Jane and Austen (22 page)

“Huh?”

“
Northanger Abbey,”
I said. “You’d never do the stupid things Edmund does in
Mansfield Park
either.”

Austen didn’t look like he was following me at all. “Thanks?”

I wrinkled my nose. I kind of liked that Austen didn’t fit any of the men in these novels. “No. You defy description. I’m Jane; you’re Austen.”

He groaned. “So now we’re the authors of these people’s lives?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, you just think we’re cursed.”

“Well . . .” I met his eyes. Austen was teasing me now, but since I had calmed down, I decided to play with it. “If you’re cursed, too, then you’d need your own romance.” Then it hit me like a stab in the gut. Junie! Secretive Junie whom Austen might actually have a thing for. “Do you?” I asked, unsure now.

He gave me a mischievous grin. “Maybe.”

Just thinking about it put my teeth on edge. It was good that I was wrong about the curse, or every girl at North Abbey would be making the moves on Austen like the guys were with me. Bertie, Mary, and Bella didn’t know how amazing Austen was, and I’d make sure that it stayed that way.

My phone buzzed, and I looked down at the text. It was from Colin.

COLIN: MEET ME AT CHURCHELL’S SHACK, WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE FUTURE OF NORTH ABBEY.

Austen plucked the phone easily from my hands. “Give me that.”

 “Hey!” I complained.

Austen typed off a text and thrust the phone near my eyes so I could read it.

JANE: WOULD YOU BE A DEAR, COLIN, AND CHECK ON TAYLOR? SHE WANTS YOU TO HANG FLOWERS AND RIBBON FOR THE BACHELORETTE PARTY TOMORROW.

I smirked. “Okay, yeah, send that.”

Austen did the evil deed and handed my phone back to me. He took my hand. “Sit down, Jane. I think you’ve had a hard day.”

He was right. I was so exhausted that I’d have let him take me anywhere. He led me to the sofa and we settled in front of the big screen TV. It was blissfully off for now. Austen faced me, looking contrite. “Jane, I’m sorry you have to put up with Colin. I know you’re angry about it.”

Well, my life had been shoved off the deep end because of Austen’s rational decision. Losing North Abbey would affect my whole future. I groaned at the thought. “Why do you have to sell the place to Colin?”

“My parents are in the red, Jane. Taylor’s wedding might bring in a little more money, but even after that, it will only mean that they owe a little less than they do now. The most I can do is get a decent price out of it. Colin’s parents own a share in the resort and they’re willing to buy us out.”

Austen wasn’t getting rid of the family business because he was bored with it. I had to remember that, even though I wished there was another way. I sighed and leaned heavily against the back cushions of the sofa. “We’re losing our home to Mr. Collins,” I grumbled.

His lip twitched up at the sides. “You’re back to
Pride and Prejudice
again?”

“You don’t appreciate how creepy my life is right now.” I pulled out the Jane Austen collection from the side console. “I have to show you what I’m talking about before you try to lock me up in an asylum.”

“Give me those,” he said. “I’m confiscating these.” He held the DVDs like they were dangerous weapons, then peered closer at one of the covers. “What’s with her hair? That’s so wrong.”

“The hair can be pretty bad in the older ones; also in the latest
Persuasion
, but . . .” I stole
Northanger Abbey
from his hands and held it up to his eyes. “Adorably clueless girl finds love despite making all sorts of mistakes. She marries above her station though she has no money or family connections.”

Austen looked wary. “Not a bad end,” he said.

“Not a likely ending either, according to you. However . . .” I stood up and stuffed the movie into the DVD player and fast-forwarded it to one of Catherine’s daydreams where two men fight over her and she is secretively pleased about it. “Personality-wise, I admit I’m a lot like Catherine because I love romance, maybe ridiculously so. Here’s a fight she has with her main squeeze, Henry.” I fast-forwarded it again. “He thinks that she is being over-imaginative and silly.”

Austen leaned back into the couch, his eyes on me. “And that’s us?”

“Not quite,” I said, “Or we’d have this to look forward to.” With a devilish laugh, I sat next to him and cut to the end where Henry declares his love for Catherine. With his arms around her, he told her that she wasn’t so far off with her crazy theories.

“You’re right. I’m wrong,” Austen said. “I know the drill. Male loves female no matter what she does.”

I elbowed him playfully. “I’m not through yet.” I took out
Northanger Abbey
and put in
Persuasion
. “Here’s a classic love-hate romance where girl loses boy and gets him back again.” I cut to the part where the captain meets Anne again after his long voyage at sea. “She dumped him because he wasn’t good enough—class distinction, money and all that, but now he’s a captain in her majesty’s royal navy.”

I pushed play to show Austen a stiff captain ignoring the main girl, though it’s obvious that she’s the only one he can see. I paused the scene and turned to Austen. “Do you remember when I asked you to be my fake boyfriend?”

“How could I forget?”

“And?”

He shrugged. “It was kind of like that with the captain.”

“Well, this movie says that I can get Redd back.”

Austen stiffened. I climbed off the sofa and ejected
Persuasion
and put in
Sense and Sensibility
. “Guy goes for sensible girl,” I summarized, “who keeps her distance and doesn’t really flirt with him. He still falls in love with her. The other girl—who happens to be sisters with the sensible one—well, she
does
flirt, and she gets in trouble with the wrong guy.”

I couldn’t help it. I took Austen to the part where Marianne sprained her ankle and the perfect Mr. Willoughby carries her back to her cottage. “Even now it makes me all swoony,” I said, “even if the guy’s a weasel—he’s a hot weasel.”

Austen’s eyes went to me and I hurriedly got to my point. “Remember when you said that a girl has to flirt to get a guy’s attention? Well, you’re right. Doing
nothing
doesn’t actually work, except ever since we ‘cursed’ each other . . . I find that doing nothing works for me. I mean, what kind of girl gets a guy without flirting? And what kind of girl doesn’t get anywhere with her flirting?”

“Do I have to answer that?” Austen asked.

“No, because I promise it won’t be funny.” I held up
Mansfield Park
next. “Classic Cinderella story. A poor relation is taken in, treated terribly—they put her in the attic—but then everyone sees how wonderful and sensible she is. She takes over the household and all the men love her—good and bad alike.”

He gave me a look like I was far from Fanny Price’s character description. “They love her because she’s so sensible?” he asked.

“Fine, Fanny and I are only alike because we both live in the attic. And the guys are all going crazy around here. Crawley even noticed it. He accused me of having five suitors.”

Austen caught my hand, tugging me away from the DVD player so that I sat down next to him. “Who are they?”

I counted the men out in my head again and realized that Austen was in that number, which wasn’t true at all. “Sorry, just four suitors,” I said. “Four, if you go by Jane Austen’s definition. Wait, no five again. Jane Austen would count the fifth.” With great daring, I pulled out
Emma
. “Best friend falls for his best gal pal. The one she loved was in front of her the whole time.”

He was silent, watching me. “Show me,” he said after a moment.

Surprised, I turned to see his expression. He was giving me that look again—the one that I couldn’t read, but it was warm and it sent prickles of heat through my skin. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that Austen was getting in to this. “Okay,” I said, not sure what clip I could trust him with. Maybe when Emma declared her love in the end.
No, too embarrassing.
Maybe the constant fights between her and Knightley.
Too close for comfort.
I finally decided on the party where Emma and Knightley dance and fall in love.

I was so caught up in the scene that I forgot that I was presenting this as a slideshow. Austen was quiet beside me—maybe bored out of his mind. I moved to turn off the movie when my arm brushed against his. I hadn’t realized how close together we had been sitting. I cleared my throat and met his eyes. He was still watching me, and I noticed the little gold flecks in his eyes, the stray freckles on his face, the curve of his lips.

I took a deep breath. “But that would never happen.”

“Why not?”

Instead of scurrying to put in another movie to cover up the silence, I was mesmerized by the moment. That’s what this was—a
moment
! So much more seemed to rest between us than words.

“Do you want it to happen?” he asked hesitantly.

“I . . .”

“Who will you dance with?” He grinned self-consciously when he butchered the line we had just watched Mr. Knightley say from
Emma
.

It took me a moment to recover, but I knew Emma’s line by heart. “With you,” I said, “if you will ask me.”

“How shocking,” he said, going completely off-script. “The both of us alone here. Think of what we could do? If anyone caught us together, they’d force us to get married.”

I gave a weak laugh to catch my breath.

He picked up the last movie in my pliant hands, his fingers brushing through mine. “There’s one more,” he said.

Of course it had to be
Pride and Prejudice
. He put the movie in this time. I remembered that he knew this one because of his ex-girlfriend. “Poor girl marries a rich guy,” Austen summarized for me this time, “who loves her no matter how mean she is to him. She gets everything she wants.”

I picked up the remote, toying with taking the movie to the scene where Darcy dives into the water, but so far that hadn’t happened. I knew what had. I took us to Darcy’s first proposal to Elizabeth. Darcy told Elizabeth that he loved her against his will. Then they fought and the two parted in anger.

I paused the scene, realizing that I had nothing to say about it.

“Did that happen with Dancey?”

Glancing over, I found an irate Austen. The emotion behind his words startled me. I’d expected teasing, maybe a suggestion to enjoy my little Jane Austen romance while I had it. Not this. I didn’t normally kiss and tell, except once my little dalliance with Dancey hit the internet, I’d have no choice. If Austen was mad now, he’d be a lot more so when he found out the truth. I didn’t know how to break any of this to him. Maybe I already had?

“Okay.” His hand went around mine again, startling the words away from me. “You need to get out of the house. We both do. You are
not
having a Jane Austen romance.” That sounded suspiciously like a command. “I’m going to prove it. You like dancing?”

I nodded.

“Good. I’m giving you a splash of real life. I promise it’s a lot more fun.”

Chapter 19

“There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.”

—Jane Austen,
Northanger Abbey

We walked into the Barton Club.
The music blared from the speakers, though it couldn’t drown out the talking and chattering from the occupants inside. It was a good distraction from my own thoughts. The waitress found us a booth, and I lowered gratefully into it.

Instead of taking the side facing me, Austen cornered me on my own bench, putting his feet up on the opposite side. “We are only going to talk about normal things tonight,” he said. His eyes danced with promised fun, and he brought his arm around me to give me a bracing squeeze. “We’re not talking about dating or Jane Austen or business or . . .” he thought for a moment, “cross-stitching.”

“Fair enough.” And now I couldn’t think of anything to say. “How long are you in town?” I asked.

“About a month, maybe shorter. Depending . . .”

On how long it took him to assess the value of the place; but we weren’t supposed to talk business. “You still working with the kids at the community center?” I asked.

 “I’ve seen them once since I’ve been here. We played some beach volleyball.”

I’d be disappointed that he didn’t invite me—I liked those kids—but Taylor’s wedding got in the way of everything: another forbidden topic. I was really struggling here.

“Hey, Jane.” Austen’s arm left me so he could nudge me. “Have you been out to the beach lately?”

“Just to jog, but not as much as I’d like.”

“Whatever happened to your learning-to-surf idea?”

“Oh, that!” I rolled my eyes. “I can’t get it. Taylor and Ann-Marie tried to show me after you left, and they gave up. They said that I’d never learn.”

“Maybe I should get you back in the water.”

If he were here for long enough. That felt like something we couldn’t talk about either. I gave a non-committal shrug and changed the subject. “Are you liking Boston?”

“The water’s too cold. The beach is only for docking ships. It’s pretty for cycling though, and the fall is amazing. I’ve never seen such vivid colors—you’d love it. You should come up and visit me.”

He’d have to be good at long-distance relationships for that. I pulled out my phone. “Just a second; I want to check something.” I texted him. His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out and laughed when he saw my message.

ME: CAN YOU USE A PHONE NOW?

Pursing his lips, he typed something in. I read it as soon as my phone registered the message:

AUSTEN: NOT WHEN THE PERSON IS SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO ME.

Before I could text him back, Austen stopped me, bumping his foot into mine. “About that,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry that he wasn’t interested in me enough for a long distance relationship or sorry that we had argued about it? I had assumed that I had read too much into the relationship, but now I wasn’t so sure. I took a breath and tried to find out. “What was that about, anyway?”

He shrugged, running his finger over the tabletop. “I couldn’t get out of here fast enough. I’ve worked at North Abbey my whole life, and there was no way I wanted to carry on the failing family business. I just wanted to leave it all behind.”

“What about me?”

He looked troubled, like the question pained him, but still he answered. “I thought it was easier to not leave anything I cared about behind.”

So he forced himself not to care. And now that Austen had exhausted all his options in Boston, he thought that I would just be waiting around for him to pick up? The romantic in me didn’t want to be second choice, and neither did the logical side—second would just be dropped again for
the best
.

“And now?” I asked.

“I can see that if I care about someone, that’s not going to work.”

I warmed at his words, at the same time forcing myself not to fall for them. If I could believe his story, he had left me and stewed about it for eight months. And where did that leave Junie? They seemed pretty close. Austen would have to prove he meant what he said. And if he failed me again, that would hurt—my heart
and
my pride.

Austen looked up, and I followed his gaze to see Chuck Bigley. The blond Brit was guzzling down a brandy at the bar—a far cry from the self-confident man that I had seen in the game room earlier that night. Far too many buttons were unbuttoned on his white shirt, and his suit pants were wrinkled. Dancey’s publicity manager, DeBurgy, lounged next to Bigley, watching the dancers at the club. My heart sped up nervously, and I wondered if Dancey was hanging out with both of them tonight. A quick scan of the room told me that Dancey had ditched his friends again. I was glad.

Bigley set his glass down and DeBurgy laughed at something he said. The publicity manager was a polished man who dressed in tailored suits that accentuated his broad shoulders. Unlike Bigley, he seemed on top of his game tonight. The gold rings on his fingers told me that Dancey paid him well. DeBurgy caught me staring, and elbowed Bigley with a knowing look. Taylor’s fiancé swung around and, with a big smile, motioned for us to join him.

We waved back, but Austen wasn’t moving, and I didn’t feel like crawling over him to say hello. After Taylor’s fiancé saw we weren’t coming, he headed for us instead, taking his glass with him like a security blanket.

Before he reached our table, Austen tilted his head at the groom-to-be. “He’s
not
one of your suitors, right?” he asked under his breath.

“Of course not.”

Bigley took a seat on the bench opposite us, unwittingly forcing Austen to move his feet. He gave me his famous smile. “Jane, I was beginning to think that you never left North Abbey. And here I find you at the Barton Club. Good girl. It’s about time you let your hair down.”

I felt sheepish and touched my hair. I had left it in a ponytail. “And yet, it’s up,” I said and laughed awkwardly. I glanced around the darkened room, past the flashing blue and red neon lights on the dance floor. “Where’s Taylor?”

“She’s off doing what brides do.”

It was an evasive answer. I tried to ignore Austen’s suddenly watchful eyes and fished again for some conversation. “It’s hard to believe that the wedding is only two days away.”

Bigley grimaced and took another drink. “I can only hide from the women for so long. They’ll kill each other if I don’t make an appearance Saturday morning.”

“To your wedding?” I asked, getting worried.

“Of course, to my wedding. That’s what people do, get married, don’t they?” Bigley didn’t seem quite right, but when he finished the last of his drink, I knew it was the brandy talking. He motioned for a waiter to fill his glass up again and to leave the bottle. He threw the amber liquid down his throat. “My stepbrother won’t stop talking about you,” he said once he had breath enough to speak. “But Jane’s a pretty girl, isn’t she?” He directed that comment at Austen.

Austen was taken aback and glanced over at me. “Gorgeous,” he shocked me by saying.

Bigley gave a drunken laugh. “You know what Harry did? He made a bet, if you believe it, that he could get Jane to go for him.” He shook his head. “He doesn’t know Jane very well—she’s too stubborn for that.”

I gaped when I realized the implications.

“A bet?” Austen asked in disbelief. “People do that?”

I went stiff. “No, Austen, it just happens in books. Henry Crawford made a bet to his sister like that in
Mansfield Park
.”

I was sure Bigley had no idea what I was referencing, but he gave me a shrewd look over his glass and flashed another big smile. “The bet backfired on him. My stupid brother—he’s the one who’s fallen for you.”

And Austen was my witness. He never would’ve believed this moment if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. Bigley leaned over the table to pat my arm. “Why don’t you put him out of his misery, Jane?”

Things were just getting weirder. “H-how would I do that?” I asked.

“Take him out. Just for a night, I don’t care where as long as it’s far away from me.”

I gave an uneasy laugh. “He’s really fun to hang out with, but I’m really busy . . .”

 “Going on drives with Dancey?” Bigley’s eyes turned cold. He must’ve heard that from DeBurgy. Turning to the side, I saw Dancey’s publicity manager watching us narrowly from the corner. As soon as we met eyes, DeBurgy smirked. Girls surrounded him, and he wrapped his arms around them both.

Glancing back at Bigley, I saw that his expression was open, his smile innocent enough. The man lifted his glass to Austen. “Or do you prefer clubbing with the help, Jane?” He said it with a laugh, but the way his eyes roved over us felt wrong.

Austen lifted a brow. “The help?”

Bigley failed to notice the dangerous turn in Austen’s voice. He nodded drunkenly. “Just show my brother a good time, Jane. There’s a good girl. It’s not too much to ask. I’m pouring a lot of money into this wedding—most girls wouldn’t complain.” He winked at me. “Keep it on the sly if you can. Mum won’t like a scandal and there won’t be. If you help me out, Taylor doesn’t have to know what you’ve been doing on company time.”

Austen leaned forward. “What exactly are you accusing Jane of doing?”

“What?” Bigley looked surprised. “She hasn’t said anything to you? I thought the two of you were
friends
?”

I tensed, trying to shield myself from the gossip bomb about to explode about me and Dancey. I tried to avert it. “Chuck,” I said. “Thanks for the head’s up. I’ll think about what you said.”
I had no intention of it.
He couldn’t treat me like his servant. Still, this was Bigley—likely he was too clueless and drunk to get what he was saying.

“Just a little advice from someone who knows his best friend too well.” Bigley took a fortifying swig of his brandy before giving us another grin that was quickly losing its charm. “Dancey isn’t serious about you, Jane. He likes to leave women behind like dirty laundry—the guy’s a publicity nightmare. Poor DeBurgy; he’s overworked. I don’t blame him for keeping such a close eye on things.”

“DeBurgy?” Austen asked with an edge to his voice. “Who’s that?”

“Dancey’s PR guy.” Bigley pointed out the self-assured man in the corner. “He puts out a lot of fires. The guy earns all that money he makes. Look at that suit.”

“That’s really his name?” Austen asked again. I wondered why until I realized the significance. Lady de Bourgh was the name of the biggest snob in Jane Austen novels—and since she wrote a lot of snobs, that was saying a lot. De Bourgh had tried to control Darcy’s social life in
Pride and Prejudice
too. I was impressed that Austen had recognized it.

“His name is really DeBurgy?” Austen asked again.

Bigley kept nodding. “He flew down here to keep an eye on Dancey. We all know Dancey loves the women. You should’ve seen him with Taylor.”

“Wait, wait.” Austen looked flustered now. “Did
Dancey
go out with Taylor?”

Bigley’s expression hardened—it looked odd on his normally pleasant face. “Some best friend, right? He backed off once he knew I meant to marry Taylor. Guess I ruined his fun.”

“Dancey has a thing for Taylor?” I asked.

Bigley snickered in the face of my cross-examination. “Dancey has a thing for
all
women. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. He’s meant for royalty; certainly not an American. Of course, that doesn’t stop him from playing around.” His eyes met the ceiling in disgust. “I even saw Dancey with your piano player tonight.”

“Ann-Marie?” I asked.

“Is that her name? She ran from him crying. Dancey has a way with the chicks.”

I saw the concern in Austen’s eyes. It sparked my own. “When was this?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Before I came here. It was Dancey’s classic “use them, throw them away” trick. I wish I had his talent.”

I didn’t realize that I was breathing so hard until Bigley slammed his hands against the table to stand, startling me from my thoughts. “My brother might be a little thoughtless,” Bigley said, “but he’d never play you like that, Jane. Not now, anyway. I’ll pay you well.”

Austen stood up at that, his chest expanding. “You talk like that any more, Chuck, and you’re going to get punched in the face.”

“Huh?”

“Why would you tell Jane how to live her life with me around? Are you dumb or do you think I’m as big a jerk as you are?”

Bigley gaped at him, but I had a feeling that he was too drunk to comprehend anything Austen was saying except the “punch” part. He muttered something about getting another drink and stumbled away.

I became aware that I had jumped to my feet sometime during the argument when Austen turned to me. “I thought you said he was nice?”

“Well, yeah . . .” My mouth worked before I could get anything out of it. With the way Bigley had acted just now, he should’ve been named after the villainous Wickham from
Pride and Prejudice
instead. Of course, in our world we would know him as Wicky or Wickhemmy.

“He—he was supposed to be—supposed to be Charles Bingley from
Pride and Prejudice
,” I stuttered. “The nice, friendly guy.”

“I think you’re way off.”

My gaze flew to Bigley, who was flirting it up with the waitress. DeBurgy laughed behind him and egged him on. “DeBurgy?” I mouthed. “The same one from—?”

“I
know
who DeBurgy is,” Austen growled.

“How? She’s a minor character in
Pride and Prejudice
!”

“My ex was obsessed with the six-hour version, remember?”

I collapsed back to my seat to think this through. I rested my head in my hands. “I thought that our Harry Crawley was nicer than Jane Austen’s.”

“How could you have possibly known?” Austen sat down beside me, his broad shoulders hiding me from the crowd.

I felt numb as all my superstition came back to haunt me. “In
Mansfield Park
Crawford wanted to make Fanny Price fall in love with him because she hurt his vanity, and then he ended up falling in love with her instead.”