“Disappearances? I can only hope they have disappeared and he did not do something to them.” Winnifred twisted her hands in her lap as memories haunted her. “When I first checked the Conners’ room, Mrs. Conner’s trunks were abandoned along with Pearl’s favorite doll, and I found stains on the floor that looked like dried blood.”
Father jotted down her comment before closing the notebook, and rose. “We will check on that as well. I had best be on my way to prepare the detectives. Tomorrow, we are going to question the staff and all the boarders to get to the bottom of this.” He looked at Jude. “You may keep Winnie company for one hour, but then my daughter needs to rest.” His eyes sparked with a hint of mischief. “For I believe she will have a caller coming tomorrow morning.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“We were together. I forget the rest.”
~Walt Whitman
October 1893
Strolling toward the grip car line to see the fair one last time before it closed, Winnifred couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she listened to Jude recount his day, giving her all the delicious details that he knew she enjoyed. Having Jude court her was so unlike having him as her protector. He was less guarded in his attentiveness to her, affectionate and tender. His heart was hers, and his adoration proclaimed it to the world.
“What on earth?” He paused in his story, breaking her reverie as he paused across the street from her beloved Banning’s Bookshop. The doorway was positively bursting with women.
Approaching the storefront, Winnifred found it more crowded inside than she’d ever seen in her entire life. “There must be some sort of author event?” she guessed, weaving through the crowd to see for herself.
Women were dressed in their finest visiting gowns, their hair perfectly curled, coiled, and pinned. Their fans fluttered in the heat of so many bodies, and all carried a copy of Percival’s latest work that had released only two weeks ago, causing one of the greatest stirs among her circle. Being so absorbed with Jude, she had missed her chance to place her name on the request list for the first shipment and had not been able to procure a copy for herself. Whenever someone began discussing it over tea, she fairly ran away with her fingers in her ears, not wishing to hear even the tiniest point of the plot for fear it would spoil the novel before the next shipment arrived at Banning’s.
The flustered owner waved to her, but did not come to greet her as was his usual custom. She looked to where the crowd of women were pressing and saw that a small platform with a desk had been set up at the front of the store. She gasped at the sight of Percival sitting behind the desk, pen in hand, signing copies left and right with a poster next to him that read, “Meet the famous Percival Valentine, author of His Secret Wife and his latest success, The Swan in the Murder Castle.”
Her mouth dropped, and she grabbed Jude’s forearm. “Percy is exposing that he is the author.”
Jude’s own jaw dropped. “And he titled his book after you?”
Her cheeks reddened, but she couldn’t deny it. “Seems so.”
Upon seeing them, Percy rose from his desk, lifting his arms to quiet the buzz in the store. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, though upon Winnifred’s glance about, she saw that the only gentlemen present were Jude, the owner, and himself, “I would like to introduce you to the real Cordelia Swan from my latest work, The Swan in the Murder Castle!”
The women gasped and turned, shock in their gazes, and a few with jealousy lining their thin smiles.
“You are Cordelia?” The woman next to Winnifred gaped, pressing her copy that was already showing signs of wear to her ample chest. “How romantic!”
The ladies surrounding Winnifred looked her up and down as if finding her lacking while others murmured with joy upon meeting the real heroine. “Oh, how wonderful to have two men vying for your hand,” the rotund lady next to her cried, her fan all aflutter.
“And beside her is the real detective who stole the heart of Cordelia Swan, Detective Jude Thorpe!” At this announcement, Winnifred was completely eclipsed. Jude attempted to step away, but the women pressed on him from all sides, begging for an autograph from the hero they declared the handsomest man they had ever beheld.
Seeing Jude’s dismay, Winnifred couldn’t help but laugh. She couldn’t argue with their frantic assessment. Women practically swooned as they pressed their pencils into his hand. “Can you sign it, ‘To Jane, my damsel.’ ”
“No.” He gave Winnifred a look, begging for help. “I don’t even know what I would be signing, and who is Jane?”
The pretty girl laughed. “I’m Jane, of course, and this is the book about you and Cordelia Swan and the Murder Castle.”
Winnifred lifted her brow at the name. Murder Castle … sadly accurate.
Jude flipped the cover open, his brows rising as he tilted the page for Winnifred to read the dedication.
She read aloud, “ ‘To the real Cordelia Swan, the one who got away.’ ” She looked up at Jude, hoping that the uncomfortable situation did not just get worse. From the way it sounded, Percival had grown fonder of her since their parting ways. Before she could apologize, another avid reader grasped Jude’s sleeve, begging for his signature.
“Darling Winnie!” A familiar pair of arms embraced her.
“Danielle?” Winnifred squealed with excitement. “I thought you still had a week of your honeymoon left.”
“Business brought us home last night. I was going to stop by your house this morning with a signed copy for you as a present, but then I received all of your letters to discover that you know the author!” She grabbed her by the arm and giggled. “I’m sure you melted when you discovered it was Percy. I know I did! You must come to my new home to tell me all about your time with him and about you-know-who.” She grinned and nodded toward Jude, who waved Winnifred over to him, desperation in his eyes as the women clamored for his autograph.
“I will, and I want to hear all about your own adventures,” she replied, giving her best friend a kiss on the cheek. “I’d better go help him, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.” Danielle laughed and squeezed her arm. “Now go. I don’t want to lose my place in line.”
Winnifred began to weave through the mass that had formed between her and Jude. She felt someone grab her by the elbow and turned to find Percy. He tilted his head, motioning for her to follow him a few feet away to the corner of the store. The ladies near them quieted in what Winnifred was certain was an attempt to overhear the conversation between a former beau and his lost lady.
“Miss Wylde, I’m so sorry about all this. I hadn’t meant to expose you today, but it felt as if it was a divine moment. I had to acknowledge the woman who inspired me to claim my work. You made me proud of what I wrote. While it may not be as grand as being a lawyer to some, I am finally proud of it.” He pressed a book into her hand. “I was going to send this to you with a note telling you about publicly claiming my pseudonym.” His gaze met hers, and he gave her a small, knowing smile. “I heard from my mother that you and Jude are courting, and I wish you every happiness.”
“And I you, Mr. Valentine.” She lifted the book. “Thank you. This is only the beginning of your fame. I can feel it.”
He grinned. “I hope so, but my greatest hope is that we can still be friends? And that I might be able to run a plot point by you if I have a question or need some advice?”
She smiled at him and stroked the book’s rich red cover. “It would be an honor.” She turned, looking for Jude, who was waving her over again. “Now, you’d best get back to your adoring followers so I can rescue my hero.”
He gave her elbow a squeeze and returned to the platform as Winnifred grasped Jude’s arm and drew him away from the crowd. “Excuse me, ladies, I’m afraid this hero is already taken.”
Escaping outside, Jude removed his hat, wiping at his forehead with his sleeve. “I have never felt so overwhelmed, not even when I was in the middle of an angry crowd in New York.” He
looked at her, brows lifted, “You book enthusiasts are insane!”
She laughed and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the grip car line. “Come on, let’s get you to the fair.”
After dining at the Louisiana building’s café for the last time, they promenaded in the court of honor, admiring the electric lights twinkling in the evening sky. “I’m going to miss this.” She paused, resting her head against his shoulder. “I can’t believe that in two weeks, everything will be gone.”
“Well, not everything.” Jude grasped her hand, turning her to him.
Winnifred gazed up at him, the stars beginning to shine above, casting a glow on his tousled brown hair. “I’ll never forget our first day here together.”
“Shall we take one final Ferris wheel ride and say goodbye to the fair in style?” Jude threaded her hand through his strong arm.
Smiling, she allowed him to pull her toward the Midway and onto the Ferris wheel. Surprisingly, no one else boarded the last car with them. They stood by the panoramic window as they rose in the night sky, and she observed the fair with Jude’s hand wrapped around hers in silent contentment. At the very top, she felt him move away and turned to find him kneeling. Her heart thudded as he reached into his pocket and retrieved a gold ring with a small amethyst nestled between two gold roses.
“Winnifred Rose Wylde, this summer has been the best of my life. And for once, the summer does not have to come to an end. I love you with every breath of my body. Will you be my Wylde summer rose forever?”
“I was yours the moment I met you, and I will love you for always.” Winnifred grasped his face between her hands and delicately, tentatively drew her lips to his in a sweet, gentle kiss that promised their happily ever after was only just beginning.
Acknowledgments
To the reader: Thank you for getting to know Winnifred Wylde and Jude Thorpe. I hope you loved them as much as I do!
To my husband, Dakota: You are and always will be my inspiration for all heroes. Thank you for your constant encouragement and support in my writing. I could not write without you, especially now that we have our sweet baby boy. I love you!
To my little treasure, Liam, my baby: Thank you for your snuggles of support and for showing me a new side of the Lord’s unconditional love for His children.
To my family, Dad, Mama, Charlie, Molly, Sam, Eli, Aunt Maureen, and Amelie: Thank you for babysitting all those hours to help me meet my deadline. And for all of your encouragement! Isn’t there a saying about it takes a village to help write a book?
To my wonderful betas, Theresa and McKenna: Thank you for your guidance, reassurance, and cheering.
To my wonderful agent Tamela Hancock Murray: Thank you so much for your encouragement over the years and for always believing in me and my writing. Your support and dedication made this novel possible!
To Becky and Ellen and the Barbour Publishing team: Thank you for your countless hours of hard work to bring Winnifred and Jude’s story to life! Y’all are wonderful!
And to the Lord for His steadfastness and constant, overwhelming love.
Author’s Note
While Winnifred Wylde is a fictional character, Doctor H. H. Holmes was very real and became infamously known as America’s first serial killer.
True to the story, Holmes used many aliases. Although his birth name was Herman W. Mudgett, he most often went by Henry Howard Holmes, or simply H. H. Holmes. He actually did use the name H. A. Williams to obtain a real estate loan for his so-called sister, Minnie Williams, who was believed to be his lover at the time. Along with loan frauds, Holmes also dealt heavily in life insurance fraud.
Not mentioned in the book was Holmes’s first and only legal marriage to Clara A. Lovering. The couple never divorced, but as you can guess from Holmes’s character, he was not faithful to his first wife when he “married” Myrta and had a daughter, Lucy. This second family lived, unbeknownst to Myrta, in a house under Minnie Williams’s name.
It is believed that Holmes’s secretaries, Miss Cigrand and Miss Williams, and his former boarder and friend’s wife, a Mrs. Conner, all at one point fancied themselves in love with Holmes and later became his victims, along with Mrs. Conner’s young daughter, Pearl. Miss Williams’s younger sister was last seen with Holmes, and it was her mysterious disappearance that inspired the kidnapping of “the woman in green” in my story.
Upon his arrest, newspapers across the country dubbed Holmes’s building the “Murder Castle” and depicted it with varying designs. For the most part I relied on sketches from an article in the Chicago Tribune for my description of the maze of rooms that Holmes designed for killing without detection. To keep his nefarious activities secret, Holmes would continually hire and fire contractors so that no one could fully grasp what he was up to. The Murder Castle really did have a trap door, windowless rooms, and spaces between floors. I added the second trap door and changed a location of a room or two for the purposes of the story.
The article written in the Chicago Tribune about Holmes’s strange castle was quickly forgotten in the excitement of the world’s fair since Holmes had not been caught committing any crime worth an arrest. The Murder Castle was merely considered another curiosity in the news.
The fire scene is also based on fact. Holmes owed so many contractors, investors, furniture suppliers, and laborers from the construction of his building that collecting the insurance payout is believed to have been the reason he coated the third floor in tar and set it ablaze. The burning of the trunk of evidence was a fictional addition.
After the fire, Holmes fled Chicago and “married” Georgiana Yoke, the beautiful, young teacher with whom he had been corresponding. Thus he became a bigamist twice over, as he was still married to both Clara and Myrta.
Holmes was eventually caught, tried, and executed for his crimes, but it was a long, gruesome path to the gallows, along which many innocents tragically died at his hand.
Grace Hitchcock is the author of three novellas in The Second Chance Brides, The Southern Belle Brides, and the Thimbles and Threads collections with Barbour Publishing. The White City is her debut novel. She holds a Masters in Creative Writing and a Bachelor of Arts in English with a minor in History. Grace lives in southern Louisiana with her husband, Dakota, and son. Visit her online at GraceHitchcock.com.
True Colors. True Crime.
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Paperback / 978-1-64352-045-2 / $12.99
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