Lady Jayne Disappears

by Joanna Davidson Politano

  Hands pressed into the small of her back, she walked forward, wind whipping her apron.

  “Well, now you know my secret.” She grasped my arms when she reached me, brow furrowed over intense eyes. “Will you keep it, please? I can’t bear to lose her. Or my home.”

  “She’s your daughter?”

  Nelle offered a small smile, a look of blushing pride directed toward the back door. “She is. My little Dahlia Evangeline.”

  “Nelle, she is gorgeous. Absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Suddenly awkward, Nelle focused on the ground, then back on her clothesline.

  I filled in the pieces. “The father is of questionable background?”

  “The father is missing.” Nelle whispered and then returned to pinning sheets. “For all he’s worth, there is no father. Which is why she must remain a secret.”

  “And Clement?”

  “Yes, Clem has been a wonderful playmate for Dahlia. I’m thankful every day that he stumbled upon us years ago. He always brings her dahlias from the yard when they’re in bloom, and she finds it so humorous that he continues to do it nearly all season.”

  “I like the boy all the more.”

  “But no one else must know.” She paused, dropping the remaining pins into her pocket, and returned to me. “I’ve come to trust Clem, but the others . . . if they ever have reason to dislike me, it’d be over for us both. We’d be in the workhouse before sundown. Or worse.”

  “I understand.” I embraced my friend and stepped back. “Is he quite loathsome, then? Her father?”

  She shrugged. “No more than most. I come from such a loving home with doting parents. I’d no reason to doubt anyone, least of all the gorgeous man who attached himself to me.”

  “I won’t tell a soul, I promise. But might I come visit you both sometimes?”

  She brightened a little. “If you like.” She led me into the house, lifting a basket to her hip. The dark, single-room structure was filled with evidences of home—crusty bread on the counters, mismatched but clean furniture crowding the room, and two tumbling children at play. Clem chased Dahlia, tickling her into hysterics and knocking over a chair.

  I told my friend everything about the night with Aunt Eudora, and what she’d said. While I spoke, Nelle pulled open the oven door, letting a sweet doughy aroma into the room, then shut it again. “And Nelle, I must ask you another favor. An important one. Will you be a postal address for me?”

  Nelle watched me, suspicion raising her brow.

  “I have something that needs to be posted once a week. A package. I can bring it right to you. And then I need to have things sent here. I’ll give you postal money for everything. I only need an address. One that is not my own.”

  Her frown deepened. “What’s this about, then? I’ll need to know if I’m putting my own skin on the line.”

  “I suppose it’s only fair. You’ve given me your biggest secret, I’ll give you mine. But you must promise that it’ll never leave this room.”

  She nodded.

  I lowered my voice to keep it from Clem’s hearing. “Have you heard of Nathaniel Droll?”

  “Of course! I’ve read every piece of Lady Jayne Disappears so far. The staff at the house takes turns buying a copy to pass around.”

  I gripped my friend’s hands, bursting with the news. “Nelle, I know Nathaniel Droll.”

  “What?” She jerked back, then took me by the shoulders. “Truly, you do? No. Really?”

  “Really.”

  She shook her head, hands on her forehead. “I cannot even begin to grasp such a thing.” Laughter burst from her.

  The joy of sharing a small piece of my secret eased the ache that had hovered since talking with Aunt Eudora. The possibility of Papa being responsible for Lady Jayne’s disappearance years ago seemed remote and unrealistic in the light of my friend’s gushing delight. It was contagious—addictive. “What’s more, Lady Jayne was a real person. A guest at Lynhurst.”

  She laughed, unbelieving. “What a secret.”

  “Her name was Jayne Windham, and she stayed in the south tower.” In my billowing excitement, I nearly spilled my other secret, but shied away from revealing my connection to the missing woman. It felt like a silly childhood wish that was too embarrassing and private to say aloud. Somehow, it was shameful to admit not having a mother, as if I were not quite a fully formed person.

  She dropped onto a chair. “I feel as if I’ve been touched by royalty. Lady Jayne was here, and you—oh, you know Nathaniel Droll!” She fanned herself with her apron.

  “Listen, Nelle. I need you to post the installments to the publisher and to collect the royalty checks. And you mustn’t ask questions about his identity.” At the moment, I honestly had no idea how to frame the answers anyway. “Everything will be sent right to you, and I would simply retrieve it when I visit. I’ll include one other little ‘thank you’ too. I’ll bring the notebooks to you unwrapped. If you have time to read them . . .”

  Her grin nearly broke her face. “You mean it? I’ll read a Nathaniel Droll installment before it’s published?”

  “Yes, ma’am, you will.” I took up my friend’s hands again. “That is, if you’ll help me. Please, I really need it.”

  Eyes shining, Nelle stood and embraced me. “Of course, my dear friend. I shouldn’t have questioned you.” Wrapping her hands in her apron, she again opened the oven and pulled two loaves of bread from it. Steam poured from the split-crust tops. She carried them to the wide window where delicate curtains blew in the breeze. “I see you’ve noticed them.” She indicated the billowing material. “That is my secret, if you can call it that.”

  I stepped over a stool and dolls to the front window and fingered the lace and elaborate eyelet design across the scalloped bottom. “Nelle, you made this? It’s unbelievable.” The perfect stitches looked like the monthlong work of an army of women. “Why, you could go into business for yourself. You would have the most elegant ladies asking for your trim work.”

  She dropped her gaze, eyelashes dusting her cheeks. “It would be presumptuous of me, trying to push above my station that way. They’d all know about Dahlia in short order, and then no one would come.”

  “Why order your life to please people who do not even care for you?”

  The girl swiped off the counter with her apron, then pulled it over her head and sat across from me. “After the choices I’ve made, it hardly seems I deserve to ponder such a dream.”

  In those watery eyes, I saw the depth of my friend’s longing. This is why I’d felt so compelled to pray for Nelle’s future husband. His role took on even greater importance. He would be the father of her secret child, and he would set about righting the lies she believed about herself and her worth. How great was God to use husbands so often in that task. But for now, until the man appeared, it was put to me to remind the girl of truths she already knew. “As someone told me, shame comes from disappointing God, not people.”

  She gave one short laugh and stood. “The one return I cannot argue.”

  A screech cut the solemnity and two playmates barreled through the kitchen. Dahlia stumbled into Nelle’s legs, swaying the slender woman.

  “What a little bubble of joy.” I smiled.

  “That boy brings it out in her. She’s the quietest thing until he comes around.” Nelle lifted the girl by her arms and set her on her feet. “Time to settle, darling.”

  The lower lip protruded, threatening a rebuttal.

  I rested a hand on the girl’s slender shoulder. “Have you heard the story of the warrior prince? Come, I’ll tell you.” Settling on the floor, I invited the two to join me. Dahlia perched on my lap, the sudden weight of her surprising me. Clem sat beside us, arms around his bent legs.

  “It seems you and Nathaniel Droll are birds of a feather.” Nelle smiled at me. “He with his stories and you with fairy tales.”

  I launched into the story of a warrior prince looking for the stolen source of his power. Br
ushing the girl’s hair off her moist forehead, I sank into the homey comfort of friendship and shared afternoons. Here, I felt like royalty welcomed into a common home with joy and awe. A few hundred meters away stood the house of my true family, where I was merely the tolerated intruder.

  When the story ended, the girl’s eyes shone and Nelle wore a placid smile. “Thank you for visiting, and for the story. Truly, I’m grateful for any company I can offer my sweet Dahlia.” Nelle pulled me up from the floor. “There, and now it feels we are close chums, doesn’t it? We have each shared our intimate secrets with one another.”

  Heart overflowing with gratitude and sweet friendship, I left Florin cottage with a prayer on my lips. This prayer for Nelle’s husband would have to be even more specific. He would have to be more than a “good” man—he’d also have to be an able and willing father to a child already born. Very few men would fit that need, which meant all the more that prayer would become vital. And I would shower my friend with it.

  On the walk back to the main house, I remembered the benefit, and suddenly it presented me with new and wonderful opportunities. Surely there was a man among my family’s acquaintances who would be exactly what I had prayed for. While Juliette watched out for my perfect match, I would seek out Nelle’s.

  11

  Were the whole world blind, Lady Jayne would still stand out among the common grass as an exotic flower.

  ~Nathaniel Droll, Lady Jayne Disappears

  The benefit loomed ahead as a happily pivotal moment, providing a veil of distraction from my worries. I might meet Alexander, the long-discussed man I was meant to love, and begin a sweeping romance. Or I might find the perfect man to introduce to Nelle.

  I spent more than a half hour readying myself for it when the night came, which seemed an absolutely ridiculous amount of time for such a task. Possibilities for the event played through my mind as I tucked and adjusted, agonizing over stray wisps of hair.

  But then Juliette and her lady’s maid spent three hours redoing me into something else entirely. With bold peacock feathers sprouting from my partially upswept hair, the beautiful blue dress Nelle had created somehow seemed gaudy. The iridescent fabric shimmered when I walked—which wasn’t often, with an overtight corset and heavy underlying fabric.

  Juliette met my eyes in the mirror. “You shall make your grand entrance just before eight o’clock, when I’ll have stationed myself at the door as hostess, then everyone will be able to compare. We look so vastly different that we’ll each have our own camp of admirers with few who straddle the fence.”

  “Can I not just sneak in from the drawing room?” This whole affair had become far too complicated.

  “I won’t let you waste all this beauty on ‘sneaking in.’” She cupped my bare shoulders with cold palms to turn me, her eyes meeting mine. “When you walk down those stairs, I want you to smile. Not because you’re happy, but because you might be happy one day as a result of this night. Smile as if this is your future love’s first glimpse of you, and he’ll be immediately smitten.”

  “I’m not sure I’d care for a romance that begins that easily.”

  “Love needn’t be complicated.” The chilly fingertips rose and cradled my jaw. Her angular face softened. “You wear your entire self on that beautiful face, dear cousin, and some man will know immediately when he sees you that he’s found the perfect woman in a crowd of pretenders.” Chin tipped, she studied me with a vague smile. “Keep that sweet charm, for it isn’t every girl who’s born with it.” She stepped back and wiggled her fingers into elbow-length gloves.

  “Every girl is born with the ability to be herself. Many simply unlearn it because they do not like who that is, and they think no one else will either.” I shoved my fingers deeper into my own gloves. “Perhaps you’ll find the man you long for in the deepest part of your heart, if you display who you truly are.”

  “Who I am?” Her lips quirked into a wry smile. “My dear, I’d never want the man who’d be attracted to that.” The candid words settled over us, squeezing my heart. Juliette pivoted to the mirror, examining the subdued curls around her face. “If I ever catch a man’s heart, it’ll be because I’ve wheedled it away from him.” She paused her primping and studied our faces in the mirror, raw vulnerability shadowing her features in a momentary flash. It was quickly and intentionally masked by a hard smile. “When they’ve all gone, I’ll find you. Then tell me which one you think Alexander is, and if you’re correct, you’ll know for certain he is your perfect match.” Juliette twirled in her shimmering gown of maize and exited.

  Alone, I fingered the iridescent blue dress. Sweeping the edge of my shoulders and dropping to well below my throat, the beautiful collar line had been trimmed with an exquisite teardrop design of lace and crystals. A bit like a walking lampshade stuck with a feather, but the overall effect in the mirror was remarkably stunning. I was a new girl. It would have been a proud moment for Papa to see me this way, dressed by his family and waiting in his own room to attend a party at his beloved Lynhurst Manor. If only he could escort me through the night, making light of my mistakes and easing the social tension.

  I fluffed the peacock feathers blooming from my hair. Had I really agreed to appear before strangers this way?

  Perhaps a small alteration. Plucking the feathers from my hair, I fitted the pendant from Aunt Eudora into their place in my upswept waves and turned in the trifold mirror. Yes, much more fitting. Feathers and bright colors belonged on a girl like Juliette. But the delicate sparkle of the gems seemed like a subtle part of me that had always been there.

  In the grand entrance, I tried to honor Juliette’s request. Chin up and shoulders back, I met Kendrick on the stairs and descended on his arm. I smiled at nobody in particular until Kendrick’s flushed face registered in my peripheral vision. He stared openly at me. “Who knew my sister had buried such a beauty in the guest room. You are more radiant than moonbeams.”

  And in that moment, I could not be comfortable. The top of my gloves tickled my arms to distraction, and the long gown seemed constantly a hair away from tripping me. I’d tumble down the stairs. Too many eyes stared at me from below. But forcing my shoulders back, blades together, I held myself tall and descended.

  The faces of the men below all seemed about the same—scrubbed clean and shaved, hair dark with oils, politely interested expressions. Who among them might be my great love? I couldn’t pick a single one out of the lot of duplicates. My Alexander must not be among them. He certainly didn’t strike anything special in me if he was.

  As my blue slipper touched the marble floor, I remembered with a panic that I might be expected to dance, but I hadn’t a clue how. Not a step.

  “Aurelie, I’d like you to meet Lord Carney.” Juliette appeared, gliding about in her natural element among the well-dressed guests. Her serene face looked the way mine might if I were to lie back in a warm tub. The dark-haired man on her arm seemed the perfect male counterpart to her loveliness. “His family has recently purchased a country house near Bath, and his father runs an oil business in America.” His lips had the perfect shape. Absolutely perfect. “Lord Carney, this is my dear cousin Miss Aurelie Harcourt.”

  I nodded to the man and whispered to my cousin, “Am I meant to dance with him first, then?”

  “We’re not to dance tonight. Grandmama threatened to snuff the whole party if we did. Light fare and conversation, then we’re chasing them all out before midnight.”

  Cool relief pulsed through me. No dancing.

  “As much as I love the color blue, I’ve never seen a girl who carries it as well as you do, Miss Harcourt.”

  I offered a polite nod, examining his handsome face for some sign he was my perfect match, this man who liked blue.

  “Ah, dear Aurelie.” Glenna’s voice stiffened me. “I’m so glad you’ve made a few acquaintances. I was afraid our Juliette would outshine you completely, especially with a background such as yours.”

  “Mother!”
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  At these words, Lord Carney gave a grim smile with gentlemanly aloofness and moved away, ending the formal introduction. Her mission completed, Glenna offered her own prim smile and turned.

  “Was that Alexander?” I whispered the question that had hovered for many minutes already.

  Juliette glared at her mother’s back and turned to me. “Is the man swooning over you?”

  I shook my head, watching the man’s retreating back.

  “He was only meant to ease you into things. I have far better in mind for you.” Her eyes sparkled as she glanced about the room, her gaze stopping on a familiar figure huddled alone near a far pillar. “Just look at poor Silas, hanging about on the fringes. He’s such an unsociable creature, even if he is nice to look at.”

  “Perhaps he’s uncomfortable.”

  His wavy hair was tamed, his posture perfect, and from the outside he fit in with the others so well—yet there was a gentle strength to his face, a rugged authenticity that went unmatched in this crowd.

  “You know, he asked after you today. He wanted to know exactly who you were, and how you were related. He took a keen interest in your affairs.”

  “What do you mean, my affairs?” It felt as if he’d punctured my precious privacy and looked at the most embarrassing aspect of me. And then he’d gone and judged me by it.

  “His invasive questions became off-putting, even to Papa. He wanted to know if part of Papa’s good fortune, as he put it, would someday pass to you. When he said it would not, he wanted to know if you had any fortune from your family of origin. It was far more than a passing interest, you know. He wanted details.”

  Heat burned in my chest. How could he ask such things? A few kindnesses thrown my way like breadcrumbs hardly afforded him the right to ask such questions. As if he were window shopping for the right combination of pretty face and fortune for his wedded bliss.

  “He seemed quite convinced you had money, but I’ve no idea why.”