My Lady Jane

"My Lady Jane" is a historical fiction novel that intricately weaves together the lives of Lady Jane Grey, the nine-day queen of England, and her tumultuous journey through love, loyalty, and political intrigue. Set against the backdrop of the Tudor era, the story follows Jane as she navigates her role in a court rife with danger and ambition. With a blend of humor, romance, and poignant moments, the novel explores themes of identity, power, and the struggle for agency in a world dominated by men. The imaginative retelling offers readers a fresh perspective on a well-known historical figure, inviting them to consider what might have been in the face of destiny.

• Short story

								
The boat got into Broughton half an hour after the train had gone. We
had been delayed by some small accident to the machinery; hence that
lost half-hour, which meant a night's sojourn for me in Broughton. I
am ashamed of the things I thought and said. When I think that fate
might have taken me at my word and raised up a special train, or some
such miracle, by which I might have got away from Broughton that
night, I experience a cold chill. Out of gratitude I have never sworn
over missing connections since.

At the time, however, I felt thoroughly exasperated. I was in a hurry
to get on. Important business engagements would be unhinged by the
delay. I was a stranger in Broughton. It looked like a stupid, stuffy
little town. I went to a hotel in an atrocious humor. After I had
fumed until I wanted a change, it occurred to me that I might as well
hunt up Clark Oliver by way of passing the time. I had never been
overly fond of Clark Oliver, although he was my cousin. He was a bit
of a cad, and stupider than anyone belonging to our family had a right
to be. Moreover, he was in politics, and I detest politics. But I
rather wanted to see if he looked as much like me as he used to. I
hadn't seen him for three years and I hoped that the time might have
differentiated us to a saving degree. It was over a year since I had
last been blown up by some unknown, excited individual on the ground
that I was that scoundrel Oliver--politically speaking. I thought that
was a good omen.

I went to Clark's office, found he had left, and followed him to his
rooms. The minute I saw him I experienced the same nasty feeling of
lost or bewildered individuality which always overcame me in his
presence. He was so absurdly like me. I felt as if I were looking into
a mirror where my reflection persisted in doing things I didn't do,
thereby producing a most uncanny sensation.

Clark pretended he was glad to see me. He really couldn't have been,
because his Great Idea hadn't struck him then, and we had always
disliked each other.

"Hello, Elliott," he said, shaking me by the hand with a twist he had
learned in election campaigns, whereby something like heartiness was
simulated. "Glad to see you, old fellow. Gad, you're as like me as
ever. Where did you drop from?"

I explained my predicament and we talked amiably and harmlessly for
awhile about family gossip. I abhor family gossip, but it is a shade
better than politics, and those two subjects are the only ones on
which Clark can converse at all. I described Mary Alice's wedding, and
Florence's new young man, and Tom-and-Kate's twins. Clark tried to be
interested but I saw he had something on what serves him for a mind.
After awhile it came out. He looked at his watch with a frown.

"I'm in a bit of a puzzle," he said. "The Mark Kennedys are giving a
dinner to-night. You don't know them, of course. They're the big
people of Broughton. Kennedy runs the politics of the place, and Mrs.
K. makes or mars people socially. It's my first invitation there and
it's necessary I should accept it--necessary every way. Mrs. K. would
never forgive me if I disappointed her at the last moment. Not that I,
personally, am of much account--yet--to her. But it would leave a
vacant place. Mrs. K. would never notice me again and, as she bosses
Kennedy, I can't afford to offend her. Besides, there's a girl who'll
be there. I've met her once. I want to meet her again. She's a beauty
and no mistake. Toplofty as they make 'em, though. However, I think
I've made an impression on her. It was at the Harvey's dance last
week. She was the handsomest woman there, and she never took her eyes
off me. I've given Mrs. Kennedy a pretty broad hint that I want to
take her in to dinner. If I don't go I'll miss all round."

"Well, what is there to prevent you from going?" I asked, squiffily. I
never could endure the way Clark talked about girls and hinted at his
conquests.

"Just this. Herbert Bronson came to town this afternoon and is leaving
on the 10.30 train to-night. He's sent me word to meet him at his
hotel this evening and talk over a mining deal I've been trying to
pull off. I simply must go. It's my one chance to corral Bronson. If I
lose him it'll be all up, and I'll be thousands out of pocket."

"Well, you are in rather a predicament," I agreed, with the
philosophical acceptance of the situation that marks the outsider. I
wasn't hampered by the multiplicity of my business and social
engagements that evening, so I could afford to pity Clark. It is
always rather nice to be able to pity a person you dislike.

"I should say so. I can't make up my mind what to do. Hang it. I'll
have to see Bronson. There's no question about that. A man ought to
keep an understood substitute on hand to send to dinners when he can't
go. By Jove! Elliott!"

Clark's Great Idea had arrived. He bounced up eagerly.

"Elliott, will you go to the Kennedys' in my place? They'll never
know the difference. Do, now--there's a good fellow!"

"Nonsense!" I said.

"It isn't nonsense. The resemblance between us was foreordained for
this hour. I'll lend you my dress suit--it'll fit you--your figure is
as much like mine as your face. You've nothing to do with yourself
this evening. I offer you a good dinner and an agreeable partner. Come
now, to oblige me. You know you owe me a good turn for that Mulhenen
business."

The Mulhenen business clinched the matter. Until he mentioned it I
had no notion whatever of masquerading as Clark Oliver at the
Kennedys' dinner. But, as Clark so delicately put it, he had done me a
good turn in that affair and the obligation had rankled ever since. It
is beastly to be indebted for a favor to a man you detest. Now was my
chance to pay it off and I took it without more ado.

"But," I said doubtfully, "I don't know the Kennedys--nor any of the
social stunts that are doing in Broughton; I won't dare to talk about
anything, and I'll seem so stupid, even if I don't actually make some
irremediable blunder, that the Kennedys will be disgusted with you. It
will probably do your prospects more harm than your absence would."

"Not at all. Keep your mouth shut when you can and talk generalities
when you can't, and you'll pass. If you take that girl in she's a
stranger in Broughton and won't suspect your ignorance of what's going
on. Nobody will suspect you. Nobody here knows I have a cousin so like
me. Our own mothers haven't always been able to tell us apart. Our
very voices are alike. Come now, get into my dinner togs. You haven't
much time and Mrs. K. doesn't like late comers."

There seemed to be a number of things that Mrs. Kennedy did not like.
I thought my chance of pleasing that critical lady extremely small,
especially when I had to live up to Clark Oliver's personality.
However, I dressed as expeditiously as possible. The novelty of the
adventure rather pleased me. I always liked doing unusual things.

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