Adventures with Jane and her Legacy 01 Jane Austen Ruined My Life (16 page)

The Assembly Rooms had been the site of balls, concerts, card parties, and other entertainments in Jane Austen's day. It consisted of four major areas--the Octagon, which functioned as a sort of central hallway, the Card Room, the Tea Room, and, finally, the Ball Room. I had read about them, of course, but like so much on my journey thus far, I wasn't prepared for
their splendor, or for how little they had changed since Austen's day.

"May I help you?"

I turned to my right to see a woman of about fifty approaching me. Her slim skirt and no-nonsense hairdo spoke volumes.

"Yes. I wanted to look around if I could."

She frowned, shook her head. "I'm sorry, but we're closed at the moment."

Closed? "I'm sorry, the sign on the door said--"

"We're closed for a private party this evening."

I looked around. Other than this woman and myself, there wasn't a soul in the place. She must have read my thoughts from my expression.

"The florists will be here any minute. We have a private reception for a corporate client."

"Please, could I look around very quickly? I've come all the way from the States just to see these rooms." Well, I had, in a sense. I wasn't fudging the truth that much.

"Miss--"

"Professor," I said, unashamedly. "Professor Grant." I even dropped the name of my former school.

The woman's whole demeanor changed. "Are you doing research?"

I made myself relax and smile. "Jane Austen."

The woman nodded sagely. "Of course. Well," she said as she looked down at her watch, "I suppose it wouldn't hurt for you to look around for a few minutes."

"Thank you." I moved toward the nearest open door and stepped inside.

One by one, I immersed myself in the glory of the assembly rooms. Their simplicity made them beautiful, and every surface that could be polished had been buffed until it shone. The gilt, the high ceilings, the intricate detail of the adornments --I was high as a kite by the time I entered the expanse of the ballroom.

Step by careful step, I moved to the center of the space. Icy blue walls with gleaming white carved moldings surrounded me, and the vast expanse of the shining hardwood floor spread in every direction. It was glorious. It was awe-inspiring. And it was very, very empty.

I looked over my shoulder toward the entrance to make sure I was alone. And then, feeling completely foolish, I began to hum a tune under my breath. I'd seen the dances of Jane Austen's day performed in movies, and even at the occasional academic conference where a dance instructor had been brought in to lighten the atmosphere.

I moved forward, then back, trying the best I could to mimic the dipping sways and turns. I imagined that I was Jane Austen, unhappy about my family's removal to Bath but eager to see Jack Smith again. He was in town, he had promised to be at the ball. Uncertainty. Excitement. I tried to feel them, tried to channel her churning emotions across the course of two hundred years.

I was utterly, completely unable to do so.

"What are you doing?"

My head snapped up and I whirled around. Adam stood in the doorway, watching me with a look of amusement.

"I'm dancing. What does it look like?" Anger shot through my midsection, sharp and surprising. "Not that it's any of your business."

He stepped forward, his head bowed just enough to suggest penance. "I'm sorry, Em. I lost track of the time. If I hadn't seen you headed up Milsom Street--"

I waved a hand in dismissal. "Whatever. It was just lunch." I hardened my heart, because I had to. In the course of a few days, Adam had lured me into letting my guard down. After all I'd been through with Edward, I should have known better. Men were men. But mostly, they were dogs.

"If you had a cell phone--"

"Well, I don't." I didn't mean to snap quite so harshly. "Look, like I said, it's no big deal."

Adam moved forward again, and I felt rather like an antelope being stalked by a lion.

"Looks like you need a partner." He grinned, a decidedly lopsided and thoroughly charming expression. No wonder he'd been able to get me those books at the British Library so quickly. No woman could resist that kind of masculine appeal.

"Here. Allow me." He reached out and took my hand in his, then settled his other hand at my waist.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to waltz with you."

"Jane Austen didn't waltz. That didn't come along until later. It was all minuets and gavottes and country dances."

"Then what do you want me to do?"

I had no idea how to minuet or gavotte or even manage a country dance. My shoulder sagged in defeat. "All right, then. We'll waltz." Maybe it would be close enough for whatever purpose the Formidables expected it to serve.

My objection to the waltz wasn't on the grounds of historical accuracy, actually. The truth was that I didn't want to be so close to Adam. A moment later, though, I had no choice in the matter, and somehow, my free hand found my way to his shoulder.

"What should we do for music?" he asked.

I wanted to die of mortification on the spot. I was far too old, too jaded, and too hurt to be caught up in the romance of such a moment, but apparently Edward's humiliation wasn't sufficient to inoculate me against the combined power of a ballroom, a Jane Austen fantasy, and Adam.

"We could hum," I said, and I hated the flush that rose in my cheeks.

And then, from nowhere, I heard music. Real music. A piano, and it was playing a waltz. The soft strains drifted in from the open doorway. Someone was playing the instrument in the Octagon just outside, probably practicing for the reception that evening.

I looked up to see Adam staring at me with a very odd look on his face. "Does this happen to you a lot?" he asked.

"Does what happen to me?"

"You know. Weird coincidences. Whatever you need appearing in the nick of time."

"I would hardly say that whatever I need shows up in any time, nick or not."

Adam shook his head. "My being at Anne-Elise's house. Your free pass to the British Library. And now ghostly music." He looked me over with caution. "If I didn't know better, I would say that you're following some sort of script. Or at least your life is."

I stopped to consider his words. "You know," I said, realizing for the first time how strange it was, indeed, that I should be in this time, in this place, with this man, "you may be right."

And with that, he moved into the steps of the dance, and we were whirling our way across the vast expanse of the floor. The polished hardwood beneath my feet was like glass, and even in my Pumas, I glided like an angel. Adam had obviously had a few lessons somewhere along the line. He would have done any Jane Austen hero proud.

Before too long I was out of breath, but I didn't want to stop. The enormous crystal chandeliers above me sparkled with light, and the pale blue walls of the room with their white molding made it seem as if we were dancing among the clouds. Adam's hand was firmly holding my waist, his other balancing me as we spun around and around. No wonder Jane Austen had loved it so much. No wonder she--

I stumbled, my feet tangling with Adam's, and for a moment I thought we might both collapse in an ignominious heap on
the floor. Then he righted himself, and me with him, and we were safe. Only we were no longer spinning and whirling. We weren't even touching. Instead, we were standing in the middle of the ballroom, breathing heavily and looking at each other with a new kind of wariness.

Imagine to yourself everything most profligate and shocking in the way of dancing ...

Austen's words from her earliest letter, at least her earliest known until now, haunted me. She'd been describing another suitor named Tom Lefroy, not Jack Smith, but her words might have been born earlier, with Jack. In a moment like this.

"It's time to go," I said, not even pretending to look at my watch. "We don't want to miss our train."

Adam frowned. "Emma--"

"Besides, I was only supposed to be in here for a minute. Technically, they're closed. I don't know how you got in here anyway."

"I charmed the dragon guarding the gate. Em--" He reached out, and I stepped away.

"We'd better--" But I wasn't quick enough. He caught me by the elbow. His grip was firm but not painful.

"Emma, please don't--"

"Look." I pointed toward the doorway, where the dragon lady stood with her arms crossed and her lips pursed into a thin line. "I think we're in trouble."

I started toward the door. Behind me, I heard Adam respond.

"Think? You
think
we're in trouble?"

For the sake of self-preservation, I pretended I hadn't heard him. I kept moving, fleeing, all in the guise of polite behavior.

The woman gave me a cold nod as I approached. "I really must ask you to leave now," she said.

"Of course. We were just on our way out."

I could hear Adam's footsteps. He would catch up with me in a few moments, but I still had precious seconds to school my expression to careful neutrality.

"Thank you," I heard him say to the woman, and then he was beside me as we made our way through the Octagon and out the front door.

Dark clouds had gathered, and thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. I looked up, prepared to find that the heavens were about to unleash their fury, but small pockets of sunlight still shined through.

"You can't run forever, Em" was all Adam said as we started off down the steep hill again toward the center of town and the train station.

I didn't answer. What could I say? Now the only friendship I still had, however unexpected, had been upended. I was tired of being adrift. Tired of romance and attraction and all the complications and ruination it entailed. Tired of trying to find some pattern, divine or not, in what had happened, what was happening to me. Most of all, though, I was tired of Jane Austen ruining my life.

As we half slid down the steep pavement that led to the
center of town, I renewed my vow to even the score with her. Her promise of a happy ending had led me into torment and trouble. Could I truly be blamed if I exposed her for the fraud she was? Surely I would be doing women everywhere a good turn.

As I walked along beside Adam, though, and the rain began to fall, I knew that my rationalizations were just that. Weak attempts to justify my own need to pack my heart, and my feelings, away forever. Because I knew, as sure as anything, that I would never again be able to withstand the kind of betrayal Edward had perpetrated on me, and I wasn't nearly as strong as I would have liked to believe.

I
f I had been my third-grade teacher, I would have made myself write that sentence one hundred times on the blackboard. Clearly, my third-grade teacher was rather old school, but then again, everyone knows that repetition is the key to learning.

Adam and I had returned to London from Bath the day before in relative silence. Other than a few words of stilted, polite conversation, we'd kept to ourselves, reading on the train home and parting company once we reached Anne-Elise's town house. I climbed the stairs to my bedroom, suddenly exhausted, although the day had been taxing more from a mental standpoint than a physical one.

Adam went straight to the computer in the sitting room, and he was still there later that night when I crept downstairs to get a glass of water. I wondered what he was up to but didn't want to ask, because asking would have entailed conversation, which I was working hard to avoid.

I should never have danced with him. For that matter, I shouldn't have allowed him to accompany me to Bath. But despite my resolution to be done with men, I couldn't will away the palpable sense of loneliness. I might have given up on happy endings, but being resigned to my solitary fate didn't do away with the need for companionship.

I set out extra early the next morning for South Kensington so that I could continue avoiding Adam. I was too afraid even to make coffee in the kitchen. I waited patiently outside the Starbucks on the High Street until a bleary-eyed barista finally took pity on me and let me in. Then, armed with a venti latte for extra oomph, I made my way to Mrs. Parrot's doorstep.

This time, Mrs. Parrot hadn't wanted to chat. I didn't know whether it was the hour or whether she had some secret meeting of the Formidables going on in the lounge, but whatever the case, she was all business. She didn't even quiz me about whether I'd completed my task in the Assembly Rooms. Honestly, she looked rather harried--orange hair uncombed, flecks of lipstick on her teeth--and she kept me standing on the front steps while she retrieved two envelopes from a table just inside the door. She pressed them into my hands hastily.

"Come back when you're done," she said before shooing me down the steps and shutting the door to number 22 firmly behind her.

The envelope on top was marked
Open First
, so I did. I expected a note or some other sort of instructions. Instead, I found two theater tickets for a performance of Sheridan's
The Rivals
that evening at a theater near Covent Garden.