Murder in the Reading Room

by Ellery Adams

  Now, as she gazed at his coffin, she felt incredibly relieved that she’d told him that he had a wife and two sons. William had died knowing that he was part of a family. And unlike the first time she’d arranged a funeral for him, Jane could say good-bye without wondering what had become of his body. He was here. This time, she could lay him to rest knowing that she had a place to go should she want to talk to him.

  The minister opened his Bible and began to read, and Jane let the words of Scripture flow over her. In between readings, she closed her eyes and raised up a silent prayer for William. Then, she prayed for her sons.

  When it was her turn to speak, she told William that she’d decided to express her feelings through the poetry of T. S. Eliot, which was far more eloquent than anything she could come up with.

  What might have been and what has been

  Point to one end, which is always present.

  Footfalls echo in the memory

  Down the passage which we did not take

  Toward the door we never opened

  Into the rose-garden.

  The small mourning party, which included Eloise, the Fins, Uncle Aloysius and Aunt Octavia, took turns placing a rose on William’s coffin. They’d all selected roses of different hues, and Jane smiled over how well they complemented the colors on the piece of construction paper she added.

  The drawing, done by the twins when they were six, had been done in crayon. The scene was of their house and included the front garden. Oversized bees and butterflies perched on wobbly blooms, and three stick figures stood off to one side. The stick figure with the long pinkish-yellow hair and the triangular skirt was Jane. The two smaller figures were Fitz and Hem.

  “You have a family. That means you’ll never be forgotten,” Jane whispered to William. “Until we meet again . . .”

  After a brief nod to the minister, she turned away. Eloise slipped an arm through Jane’s and the two friends slowly walked toward the cars parked along the curb outside the front gates.

  “Will you ever tell the boys that he’s here?” Eloise asked.

  Since Jane had already given this some thought, the answer came easily. “When they’re older, I’ll tell them everything. I’ve learned how secrecy can tear people apart, so I’m going to try to be as open with my sons as I can, even if I think the truth might hurt them. They can handle a little hurt.”

  “Yeah, they can,” said Eloise. “Because they take after their mom. I know her pretty well, and she’s one tough cookie.”

  Jane gave her a grateful smile. “What about you? Are you adjusting to Edwin’s double life?”

  Eloise shrugged. “I’m not a fan of what he does, but I do feel like the wall that’s been between us for years is coming down, brick by brick. Now, when we talk, he has much more to say. I think it’s been a huge relief for him to be able to share things with me.”

  She paused at a gravestone where someone had placed a trio of American flags in an urn in lieu of flowers. Jane saw that the grave belonged to a World War Two veteran.

  “Are you thinking about Landon?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said Eloise. “I hope he’ll get the help he needs. I don’t know how you found a specialized center for people suffering from PTSD, but it’s the best thing you could have done for him. Though we’re all haunted by something from our past, some of us carry more ghosts around than others. Landon needs help letting go of his ghosts.”

  Jane glanced around the peaceful cemetery. The minister had left, as had Uncle Aloysius, Aunt Octavia, and the Fins. That afternoon, Archie and Lachlan would be traveling to New York. After accompanying Lachlan to the in-house treatment center, Archie would return to work. Lachlan would likely spend several weeks working on his issues and would take a train back to Virginia when he and his doctors felt he was ready.

  “They say time heals all wounds,” one of these doctors had told Jane over the phone. “But you have to find them first. With some of our military men and women, that’s the hardest part. They have to fight against their training, against seeming weak, and against a powerful feeling that they’re betraying their fallen brothers and sisters in arms by talking about them. That’s why group therapy is so important here. When Mr. Lachlan hears other vets share their story—when he realizes that he’s among friends—he’ll eventually come around. Once he puts his pain into words, we can help him face it.”

  Eloise released her hold on Jane’s waist and looked at her. The concern was plain on her lovely face. “Lachlan will be okay. But what about you? These last few months have been so hard on you, Jane.”

  Jane recalled a line a written by P. D. James. Of all the quotes she’d read about healing, it was this one that struck her as being the most accurate. “A wise mystery novelist once wrote that while time didn’t heal, it anesthetized. I believe that. I believe that, in time, the pain I’ve felt over these last few months will lose its intensity. I have so much to look forward to, and that will help me recover too.”

  “Tell me about those things—the ones you’re looking forward to,” Eloise said as the two friends continued walking.

  “The boys and I always have a ball with Halloween. And I have lots of ideas about winter spa packages to celebrate the opening of the Walt Whitman Spa. Also, I want to have a Willie Wonka – type candy festival around Valentine’s Day so that families can enjoy the holiday together. Did you know that Storyton Hall will be hosting a huge group of children’s book authors and illustrators that weekend? I’m thinking that the Storyton players can put on a performance and Mrs. Hubbard can run a chocolate dessert competition.”

  Jane grinned when she saw her own excitement mirrored in Eloise’s eyes.

  “There’s more,” she went on. “Weeks ago, I posted the news about our Golden Bookmark contest on our website. You wouldn’t believe the number of responses we got, but after picking a winner at random, I was able to invite a family of four to stay with us for a long weekend this winter. We’ll have to get together with the Cover Girls and make plans for this family. I want them to have the time of their lives.”

  Settling into a Rolls-Royce Phantom equipped with a new set of brakes, the two women were so focused on the future that they left the cemetery behind without noticing.

  * * *

  At the next Cover Girls meeting, Jane took her friends on a tour of the Walt Whitman Spa, such that it was at this point in its construction.

  Sweeping her arm over the foundation, Jane said, “This area will be the rooms where clients will receive facials, massages, or body treatments like a wrap or scrub.”

  “Can you scrub away cellulite?” joked Betty. “Or a decade or two of wrinkles?”

  “You’ll have to ask Tammy,” said Jane, referring to the spa manager. “No matter what, you’re bound to leave the spa feeling rejuvenated. We’re offering a line of organic skincare for purchase, and our guests can relax between services in lounges near a large wall fountain. They can read in a comfy robe while sipping citrus-infused water. Tammy suggested we have a smoothie bar, but I don’t want people to be subjected to the whine of a commercial blender. I want them to feel absolute peace.”

  Mabel sighed. “Hurry up and get this thing built! This girl needs some pampering!”

  “Me too,” said Violet. “I can’t wait to try that lavender-mint anti-inflammatory foot massage. Lavender’s my favorite scent. And not just because it’s purple. After being on my feet all day at the salon, the thought of having my tootsies bathed in lavender-scented water is pure bliss.”

  Eloise waved her hand in dismissal. “You can have your lavender. The smell reminds me of my grandmother’s closet. I’m going for that hydrating facial. Tammy told me that she’ll be using strawberries, marshmallow, chamomile, and rue to draw out imperfections and refresh the skin until it glows. I’ll walk out of that treatment room looking good enough to eat!”

  “Landon Lachlan won’t be able to resist you,” teased Jane. “I saw you practicing on the archery range. He’ll be re
ally impressed to hear that you’re working hard while he’s away.”

  “I admit it. I’m trying to be a teacher’s pet,” Eloise said, blushing prettily. “I think Landon is already making strides in being more open and talkative. We actually spent an hour on the phone last night. Before this, the longest we’ve talked on the phone has been fifteen minutes.”

  Jane was delighted to hear about Lachlan’s progress. She turned to Mrs. Pratt next. “What about you? How was your coffee date with Roger?”

  “A lady never tells,” was Mrs. Pratt’s coy reply.

  “But a little bird does,” said Phoebe. “And this bird would say that Roger came to Storyton to celebrate a historical event and left dreaming about far less academic pursuits.”

  She wriggled her brows suggestively, and all the Cover Girls laughed.

  “I wish Anna could be here. She would have loved to fantasize about a future spa day,” said Violet. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see if she’ll ever have time to rejoin our happy group.”

  “Speaking of happy, where are we having our book discussion?” Betty asked.

  Jane smiled. “Considering our latest read was set in a bookshop, I thought we should be surrounded by books.”

  After leading her friends to the Daphne du Maurier Morning Room, Jane told them to get comfy. She then poured glasses of Biltmore Moscato and distributed them. In honor of the British setting of their novel, Jane had baked a jam roly-poly as well as a sticky toffee pudding for dessert.

  “This book is exactly what I needed after reading two wartime novels in a row,” said Mabel, holding up her copy of Love in a Bookshop.

  Eloise licked a drop of pudding from her finger. “I’ve always said that the right book will find you at the right time. I’m sure that none of you are surprised to hear that I felt like this novel was written just for me. A single woman running a bookshop in a small village. A woman who tries to be successful, find a decent man to date, and serve her community. Remind you of anyone?”

  “It sure does.” Mrs. Pratt smiled at Eloise. “Remember the line about the bookshop being the kind of place that stole time? That’s how I feel about Run for Cover. I lose hours every time I go inside, but they’re never wasted hours. Those hours are well spent.”

  Eloise returned Mrs. Pratt’s smile.

  “I loved the bookstore, and all the titles mentioned, but what I really appreciated was that every character was flawed,” said Phoebe.

  Violet pointed at her roly-poly. “And the characters ate. I love it when fictional people eat delicious food. After reading the descriptions of the lamb roast or the scene with all the wedding treats, I was ready to book a hotel room in a village that doesn’t even exist, though I wish it did.”

  Her friend murmured in agreement. Everyone had similar dreams about journeying to a quaint village in the English countryside.

  “I liked that the author created a complex young mother character. I could identify with her desire to have a successful career while being an amazing mom too.” Jane touched her heart. “I struggle with that balancing act all the time.”

  The Cover Girls continued discussing the most memorable scenes. They frequently interrupted each other, talked over each other, and laughed.

  When the wine was gone, they wrapped up as they usually did and took turns sharing their favorite quotes.

  Jane didn’t need to read hers because Betty had picked the same one. Signaling for her friend to go ahead, Jane listened as Betty said, “‘There’s a book for everyone, even if they don’t think there is. A book that reaches in and grabs your soul.’”

  “That’s so true,” Eloise said.

  After all the women had read their chosen quote, Mabel declared that it was time to call it a night. They carried their plates and glasses to the kitchen and left through the loading-dock door. Before Eloise could get away, Jane grabbed her arm and whispered, “Can you stay for a few minutes? There’s something I want to show you. It’s a book. A very special book.”

  “Who could resist that kind of invitation?” Eloise whispered back.

  Jane took Eloise to the Henry James Library. She unlocked the doors and asked her best friend to sit in a reading chair. Jane then picked up the metal box from Sinclair’s desk and carried it to the side table next to Eloise’s chair.

  “It’s hard for me to remember a time when we weren’t best friends,” Jane began. “You’ve always stood by me, and I trust you completely. After all I’ve learned these past few months, I trust almost no one. But I’ve never had a single doubt about you. Because we have an unbreakable bond, and because of your love of books—particularly Jane Eyre—I wanted you to see this.”

  Jane removed a manuscript from inside the metal box and gently placed it on Eloise’s lap.

  “Go on. Untie the ribbon.”

  Eloise shot Jane a curious look and pulled at the ribbon. The silk fabric had once been white but was now yellowed with age. The ribbon fell away, revealing the manuscript’s title.

  “Jane of Thornfield Hall,” Eloise read. She glanced at Jane, her eyes dancing with merriment. She assumed Jane was playing a joke on her. “What is this?”

  “You might find this hard to believe, but it’s the sequel to Jane Eyre. Though Charlotte Brontë died before she could complete it, there’s still enough there to make a compelling story. I thought you’d like to read it.”

  Eloise grinned. “Is this a prank? Because if so, it’s a good one. Look at this handwriting. And these first few lines—they take me right to Thornfield Hall. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was the same voice as Jane Eyre. The same narrative style.”

  “That’s because it was written by Charlotte Brontë from 1854 to 1855. She died in March, sadly leaving the ending for us to decide.”

  Eloise gaped. “You’re serious, aren’t you? This is the original copy of the sequel to my favorite book ever?” At Jane’s nod, Eloise stared at the manuscript again. “Where did you get it?”

  “That’s the crazy part. Storyton Hall has a whole library of treasures just like this. A hidden library. The collection has been kept in the dark for decades because some of the books were once considered dangerous or inflammatory. Others were kept secret at their owner’s request for personal reasons that can’t possibly matter anymore. I want to bring all of these books from the dark into the light. I want people to read them. And I could use your help in making this dream a reality. It’s going to be a major undertaking.”

  “Well, I just happen to have some extra time on my hands. With Lachlan gone until who knows when, I could use the distraction. Sure, I could keep working on my archery—” she suddenly stopped and grabbed hold of Jane’s arm. “Wait. Did you say a whole library of books like this?”

  Jane laughed. It was fun watching the realization spread across her best friend’s face.

  “I have so many questions, Jane. So. Many. Questions.”

  Pointing at the manuscript, Jane asked, “Would you like to see more books in our special collection?”

  “Are you kidding? I’d kill to see them!” Eloise cried.

  Jane let her friend see the anguish in her eyes. “That’s just it. People will kill to find them. Which is exactly why I want to donate or sell our treasures. I love books, Eloise. You know I do. But I love my family and friends more. Which is why I need your help.”

  Eloise took Jane’s hand. “I won’t pretend to understand what you’re asking of me, but whatever it is, I’ll do it. I’ve always been, and will always be, your partner in crime.”

  “It’s time to hang up your hat, Dr. Watson. We’re going to be book heroes instead. We’re going to send hundreds of long-hidden stories out into the world—”

  “Where they belong,” Eloise finished for her.

  Epilogue

  Eloise took Jane’s request to heart.

  Every afternoon, after she closed Run for Cover, she hopped on her bike and rode to Storyton Hall. Despite having worked at her bookshop for hours, Eloise w
as always eager to help Jane contact museums, pack books for shipment, or try to put a number value on the latest treasures laid out on a reading table in the Henry James Library.

  “I thought I’d be tired, pulling all these double shifts,” she told Jane as they wrapped up a stack of materials earmarked for an upcoming Sotheby’s Books & Manuscripts auction. “But the second I see what you have waiting, I get a fresh burst of energy.”

  Jane understood exactly what she meant. “I know. I’m never too tired to work on this project. Cleaning the twins’ bathroom, on the other hand . . .”

  The two friends laughed.

  “This is the first time you’ve mentioned selling material from the secret library,” Eloise said and opened the cover of the top book on the stack. “You’ve already given away a fortune in rare books, and I’m glad that you’re actually going to make money from some of these.”

  Seeing that her friend was examining the frontispiece of the old book with an expression of distaste, Jane knew that Eloise had come across an engraving of a slave auction. The book, a slim, innocuous-looking volume, was filled with suggestions on purchasing and owning slaves. It was an abhorrent read. Jane had made it through three chapters before deciding she’d had enough.

  “I could have given this to a museum,” she told Eloise. “But this is one of several books I wish we’d never owned. I don’t want to be connected to it, and I’m hoping that by taking the money from its sale and doing something positive with it, I’ll feel better about its existence.”

  Eloise gestured at the books they still needed to wrap.

  “These should bring a pretty penny. What will you do with the money?”

  “I plan to donate to several literary organizations.” Jane carefully wrapped a book in white tissue paper. “I’m also going to use some of the money to update our heating and air-conditioning systems. It’s long overdue, and I can’t afford such a major expense. All of our extra funds are devoted to the spa project. If there’s any left after that, I’d love to repair the folly and bring the orchards back to life.”