Wentworth Hall

“How can we catch her at it?” Maggie wondered.

Lila looked at Maggie, her brows arched in thought, her chin propped on her hands. It reminded her of the old days when they were united in trying to figure a way out of some dilemma: how to sneak out to play in the stable with Michael and Nora, or the best way to sneak extra pie from the kitchen. These memories warmed her, and she felt a sudden outpouring of love for her older sister as well as a deep desire to be united in some new scheme with her. “How can we get our hands on that notebook?” she questioned.

“I just left Jessica reading in the library, reading a novel,” Maggie replied. “Why don’t you go down there and engage her in conversation. Make sure she doesn’t leave the room. That will give me time to snoop around her bedroom for the notebook. She didn’t have it with her in the library.”

Lila grinned, intrigued by the idea. It was so good to be embroiled in one of Maggie’s schemes once more.

“All right. I’ll get going to Jessica’s room,” Maggie suggested to Lila. “You head off to the library.”

“What should I do?” Nora asked.

“Come with me and be the lookout in case Teddy comes by or Jessica escapes Lila.”

“Will do,” Nora agreed.

“We’re off,” Maggie said as she headed for the door. “Good luck.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lila assured her.

As soon as Maggie and Nora departed, Lila noticed a novel sitting on the dresser: Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens. Nora must have meant to bring it back up to the library but forgotten it. As long as she was heading for the library herself she might as well bring it up. Tucking the volume under her arm, she set out for her encounter with Jessica.

Maggie stood in Jessica’s room, wondering where to start looking. Crossing to the vanity, she pulled open all the drawers but discovered nothing. Pushing up the sides of the pink silk covers, she ran her hands between the mattress and the box spring along the entire bed, but with no success. Then, struck with a sudden inspiration, she tossed the pillows from the head to the center of the bed. “Voila!” she murmured, seizing upon the red journal.

Stepping out into the hall, she held up the red journal to show Nora—who had busied herself dusting the tall, gilt picture frames—that she’d uncovered her prize. Nora smiled and nodded.

Back inside the room, Maggie fanned through the pages until, halfway through, the neat, tight handwriting stopped. She started by reading the last entry first:

Just weeks now until Teddy and I turn eighteen. Thank God! The first thing I intend to do when my inheritance comes through is to return to Johannesburg. I am so homesick and have had it with living here with the Darlingtons. Lila and Maggie remind me of all those titled brats. They are just the same sorts of snobs who plagued me while I was in London during my debutante season. They were just as concerned about their “names” and family lineage, mocking Teddy and me just because we aren’t descended from some musty old family covered in cobwebs. I’m proud that our father made his fortune on his own rather than inheriting it.

My mother, too, came from Dutch South Africans who farmed to make their fortune. How I wish I had known her better. I’m certain she would have loathed the stuffiness of English society. In that way I am truly her daughter.

After reading several earlier pages, Maggie sighed, shutting the notebook and laying the pillows back over it. They were certainly uninformative and disappointing, though they did explain Jessica’s haughty disdain. The bad reception she’d been given in London had set her against the English aristocracy, which the Darlingtons represented to her.

Nora had convinced her that Jessica was the author of the satires, but there wasn’t a word in the journal about Jessica having written them. And more importantly, no observations about the Darlingtons that indicated she’d uncovered any of their secrets. The only mention of the satires was one entry where Jessica confessed that she found the pieces hilarious and accurate, implying that the Darlingtons deserved the mockery they were getting. When Maggie read that, anger put red blotches into her cheeks, but it didn’t prove that Jessica had authored the newspaper pieces.

If it wasn’t Jessica, then who was it?

Lila wasn’t even close to the library when she heard Jessica’s laughter tinkling like chimes down the hallway. She realized that in the whole time Jessica had been at Wentworth Hall, Lila had never heard Jessica as much as giggle, not even once. What could be the cause of this merriment?

Upon entering the library, Lila came upon Jessica smiling flirtatiously at Ian, who sat on the other end of the leather couch regaling her with a tale of some sailing mishap. Lila was struck with a hard snap of jealousy. Why was Jessica standing so close to Ian? It certainly appeared that Jessica was enjoying his company— she was friendlier to him than she’d ever been to any of the Darlingtons.

“Lila!” Ian greeted her with a smile.

The lively shine in Jessica’s eyes dulled into annoyance. “Hello, Lila,” she said stiffly.

“What have you got there?” Ian inquired with a nod at the book tucked in Lila’s hand.

“Oliver Twist,” Lila reported.

“That’s one of my favorite books,” Ian revealed with enthusiasm. “How are you liking it?”

“I love it!” Lila fibbed, wanting to strike a common bond with him. “I came up here to read it. I had no idea anyone was in here.”

“Don’t let us stop you from reading,” Jessica said without warmth. Clearly her intent was to keep Lila from joining their conversation.

“Yes, don’t let us keep you from it,” Ian agreed. “When I was reading Oliver Twist, I was aggravated by any interruption to my progress. All I wanted to do was get on with the story. Do sit and read. I’ll keep my voice down. Can you concentrate if we keep talking?”

“Of course,” Lila said, settling into the hunter green leather high-backed chair across from the couch. She suddenly wanted to devour the novel as quickly as possible so that she would have some reason to talk to him. Besides that, her goal was to keep Jessica occupied and Ian was doing a better job of it than she ever could. “Continue telling Jessica your story and I’ll settle in here to read,” she said. “You won’t bother me.”

“Yes, do tell me the rest,” Jessica said brightly. “I’m dying to hear how this ends.”

Lila opened the book and immediately came upon a piece of lined paper folded in thirds. Curious, she undid it and saw it was a letter addressed to Maggie. Turning it revealed that it was from Michael. With darting eyes, she raced through it:

My Most Dear Maggie,

I write you today begging your forgiveness. I have been an insensitive fool and caused you great pain. I don’t know how I could have been so blind to have not realized that I am the father of darling little James. It angered me at first to think you had kept this from me. But now that my eyes have been opened, it fills me with remorse that you have had to go though so much on your own without my help or support. You are such a brave and strong person. You could have easily given our boy up for adoption but you chose instead to make sure he would be raised under your watchful eye as a member of your own family. This touches me deeply and fills me with the greatest respect for you.

One thing I do not regret is the night of love we shared that produced our son. Had I known he was conceived, I would have moved Heaven and Earth to make a life for us. Now that I do know, I humbly ask you for that chance. You would be giving up so much, but I would treat you like a queen in a way that no duke or earl could match. If you will accept me as your husband, I swear I will spend the rest of my days endeavoring to make you and little James the two happiest people on the planet. It’s true we have many obstacles, but I know we can set everything to right as long as we are together.

Love,

Michael

By the time she was reading the last lines, tears were welling in Lila’s eyes. Poor Maggie! Poor Michael! She