Murder Most Austen (11 page)

Byron’s mouth opened in surprise. “Jesus! The gossip mill
has
been churning, I see!”

“What do you expect? After all, we are at a festival of voluntary spies.”

“True,” Byron agreed. “Well, let’s just say that Richard no longer believes in divorce. He’d rather not give any more of his money to divorce lawyers.”

“Does that mean there is trouble in the Baines marriage?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Far from it. Alex is devoted to him, and he seems quite happy with her…” He trailed off, leaving me with the impression that he couldn’t quite fathom why that latter part was true.

“She’s very pretty,” I offered.

His eyes sought out mine. At the moment, the laugh lines around them were especially deep. “Yes, well, as to that—what was it that Austen said? Oh yes, ‘Woman is fine for her own satisfaction alone.’ I think that sums Alex up rather nicely.”

“What sums me up, if I might be so bold to inquire?” inquired a hard voice.

Byron and I whirled around. Before us stood Alex in all her Elizabeth Bennet finery. She really did look lovely. Although she had a face mask, she wasn’t wearing it at the moment. Unlike many of the other women wearing the Elizabeth costume, Alex didn’t need a wig. She had curled and styled her own hair into a sophisticated coif. I felt my own “simple” appearance more acutely than ever.

Byron quickly covered his gaffe. “Elizabeth here was just saying that you seemed a very genteel, pretty kind of girl, and I quite agreed.”

Alex smiled archly, in a manner more in keeping with Lady Catherine than Elizabeth Bennet. “But of course, you were,” she said with a condescending tone. “Now, I hate to break up such a charming couple, but Richard asked me to find you—which took some time in this crowd, I can tell you—and ask that you finalize his notes from earlier and send out the e-mails to the societies.”

Byron’s face registered annoyance. “Where is Richard?”

“He ducked out for a cigarette,” Alex said with a faint trace of irritation.

Byron sighed and glanced regretfully in my direction. Alex noticed and added sweetly, “Of course, if you prefer, I can always tell Richard that you are too busy to do your job just now.”

“Of course not. I’ll get right on it,” Byron muttered.

“Excellent. I’ll let him know,” she said with a satisfied smile. Her task completed, Alex turned back to push through the crowds and return to Richard. As Byron apologetically made his excuses to me and left, I was dismayed to see none other than John Ragget bearing down on me, his intention to claim his dance clear. Putting on a brave smile, I tried to think of a topic to mentally distract myself from John’s otherwise mind-numbing conversation.

It didn’t take me long, for I quickly found myself wondering if the reason Richard sent Alex to find Byron wasn’t so he could have a cigarette but so he could have his little conversation with Lindsay without her knowledge.

CHAPTER 10

I was as civil to them as their bad breath would allow me.

—LETTERS OF JANE AUSTEN

B
Y THE TIME
my dance with John was over, I was seriously rethinking my partiality for English accents. And as I’d once joked that an Englishman could read me the phone book and I would still lose all capacity for rational thought, that was really saying something.

On the other hand, even a dry recital of the phone book would be more interesting than John’s incessant cataloging of his finer points. Among the fascinating tidbits I learned was that John’s horses and dogs were the “bloody best” in England and that the beer he brewed got you “completely arseholed.”

Oh, be still my beating heart.

After claiming that a slight headache unfortunately prevented me from another dance, I let John escort me back to Aunt Winnie. Cora joined her just as we did, with another glass of wine in her hand. She stumbled toward us, and it was with some surprise that I realized that she was quite tipsy. Aunt Winnie stared at the glass with obvious annoyance.

“Cora, please. You need to eat something. One shouldn’t drink her dinner. Not after the age of eighteen months, anyway.”

Cora waved away Aunt Winnie’s suggestion as if it were nothing more than an irksome fly. “I’m fine, Winifred. Please stop fussing over me.” Her words would have been more believable if her wig wasn’t askew. “Anyway, I’ll eat
after
I talk to him.”

Aunt Winnie’s green eyes opened very wide at this. “You can’t be serious! Cora, have you heard nothing I’ve said? For God’s sake, leave it and Professor Piano Teeth alone!”

John looked from Cora to Aunt Winnie to me. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Perhaps I can be of assistance?”

“No, it’s fine…,” I began, hoping that he would just leave, but Cora, of course, had other ideas.

“I’m going to demand that Richard not present his paper tomorrow,” she said. “I’m going to tell him that if he does, I will do everything in my power to discredit him.”

I rolled my eyes at Aunt Winnie. Dear God, Cora was almost as bad as John in terms of dull, repetitive conversation. John stared at Cora in confusion. “His paper on Austen’s death? Why on earth
shouldn’t
he present it?”

“Because it’s obscene!”

John shrugged. “I guess. But it’s just an opinion.”

“But what if people believe it?” she asked, aghast.

John narrowed his eyes in concentrated thought as he mulled over this puzzle. “Then they believe it,” he replied some moments later. “You know, I actually had suggested some of the very things myself a few years back at one of our meetings.”

I stifled a groan. Of course John would claim that he’d thought of Richard’s theories first. John was so full of himself that it wouldn’t surprise me if he claimed to have somehow influenced Austen herself. “I happened to fully agree with him that there are more to Austen’s stories than meets the eye,” he went on. “Of course, no one listened to
me
as they seem to do
him.
” Cora opened her mouth to interrupt. “My point is,” John quickly continued, “that you can’t control what people think or when they decide to think it. Just as you can’t control what people will do with ideas gleaned from others.”

I regarded him with something akin to amazement. It was the most sensible thing I’d heard him say since I’d met him. And trust me, he’d said a lot.

With a low bow, John politely excused himself, no doubt in search of other women more appreciative of his dubious charms.

Cora stamped her foot in irritation, the movement sending her wig farther askew. “Well, we’ll just see about that.” Without another word, she turned and headed toward where Richard stood talking to Alex. Neither Aunt Winnie nor I tried to stop her. Frankly, we were both sick to death of hearing about her outrage.

We watched in silence as she made her way to them, her body swaying to an unheard beat as she crossed the room. From where we stood, we couldn’t hear what she said, but she must have called out to Richard as she approached because Alex turned around in apparent surprise. The whole scene was strange enough, but seeing one Elizabeth Bennet confront her twin only increased the oddness. Just as Cora drew near, she lost her footing and lurched forward into Alex, spilling Alex’s glass of wine in the process. Cora appeared to apologize and then handed Alex her fresh glass before turning her attention on Richard.

Watching her angry gesticulations and finger pointing while Richard calmly observed her from behind his Darcy mask was strangely comical. It was like watching an outtake from
Pride and Prejudice.
Soon Richard began to laugh, if his shaking shoulders were any indication, and Cora yelled something in obvious irritation. It appeared that Alex attempted to calm Cora down, but rather than listen to her, Cora turned and, thankfully, headed out of the hall and away from all of us. As uncharitable as it may sound, I honestly don’t think I could have listened to any more of her complaints with a polite face. Aunt Winnie must have had the same thought, because she said with a sigh, “I suppose I should go after her. But then again, I suppose I should also bake my own bread and grow my own vegetables, and that sure as hell isn’t happening either.”

“Let her go,” I replied. “She doesn’t listen to anything we say anyway. Let Izzy deal with her for a while.”

“Speaking of Izzy,” said Aunt Winnie, as she peered around the room, “where is she? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. After promising me that she wouldn’t leave my side this evening, she promptly left my side.”

Aunt Winnie smiled. “Perhaps she was in no humor to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.”

I wrinkled my nose at her. “Somehow I doubt that was the motivation.”

The orchestra began another piece and the dancers took their positions, among them Richard and Alex. With their masks and costumes, they really did resemble Darcy and Elizabeth. What made it even more “realistic”—if you could even use that word—was that despite what people might say about them—namely, that he was an arrogant ass and she was a flibbertigibbet—it was clear from their interactions as they danced that there was real affection between them. You didn’t need to see their faces—their body language said it all.

I wasn’t the only one watching them. A little distance from where I stood was Gail Baines. Wearing a dark green dress with a coordinating turban, she leaned against the wall, her face pale. With glassy eyes, she followed the movements of Alex and Richard as they performed their dance. Next to her, Ian tried without success to divert her attention.

“Mother?” he said, his face anxious. “Why don’t I take you back to your room? I think you should rest. You don’t look well.”

“I tried to talk to him,” Gail muttered in response, her voice thick. “Bastard wouldn’t even answer me. Who the hell does he think he is? He can’t hide that money forever. He can’t!”

Ian gently took his mother’s arm. “Mom? Come on. Let’s go. I’ll take you up to your room. I think you should lie down.”

Gail shook him off. “I’m fine. I don’t need to lie down.” Still glowering at Richard, she took a sip of her drink. “Who the hell does he think he is? He’s a fraud! He’s nothing but a lousy fraud! Did you try to talk to him?”

Ian gave a reluctant nod of his head. “I tried but he, um, he, um…”

“He blew you off, didn’t he?”

Ian’s long face was a portrait of misery. “Mom, really, it’s okay. It doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out later. But now, I really think that you…”

“He is such a bastard!” Gail said, with a sudden burst of energy. She pushed herself off the wall and seemed intent on heading toward Richard. Ian reached out and grabbed her arm.

“Where are you going?” he asked in alarm.

“To tell him exactly what I think of him,” she said, trying to break free of his grasp.

Ian’s eyes grew wide, and he kept a firm grip on Gail’s arm. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, his voice tense. “Not here. Not now.”

However, Gail was in no mood to listen to any advice. She twisted away, the movement catching Ian by surprise. He hurriedly grabbed out for her but ended up pushing Gail off balance. As she tried to right herself, her glass dropped to the ground, breaking into several pieces as it hit the floor. Gail stared at the mess, her expression confused. Ian took advantage of her bafflement and quickly steered her toward the doorway behind us. As he passed by me, he said, “Elizabeth! Can you tell Valerie that my mom wasn’t feeling well, and I’ve taken her back to her room.”

“Sure,” I answered as Ian continued to steer Gail out of the room.

“So, are you enjoying your first Regency ball?” Aunt Winnie asked in a bemused voice once they were gone.

“Honestly, I feel like I stumbled into a scene penned by Julian Fellowes.” I shook my head. “It’s not only pretty to look at, but it’s chock-full of drama. I half expect Alan Cummings to pop out any moment and provide me with a brief synopsis.”

Aunt Winnie laughed and said, “And don’t forget. This is only the first day of the festival. We have a whole week ahead of us.”

No sooner had she said this than Alex suddenly bent over awkwardly, clutching her stomach in apparent pain. Richard quickly escorted her away from the other dancers. Tipping her mask back on her head, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. After a brief conversation with Richard, Alex turned and left the ballroom. Richard walked back to his empty table and sat down.

Within a matter of minutes, however, Alex reappeared, her mask firmly back in place. From the way she strode briskly across the floor to where Richard sat, it was clear that whatever had been ailing her had passed. It dawned on me that she seemed angry. Her movements were erratic and her posture combative. As she drew near, Richard stood up in apparent surprise. Alex grabbed him roughly by the wrist and dragged him through the back exit and out of the room.

“Oh, dear. Do you suppose that there is trouble in paradise?” murmured Aunt Winnie.

“It would appear so. I wonder what caused the sudden change,” I said.

“Maybe she realized that she’s married to one of the stupidest men in England.”

“I’ll drink to that,” I agreed. “And speaking of which, my glass is empty. Would you care for a refill?”

Aunt Winnie and I were just returning from the refreshment table when a voice behind me called out, “Elizabeth!” I turned. To my surprise, I saw Byron and Alex. Byron had changed out of his costume and was now wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He had an arm around Alex, who was leaning heavily against him. She was still in her Elizabeth costume, but her hair had come undone and now hung in limp curls around her damp face.

Seeing me, Byron said, “Elizabeth! Have you seen Richard? I can’t find him, and Alex is really sick. I think he needs to look after her.”

“He just left through that door.” I pointed to the exit in question.

Alex moaned. “I wish to God he’d stop smoking. He’s been popping in and out of this room all night.”

I shook my head in confusion. “I don’t think he went outside to smoke. In fact, I thought he was with you.”

Alex looked at me in confusion. “With me? That’s impossible. I’ve been in the bathroom. Getting sick.”