Nelle to me in the mirror, causing me to heat under the thick gown. “We’ll leave Silas Rotherham to whoever happens to catch his fancy. In the meantime, you will have a grand evening and meet the love of your life.”

  When Juliette and I swept out of the room later, Nelle clasped my arm in a whisper-soft squeeze and breathed, “Tell me everything later.”

  At the top of the grand staircase a half hour later, I sucked in my breath and wobbled on the top step, as if I were about to drop off a cliff. A sudden rush of fear overwhelmed me, tingling in my chest, like a fear of heights. Juliette, who had already made her grand hostess entrance, hovered near the entryway below, gesturing with arms encased in ivory gloves.

  A blond man with smooth features and a devastatingly handsome face turned briefly from his conversation at the bottom of the stairs to glance up at me, then took a second more intentional look that lingered. When my gaze locked on to his, for I could not look away, his face melted into a welcoming smile that invited conversation, had we been near enough. Warmth rolled through my cheeks. Though the stairs separated him from me, an undeniable kinship passed between us.

  Heat continued to pulse through me as I hovered there, looking down at the great distance between me and the main floor. White haze flanked my vision as I pictured myself tumbling down. Hiking my skirt to my ankles, I turned and fled back the way I’d come. Through long halls, I reached the other side and descended the service stairs, squishing my dress into the narrow whitewashed stairway and testing each step before blindly placing weight on each foot. With a hiss of fabric along the wall, I reached the bottom and hurried past a few startled servers and down another tunnel to the great hall and drawing room where the guests mingled.

  At last, ground level. And there had been no tumble down the stairs.

  First I saw Silas lingering in an arched doorway, speaking intensely with an older gentleman. I smiled a little. The words “replacement remedy” slipped into clear understanding as I looked past Silas for the blond man with the dazzling smile. Possibilities spun through my mind, lighting my heart.

  Weaving through guests with a polite smile, I finally found my way to a bay window and hovered there to catch my breath, scanning the crowd for the man I’d seen. I pivoted as someone tapped my shoulder, and there he was, tall and elegant, as if he’d just ridden off the battlefield and shed his armor in the front hall.

  “Would you think me overzealous if I said you lit up the room with your beauty?” He leaned intimately close, but it did not feel out of place.

  “Perhaps a bit butter on bacon. And far from original.” A ladies’ man, he was.

  “I’d only take offense to the second one. I shall work to invent a more original phrase for so extraordinary a girl.”

  “I am Aurelie.” I held out my hand, knuckles up.

  Eyebrows raised, he took it and placed a fleeting kiss on my fingers. “Truly an original, you are. I’ve never had a lady give me the pleasure of her acquaintance all on her own. It makes me wonder what else you are capable of.”

  My already-warm neck heated at the mistake. Juliette should have introduced us. Where was she?

  “I am Lord Sutherland. It is a rare pleasure to meet you, Miss . . .”

  “Harcourt. Aurelie Harcourt.”

  “Would I have seen you at the races? I don’t recall glimpsing this face before.” His look surveyed me from head to hem, as if trying to place me in his memory.

  “I’ve not been to the races, so it’s not likely.”

  “Well, what do you do with your time? I’m quite sure I’ve been most places in Glen Cora that are worth being, and I haven’t seen you yet.”

  Awkward shame blanketed me. Couldn’t we start with easier questions? My past could wait for later. “I read a lot of books.”

  “Books.” His eyes lit. “Do you read the Brownings?”

  “Some things. Although I much prefer her writing to his.”

  “Ah, I knew you would.” He sipped the liquid in his glass. “I should always wish for a romance like theirs. What sort of passion must they experience together as their shared work entwines, operating in tandem. I’ve always romanticized the idea of sharing my work with my wife, being a partner to her in every sense imaginable.”

  The fervent words brought more heat to my skin, down to my lightly throbbing fingertips, although I could not say why. I studied his fair features, contemplating the chance his words held any measure of authenticity.

  “Their true romance lies in the mutual sacrifice, though,” he said. “She left her place in society to join his lower rung, and he cares for her in her handicapped state every day.”

  “I had not heard that part.” The story touched me in a way that both softened my heart and excited me to write.

  “What an adorable pairing.” Juliette swept up behind us, fingertips grazing my shoulder. “How nice you’ve met already. Lord Sutherland, this is my cousin who has been staying with us these past weeks. Aurelie dear, this is Lord Sutherland. Alexander Sutherland.” Her red-lipped smile nearly curled off her face.

  “It is my honor once again, Miss Harcourt.” His bold stare made me turn away, unable to look at him directly.

  The conversation pivoted hard onto a bumpy, awkward path from which I could not seem to recover. All too aware of myself and all my clumsy movements, I soon made excuses and moved away. Time to calm my racing heart.

  When my roving gaze met with an approachable older lady in red and brown who smiled back, I closed the distance between us, hand extended. “What a lovely bird nestled in your hat. He looks as though he belongs.”

  “Why, thank you, I suppose.” The woman blinked. “I beg your pardon, but I seem to have forgotten your name, young lady.”

  “Miss Aurelie Harcourt. I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’m rather new to . . . well, to Lynhurst.” For I was certainly not new to the vicinity.

  The aged woman’s eyebrows rose, creasing her powdered forehead. “Then you’ll forgive my stare. You simply look familiar.” Thin lips turned up in a welcoming smile. “Let’s dispense with formality and simply declare ourselves introduced on our own. My fumble has earned you that much. I am Lady Duncan of Fairfax.”

  “Lady Duncan, it’s my pleasure.” I dipped a curtsey. “And please, your fumble rescued me.” And smiled, wishing I knew the proper words to say next. I should have at least inherited my mother’s grace to go along with this life at Lynhurst.

  Wait.

  Suddenly, the night lit with possibilities and great worth. “You said I look familiar, Lady Duncan. You do not perhaps mean I look like Lady Jayne Windham, do you?” Please say yes. Oh, please. “Several people lately have told me all about her, and I’ve heard we share a few similarities.”

  The old lady blinked wrinkled eyelids, her gloved hands poised near her waist. “Whoever would still be discussing Jayne Windham? She hasn’t been to Somerset in years.”

  I’d done it again, hadn’t I? I had said the wrong thing. I forced a quick recovery with a smile. “I find myself drawn to the stories of Lady Jayne and wondering how many are true. She was a legendary beauty, was she not?”

  The woman lowered her face close
to mine, her easy grin returning. “Not a single young woman liked her. That should tell you how beautiful she was.” The good-natured eyes twinkled. “I liked her immediately because I have the wonderful pleasure of being taken out of the competition. By age, that is.”

  I laughed, delighted by my fine companion. “Surely you were not old then, but I’m glad you enjoyed her.”

  “Of course I did. And so did everyone else, once the initial envy wore away. She made it impossible not to be swept up in her buoyant merriment and clever witticisms. Even the hardest of hearts would sing her praises by the time she left.”

  “A shame she did not return, then. I heard she disappeared quite suddenly.”

  Her eyes flicked back and forth. “That isn’t exactly the case.” Her eyes glittered with a wealth of unshared gossip. “Come, I’ll tell you the whole of it.”

  Arm in arm, we retreated to a wingback chair and ottoman that decorated a lonely corner of the large room.

  “She didn’t disappear outright, mind you. A lady like that could never slink away without causing a great stir in society. She disappeared, little by little. Kept great company with her room, reading books and lounging about. We saw her in the lower south tower windows when we drove up, quite pale and without her hair done, and she refused to take callers. After a while, she stopped attending events altogether, so when she left, hardly anyone noticed.”

  Shattered nerves. That’s what happened to Lady Jayne. Depression. The disease of the heart had attacked so often at the Mallet, sucking the life and love out of a body. It always happened to the vibrant, lively ones because they could hide it until it controlled them.

  “She’s likely the well-cushioned wife of some member of parliament by now, neatly decorating his lounge chairs. Marriage is almost the worst that can happen to a lively girl.”

  Or perhaps she’d suffered another kind of death—a life sentence at the asylum. Was it possible? Too often that was the fate of those suffering from shattered nerves.

  My mind shifted quickly over the notes left in my notebook. Maybe she was not killed at the time of her disappearance, but much later. And in the meantime, she had been hidden away in an asylum. That changed my list of killers tremendously.

  “Has anyone ever searched for her?”

  “Heavens, who has time for that?” Her words sank my heart. “But I will say, an acquaintance of mine in Danbury Square mentioned happening upon her once in London several years ago, but she claimed they never renewed their friendship. She refused to say why.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Oh, maybe ten years. But she sees her about in London to this day, I believe.”

  Alive. My mother was alive.

  Maybe.

  “How ghastly.” Chills thrilled up my back and into my scalp. I simply must remain at Lynhurst now. It seemed my mother was alive and able to be found.

  But why did Nathaniel Droll believe she’d been killed?

  24

  Beautiful women often bloom for a day, like the roses, then wither into obscurity when their season ends in marriage.

  ~Nathaniel Droll, Lady Jayne Disappears

  Dinner found me between Kendrick, my unofficial escort for the evening, and Juliette. Aunt Eudora presided over the head of the table, as usual, with Glenna and Garamond to my right. Chittering laughter and the clinking of silver service brought fresh delight to the dark room. I nibbled dutifully, but wished I could sweep my decadent food into a small basket to eat it later in private, when my stomach had settled. Lord Sutherland, near the other end of the table, shared a conversation with a petite brunette in a pink gown, but obvious indifference on both parts chilled the air around them.

  “Garamond, have you seen Mr. Worthington?” Glenna’s frantic whisper squeaked across the table nearby. “He left the room. How long has he been gone? I considered him a suspect from the beginning.”

  “Oh for pity’s sake, Glenna.” Aunt Eudora’s chin jerked with disgust. “A servant leaving the room hardly makes him guilty. What do you expect, that he sneaks into the hall to write about you?”

  Glenna’s pointy nose lifted. “Anything suspicious is worth noticing, Mother. Unless you wish to allow this man to continue spying on Lynhurst, whoever he is.”

  The old woman rolled her eyes.

  “I’m determined to find him tonight. We must put an end to this.”

  I bent low over my romaine lettuce, poking at the slivered almonds and cranberries. Not yet. Just a little longer. I’d made huge strides in my search tonight, and I wasn’t ready to leave.

  The woman finally silenced her guesses when something farther down the table distracted her. I peeked through my lashes to see her staring with a frown at Alexander Sutherland, who cut barely perceptible glances in my direction, even as the woman beside him continued to speak. Glenna directed a glare toward me that might have frozen a desert.

  As the servants cleared the final dishes, Juliette stood to invite her “esteemed guests” into the large drawing room for tea and entertainment. And when she waved me on, it suddenly struck that I was one of the esteemed guests. I allowed myself to be carried forward in the thick mass of people. By changing only my outward appearance, I belonged to this class of people. A secret part of me thrilled at belonging somewhere, to something, despite Glenna’s disapproval of such a thing.

  In the large drawing room, chairs had been arranged before the piano in rows, and the guests dutifully filled them. Back aching from the confines of the rigid dining room chair at dinner, I stood unobtrusively near the entrance to the left of the chairs and waited.

  “It’s a great honor for a mother to introduce her own daughter to you this night as a very accomplished pianist, among other splendid things.” Glenna stood before us, her silly, beaming face making her extravagant dress with small hanging balls of fur seem even gaudier.

  Juliette played well, pale fingers flying over the keys, crossing easily one over the other. I felt glad for my vantage point to the side of the piano that allowed me to see more of this finger work than the audience could. Music spilled from the great instrument with the same ease and speed as words fell from the girl’s lips. How odd, that a girl like Juliette could produce such a sound of exquisite beauty. If only I could simply perch on a bench and magically coax music from that great box anytime my heart needed the soothing melodies.

  With a flourish, the girl finished, held her arched hands over the keys, and closed her eyes as if to savor the final fading tones. Hearty applause followed.

  “A mother could not be more proud.” Glenna rose, joy nearly bursting the seams of her dress. “Brava, Juliette. Brava!” Her rapid claps made the fur balls bounce against her round frame. “But you all know I’m a generous woman who enjoys sharing the spotlight.” She gestured magnanimously with her gloved arms toward the left end of the room. “I should be honored to hear a presentation from the other hostess of the night, who I’m certain will dazzle us as well. Ladies and gentleman, I’d like you to meet our beautiful cousin, Miss Aurelie Harcourt.”

  Striding directly to me, Glenna caught my wrist with one gloved hand, drawing me toward the piano with the sheer force of her confidence. “You do play, don’t you, Miss Harcourt?”

  “No, I—”

  She wrinkled her nose in a smile of victory. “Good.”

  Surprise made me weak and pliant as Glenna towed me to the piano. What on earth would I do once I reached the thing? Guiding me under the chandelier meant to highlight the pianist on the bench, Glenna encouraged me with feather-waving nods and smiles.

  My stomach bottomed out to my feet. Moisture gathered. Heat poured over my face from the chandelier.

  Glenna tilted her head with a motherly smile. “Come now, look at the girl’s modesty. What a virtuous young woman. But you must indulge us. Everyone is anxious to hear your little recital. You’ll be splendid, I know it.”

  My knees trembled as I sat, vibrating the under-layers of my skirt. What could I do? I’d never put finger
to key in my life. Before Lynhurst, I’d only seen the instrument in the illustrations of Papa’s stories. Digory watched from the corner, worry stretching his face. Where was Nelle? Strangers in colorful dresses sat between me and the door, facing me expectantly, closing off escape. The smooth ivory felt foreign under my fingertips.

  Oh God, rescue me. I’m frozen.

  My rescue approached from behind. A few foot clops, then a dark figure slid onto the creaking bench beside me, arm against mine.

  Silas’s warm breath brushed my ear. “Just breathe. I’ll handle the rest.”

  Fingers splayed over the keys, I lowered my eyes and focused on breathing. And then a deep, beautiful song began at the bottom of the keyboard, drawn out by his tanned, strong hands. My eyes flicked open and watched Silas’s fingers deftly spider over the keys with the ease of a professional. In one smooth movement, his hand climbed the keyboard toward my inept fingers and slid silently, gently under them, carrying the song up the keyboard in the part I was supposed to play. He guided my hand that lay draped helplessly over his, but I felt every thud of his knuckles into my palm, every move of his fingers working over the keys.

  I wanted to cry. The gentle song with rich tones sounded like heaven. The music poured forth from the open piano, and to the audience, my arms moved up and down the keyboard. The words of David of the Bible rang through me, stirring my heart to tears.

  Gracious is the Lord, and righteous; yea, our God is merciful.

  The Lord preserveth the simple: I was brought low, and he helped me.

  Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee.

  Bountifully.

  I had only to ask, and God rescued. Every time.

  I stole a glance at Silas, his calm face intent on the keyboard. He looked briefly at me, and I caught a glimpse of the deluge of strength and kindness stored behind the dam of his face.

  And Nelle would be the one to unleash it one day.

  His gentle smile engulfed me, causing my hand resting on his to tremble. The desire to kiss him, to yank out the foundation of that dam, nearly overtook me.