The Dark Seduction of Miss Jane

by Amanda McIntyre

  “Oh, I’m sorry, inspector. Poor dear has had a rather harrowing day. She claimed she was up all night reading one of her research books. She looked like something the cat dragged in. Then she received disturbing news about her Aunt Cornelia.” Her voice pitched higher as her emotions broke through. “And then there’s the news about Wesley.” She lifted a hankie to her eyes and sniffed.

  His reached out tentatively and touched her shoulder. “There, there, Lady Hampton.” He patted her shoulder, though the gesture seemed hugely foreign to him. His lack of sleep, the stress of his job, and now this news had overloaded his brain. “Might we start over, and this time, more slowly? Why, again, can’t I see Miss Goodwin?”

  She blew her nose, gathering herself. “I’m sorry, inspector. I’m afraid I’ve been trying to make sense of it all. Jane is resting presently. She wants to be well for her journey.”

  Randolph looked down at his feet, aware then that she’d probably been told that he was the one to have booked her urgent passage. He hoped that was all she chose to share with Lady Hampton. “Then she’s told you why she’s leaving?”

  “Oh, yes, she said that you’ve arranged for her passage back to the states. She mentioned that you contacted her this morning and insisted it was safer for her. Frankly, I couldn’t agree with you more. This used to be such a respectable area, but with all that’s gone on…well, I don’t need to tell you. It makes a woman afraid just to walk out of her door.” Her expression fell. “But the news has tumbled down all at once, I’m afraid.”

  “Yes, you mentioned something about her aunt?”

  She received a wire yesterday informing her that her aunt has taken to bed after a dizzy spell. Jane was out most of the day until I left the house, so I wasn’t able to give her the news until today.” She took a deep breath and looked out over his shoulder. “Then there’s Wesley.”

  “Yes, and what about Wesley?” Randolph prodded gently.

  Her chin quivered slightly and Randolph panicked. Women’s tears made him nervous. His palms grew sweaty.

  “He has disappeared.”

  Randolph had a strong dislike of this word as of late. “Disappeared? You mean to say you didn’t speak before he left?”

  She shook her head, her eyes red from crying.

  “Nothing? Not a note. Not a word to anyone?” He tried not to sound alarmed, but between the note and two disappearances, things did not appear good.

  She shook her head. “Nothing. I was just on my way to see about telegraphing my brother to see if he went there. It seems very strange that he would leave without saying something.”

  “And what about you and your nephew, Lady Hampton? Had you been arguing? Had there been any disagreements that would have caused him to leave in this manner?”

  “No, inspector. We’d had a pleasant supper the last time I saw him.”

  “Which was?”

  She swallowed, her eyes welling once more. “Two days past.” Her eyes darted to his. “Oh my, inspector, you don’t think anything has happened to him, do you?” Her eyes were wide with concern.

  Randolph’s first notion was far more cynical. Was it just coincidence that he received a threatening note just before Wesley left? It was speculation, of course, but these days he couldn’t be too careful. “He’s a good lad, Lady Hampton. Young men often will take off on a holiday, perhaps to… um”—he cleared his throat—“partake in a bit of rabble-rousing. I’m sure you will hear from him soon.” He patted her arm and dropped his hand quickly. “Which brings us again to Jane. Did I hear you say she wasn’t well?”

  “She looked exhausted when she arrived home earlier, but with the added news of her aunt and then Wesley, I believe she developed a sick headache. The best remedy for that is rest.” She started down the steps.

  “May I perhaps wait inside?”

  A carriage pulled up behind Randolph’s. “I’m sorry. I should have been clearer. She specifically asked not to be disturbed. She fears taking ill if not properly rested before her voyage. Of course, you understand.” She glanced at him, a look of concern glazing her eyes. “But I suppose if it’s urgent, I could wake her. Is she in some kind of trouble?”

  “Not at all, my good woman.” He patted her shoulder. What an insanely awkward gesture. “Nothing so dire.” He chuckled, hoping it didn’t sound as hollow to her as it did to him.

  Lady Hampton sighed, giving him a relieved smile. “Well, then, is there a message that my servant can give her when she wakes?”

  He could have insisted on seeing Jane, but he didn’t want to create undue alarm for Lady Hampton. She was already clearly distraught by Wesley’s sudden disappearance. “I have offered to escort her to the train station. Perhaps it can wait until then.”

  Lady Hampton’s face softened with her matronly smile. “How lovely of you. You know,” she said, leaning forward to whisper, “it’s too bad that you didn’t have a chance to know her better. I think you two might have gotten on well together.”

  He walked her to her carriage. “Really? I thought that perhaps Wesley had his eyes set on Miss Jane.” He smiled pleasantly as he assisted her into her carriage.

  She shrugged. “My Wesley is so unpredictable, as you might guess by his recent behavior. It wasn’t for my lack of trying, inspector.” She frowned as though thinking of something before she continued. “He seemed to enjoy chumming around with Clarice. Perhaps because she is such a free spirit, she appeals to his youth. Still, as much as Clarice is very much a self-made woman, I can’t say I am pleased with her influence on Wesley—or on Jane, for that matter.”

  “Jane?” Randolph asked. “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, for one thing, her hair. Of course, she would never admit to it, as Jane has so much pride.…”

  “That she does, madam, I quite agree,” he responded, leaning his arm on the carriage. Experience with getting information when you want it required unhurried attention, and Lady Hampton just might hold the clue to some of the mystery of the notes with what she knew, or it might be idle gossip—either way, he could afford a few moments to let her express her concerns.

  “And then there was the matter of Clarice encouraging her to visit McFarland Manor.”

  “Oh? How’s that?” he asked, watching her face closely.

  “Clarice spotted the monogram on the stationary and told Jane where it came from. I think Jane went to the Manor to see what she could find out from the mistress of the club, but I think the poor girl might have gotten herself into something she wasn’t prepared for.”

  He paused, glancing up at the second story window he knew to be Jane’s bedroom. “Did she ever mention anything?”

  Lady Hampton shook her head. “Not really. But I could tell. She got very quiet around me after she began to go there. As though she didn’t want me to know what she was up to. Does that make any sense, inspector?”

  He swung his attention back to her. “Yes, it does, as a matter of fact.” He studied Lady Hampton. “She never mentioned being in trouble, then? Having any problems?”

  “No, but there was a short time after she and Wesley had a falling out—“

  “A falling out?” Randolph’s curiosity piqued. “What kind of falling out?”

  The woman shook her head. “It was shortly after they attended the performance by Vladimir, the illusionist fellow who spoke at our tea. Do you remember him?”

  “Ah yes, quite. Sort of a strange fellow. I saw that same performance the night Wesley and Miss Jane saw it.” He also remembered how strange Jane actions toward Vladimir were after wards that night at the theater.

  Lady Hampton continued. “Wesley didn’t speak with Jane for some time after that. Not until recently, when he arranged the interview with Vladimir and escorted her to dinner at the Manor.” She seemed lost for a moment in her thoughts and then smiled at him. “Listen to me going on, like I have the skills to understand what you young people are thinking about these days.”

  He offered a charming grin.
“I thank you, Lady Hampton, for the compliment, although I will confess there has been little else on my mind but solving this recent case and now seeing that Miss Goodwin is safely on her way back to the states.”

  “Then you do feel as Jane does, that there could be a correlation between the notes she received and the embankment murders, inspector?”

  He patted her hand. “I don’t want you to be concerned about that. You have more than enough to think about with Wesley just now. I have nothing that would prove a connection at this time. However, given that she continues to receive notes and that they’ve become…well, let’s just say I’d rather not risk Miss Jane’s safety, in case it should turn out that there is. You understand?”

  She smiled in return. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course, inspector.” She regarded him with a watchful eye. “This is going beyond the call of duty, isn’t it?”

  He returned her query with a bashful grin. “I admit to having acquired a high regard for Miss Jane, it’s true.” He glanced at Lady Hampton’s knowing smile. “I admire her spunk,” he interjected for good measure.

  She reached down and patted his arm. “Well, then, perhaps when all this is said and done and you’ve solved the case, there will be time for you to pursue your regard with greater attention?”

  He held his hand up to usher the driver on. “That remains to be seen. Now, I must bid you good evening and ask that you please let me know when you hear from your nephew. I’d like to know he’s doing well.”

  “Thank you, inspector, I will. Right after I give him a sound piece of my mind.”

  He helped her into the carriage and watched until it turned the corner. He walked over to his driver. “Position yourself down the block within sight of the house. I will be there shortly.”

  The driver nodded. There were times when the city’s money proved beneficial, especially on nights like this. He did not intend to go anywhere. He wanted to make sure that Jane was on that train to Southampton. To settle his mind, he made a quick but thorough sweep of the house’s grounds, marginally relieved to see lights on in both of the servant’s quarters at the back of the house. He then walked back to the carriage and warned his driver, “We’ll be here for a bit, might as well get comfortable.”

  “Aye, sir, I’ll just give the horse a rest, then.” He climbed down from his perch and saw to his dapple-grey.

  Randolph climbed in, pulled out his pocket watch, and noted the time. Seven o’clock. He leaned back in the seat so he could see the front door and propped his feet on the seat across from him.

  ***

  A dull ache remained in Jane’s head as she woke from her afternoon rest. Through hooded lids she saw Martha, her starched white cap and apron without flaw, standing quietly at the side of her bed, her hands folded primly in front of her.

  “It’s time for supper, mum. Would you be dining downstairs this evening?”

  Jane’s stomach roiled at the thought of solid food. “No, thank you, Martha.” She let her eyes drift shut.

  “It’s a sick headache, mum. Lady Hampton mentioned why you were resting. A sick headache will do that to you. The best cure for it is a nice cup of my potato chowder.”

  Jane attempted a weak smile. “Perhaps I could start with a cup of tea and some toast?” She sat up slowly and put her feet on the floor, pausing to get her bearings.

  “There, now. Nice and easy,” Martha said aiding her endeavor by holding her arm.

  She felt groggy, but the pack that she’d applied earlier to her forehead had aided in relieving much of the pain. She handed the watery linen cloth to the maid. “I think I can manage, thank you. But that cup of hot tea is beginning to sound even better.”

  “Straight away, mum. I’ll go fetch that and be right up to help you with your packing.” She looked around the room at the stacks of clothes and books. Jane’s trunks lay open on the floor. “It will take the both of us to manage it in the short time we have.”

  Jane placed her palm on her head. It felt warm despite the poultice. “Has Lady Hampton gone home for the evening?”

  “Yes, mum, but she left you a note on the front hall table. I’ll bring it up when I bring your tea.”

  “Thank you, Martha,” Jane said. She pushed her hands through her hair and rose from the bed. A splash of water over her face should greatly improve her disposition.

  “I’ll brew you up a cup of a special remedy my mother used to make when we would take sick at home.” Martha’s voice carried up the stairwell. “You’ll be feeling right as rain in no time.”

  Chuckling to herself, Jane marveled how Martha had taken a shine to her so suddenly. She glanced around her room, realizing there was nothing Randolph could do if she refused to leave. Then again, if she was right in her theory and had managed somehow to gain the attention of this sick individual, then she was wise to return to Boston. At least there, she knew who her enemies were.

  Jane methodically folded her blouses, wrapping each in tissue before laying them in the trunk. She could not deny that, given the circumstances between her and Randolph, distance might make him realize what she meant to him. She was tired of putting her heart on the line and having it shredded to bits. Deep down, she could hear her aunt consoling her, telling her that she was a fine, independent woman who would one day make an excellent reporter. She wasn’t sure if being a reporter was enough anymore.

  She folded another blouse and dropped it into the trunk, her thoughts turning to Lady Hampton and the concern of leaving her at this time. She’d told Jane that she awoken yesterday morning to find Wesley’s room empty and a few of his clothes missing. Jane hadn’t much contact with Wesley since the strange occurrence at the manor with Vladimir. The last time they spoke, he’d declared that he still hoped that, one day, they could be more than friends.

  Clarice, however, had mentioned spending time with Wesley. They’d gone to the theater and, once or twice, met at a pub. At first, Jane thought it was a clever ruse on Wesley’s part, to make her jealous, but Clarice never elaborated on their meetings.

  Jane picked up the French corset that Clarice had lent her. She thought back to that humid morning, how it compared to the sensations she’d felt when touched by Randolph. Hugging the corset to her body, she closed her eyes and remembered how it felt to have his hard body pressed to hers, his rough hands on her naked skin. She took a deep breath, fighting back another bout of tears. Confused by her feelings, she seemed to have no control of them when it came to Randolph. After what he’d done, how was it possible she had an ounce of affection for the man? Had he asked her to stay, to be there for him, she’d not have given it a second thought before saying yes. But he hadn’t, and, in fact, had arranged for her to leave. A stray tear slid down her cheek before Jane realized its presence and shoved it away with her fingers.

  “I gave that to Clarice as a gift. It was on our anniversary.”

  Startled, Jane whirled toward the voice. Standing at the open door was Jonesy, and she had a pistol aimed at Jane. “What are you doing? Where is Clarice?” Jane asked.

  The woman responded with a dry laugh. “That’s odd. I was about to ask you the same thing.” Jonesy’s nose was red and her skin had a waxy sheen.

  Jane frowned. “I don’t know what you mean,” she replied, keeping her eyes on the gun.

  “Do you think I’m blind? Did you think I didn’t see the way she looked at you?” Poison filled her impassioned plea.

  “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, I swear. I beg you, please put the pistol away and let’s talk about this rationally.”

  Jonesy’s face crumpled, purpling with frustration. Jane had never seen the woman so angry, so openly jealous of anyone before. She was clearly out of her mind.

  “It’s too late, Jane. She left me. No note. No goodbye. No warning. No chance to talk things out. When I found out from Lady Hampton that you were leaving, it didn’t take long to put it all together. The two of you plan to run away and make it appear as though you’ve decided to go bac
k to Boston.”

  Jane shook her head. “No, Jonesy. That’s not true. I didn’t even arrange my own passage.” She clutched the corset to her chest like a shield, terrified that at any moment Jonesy would pull the trigger, afraid she might never resolve things with Randolph or see Aunt Corney again. It dawned on her then that Martha should have returned by now. She locked her gaze to Jonesy, hoping she hadn’t done anything rash.

  “Admit to me that you’re meeting her. Tell me the truth, or I swear I will use this.”

  Jane’s eyes darted over the furious woman’s shoulder. She debated whether she had the strength to knock her away and escape downstairs. For now, the best weapon she had was reason. “You have it all wrong, Jonesy. I’ve never been with Clarice. If she ever mentioned feelings for me, I was not aware of them, nor did I encourage them. I am not attracted to her. If she told you I was, then she is the one who’s lying.”

  Jonesy waved the gun at Jane, her eyes on fire. “Don’t you call her a liar!”

  Jane took a step toward her. “Martha is just downstairs. Please be reasonable. Let’s talk about this.”

  The crazed woman blinked a number of times and wiped the beaded sweat from her forehead. Jane noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes. She wondered what Jonesy had been taking to ease her pain.

  Her throaty chuckle sent a shiver down Jane’s spine. “I’ve taken care of them. They won’t be awake for hours.”

  Jane stilled. “Jonesy, tell me you haven’t harmed them in any way. You’re terribly distraught—I can see that. If Clarice is gone, you must believe that it has nothing to do with me. Please let me help you.”

  “I don’t need your help!” She waved the gun. “Clarice and I were fine before you came along. Then suddenly you start receiving those notes and all she can talk about is helping you, making sure you get your interviews, helping you do research. Don’t think that I didn’t see what was going on. Maybe she was the one sending you those notes, so that you’d depend on her more.” She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead, her face twisted in sorrow. “That hurts, Jane, more than you know.”