Jane and Austen (32 page)

Taylor’s dad marched down the aisle at the head of the group, his eyes on Crawley. “Where’s my daughter, boy?”

Elly stood up, clutching an envelope close to her stomach. “Uncle George, Taylor ran off to Vegas. I’m so sorry.”

Taylor’s cousin would never lie. The two really had gotten married. There was nothing Austen or I could do to stop them now. That still didn’t explain why the best man had disappeared unless he had already figured out what had happened. My heart hurt for him. “Where’s Dancey?” I asked Elly.

Her hands trembled, and she looked more nervous. “Dancey is with Taylor. They eloped together.”

The chapel went silent. Sweet relief spilled over me. Of course, that’s what Crawley meant—Taylor had eloped with Dancey. How could it be otherwise? Dancey must’ve convinced Taylor to go with him after he’d helped me upstairs with my bags. I tried to imagine the romantic scene and failed to get past their “Hello.”

Taylor’s dad looked over at his wife. No reaction crossed her expression. “Did you know?” he asked her gruffly. Mrs. Weston frowned harder, not answering him—that was a big “no.” Her fingers tightened on her purse.

Mr. Bigley leaned back, both his elbows resting on the back of the pew. He looked thoroughly entertained. “Then who did Chuck take to Vegas?”

“Not Taylor,” Crawley said with a laugh.

Bigley’s mother collapsed back into her pew. She groaned. “He took that little tart. I told him not to marry her!”

My own legs felt weak as I tried to process everything. Crawley had given his stepbrother one last pep talk that had convinced him to disobey his mother—I just hadn’t thought it was possible, especially since Bigley had kept it secret that his London love was in town for his wedding. I remembered all the times that he had disappeared. Had he gone to see her? It seemed Vegas was the way to go. Austen would’ve taken Junie there last night, too. I wanted to cry at the thought. Unlike the rest of them, Austen had come back to torment me after tying the knot.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Austen whispered next to me. “We didn’t have to do a thing.”

“Herb! Stop laughing!” Bigley’s mother screeched. She threw her purse at him. “Go bring my son back.”

“Which girl do you expect me to bring back in my collection of runaways?”

“Taylor, of course! She agreed to marry my son! Talk some sense into her.”

Bigley’s father let out a crass laugh and glanced over at Taylor’s father. “I’m not sure what Mr. Weston would say to my kidnapping his daughter.”

Taylor’s stern father lowered onto the pew next to his wife, his expression inscrutable. It was infinitely more terrifying than the original Mrs. Bigley’s growing temper, though she turned redder the more her former husband talked. “We’ll make it a shotgun wedding,” Mr. Bigley said. “What say you, Eddy; you ready to perform the thing?”

Eddy took a steadying breath. He had found his wife’s side and put a comforting arm around her. I spied her long, red hair as she hid her face against him.

“This isn’t funny, Herb!” The original Mrs. Bigley was throwing a fit now. Her hair and dress still looked perfect, but her face was now the same hideous hue of her dress. “That ungrateful girl allowed that rock star to seduce her with his fame!”

“And what of Chuck’s current wife?” his father retorted. “Who seduced her, do you think?”

“Not my son! She seduced him. If he doesn’t come back, I’ll cut him off without a penny.”

“Come now, Louise, open your purse. We’ve a new a daughter-in-law to impress.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd, the loudest coming from Colin who sat directly behind the Senior Mr. Bigley. Colin had landed a new suit jacket for the occasion and tamed his wild hair. Besides his habit of not meeting anyone’s eyes, he blended in surprisingly well with the other guests. DeBurgy crouched in the pew next to him. He didn’t look happy under the flashing bulbs of Jennings’ unruly camera. I froze when his gaze pierced me through.

“No, no, no!” Mrs. Bigley made a sound of disgust. “Herb, this girl Chuck married is not acceptable.”

“She’s our daughter now. Of course she’s acceptable . . . if any of us are, you harpy.”

The dark temper emanating from Taylor’s father turned into confusion the more he watched the Bigleys fight. Any normal person would rejoice that his daughter had escaped a bad situation, and maybe he was starting to get a clue. Taylor’s mother pushed from the pew, glowering darkly at her husband. She flipped her black hair behind her shoulder and exited the scene without a word.

“Austen,” Ann-Marie shouted over the raised voices. She came at us in a sparkling silver dress. “There you are. I haven’t been able to get you off my mind all day.” She stroked his arm and gave him her usual flirtatious smile. “Do you want to know what I’ve been thinking?”

Austen’s eyes darted from me to her. “No?”

“Are you sure? I keep playing it over and over in my mind and it’s really good.”

He broke into a laugh. “Then I’m
really
afraid.”

Her more-boisterous laughter joined his, and I seethed. I had thought Ann-Marie was through with her crush on Austen. Her hand squeezed his arm. “I was thinking that you should give Jane some loving. She doesn’t like it when I flirt with you. I think she’s jealous—she must not know how much you like her.”

My throat tightened. I couldn’t even grace Ann-Marie’s joke with a smile; my heart felt dead. I had lost Austen forever. Of course he didn’t like me—he had married Junie. Ann-Marie let go of Austen when she caught Crawley watching her. “You troublemaker, Harry! You like to cause scenes, don’t you?”

He strolled over to us, looking bored. “Don’t you?”

“Yes.” She skipped over to him and wrestled his hand from his side. “Let’s make another one.”

With an unholy grin, Crawley caught Ann-Marie in a kiss that didn’t belong in any church. His stepmother shrieked out a complaint and swept out of the chapel on her heel. The expression on his own mother’s face darkened.

Austen stared at the passionate couple. “You sure Bigley’s stepbrother isn’t Wickman?”

“Wickham,” I corrected. “And no, I like him much better than that villain from
Pride and Prejudice
. He’s definitely Henry Crawford from
Mansfield Park
.”

“He’s a villain too,” Austen pointed out.

I smiled.

“At least someone is getting some action at this wedding!” Crawley’s stepfather called out. He had found a flask somewhere in the vicinity of his pockets, and he chugged it down. “Eddy, use your wedding certificate. Make an honest man out of my Harry. Will you?”

“Dear!” his wife complained—she no longer looked amused.

Eddy forced his grin back down. Elly snatched his hand, either for comfort or as a warning—I’d never know, but since he was the reverend I guessed it was a reminder for her husband to keep his role as the spiritual leader.

“Does anyone object?” Mr. Bigley called out. He had worked himself into a drunken fervor. “No? Good.” He took another drink. “Cheers!” His raucous laughter echoed over the murmurs from the departing guests. His present wife rolled her eyes and sank into her seat.

“Jane!” Bertie’s heels clicked madly beneath her as she barreled through the aisle to find me.

“Run for your life,” Austen said. When I didn’t, he squeezed my hand. “There’s my girl. Be strong.” And with that, he followed his own advice and took off through the throng of people. Before I could get too miffed, I saw that Colin was his target—Austen was off to finish the deal with North Abbey. Now I wanted to cry.

“Do something!” Bertie poked me in the ribs. “You call yourself an event coordinator?” I swung around to face her. She glared at me. “Usually when I go to a wedding, I watch someone get married!”

All the stress from the morning culminated and I snapped back at her, “In this case, you watched someone avoid the same mistake you made, Bertie. Taylor married for love. It happens sometimes.”

Bertie’s bitter complaints died on her lips. She tugged on the low décolletage on her dress, though it revealed nothing but the stark bone in the middle of her chest that heaved out her indignation. “Taylor will hear about this.”

“Leave your complaints outside. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”

Bertie’s magnificent eyes narrowed on me before she jerked away. I noticed that Mary had been standing behind her the whole time. I bristled, getting ready for another attack. The woman had dropped her sick act and looked confused. “Why would Taylor not marry Chuck? He . . . he has everything. Handsome, charming, rich.”

“Unsettling as it is, wealth and attractiveness isn’t the fountain of all happiness in a marriage. What do you need? Another box of tissues? A medicine cabinet? CPR?”

Mary dropped her unused tissues into the garbage can behind us. “I love my husband,” she said. I felt my anger melt away at her earnest words. “We actually went through with the wedding—it wasn’t much; not what I’d dreamed. We never had a lot of money; certainly not as much as my friends have. Even the Hayters have more. You know, that roommate from college? I used you to hide from her at the brunch,” she reminded me, “the one who married the plumber.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” I said. “Plumbers actually make a lot of money.”

“I know! And I married an accountant who had a crush on my roommate before he even looked at me—she didn’t like him back, so I always thought I was second choice. Third choice after Anne!”

“Who?”

“That’s not the point. Now we have four boys who drive me crazy, but they don’t drive him crazy. I don’t drive him crazy, either. We’re happy.” I wasn’t sure where Mary was going with this until she said, “Poor Taylor. Poor Chuck. What would it be to have what they have?”

I didn’t think that Bigley had a very good home life. Taylor didn’t know what it was like to have her parents talk to each other, but I had a feeling that everything would work out now. “Taylor’s going to be okay,” I said. “Dancey really loves her.”

Mary nodded. “I think my husband loves me too—I know he does. He’s a good man, Jane. Thank you for the party. I’m going home to my family now.” Her chin tilted up, and she left with a new confidence in her step. I hoped that her pristine minivan would soon be filled with the sound of her boys’ laughter and forgotten goldfish crackers crushed underfoot now that she realized what most mattered. She passed Austen on her way out. He was still deep in conversation with Colin. I pressed my lips in worry while the two shook hands. I knew that meant the end of North Abbey.

“I knew I hated weddings, but this tops the cake,” DeBurgy said. I looked over my shoulder and saw him standing behind me like the devil he was. His irritated expression was still intact. “I see that absolutely none of you listened to me.”

I glared at him. “Well, that’s Americans for ya.” He gave me a disgusted look and refused to answer. I struggled to keep my breath even, knowing he was behind Austen’s grudge against me. “I think you’re through here, DeBurgy,” I said. “You’ve already done the worst that you could possibly do.”

“Then you don’t know me very well. I have much worse in mind. I am most displeased.”

My ears rang at the familiar line—it happened to be the last one uttered by Lady de Bourgh herself in
Pride and Prejudice
, and now I was hearing it from the worst snob in all of England. DeBurgy scraped past me, his breath hot on my face. “You are about to feel the worst of my displeasure, Jane.”

Perfect villain. Just like a book, everything neatly fit together like the pieces of a puzzle: perfect beginning, perfect ending—except Austen. He should’ve been with me. And he wasn’t. He might as well be a daydream for all the good it did me. He’d take me in his arms, sweep me off my feet, declare his love with a kiss. But in reality, he talked with Colin in low voices. He hadn’t chosen me, and now we had to say goodbye.

DeBurgy pushed his way into the conversation between Colin and Austen. His face morphed into a pleasant expression before joining in. I couldn’t figure out what mischief DeBurgy was planning. He had already ruined everything for me. But as DeBurgy talked, Austen glanced back at me and, even more troubling, turned away when our eyes met. A few more excruciating minutes passed before Austen patted Colin on the back and broke from DeBurgy to return to my side.

“So?” I asked.

He studied me in return, his heavy lids shuttering his expression. “So?”

I tucked my hair behind my ear, feeling miserable. This was worse than the last time I’d told him goodbye. I smiled bitterly at the irony. “So, you should text me when you’re in Boston,” I said.

Austen’s eyes sharpened on me, and I knew he saw through my brave act. He nodded. “I’ll be sure to give you the full itinerary of my trip.”

His sarcasm was hauntingly familiar—too much of this reminded me of what had happened last time when we had tried to say goodbye. I wished I knew how to rewind our relationship between then and now, back to when we had been crazy about each other.

A snapping camera behind me reminded me of what had driven the wedge between us. “You gave me an empty chapel to photograph?” Jennings complained. She wandered the chapel, snapping a few pictures of the stained-glass windows while making caustic comments. “I’m not sure I got the best part of the bargain, Jane. Do you know how popular I would’ve been after my last photo-shoot? You and Dancey made a gorgeous couple.”

Her words plunged daggers into my heart, and I turned to see what damage it had done to what was left of my relationship with Austen. My stomach sank when I saw that he was already gone. He had left me for Junie.

“You know why I did it, right? Right? Jane, are you listening?” Jennings waved her hand in front of my eyes. “I did it all to take down DeBurgy. I’ll take pictures of empty chapels all day if it means getting back at that conceited pinhead-in-a-suit.”

I lowered onto the pew on the front row, vaguely aware that Jennings and I were the only ones left in the chapel. “What did he do to you?” I asked.

“I don’t like him. He destroys people—I give them flavor.”

“You worked as a pretty good tag team this time around,” I said. “DeBurgy found those photographs you took and gave them to the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Now he won’t have anything to do with me.”