Lady Jayne Disappears

By Joanna Davidson Politano

When Aurelie Harcourt's father dies in debtor's prison, he leaves her just two things: his wealthy family, whom she has never met, and his famous pen name, Nathaniel Droll. Her new family greets her with apathy and even resentment. Only the quiet houseguest, Silas Rotherham, welcomes her company.

When Aurelie decides to complete her father's unfinished serial novel, writing the family into the story as unflattering characters, she must keep her identity as Nathaniel Droll hidden while searching for the truth about her mother's disappearance--and perhaps even her father's death.

Author Joanna Davidson Politano's stunning debut set in Victorian England will delight readers with its highly original plot, lush setting, vibrant characters, and reluctant romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
• Release date: Oct 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781493411108

Joanna Davidson Politano

Joanna Davidson Politano is the award-winning author of Lady Jayne Disappears, A Rumored Fortune, Finding Lady Enderly, The Love Note, A Midnight Dance, and The Lost Melody. She loves tales that capture the colorful, exquisite details in ordinary lives and is eager to hear anyone's story. She lives with her husband and their children in a house in the woods near Lake Michigan. You can find her online at www.JDPStories.com.

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Cover

Prologue

Walk among the normal folk by day, but in your heart know you are Robin Hood in disguise.

~Woolf Harcourt

LONDON, ENGLAND, 1861

Well, Miss Harcourt. Are you, or are you not, Nathaniel Droll?

I squirmed on the chair across the desk from the old managing editor they called Ram. How awful it was to hear that precious name on the man’s meaty lips, but of course it was only a name to him. That is a complicated question, sir. The crinoline under-layers of my skirt poked my legs, which grew warmer with each minute I spent in the offices of Marsh House Press.

So is switching the final chapters at the last minute. You will forgive my doubt when a snit of a girl comes in here, supposedly on behalf of a nationally famous author, yet appears to be no older than his first novel. Have you proof of your connection to him?

This would take a great deal of explanation. Perhaps it was time to retreat. But no, this had to be done. Turning back now meant the final installment of the novel would release in a few days, and the man of my dreams would find out how deeply I was in love with him. It was not possible to imagine an existence beyond that dreadful occurrence.

Here is one proof. I set my notebook before the balding bulldog of a man who reigned over his desk full of papers and clutter. Is it not the same type Droll has sent you for years?

He whipped through the book with harsh fingers, tearing a page at the top, then shoved a pen and inkwell toward me across the desk.

Of course. I would need to show him my handwriting for comparison.

Leafing to an empty page, I drew the pen from its heavy well and wrote, I am Aurelie Harcourt. I collected Nathaniel Droll’s pay at 32 Headrow Lane in Glen Cora, Somerset. The letters formed by my shaky hands had taller loops and were slightly less perfect than the rest of the writing in the book, but it was an unmistakable match.

He yanked the book toward him, inspecting it as seconds ticked by on the clock behind him. I focused on the ivory-topped fireplace in the room’s shadows, counting the ticks.

Finishing his assessment, he leaned his heavy frame back against the chair and studied me, every button and tuck of my brown traveling gown. Thick fingers pulled at his jowls. Well, well. I’ve always wanted to meet the great enigma who has earned me so much, and here he sits. A woman. A rather plain one, at that.

As if I was unworthy.

Transcriber. My voice cracked. I’ve been his transcriber for years.

How is it you came to know Nathaniel Droll? His eyes narrowed.

Could I refuse to answer? He hardly believed me anyway, that much was obvious.

"A long, uninteresting story, sir. But right now I am merely here to enquire about changing that ending." I waved a hand toward the notebook before him.

Holding his spectacles in place, he studied the book, then me, then back to the book, his left eye nearly disappearing beneath the folds of skepticism. He’s never done this before.

This book is different.

He growled, squeaking his chair back and folding his arms. "Tell Mr. Droll he is lucky. First, because you caught us before we printed this installment. Barely. Second, because his fame has earned my pleasant side today." He lit an ornate pipe and puffed, exhaling tiny balls of smoke.

I know it’s a lot to ask, but—

Fortunately I’m a wonderful person. He waved the gathering smoke away from his face, grimacing at it.

A trapped breath released from deep in my chest. I’d succeeded. Everything was safe. So you’ll change it?

Well, that depends. If I hate this ending, I shall use the one he already sent. It has been approved, and this has not.

I straightened against the unforgiving spindles at my back. I cannot let you print that.

Oh, oh, oh, the little transcriber forbids me. He swiveled in his chair and tapped his pipe in a tray. "I’ll not take risks with the final installment. Sales are predicted to break records at this house, and that ending will not disappoint. He slapped his hand on the desk to emphasize his words. The first chapter sells the book, but the last chapter sells the next. Understand?"

Yes, sir, but I must ask that you—

Where the devil did you come from, anyway?

Well, I—

We’ll have to cut his pay, you know.

That will be fine. But can I—

Just how old are you?

Frustration eclipsed my self-control. Two hundred and three. How old are you? I shut my mouth behind the escaped words.

A few silent puffs came from the man behind the desk as he gave a wry smile. His eyes did not leave my face. "Now you are someone I care to speak with. He leaned forward, the leather chair creaking under his weight. So, little thing. Tell me exactly how you came to be in possession of Nathaniel Droll’s notebook. How his work bears your handwriting."

I cannot do that, sir.

I understand completely. He swiveled away from me, foot over foot. And I can no longer consider printing your new ending.

Poised in the little wooden chair his assistant had brought, I bit my lip and gripped the arms. I suppose I could tell you a brief version of the story. If you promise to strongly consider the switch.

He whipped around to face me again, eyes glowing, elbows anchoring him to the desk. Nonsense. If we’re to discuss Nathaniel Droll, I want every detail. Understand? Every little detail. I want to know who exactly is hiding behind that pen name and what his story is. Start with your part, and please do tell me about the imposters too. I’ve been dreadfully curious.

With a shuddering sigh, I glossed over memories not worth revisiting. Perhaps it would be sufficient to tell him only what happened in the last few months. That would cover the important pieces. With a fortifying deep breath, I slipped into my one and only talent—storytelling. It started in Shepton Mallet debtor’s prison, which is where I am from. That is, until recently.

1

Lady Jayne dreamed endlessly of escaping to something different, of living a fascinating and dramatic life—until she did.

~Nathaniel Droll, Lady Jayne Disappears

A FEW MONTHS EARLIER, SOMERSET, ENGLAND

It must have been the rain that felt so wrong that day, nothing more. It spit at my face and drenched me. I huddled close to the safety of the Shepton Mallet Prison walls as a carriage progressed toward me down the broken street, lanterns swinging. No, it was everything. Everything felt wrong without Papa. But this night, it was something specific.

Perhaps it was the sleek carriage, coming to fetch me to my new home, that looked jarringly amiss in this section of town after dark. Why hadn’t Aunt Eudora come in broad daylight so we could stand outside and relish our reunion, hugging and sinking into shared grief? Surely she knew this was not an area in which to linger once the candlelit windows of decent folk were shuttered. Damp fog clogged my senses, choking my shallow breaths. She was not ashamed simply because of the pickup location, was she? No, I was family.

Family that had been abandoned by them for years, though. Perhaps I expected too much.

I squinted at the vehicle as it neared and I frowned. The outline of a top hat, not a lady’s plumage, filled the foggy windows. Who else would come to collect me?

What if, what if—and this would make a brilliant scene in a future novel—it was not an old widowed aunt coming for the lonely girl, but her own beloved father, alive and well? The emotion of such a reunion billowed in me until I very nearly ripped open my trunks, right there in the rain, and pulled out a notebook to record the beauty of it.

Stop. I had to stop thinking about him.

The coachman reined in the puffing horses, who stamped their impatience in the foggy moonlight, and I held my breath, crouching back into the prison doorway. When the caped gentleman swung down into the rain, I longed for those blank pages even more. What a perfect villain, tall and dark-suited, a forbidding arch to his wide shoulders as he jogged through the puddles. Oh, to pin this man to paper with the exact words. But it was a generally understood rule among writers that the most brilliant ideas only came when one was not within reach of pen and paper.

Approaching, the man lifted his gaze to the prison, dark judgment etched deep in the brooding lines of his face. He removed his hat, nearly useless in the deluge, and swiped rain off his face with his sleeve. Upon spotting me in the shadows, his face darkened further, eyebrows hooding sharp eyes. He was more ominous close up. Threatening, even. I backed up until I hit the rough stone wall. And now, there was no one left to protect me. Not a single person who might report me missing to the constable. Like a kite with its string suddenly cut, I was alone.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

I’d never had to depend so fully on the Lord before this, and it seemed now he was all I had.

My nails dug into the dirty stone at my back. The storm swelled and rain pattered against my shoulders, pouring down my neck and soaking my dress. Why were we not running toward the carriage and huddling under its roof? The man squinted against the shower, as if waiting for me to speak and explain my presence. Yes, he felt it too. Something was wrong.

My small voice cut through the rain. You are from Lynhurst Manor? Perhaps I’d been mistaken, and Aunt Eudora’s carriage was still on its way.

Yes, I am. Rain dripped off the clumps of hair plastered to his forehead.

Oh. But neither of us moved. Was he waiting for my permission? These are both mine. I indicated my two weathered trunks, which only deepened his look of confusion. I am Aurelie Harcourt.

Silas Rotherham.

Rotherham. So dark and sinister. Fitting.

After a few more awkward seconds, he reached for my elbow and propelled me toward the carriage. A head jerk toward the coachman sent the man scrambling toward my trunks. Certainly, those trunks were not of the same caliber as my new sapphire-colored dress, which billowed around my stockinged legs over layers of fabric in a sopping, yet stylish, mess. He must wonder which I was—rich or poor. Yes, that would explain the frown.

The first trunk thudded overhead as I mashed my dress through the too-small door and fell onto the front-facing seat, the man taking the one across from me. How did real ladies manage it every day? The dress was the finest article of clothing to ever touch my body, and despite having owned it for three days already, I did not know how to carry it on my slender frame. Even more so when it hung in wet yards of heavy cloth about me.

Perhaps it had been a foolish use of my scant funds, this costume designed to make me fit in when the rest of me did not. Even more foolish I’d been to give up my last pennies, assuming this wealthy family would hasten to meet all the future needs of a niece they had not seen fit to even meet before now. How fanciful I was.

But I had yet to locate Papa’s savings, wherever it was. All those paychecks I’d gathered from Marsh House Press must amount to something that would sustain me. And with death freeing the man of his debts, I could use that money for whatever I needed.

I placed my soggy hat on the seat beside me and wrung my loosened hair onto the floor of the carriage. It soaks right through a person, does it not?

The man peeled off his wet coat, struggling out of the sleeves. By instinct born of a lifetime of recognizing need and rising to it, I reached across the space to assist him. When my fingertips touched his warm linen shirtsleeve beneath the coat, he pulled back, slinging his coat to the side, blinking at me with a mixture of shock and mild offense.

I jerked my hands away and backed into my seat with a thud, hurt warming my wet cheeks. Of course, this was a different world than Shepton Mallet Prison. Women were not for soothing and helping unless they were paid to do it.

A grunt outside drew my attention to the window. The coachman yanked in vain at my second trunk, which had taken three men to hoist outside hours ago. I bit my lip, picturing its contents. He’d never lift it alone.

With a dark look, the man across from me stood and forged back into the rain to assist the coachman. Both men strained to lift the precious cargo between them, and they slung it with a thud and a crack onto the back. Lightning pierced the black sky as the two men ran for the cover of the carriage.

Mr. Rotherham hefted himself back inside, now coatless and dripping wet. Almost immediately the carriage lurched forward, reins jingling, and I collapsed against the leather seat. Just that quick, we were leaving behind the entirety of my short life.

Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t—

But I did. Fingertips clutching the window frame, I pressed my face to the glass for one last lingering glimpse of home.

Have you left something behind?

No. I moved back into the seat, pushing my shoulder blades into the leather cushions. Leaving that place was the death of so many things.

The man recovered his breath for several moments, flexing until he found comfort in the tiny rear-facing seat. I fingered the flannel blanket beside me. He would not want me to hand it to him. But when his trembles convulsed into a full-body shiver, the sight compelled me forward, urging the blanket on him. He accepted it without glancing at me and pressed it into his wet clothes to soak up the rain. When he looked up, he pinched his lips in a reserved smile, revealing two fleeting dimples framing his mouth like quotation marks, and I finally relaxed a bit.

I assure you, he said, there are plenty of stones at Lynhurst. You need not bring any with you.

They’re books. I shivered, watching the shapes of thatched homes fly by. It must be utterly clear to him that I was a fake, not one who belonged at Lynhurst Manor. Up until a few days ago, my life had consisted of a one-room cell, my gregarious, boisterous father, and our three pieces of furniture. And stories, of course. He’d shown me how to thrive within our odd surroundings—reciting psalms, caring for the weak, loving people—but he’d never taught me to act as one of the elite class in which he himself had been raised. There had been no need.

Homesickness engulfed me. But how could anyone be homesick for such a place?

Thank you for indulging me, with the books. I indicated the back of the carriage where my trunks lay.

Of course. Books are essential nourishment to the mind.

This answer begged more questions, but I closed my lips. Any little word might be the wrong one. Lantern light bounced over his face as the carriage hurtled forward.

I suppose they are the normal fare. The man’s voice broke through my thoughts, deep and forced. Miss Austen, Clennam, Wordsworth, and perhaps a few hymnals.

He really was quite poor at making conversation. I prefer the serials.

Of course. His slight frown, a mild look of judgment, turned my stomach. As if my love of serial novels helped him to determine I resided lower than him on the social ladder. Wouldn’t he be surprised to find that most of the books filling my heavy trunk were blank.

I pinched my lips to keep from spilling my delicious secret—the one that gave me more worth than anyone could guess. If only I dared say the words aloud. Pardon, sir. Have you heard of Nathaniel Droll? Well, I happen to know the real man who masquerades under that pen name. Ah, the look of shock that would splay over his arrogant face.

Novel characters make the finest friends, so I can hardly fault your attachment. He straightened the hat that jostled on his head to the rhythm of the carriage wheels and smiled. Flesh-and-blood people are more complicated and difficult to know.

I should say not. So many people are closed up, all tucked inside themselves, yet they bloom open in beautiful ways if you would only take interest in them.

The flick of his eyebrow hinted at disapproval, driving me deeper back into my seat as my face heated. I had done it again.

I tipped my head back against the cushioned seat and allowed the carriage to carry me and my heavy thoughts toward a life where this disapproval would be normal fare. I hope I did not offend you, sir.

It was merely a surprisingly deep answer to what I believed a simple question.

Life is deep, Mr. Rotherham. Oh so deep. Especially when it is a series of intense moments all piling on top of you, fighting for your urgent attention every day. Which is why books are such a lifeline. Stepping into the pages of someone else’s story means joining them in their normal life and pretending that you, for one liberating moment, will also become whole and healthy and wonderfully normal by the end.

His eyes, lifting into a pleasant crescent shape with his smile, assessed me with the softness of grace. You’ve managed quite well in the life you were dealt. How were you not mired in sadness every day at a place like that?

My first instinct was to inform him that Charles Dickens himself spent several years of his childhood in Marshalsea Debtor’s Prison when his father languished there for numerous debts, for no one could doubt Dickens had made a success of his life in the end. But I merely waved off his comment with a simple reply. There are many good days that outweigh the bad. And besides, imaginations are transportable. They even follow one into poverty.

His face dipped back into the shadows. Laughing? Or disapproving?

No matter. The stress of the week weighed me down much like the wet dress I wore. We’d only buried Papa days ago. And might I ask who has the pleasure of escorting me?

I am a family friend staying at Lynhurst for the summer. He cleared his throat. They did not feel they could trust so delicate a matter to a servant, no matter how faithful.

I see. But I did not. What was delicate about the matter of bringing one’s niece home?

Long, silent moments passed before the carriage paused for an iron gate to grind open. A crest seemed to seal the gates shut. Had we reached our destination so quickly?

I leaned into the window for a glimpse of the place, but the muted glow of lamplight showed precious little. Three . . . no, four cupolas speared the dark clouds shrouding the roofline. Surely the estate couldn’t be as fanciful and amazing as Papa’s wild stories, but anything less would not have captured the imagination of such a man. Propping myself higher, I strained to see the outline of the fabled Lynhurst Manor through the muggy dark.

After endless minutes of rolling up the unlit gravel drive, the carriage veered left and halted mere feet from the great house. A large hanging light illuminated an arched stone entryway with double wooden doors not unlike the solid front entrance of the prison. Perhaps I’d feel at home here after all. The mansion’s gray exterior wall extended far outside the little circle of lantern light, into what seemed to be eternity.

It was true, then. I’d hardly believed Papa’s stories of this place, for what family could live in such wealth while their brother languished in poverty? A mere pittance of their wealth might have freed Papa years ago. Steeling myself against bitterness, I tried to summon an explanation, but could not.

At least the rain had stopped.

Mr. Rotherham alighted. As I pushed off the seat, he held up a palm to stop me. You’d best let me prepare them first, Miss Harcourt.

I sank into the seat, the damp feel of my thick skirts beneath me. Prepare them for what?

He paused just outside the carriage, a rare smile flicking over his face. We all rather believed you to be a collection of bags and trunks.

I beg your pardon?

The solicitor had instructed Lady Pochard to collect the belongings of the distant relative who had died in debtor’s prison.

Distant relative? I frowned.

You can imagine her surprise when she finds out exactly what this relative’s belongings include. He shook his hat and replaced it. Wait here. I’ll return for you when I’ve broken the news to her.

Welcome back, Mr. Rotherham.

Silas strode through the double doors held open by the butler, who ushered him into the deeply shadowed hall tinged with lemon freshness on wood-paneled walls. A slight bow, then Digory’s aged hand came out to accept Silas’s coat. The weight of it jerked his arm down, but his face maintained the placid butler mask. I trust your errand was pleasant.

Pleasant as expected. He stamped wetness from his shoes and strode through the arched front hall to the drawing room where Lady Pochard waited. How was one to answer these meaningless questions, really? A fine day today, is it not, sir? How was your walk? I trust you are in good health this morning. He should tell them the day was terrible, he had witnessed a murder, and he’d walked to the moon, just to see what they would do.

What a stark contrast from the girl waiting in the carriage. Everything she said meant something, her sentences plump and juicy with originality. Fresh, and delightfully odd.

Good evening, Lady Pochard. I’m surprised to see—

Well, have you fetched them? Lady Eudora Eustice Pochard huddled in her wheeled chair in the bay of heavily draped windows. The fireplace glowed behind her, giving a soft yet eerie light to this red-and-gold gilded room of her ancestors. Oh yes, he had fetched them. Both trunks . . . as well as the additional piece of baggage.

Yes, my lady. Every last belonging of a Mr. Harcourt of Shepton Mallet.

He is dead? Digory’s faithful-butler mask shattered. No! Mr. Harcourt—

A daggered look from Lady Pochard sliced the end off his sentence. The poor man’s Adam’s apple bobbed, wiry hands working at his sides.

Silas tried again. As to what I’m to do with—

I’ve told you. All the trunks are to be stowed in the rafters. Unless you have taken it upon yourself to look through the deceased man’s belongings to decide their value is greater than attic fodder.

I have only glimpsed one belonging, my lady, and you will hardly wish to keep it in your attic. Why did he tiptoe around the truth? It wasn’t as if it was his fault, any of this.

Out with it, then. The woman’s aged mouth puckered. I’ve no patience for your witticisms, Mr. Rotherham. Speak quickly.

He cleared his throat. A girl, my lady. A young woman of nearly twenty, I’d say.

Realization dawned on the old woman’s face in hues of white and ashy gray. It cannot be.

I brought her here, not knowing what else to do. If you prefer to dismiss her, perhaps I may at least take her to London where she might find more opportunities. Letting her loose in this area to grab at menial work for pure survival would suck the life out of her. But then, so would bringing her into this house.

Isn’t it scandalous enough to have a family member in this predicament in the first place? The woman couldn’t seem to say the word prison. I’ll not have you taking the girl anywhere but this very house. She sat tall in her wheeled chair, as if she were a lady of great beauty, which she was not, at her age. What has become of her all these years? Who has raised the child?

She seems to have raised herself, if there was any raising done at all. She climbed into the carriage alone with me, as if it were quite natural.

"You mean to tell me that this girl has been living with the debtors? The woman huffed. What a scandal. I suppose she’s a wild little thing."

The bang of the front doors drew everyone’s attention, then the creak of the inner doors. Slap-click, slap-click and then she emerged from the shadows of the hall to stand before them, shining wet hair plastered to her forehead and neck, falling in silky, disheveled tresses over her shoulders. In the light of the house, Silas drank in the full sight of her, wild and beautiful—huge brown eyes, cheeks cool and fresh like spring, perfect little lips pinched with tension. So this is what the darkness of the carriage had hidden from him.

Just as I knew she’d be. Tears pricked the old servant’s tired eyes. Digory leaned forward beside Silas, his hands clasped, as if he ached to throw his arms about the girl and protect her as he would a baby bird.

Lady Pochard leaned forward on her cane toward her servant. Take care of this matter. And Digory—her eyes pierced her butler with a look, shining with the awareness of all he’d likely witnessed in this great house—"tell her nothing."

2

For Lady Jayne, who possessed both wit and imagination, dead ends were merely an invitation to draw out her tools and carve a door into the wall.

~Nathaniel Droll, Lady Jayne Disappears

Shivers convulsed my damp body as I stood in the doorway of a dim, cavernous room, dripping on the green-checked tile just outside of it. The overly red space had two focal points—the giant white fireplace and the tiny lump of a scowling woman huddled by the windows. Her dress, the most becoming deep jade with black lace, was a waste of beauty on so sour-looking a person.

I see you have welcomed yourself into my home, said the woman with silvery grace, so I will not repeat the convention.

They left me in the carriage. I shifted, and water dripped off the hat in my hands.

Digory, ring for the chambermaids. Urgency lit her eyes as water pooled at my feet. Pull them out of their supper if you must. The girl needs a bath instantly. And rooms. She will need a suite of rooms. What do we have available that is away from the main suites? She’ll, of course, want her privacy.

What a diplomatic way of shuffling me off into hiding, away from my own family.

Yes, my lady. I’ll ask Mrs. Harper what will be best. Unless . . . unless you wish to give her the south tower rooms.

South tower? I bit my lip with hopeful pleasure. There had been a south tower in at least two of Papa’s novels, including the unfinished work in progress.

No! A pop of the woman’s cane punctuated her response, and she glared at me, as if assessing whether or not I might fit into a small closet or a crate. You’d just as well put her in the cold stables as in that old tower. Find her something on the third floor.

I just thought it would be nice to—

What part of ‘no’ was not clear?

The man bowed deeply and backed out of the room, one hand under my elbow to hint that I was to leave with him, the other taking a candle. Silas Rotherham had retreated to the room’s deep shadows, head down as if he did not wish to be noticed. I nodded my thanks in his direction, but he did not look up.

I almost forgot to ask. The woman’s voice carried out to us, drawing us back into the room that glowed with firelight and candles. What’s your name, child?

Aurelie. It’s Aurelie Rosette Harcourt.

Good heavens, she mumbled, eyes rolling back beneath her lids. As if he were naming a woodland fairy. She tugged a lace handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her neck.

A swift defense boiled up, but I pressed my lips together to keep it at bay. Even if I knew nothing about being a lady, I had the higher ability of being a good and loving human being.

All right then, Miss Harcourt. You shall stay for now, and how long your visit continues depends entirely upon you and your conduct. You may leave me now.

The servant’s gentle pressure on the back of my arm propelled me toward the darkened hall again into the largest open space that ever could have existed indoors, now illuminated by the butler’s candle. From tiled floor to wainscot-trimmed ceiling two stories above, meticulous designers had decked the space in lavish emerald-green wallpaper and dramatic life-sized paintings. The butler led me to the grand staircase with echoing footsteps, and then together we climbed on plush carpet.

At the first landing, he pointed with the lit candle. This is where the family has their rooms. There are fourteen total in this wing. Several tall doors remained closed. Ninety-eight total rooms in the house altogether.

Nearly a hundred rooms? All for one family.

Yes, miss. Everything’s in multiples of seven. That being the number of perfection in the Good Book. The whole house was built to reflect the faith, you know.

How interesting.

All except the land. They have 628 acres because the bordering estate refused to sell so much as a grass blade to make it an even 700. But, that’s the Sutherlands. They were born with crowns and tiaras on their heads.

Rounding the balcony and climbing another set of steps, we reached a long hall of ivory-white doors steepled at the top with wood trim. The smell made me frown. No, it was not so much a smell as a lack of it. As if real life had been made sterile and fake.

The south wing is behind us, toward the back of the house. At the end of the hall is the door to the west wing. He pointed toward a heavy wood door framed with scrollwork. You’ll have the grand ballroom and other things there, but they’re hardly used anymore.

I suppose I’m to stay in that wing.

No, miss. But he smiled. You’ll be in the main house with the family, just one floor up. On the third floor, he paused before a white door. I know Lady Pochard wouldn’t like it, but I’ll settle you into your father’s old room. At least until she finds out.

You know exactly who I am, don’t you? Even though everyone else seems surprised I even exist, you knew.

This broke down a loosely constructed wall and his aged face relaxed into a smile. Yes, child. I know you. His gentle voice pinched with age touched the same soft spot in my heart that Papa had.

"Papa loved you when he was here, didn’t he?

Reviews for Lady Jayne Disappears

[mandat_2 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book was captivating! I absolutely loved her style of writing. This story was so well written, and was a delight to my imagination as I turned each page. It's been a while since I enjoyed a book so much. The mystery part of this story seriously had me questioning what the author had up her sleeve. I loved that this story was not predictable and made me work to figured out the mystery. If you are looking for a fantastic tale woven together with beautiful artistry, pick up Lady Jayne Disappears and enjoy some great writing!!!***I received this complimentary book from Library Thing. I was not required to write a positive review. All opinions are my own.

[redheadish · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book kept me rivoted to my seat until the very end. I would love to see the sequal or as the late father Woolf in the story requested of his daughter to write the second book of the true story of their family, of course it is just a fiction novel withing in a novel. But perhaps a second novel that continues to follow the family after the union of Silas and Aurelie Rosette Harcourt...

[godsgirl_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This seems like a lovely story, but I tried three times to get into it, but could not. I read for about fifty pages but had such a hard time with the writing style. So glad others enjoyed it.

[chrirob · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

30. Lady Jayne Disappears by Joanna Davidson Politano - Who is Nathanial Droll? He is the author of one of the most popular serials in 1861. But, no one seems to know who he is or how he can know so much about London Society and one family in particular. Aurelie Harcourt knows who Nathanial Droll is, but she is not going to tell. Her past in Shepton Mallet's Debtor's Prison afforded her chance meeting with Droll and it changed her life forever. But was this change for better or worse and can she keep the secret of Nathanial Droll to herself or will someone else force it out of her?This was a very interesting Victorian mystery. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it and would definitely recommend it to fans of historical fiction. Thank you LibraryThing for the early reviewers copy!

[becky_l-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A masterpiece of Regency romance, Lady Jayne Disappears by Joanna Davidson Politano is a real treat."God, where do I belong?" This is the desperate cry of Aurelie Harcourt, daughter of the famous author, Nathaniel Droll, who dies in debtor's prison. Aurelie is then taken in by rich relatives. Trying to hide her past and her identity, Aurelie searches for her mother, Lady Jayne, and her sense of belonging throughout the book.I loved so many characters in this book, both good and bad. Or maybe it was how Politano eventually showed us the deeper workings of each individual's heart. Nelle, a servant, shows the love of Jesus when the rich, religious relatives are standoffish and cruel. Other people had surprising character traits that are best discovered by reading the book, rather than spoilers.God is woven in and out of the story with the ease of an accomplished basketmaker who deftly pulls each reed throughout the latticework of the others. Aurelie believes Him to be Sovereign and capable of answering the prayers of her confused heart.Lady Jayne Disappears is chock full of quotables. A few are here:"Shame is reserved for those who disappoint God, not people.""If books were alcohol, he'd be the worst drunk in history."I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher and Netgalley. I was not required to leave a positive review and all opinions are my own.

[wagner5sarah35 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This book had such an intriguing start - a mysterious author, a girl from a debtors' prison, the mysterious disappearance of one Lady Jayne - but by the conclusion the book pretty much fell flat for me. There are plenty of plot twists, several of which I found satisfying (namely Jasper), but the resolution of Lady Jayne's disappearance felt disingenuous for all that built up to it. I did appreciate the ending of the romance portion of the plot, however, and if a little cheesy romance is what you're in the mood for, this novel certainly fits the bill.

[virginia51-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This was such an interesting and enjoyable read. This was a debut novel for Joanna and it was fantastic. There were so many twists and turns. I did not want to put this down. I loved Aurelie and she has an interesting family. I look forward to many more books by this author if they can be this good and unique. I received this book from Revell for a fair and honest opinion that I gave of my own free will.

[lkernagh · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

For a Christian historical fiction and a debut novel, this story has a lot of positives going for it. I am always a sucker for books set in 19th century England. I love that period. So perfect for books steeped in mystery, intrigue and romance. Some Gothic elements are present in the description of Lynhurst Manor and the author plays on the single-minded nature of the gentry of the time period. The details about debtor's prison are vividly portrayed.While I never really connected with Aurelie as a character, I loved the "story within a story" approach and the drama that ensues at Lynhurst as the family starts to wonder who is spying on their activities. Silas is a mystery and I did like how certain pieces of the story - Why is Silas spending the summer at Lynhurst and just who is Lady Jayne? - came together at the end. A couple of downsides to the story: I was dissatisfied with the lack of resolution regarding some of the characters and as mentioned previously, I just could not connect with Aurelie as the heroine of this story. Overall, a good book I can recommend for readers who love the Victorian England setting, enjoy a good a romance, and likes to encounter some unexpected plot twists.

[thequietreader · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Aurelie has lost her father, and is the only one who knows that the beloved serial author, Nathaniel Droll, is gone as well. As she seeks to find the truth behind the last story her father was writing, she learns about her past, drawing ever closer to danger.The premise for this story caught my attention, but it didn't always hold my attention. Aurelie was a relatable character and I was fascinated by her attempt to continue the story her father began. The romance side of things I found to be forced and uninteresting. The plot didn't flow at a consistent pace. There was also a hint of the supernatural which I wasn't sure whether was explained at the end or not.The edge of Dickensian was the main thing that kept me reading. Overall, it was an alright read but not one I'm sure I'd open up again.I received a free copy from NetGalley for reviewing purposes.

[phdinhorribleness · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I really loved this book. It's a beautiful story with wonderfully well developed characters. The story grabbed me right from the beginning and I didn't want to put it down. It has just enough intrigue to keep you guessing all the way to a very satisfying conclusion.

[myoldkyhome · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Excellent book. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Joanna Davidson Politano does a wonderful job of taking the reader through the Victorian era with romance and suspense. I highly recommend it.

[willowone_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Aurelie Rosette Harcourt had lived all of her years at Shepton Mallet, a debtors prison. Her Father spent every cent he could to try and make it the best life possible. They had the best cell in the prison and had items like warm blankets that others did not. Throughout her life Aurelie heard stories from her father about her mother but she never knew her. She spent her time writing down the wonderful stories her father told of the Mother she never knew and sent them to a publisher on a weekly basis. These stories written under the pen name Nathaniel Droll were the hit of Victorian England. Everyone wanted to know who this enigma of an author was. When Aurelie's Father passes away she is sent to her relatives home which is the exact opposite of the life she has lived up until then. She meets her Aunt, Lady Pochard and she is thrown into a life of near royal proportions. As time passes she longs to know more about the Mother she never knew but finds some secrets are best left in the past. Aurelie slowly finds out what happened, where her Father came from and who her Mother is. This is a wonderful story, with great characters and surprises along the way.I received this book for the purpose of review.

[vesper1931 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

After Aurelie Harcourt's father dies in debtor's prison where she has spent her whole life, she goes to stay with her father's wealthy family. But he has left her with an unfinished novel written under his famous pen name of Nathaniel Droll. While finishing his novel she also searches for the truth about her mother.
Gothic in places, but with the overuse of asking for God's help. At times I wished the pace was quicker but there were some redeeming characters, but not many.
A NetGalley Book

[mizroady · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is Ms. Politano’s first book and I know without a doubt I will want to read anything she publishes! What a talented writer! I was hooked after I read the first page! The setting is in England during the 1860’s. Debtor’s prisons were notorious then. Those who owed were locked up until they could pay their debts or someone else would pay for them. Aurelie Harcout grew up in one such prison with her father. He was a famous writer with the penname of Nathaniel Droll. He dies and without finishing the ending to his novel, “Lady Jayne Disappears”. She purposes to finish it under her father’s professional name. All she knows of his wealthy family are the stories he has told. Lady Jayne was her mother. Now left in total poverty and all alone, she is summoned and escorted to the infamous Lynhurst Manor, her father’s family home. She had never met his family. When she arrived they were expecting his personal affects, not a young woman! Although she grew up in the prison, she is a beautiful, articulate, young woman with strong character. Entering the world outside would have been enough of transition for her, but to be thrust into high society with such a cold, unwelcoming, secretive family was over the top. Though she was only 20, her maturity and strength allowed her to cope with such dignity and grace. I love her sweet and innocent spirit. This is a wholesome Christian mystery thriller. The plot was outstanding! There were so many surprising developments and totally unexpected turns that I couldn’t put the book down. Don’t’ expect to pre-guess the outcome of any part and prepare to be astonished over and over. I am finding it difficult to write this review as how to you describe a masterpiece! I can say this; you will WANT to read this book! Ms. Politano has been “engraved” into my favorite author’s list. I cannot wait to read her next book in 2018. I hope she writes many many more!I received this book from Revell Publishers in exchange for an honest review. The opinions I have stated are my own.

[vintagebeckie · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Lady Jayne Disappears by Joanna Davidson Politano is an impressive debut novel. Complex in its plotting and characterization, it reveals a heart for story and the One who is the Master Storyteller. A beautiful first offering, this book promises great things for readers — a wonderful new voice in CF.Aurelie Rosette Harcourt is the product of a life spent in debtor’s prison. Raised by a gentleman who spins spell-binding stories while languishing in the desperation of squalor and despair, Aurelia is a bit otherworldly — a young woman who seemingly fits everywhere and nowhere. Following her father’s death, she is thrust into a glittering world that is no less a prison for its inhabitants. As Aurelie continues her father’s work and legacy, she searches for the truth that proves both elusive and dangerous.The setting for Lady Jayne Disappears is Victorian England. A great chasm exists between the privileged and the poor. Politano’s novel is a wonderful look into the world that once was. A strong sense of atmosphere permeates the novel. Strong descriptive narrative from the first person point of view of Aurelie combined with an alternate third person view, causes the reader feel she has stepped right into the filth of debtor’s prison and the pristine environs of Lynhurst Manor. While the characters are very much Victorian in their actions and attitudes (quite Dickensian in their development), they are also real and relatable for the modern reader. The novel presents a story within a story as Aurelie takes on the persona of Nathaniel Droll, the pen name of her father. The serial novel Aurelie completes parallels her current situation as well as seeks to uncover the mystery of her mother’s disappearance. There are lots of twists and turns, keeping both Aurelie and the reader a bit off balance as story and reality are interwoven. Just what is real and what is fancy? Aurelie is a young woman who doesn’t know her own worth, but she certainly knows the One who gives it to her. I loved her powerful and active prayer life. Emphasis is placed on the power of story to heal, comfort, and confront. At one point Aurelie realizes this — Fiction was not always a lie, but a truth told in parallel to real life. A pill of advice disguised in an easy-to-swallow tale (p. 188).A bit romance, a bit mystery, this beautifully told historical novel will appeal to a widespread audience. I certainly loved it! I am eagerly awaiting more from Politano’s talented pen.Highly recommended.Audience: adults.(Thanks to Revell for a complimentary copy. All opinions expressed are mine alone.)

[nadinec.keels · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Upon the sudden death of her debt-riddled father, Aurelie is left with her father's popular pen name, Nathaniel Droll, and the task of completing his serial novel about one Lady Jayne. But in order to finish the story, Aurelie will have to uncover the secrets concerning the vanished mother she never knew in Lady Jayne Disappears, a novel by author Joanna Davidson Politano.Yes, I often dig stories about stories and storytelling, and a fair share of beautiful and writerly nuggets in this intricate and mysterious tale are right down my alley. The moments when Aurelie intentionally takes what’s happening in her soul and pours it out on paper were among the most vivid for me.However, though I wouldn’t say the reading was ever altogether boring to me, it did wear on me. The story is dense, and while I found it interesting overall, I would have to wade through stretches that didn’t quite satisfy my attention. I was also pulled out of the historical period and location a number of times. With issues like “candy,” “typewriter,” and “adoring fan” references and moments when a character or two would seem like an American in a more modern period, the feel of Victorian England would be lost.I related to Aurelie’s storyteller’s heart and could admire her compassion. I didn’t fully come to like her, though, as she’s a rather pathetic heroine. Not pathetic in the sense of being pitiful, exactly, but she’s often prone to defeat and despair, guilt and tears, feeling she’s failed and ruined things, time and again.Still, the eventual unraveling of the mystery here is gratifying, and other ChristFic fans should find this novel worth a read._____________Revell provided me with a complimentary copy of this book for an honest review.

[alekee_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A book that is written in the first person, and that being said, we walk in Aurelie Harcourt’s shoes throughout the story. The author even brings us right into the debtors prison and we walk from door to door, and see the injustice of this place.The author presents a young woman who is throw with the murder of her father into the midst of a family that wanted nothing to do with her. With money, why did they allow her and her Dad to live in the prison?Then we are privy to who is the famous author, and we see it get rather personal, to funny, and they all want to know who is Nathaniel Droll, and guesses sure go wild!I sure was surprised as the story unfolded and never saw a lot of what happened. A look at some of the dark side of old England, and one that a lot of aristocrats probably wouldn’t want seen, but we walk the halls and see first hand.I received this book through Revell Blogger Pro

[meganleigh844 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

"Lady Jayne Disappears" by Joanna Davidson Politano is such an incredible book for so many reasons!! I did not know anything about the author or the book going into it--except that I loved the cover and the back cover description. This book is so well written and has such a great story with characters that you will fall in love with!The opening of the story draws you in right away. Ms. Politano uses vivid descriptions of Victorian England that make you feel like you are transported back in time. There is an air of mystery and a gothic feel throughout, with hints of Dickens. I find the premise and plot of this story fascinating and refreshing. It is very original and well done. I love the characters in this story so much; each is interesting in his own right. I’d love to gush more about the book’s plot, but it's hard to not say anything that would give the story away, so if the back cover description grabs you, you’ll love this book! My inner bookworm was in heaven, reading about how Aurelie (our heroine), loves stories. I love the way she thinks and interacts with others. Aurelie also has a strong faith, prays and talks about God. She repeats verses when she is going through hard times. She is a character that I will not soon forget!I highly recommend this book! It has beautiful messages of identity, belonging and faith. The mystery, twists and turns kept me reading until the last page. I can't wait for the next book this author writes! Content: This is a clean read.Rating: I give this book 5 starsGenre: Christian historical fiction; Victorian; Mystery; RomanceI want to thank Joanna Davidson Politano, Revell, and LibraryThing Early Reviewers for the complimentary copy of this book for review. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I express in this review are my own. This is in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s CFR 16, Part 255.

[lcjohnson1988_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Title: Lady Jane DisappearsAuthor: Joanna Davidson PolitanoPages: 416Year: 2017Publisher: RevellMy rating 5 out of 5 stars.Aurelie Harcourt is a young woman who has an uncanny way of telling stories that entertain and teach at the same time. Aurelie learned that from her father who she stayed with in debtor’s prison because she had nowhere else to go. Aurelie had her father’s family, who she eventually had to stay with after her father’s demise in prison. However, she finds herself not only a stranger among family, but undesired as well.The author weaves a very heart-gripping story of this young woman’s desire to find out what happened to her mother while trying to “fit in” to the family when they don’t even want her in the house. The other members in the house may or may not really be who they appear to be, especially regarding the woman they look at as an intruder.As Aurelie walks throughout the mansion, she comes across a room that has clues in it as to who her mother may have been, but where or what happened to her is what Aurelie wants to know most of all. The character that kept me guessing as to his true identity and inner character was Silas Rotherham. At times in the story he appeared as a protagonist while at other times it was like he was someone totally different. Either way, I can share with you that the ending will really surprise you! As I read, I felt like I was reading a story within a story and I found that a fascinating aspect of the book.In the back of the book for those who want to know, the author gives us a sneak peek into the next tale she will share with her audience. I don’t know the title or when it will be released, but I will be watching for it with excitement to see if it is as excellent a story as Lady Jane Disappears!Disclosure of Material Connection: I received one or more of the products or services mentioned above for free in the hope that I would mention it on my blog. Regardless, I only recommend products or services I use personally and believe will be good for my readers. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255. “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

[cbl_tn · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

After her father's death, Aurelie Harcourt is taken into the home of her Aunt Eudora, her father's sister. Up until this point, Aurelie has spent her entire life with her father in debtors prison. Aurelie has inherited her father's gift for storytelling. She has also inherited the serial novel he was writing under the pseudonym Nathaniel Droll entitled Lady Jayne Disappears. Aurelie must find a way to complete the novel. She has plenty of material since the novel is set in Aunt Eudora's home, Lynhurst Manor. Maybe completing the novel will help Aurelie work out what happened to her mother, the real life Lady Jayne. Aurelie must fight her growing attraction for fellow house guest Silas Rotherham, for it seems his heart belongs to someone else.I was attracted to this book by its description, and I was disappointed that it didn't meet my expectations. The language and sentiments in the novel seem much too modern. It would appear that the author did very little research on the historical context for this novel, which is set in 1861. Aurelie speaks of something “backfiring”, but this term didn't become common until several decades later. One of the characters eats peanut brittle, but while the candy may have been in existence at this point in time, the name “peanut brittle” apparently wasn't used until the end of the 19th century. I also thought that the mystery aspect of the plot would be more predominant, so I was disappointed to discover that it's a romance written from a complementarian theological perspective. If the idea that a woman needs a husband to help her understand her true worth makes you cringe, this book isn't for you.This review is based on an advance readers copy provided by the publisher through LibraryThing's Early Reviewers program.

[tealadytoo · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Lady Jayne Disappears – Joanna Davidson Politano – 4.5*This fine novel set in Victorian England skillfully combines love, faith, secrets and lies. Aurelie Harcourt has lived her entire life with her beloved but profligate father in debtor’s prison. Despite publishing successful serial novels under the penname “Nathaniel Droll” while in prison, he has never seemed to hold on to enough money to clear his debts. Now after his sudden death, Aurelie is unexpectedly sent to live with her embittered aunt, who never knew of her life in prison, and her aunt’s troubled family. While there, Aurelie hopes to learn enough about her mysterious mother to be able to complete Droll’s last serial, “Lady Jayne Disappears”, in which he had intended to reveal at last her mother’s story.This tale is well told, and engrossing from the start. The mysteries are abundant, and the characters are well drawn. The faith element strikes an excellent balance between heavy-handed and non-existent. The only reason that I deducted a half-star from my rating is that the plot holds together due to many, many secrets that have been kept dark for many, many years. It strains believability that all that is going on in this story, involving so many people, could have been kept completely hidden for so long. Despite this, the story is compelling and enjoyable. I look forward to future novels from this author.

[pamelabarrett · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Aurelie Harcourt grew up in a debtor’s prison in the mid 1800’s with her father who told fanciful stories about a romance with a beautiful woman he called Lady Jayne. Aurelie wrote them all down, and they were being published as a serial novel that captivated Victorian England. They were published using a false identity so no one knew who wrote them. Also, Aurelie never knew her own mother so she fantasizes and wonders if Lady Jayne might be her mother.When her father dies, she is released into the care of her aunt Eudora, her father’s sister, who lives on the family estate, the very one her father used as a setting for his stories. Once she arrives at Lynhurst Manor she sees that in contrast to its beauty, and even with all their wealth, there is deep running unhappiness and secrets lurk everywhere. Convinced that somebody in the family must know about Lady Jayne, she begins her search, but no one will tell her who she was and what happened; it seems that Lady Jayne has simply vanished. Aurelie needs to tread lightly because she has her own secret to hide from the world, that she knows the identity of the author of Lady Jayne’s stories. This is great story telling. If you’re looking for a English based novel of mystery, romance, and a bit of danger reminiscent of Dickens and the Bronte’s then this is a must have. I read a galley proof, so the publication date is around October 2017, just put it on your wish list. 4 stars

[oddandbookish · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I received this book for free from JustRead tours as part of their Blind Date with a Book tour. First off, I just want to say that JustRead tours did an amazing job matching me with this book. It was right up my alley. This book was like Jane Eyre meets a Charles Dickens novel and I loved it. It’s like Jane Eyre in the sense that the main character is living in a mysterious house with people above her station. Similar to a Dickens novel, this book deals with and shed light on some unsavory things about the Victorian era like debtors’ prison. I loved the vibe of this book. It’s mysterious with a hint of a gothic feel to it. There’s a little bit of romance too. The love interest was perfect for the main character. They were really good together. Also, he was an avid reader so you gotta love him. At point he says, “I admit I’man escapist when it comes to books. I become drunk on story, on words, as a buffer against reality” (pg. 104). This book is Christian fiction but it is very light on the religious aspects. It doesn’t overpower the story itself which I liked. The only thing I didn’t love was that the mystery wasn’t as exciting as I would have liked. Overall, this was an enjoyable Victorian tale with a beautiful blend of romance and mystery.

[bookscookslooks · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Stories of plucky young women who go after what they want never fail to entertain. When those young women go against their place in society all the better. In Lady Jane Disappears the heroine is the daughter of the lady in the title and she is trying to figure out where her mother went. Her father has died in debtor's prison and Aurelie finds herself forced to live with an aunt she does not know. This new family does not seem to care about her but at least she has a roof over her head - and what a roof it is. Full of secret passages and mysteries.This was a vastly entertaining tale of a young woman with secrets trying to answer the biggest mystery of her life - what happened to her mother. It's full of quirky characters and written in a way that is sure to keep the pages turning until the very end.

[debs4jc · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Aurelie Harcourt - a young lady living in Victorian England - arrives at the estate of an aunt she never meant after her father dies in debtors prison. While she may have been thrown upon the mercy of indifferent relatives, she harbors a secret - the identity of the famous serial novelist Nathaniel Droll. Nathaniel Droll was the pen name of her father, and as the events of the novel unfold it becomes hers as well. This plucky young woman not only has the nerve to assume the role of an author, she also decides she must find out whatever happened to her mother - the famed Lady Jayne who stole her father's heart but then disappeared right after she was born. Her aunt and cousins are little help to her in this quest, but some kindly servants and a friend of the family - a rather good looking man named Silas Rotherham - may prove to be more helpful in her many quests. I thoroughly enjoyed this period mystery/romance. Who can resist a young woman sneaking around a massive and old British estate, finding secret passage ways, encountering mysterious apparitions, and trying to untangle the truth behind the lovely stories her father told her about "Lady Jayne" - her mother? Of course the truth turns out to not quite match Aurelie's romanticized version of the past, and Aurielie makes many blunders along the way. Fans of Dickens, Austen, and the Bronte stories should lap this up. My one annoyance was that our main character seemed somewhat scatterbrained in how she went about things - conveniently forgetting to attend to major issues in her life until they popped back up again in the story. Otherwise, I especially enjoyed the audio version which had a narrator who did a wonderful job with the different voices and made it seem like I was really going on romp through Victorian England with Aurelie and her friends - and enemies.

[lamb521 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Title: Lady Jane DisappearsAuthor: Joanna Davidson PolitanoPages: 416Year: 2017Publisher: RevellMy rating 5 out of 5 stars.Aurelie Harcourt is a young woman who has an uncanny way of telling stories that entertain and teach at the same time. Aurelie learned that from her father who she stayed with in debtor’s prison because she had nowhere else to go. Aurelie had her father’s family, who she eventually had to stay with after her father’s demise in prison. However, she finds herself not only a stranger among family, but undesired as well.The author weaves a very heart-gripping story of this young woman’s desire to find out what happened to her mother while trying to “fit in” to the family when they don’t even want her in the house. The other members in the house may or may not really be who they appear to be, especially regarding the woman they look at as an intruder.As Aurelie walks throughout the mansion, she comes across a room that has clues in it as to who her mother may have been, but where or what happened to her is what Aurelie wants to know most of all. The character that kept me guessing as to his true identity and inner character was Silas Rotherham. At times in the story he appeared as a protagonist while at other times it was like he was someone totally different. Either way, I can share with you that the ending will really surprise you! As I read, I felt like I was reading a story within a story and I found that a fascinating aspect of the book.In the back of the book for those who want to know, the author gives us a sneak peek into the next tale she will share with her audience. I don’t know the title or when it will be released, but I will be watching for it with excitement to see if it is as excellent a story as Lady Jane Disappears!Disclosure of Material Connection: I received one or more of the products or services mentioned above for free in the hope that I would mention it on my blog. Regardless, I only recommend products or services I use personally and believe will be good for my readers. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255. “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”