"Any sign of your journal?" Jasper asked the next morning as we sat down for breakfast.

"None. I've searched the room again, but it's not there," I lied. "It looks like it just grew legs and walked away."

"I'm sure it's around here somewhere. What did it look like again?"

"It was just a brown, leather journal. Nothing too fancy."

"You know, I'm sure I saw Bertie with a journal like that the other day. I might be wrong, but maybe ask him? He's only part-time and from the village so he doesn't stay here. If he took it, they wouldn't have found it lying around."

"I'll have a word with him, thank you, Jasper."

Jasper nodded and turned to Mary, pulling her into a conversation as they ate scrambled eggs. I looked at Luke who frowned, the two of us well aware that the journal had been hidden in the house and not been removed from the property. If Bertie did take it, he would have taken it home with him, as Jasper said, not hidden it under a loose floorboard in the servant's quarters. Still, we had someone new to talk to who might have seen something without realising it.

After breakfast, Mrs Channing sent me outside with Luke to gather some flowers for Lady Richardson's art room. She had requested them and specifically asked for me to observe and choose the flowers for her — not that I had any ideas about different types of flowers. The request gave me and Luke ample opportunity to talk to Bertie, who was due to be working that day, without missing our chores.

We headed outside into the spring sunlight, the other gardeners fanning out to start their chores. Before we did anything else, we stopped by the shed to pick up some shears to cut the flowers, and then headed out in search of Bertie. According to Luke, he could usually be found weeding the flowerbeds and worked for a few hours a week. The fact that we could catch him on the day Jasper tried to pin the journal on him was a stroke of luck.

Just as Luke said, we spotted Bertie kneeling over one of the flowerbeds pulling up weeds and dumping them in a bucket. He removed his cap from his head, ran a hand through his hair before putting the cap back on.

"Bertie, can we ask you something?" Luke said, tapping Bertie on the shoulder.

"Depends on wha' you want to ask." Bertie ran the back of his hand over his forehead.

"Do you remember seeing anyone with a leather journal in the past week?"

"Just a simple one?" I nodded. "I might 'ave. I can't remember who it was, I only caught a glimpse of 'em, but there was someone down by the old well when I was walkin' 'ome one afternoon. It looked like they were rippin' pages out."

I frowned. "The old well?"

"Hm, it's at the edge of the property so no one goes out there."

"Did you ever see Lady Catherine out here?"

Bertie removed his hat once more and scratched his head, looking up at me with a raised eyebrow and a general quizzical look on his face. "Lady Catherine? Once, I think. I saw her with someone else."

"Who?"

He shrugged. "It might 'ave been Archie or it could 'ave been Jasper. I'm not sure; they look the same from behind."

My hands clenched into fists at my side. I knew that it couldn't have been Archie since he had a stutter and didn't fit Lady Catherine's description of her suitor, Jasper, on the other hand, did. Mary had said that he was knowledgeable, sweet, and all of the other serving girls liked him in some way. It would make sense that Lady Catherine did too, especially if he is as articulate as she said he was.

Not only that, but it would explain why he tried to pin the missing journal on Bertie. He had no idea that we had found it and Bertie seemed like an easy target since he left the premises at the end of each workday. Jasper had stolen my journal, he had removed the pages and hidden it in the spare room. He knew that I had Lady Catherine's journal.

I knew Luke and I were thinking the same thing as we left Bertie to the weeds, but we didn't say anything. We couldn't act unless we had proof but we just had Bertie's word and even he wasn't certain about what he had witnessed. Instead, we had no choice but to continue on with our chores. Luke cut some flowers for me whilst making a hushed promise to get ahold of a screwdriver and pry the locket open to see what was inside. He knew what Jasper's handwriting looked like.

With the flowers in hand, I left Luke to it. I climbed the back staircase to the top floor where I met Lady Richardson in the hall. She smiled, but said nothing, leading me down the hall to her art studio where a vase full of water had been placed on a table in the centre of the room. To the left, stacked up with the other paintings, was the painting of Lady Catherine.

I glanced at it, my eyes drawn to the expression on her face and the fear embedded in her eyes. There was no hiding from that fear, no hiding from the terror on her face. If Jasper had been the suitor, he had been the one to cause that fear, but why?

"Thank you, Jane," Lady Richardson said. "I wasn't too sure what I wanted to paint this morning, so I thought I would go for the usual object."

"I'm sure it will be beautiful," I said, placing the flowers in the vase.

"I hope so, I do enjoy painting flowers." She smiled. "Is everything alright Jane? You look bothered by something."

"It's nothing, My Lady. I wouldn't want to bother you with my problems."

"It cannot be nothing if it bothers you so much, but I understand. I expect it to be difficult to share your feelings with your employer. However, sometimes talking about your problems can make them better."

I nodded. "I know, My Lady."

"I shall let you get on with your chores, but remember what I said."

With a small curtsey, I left the art studio and headed down the back staircase to the second floor to meet Mary in Lady Abigail's room. All I could think about was Jasper and how he was the one responsible for everything. He had stolen my journal and ripped the pages out in his search for Lady Catherine's journal. He was the one Lady Catherine spoke about in her journal, the secret suitor that became ice-cold.

Jasper was the suitor and he had been getting close to Mary who was none the wiser.

I entered Lady Abigail's room, expecting Mary to be in there tidying up the bed, but the room was empty. The sheets were still dishevelled from the night and it looked as though no one had stepped foot in the room in the time I had been in the garden and with Lady Richardson.

Where was Mary?

~~~

First Published - February 27th, 2022