Lady Jayne Disappears

by Joanna Davidson Politano

  “I shan’t tell a soul.”

  Here he sat, the man Papa’s clues pointed toward, but the weak form seemed harmless as a twig. Taking the cloth from me, he swiped his moist upper lip and blotted the rest of his face.

  “Shall I ring for your man to fetch you?”

  He shook his head, oily hair falling around his temples. He smoothed it back into place with both hands and centered his gaze on me. “I’ve only recently found out that you were the child. You were the one born to my Jayne and her . . . her lover. What have they told you? Woolf would have made up a grand story, of course.”

  “Actually, he told me nothing. I knew very little of my mother before coming here.”

  “That awful serial novel tells the whole story.” His face shifted away, hands framing his haggard face. “I’d thought it was Woolf writing it, until I heard he’d died, and then I began to wonder . . .” He laughed awkwardly. “Perhaps it was his ghost. No one else knows that much about what happened. Not even Glenna.”

  “You’ve managed to keep this from her all these years?”

  A wry grin flicked over his face. “And I’m sharp as custard, eh?” He dropped his gaze. “She knew of Jayne, but nothing of her unfaithfulness or disappearance. I was such a fool to think everything with Jayne would all disappear. Quite honestly, I never expected Glenna’s interest in me to last all those years ago, so I carried on as if Jayne had died, and that was that.”

  “You didn’t divorce your first wife?”

  He shook his head. “They told me she died after the birth. That she had the baby and ran away and could not survive the elements. I searched for her, but I almost couldn’t bear to see her again. Her betrayal had sliced clean through me, and Glenna’s gentle love had only begun to heal the wound. We finally had Jayne declared dead a year later—myself and my employer, Lady Pochard’s late husband. I signed the certificate myself, but I knew it was possible she remained alive.” His shoulders shook again. “I knew it deep down.”

  “Then why did you sign it?”

  Guilt jetted across his face, tinging his skin with crimson hues. “I wished her dead. With Glenna suddenly in my life and my heart, I wanted nothing more than to bury her and never look upon her wretched face again.” He gulped, staring at his clenched hands.

  “If Glenna loved you, why didn’t you simply tell her the whole truth?”

  “I’d have lost her for sure. I couldn’t push my luck—below her in class as I was, and with a boy of my own to raise besides.”

  “A boy?” My mind worked to piece it all together.

  “Yes, of course, Kendrick. Just a lad when his mother disappeared.”

  I simply stared up at him, speechless. He was the child Lady Jayne had birthed with the simple husband that had sucked the life from her. That made Kendrick my half brother.

  “That was another reason I’d convinced myself she’d died. What woman would abandon her child?”

  Pain ricocheted through me and I dropped my gaze.

  He lifted tired eyes lined with saggy skin and searched my face, his thumbs wrestling one another on his lap. “I’d ask you again what you found, but now I cannot. I no longer wish to know what has happened to Jayne.” He stilled his hands and stared at them as if they were foreign objects. “It is best I do not find out, don’t you agree?”

  I looked involuntarily at the curtains, now blowing heartily in the wind. And as a heavy breeze lifted and twirled them, I saw the empty wall and the open window beyond. Once again she had disappeared. After a deep, cleansing sigh, I responded. “I do agree. Put it behind you and simply enjoy your family. You deserve them.”

  His face sank into relief. “Nothing would make me happier. I have only to keep Glenna from reading the end of Lady Jayne or stop Mr. Droll from declaring my secrets. If only I had the slightest idea who he was.”

  I pinched my lips and averted my eyes, my secret simmering at the surface.

  When I later closed the door on the world-weary man and his burdens, Papa’s notes returned to spark my memory. I stared at the chair he’d occupied. No matter what Papa had supposed in his guilt, this man was not his killer.

  By Thursday, publication day for the final installment of Lady Jayne Disappears, my worries had turned to Silas. The household seemed to have forgotten about the finale. Everyone except its author.

  I practically assaulted Digory in the hall late that afternoon. “Might I glance through the latest Nathaniel Droll?”

  Some grand announcement Lady Gaffney was to make at dinner had thoroughly upset and distracted everyone in the house. Even poor Digory. He glanced into the great hall, still empty in the sunny afternoon light, and pulled the rolled-up pamphlet from his coat pocket. “I suppose, if you read quickly. The other servants are fighting over who shall be the first among them to read it.”

  “Oh, I’ll read it ever so quickly.” I snatched it before he could change his mind. “I only wish to glance at a single page.”

  In the quiet of the great hall, I pulled open the familiar green paper-bound volume that determined the fate of my only romance. Flipping to the serial fiction section, my heart pounded through my fingertips, and heat flushed my face as my gaze absorbed the words I could not comprehend quickly enough.

  The Tiger of Tierzan

  by Raymond James Turner

  (Editor’s note: We break from our normal story to bring you this first issue of an exciting new series. We hope this will only heighten your anticipation for the grand finale of Nathaniel Droll’s Lady Jayne Disappears, which will appear in the next publication.)

  My breath hitched as my heart spasmed and then recovered. What were they doing? And which ending would they print? One thought rolled over my mind—I had to wait another week to know anything.

  But then the grand clock in the hall bonged out the hour of dinnertime, and the family gathered in the great hall. As they wound their way into the space, the front doors opened and footsteps echoed across the open tile. I held my breath as the newcomer rounded the corner and came near. The footfall was too heavy to be Juliette’s, and Jasper would not dare show his face here—would he?

  Only one other man was missing from our company. I watched eagerly for his face. I had need of Silas now more than ever and a bevy of things begging to be said.

  “My apologies on being tardy.” Kendrick strode into our midst. “I came right away when I received your message.”

  Kendrick. My half brother.

  “We are only about to be seated.” Glenna took his arm and propelled him toward the double doors.

  “Really, Mother? You’re going to hold me in suspense about your grand announcement?”

  “I most certainly am.”

  The drawing room surged with energy as we strode in. Hushed voices murmured, even among the staff, speculating about the promised announcement. An undercurrent of anticipation tingled in the air as the servants gathered to enter the dining room with us.

  “And now, we go in to dinner.” With a smile and a dramatic flourish, Glenna threw open the dining room doors. There on the other side stood Juliette, adorned in a gold dinner gown and yellow flowers in her upswept hair, Lord Sutherland the accessory at her side. With a cry of relief, I dropped Clem’s arm and ran to her, embracing her dear figure. “I’m so glad.”

  “You were right about that man after all,” she whispered. “But I’ll never admit such things outside of this room.” She winked. “Nathaniel Droll is quite an informant. He delivered all I needed to know about Jasper just in time.”

  And in that moment, my writerly joy was nearly complete.

  The family surged around her then, forcing us apart as they fought over her with joyous chatter. It felt like a festive holiday when we at last took our seats, everyone talking eagerly.

  When the gelatin was served in little crystal bowls on stems, Glenna rose and tapped her spoon against her dessert cup. “That was only the first grand announcement of the night, and now you shall have the other. And you can deci
de for yourselves if it has lived up to your great anticipation.”

  Garamond frowned, Aunt Eudora rolled her eyes, and Garamond’s two sons watched with anticipation. Servants clambered over each other for space at the fringes of the room.

  “In addition to the return of our dear girl”—she cinched her daughter close with one arm—“we’ve discovered another wonderful secret.” The apples of her plump cheeks glowed as if they’d burst.

  Whispers moved through the gathered crowd of servants and family. I dared not breathe.

  “Together we’ve discovered the identity of Nathaniel Droll, who comes in a form we’d never expect. Our interloper is none other than . . .”

  Nelle stumbled through the service entrance, propelled by another servant. The sight released commotion in the room.

  “. . . Nelle Wicke.”

  “Mother, that’s impossible!” Clem shot out of his seat, his face red behind his freckles.

  Garamond paled, his eyebrows moving up and down. Kendrick scowled. Murmurs rippled through the quiet room as Nelle huddled near the door, her face a mask of fear.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Aunt Eudora fell back in her chair, placing her jeweled fingers over her eyes.

  Glenna straightened and leaned toward the head chair. “Mother, do you not find it convenient that the little seamstress’s disappearance from the estate so perfectly coincided with Nathaniel Droll installments mysteriously ceasing on the verge of the final one?”

  “Are you positive?” Kendrick’s stony face across the table alarmed me. “All this time, Nelle Wicke was the one writing that drivel?”

  “Absolutely certain.” Glenna straightened as she sank into her chair and turned to her daughter. “Tell them what happened.”

  “Miss Wicke was measuring my gown for adjustments last week and we began talking about Nathaniel Droll. She mentioned a little detail I hadn’t remembered seeing in the story, but I thought nothing of it. Until”—the girl’s eyes glowed—“that very same detail appeared in the next installment. Yet somehow Miss Wicke knew of it before it was published.”

  My head swam. Nelle shrank back as the servants murmured around us.

  “I happened upon the little thing in the chemist’s shop while I waited, and I knew I’d found the true spy as soon as I’d read it.”

  “No!” Nelle’s voice pinched in panic. “I never—”

  “And this afternoon I found her hiding in the old garden shed.”

  Glenna broke into the story. “Imagine that, dismissed from her position and hiding out in the shed. Watching the house and gathering material for her next installment, no doubt.”

  “Have you any idea what you’ve done to this family?” Kendrick rose, spiking his napkin on the table. “We provide your house and food, and you make fools of us all?”

  “Kendrick, enough.” Aunt Eudora thumped the table, rattling the silverware. “This is ridiculous. I highly doubt Miss Wicke is Nathaniel Droll. She’s only lived on the estate these five or six years.”

  “I should have known all along it was her.” Kendrick seethed at the trembling figure. “No other servant in this entire house has tried so hard to rise above her station, chumming about with one of the family, seducing a valued guest.”

  “Kendrick, stop this immediately.” Aunt Eudora stood, leaning heavily on the white-clothed table. “You are making a fool of yourself.”

  “I will not! How many offenses must this girl commit before you turn her away from Lynhurst? Will you allow your own servants to publicly humiliate your family and walk away unscathed? Call the constable. If you will not deal with the matter, I will. Slandering one’s employer is a punishable offense, and she’ll find herself in Shepton Mallet before the day’s out.”

  Tears pooled in Nelle’s wide eyes. With quick glances toward the door, she crept toward it.

  “This isn’t why I brought her here.” Juliette glared at her brother. “It was meant as a novelty to uncover Nathaniel Droll, not vengeance.”

  “Look, she tries to escape. Do you still call her innocent?” Kendrick strode around the table to guard the exit. “You will not avoid punishment, Miss Wicke, unless you can prove to us that you did not write those things.”

  My stomach churned and Nelle cowered further.

  “Well, speak!” He advanced menacingly.

  “Stop!” I shot up, knocking my plate into my glass and rattling the silverware. “Leave her alone. She is not Nathaniel Droll.” I filled my lungs with air and stared directly at the angry man. “I am.”

  Chaos erupted at this, servants and family alike shouting their opinions.

  “Listen to me.” But my soft voice was no match for the noise. Balling my fists in helpless frustration, I sprinted from the room and hiked up the stairs to my bedchamber where I fell upon my shelves of notebooks. Grabbing handfuls of them filled with notes, discarded issues, and the like, I hurried back down the stairs and into the dining room. The din had only heightened, with servants outnumbering the family. Nelle shuddered in the corner.

  “I have proof.” But the noise continued. “Listen to me!” When the voices did not cease, frustration welled up, tightening in my arms, until I ground my teeth and slammed the stack of notebooks with a resounding thud on the wood floor. The room hushed to whispers as the attention finally turned to me.

  “If you insist on knowing the truth, on whom you must eject from Lynhurst, it is I. I am Nathaniel Droll. I wrote about the hidden candy, the loose corset, Juliette’s secret trysts, all the spectacles of this household.” I looked at them, frozen like a still-life painting—Aunt Eudora sitting placidly with her hands folded on the table, Clem watching with utter shock, Glenna with an unladylike gaping mouth. Kendrick pivoted his burning glare to me, summing me up with disdain as if he wished to scorch me with his eyes. My heart pounded and I looked away.

  “You shrewd little minx.” Juliette watched me with narrowed eyes. “If I didn’t really like you, I’d hate you. And to think of all I’ve confided in you.”

  And Garamond. The poor little man quaked in his chair as if surrounded by a firing squadron. He stared at me, the whites of his eyes showing. Our gazes met and held, his begging and questioning at the same time. I returned it with a slight nod that promised I’d keep his secret. He visibly relaxed against his chair.

  “You worthless little rat.” Glenna’s voice cut the stunned afterglow of my announcement. “Perhaps now you’ll believe me about her, Mother.”

  Digory ushered Nelle silently through the service door as the attention focused on me.

  “I think it was a rather ingenious repayment, considering the way you treated the girl.” Aunt Eudora’s voice rose across the table. “Rather than say to your face what a degrading fool you are, she simply took her revenge on a fictional representation.”

  “Whatever does that mean?”

  “I mean, instead of announcing in front of everyone all the spiteful things you deserved to hear, she merely wrote you into her book. And then punished your character.” Aunt Eudora turned in her throne-like chair to me. “I applaud your panache, dear child. You exacted revenge with elegance and wit that outshines any of us here. Now you remind me of your father.”

  And then everyone spoke at once, each trying to be heard over the others.

  In the din of the crowded room, I also slipped out the side door and through the now-empty service hall. Making my way into the eerily silent great hall, I tiptoed down the narrow passage jutting off to the south. Perhaps I could still catch Nelle.

  A charged silence rolled through the long hall where I walked alone. It was not a calming quiet, but a terrible threat just before a storm. Boots clopped in the dark somewhere behind me and I slowed my steps, just in case. In case, what? Did I really believe Silas would return for me? What a moment for him to enter.

  A door closed somewhere, a deadbolt clacking into place with an echo. Panic sizzled. I gulped as my fingers began to tremble. And suddenly it occurred to me that my father’s murde
rer remained at Lynhurst. I moved quickly through the dark hall as a small light bobbed toward me from behind. I sped up. Finally the light dropped, as if extinguished, and the footsteps neared quickly.

  I turned and ran blindly ahead, but a solid arm grabbed me and yanked me into a room thick with moldy odors and dust. Strong hands shoved me to the ground. Garamond?

  But it was Kendrick, tall and hunched with anger, hovering over me with a foreboding menace to his expression. “How did you know those things?”

  “What things?” I backed into the shadows, nearly toppling a dead potted ficus.

  “What you said about my mother. Those disgusting lies you wrote.” He advanced faster than I backed up, and my heart pounded.

  “She was my mother too.”

  He stood before me, dangerously quiet except for his labored breathing, anger twisting his features. “I should have known it was you all this time. Only you would know about her. You, who stole her from her family.”

  “Please, Kendrick.”

  I rose and he shoved me back. “Do you have any idea—any clue—what you’ve done?” Another shove and I stumbled back onto a plush red rug, banging my elbow against the floor beyond it. “The way you wrote it. What you said about them. What you . . .” He trembled above me, loose hair shaking over his veined forehead.

  “I had no idea of the real story.”

  He lunged, jerking me up and pinning me to the wall, his hands bruising my upper arms where he clasped them. “How dare you make it look beautiful.” His face scowled inches from mine, sweat dripping from the point of his nose. “That disgusting, vile story between a gambler and a married woman. Between a dirty charmer and my mother!”

  Tears poured down my temples as I leaned away.

  “Do you have any idea what it was like?” His voice grew soft, his trembling fingers vibrating against the ache they’d caused in my arms. “I was eight years old when my mother plucked me off her side to spend all her time with that man who was not my father. Eight when she disappeared from my life forever, never looking back, because she chose to be your mother instead of mine. Does that sound like a beautiful romance to you? Does it?” He shook me twice.