The Particular Charm of Miss Jane Austen

by The Particular Charm of Miss Jane Austen (retail) (epub)

  Rose felt a momentary unease filter through her mind. Surely James wouldn’t mention to Morgan precisely who Rose was checking in instead of her friend?

  Morgan, of course, knew all about Dr Trevellyan and Rose’s… silliness about him. Not that Rose had had any intention of letting anyone know about her crush, but Morgan had a way about her, a warmth and friendliness that encouraged people to admit to things they didn’t intend to. Now she just had to hope that if it did come up, Morgan would have the sense not to let any reaction slip in front of James. Even though they had never met in person, they had had sufficient interactions through social media and phone calls for Rose to understand Morgan was not known for her subtlety.

  This potential for embarrassment filled her head as she put the key in the lock to the outer door of the building, but she barely had time to dwell on it before a male voice said behind her, ‘Perfect timing.’

  Rose blushed deeply. Plastering a smile on her face, she turned to face the doctor.

  ‘Dr Trevellyan! I – er, I’m pleased you chose to stay with us again.’ Understatement of the year… Rose bit her lip as he relieved her of the carrier bag and indicated she precede him into the building. Conscious of the colour in her cheeks and her heart pounding fit to burst, Rose hurried down the hallway to the door to the ground-floor flat. How could he be so… gorgeous and not be aware of it?

  Dark, intelligent eyes and brown, curling hair, only enhanced by the random strands of grey and oh, that deep voice… And he was so cool. A real grown-up – not like Jonathan, still as immature when they parted as he’d been when she’d first met him years ago.

  Rose smiled ruefully. Morgan had laughed when she’d called the doctor that, but she’d been just twenty-four the first time she’d seen him in person and the ten years between them had seemed a huge chasm, putting him even further out of her reach.

  A voice cleared behind her, and Rose started and turned about.

  Dr Trevellyan was juggling the carrier bag, his briefcase, a backpack and some folders with papers escaping in all directions. ‘Any chance we could go inside before I have a mishap?’

  ‘Oh, of course.’ Rose hurriedly opened the door to the flat and walked in, heading straight for the kitchen. There was no need for the usual introductory tour of the property; he had stayed in the same one for the past three years.

  ‘Are the Janeites all in town?’ He dropped the carrier onto the floor and placed his folders carefully on the kitchen table.

  Rose attempted a nonchalant shrug. She had no desire for him to know how avid a fan she was herself. ‘Yes, mostly; some tomorrow, too.’ She tried not to stare at him as he shrugged out of his jacket and slung it on the back of a chair. ‘Your – er – I believe your lecture is sold out again this year.’

  He grunted, and Rose hurried to fill the gap in conversation. ‘Is it to be a new topic?’

  ‘Sadly not.’ He stared at one of the folders on the table, then shrugged. ‘Just the Steventon dig from a couple of years ago, with a few modifications.’ He paused and glanced at Rose as if checking if he needed to clarify.

  Rose nodded, unwilling to say anything. He had no need to know how much she knew about all Jane Austen’s former residences. He certainly had no need to know she presently lived in the basement of the very home occupied by the Austen family from 1801 to 1804, but Dr Trevellyan rarely spoke beyond the common civilities, and she really wanted to keep him talking.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure it will be welcomed. It sold out so quickly.’

  He pulled out a chair, swung it around and straddled it. ‘That’s fortunate, then; otherwise, they’d be rather bored this year.’

  Rose doubted anyone could be bored listening to his voice, but she kept the thought to herself, retrieved the carrier bag and walked over to the worktop with it. It would be easier to control her thoughts if she kept her back to him.

  ‘You must know by now there’s no minutiae too unimportant to fascinate Jane Austen’s fans. You could veer off and ramble on whatever aspect you like, and they’d be interested.’

  He grunted. ‘If I give myself free rein, it will be about permits and flaky volunteers and the many, many frustrations of securing both. But you make a good point. I’ll stick to the tried and tested.’

  Rose glanced over her shoulder. He had opened his briefcase and pulled out a battered laptop and as he placed it on the table, he muttered, ‘Familiarity breeds no contempt with me.’

  ‘Is that why you always stay in the same apartment?’ Rose hesitated; she wouldn’t normally utter a word beyond the practicalities of the check-in. Perhaps if he didn’t meet her eye, she might be able to hold it together quite competently. ‘I know you said you appreciated the amount of natural light here.’ She gestured towards the elegant drawing room across the hall with its full-height windows. ‘I had the desk placed in its usual location, too. Oh, and I left you an extension cable.’ Was she gabbling? Rose stopped abruptly as he looked up and met her gaze. ‘Er – I’ll just get these sorted, and then I’ll leave you in peace.’

  She turned away again and opened the bag, pulling out a huge bar of Cadbury’s milk chocolate. Her heart sank as she peered back into the depths. There were Oreos, Doritos and, even worse, no sign of the locally made produce and the proverbial bottle of good wine always on offer to incoming guests.

  ‘I prefer the fruit-and-nut variety.’ Dr Trevellyan had come to stand beside her, and he retrieved the bag from her grip and peered inside. ‘Love Hearts?’ He looked at Rose, a brow raised. ‘A curious choice.’

  Rose wished she could disappear through the smart Italian tiles under her feet. Love Hearts were one of Morgan’s guilty pleasures, ever since Rose had included them in a birthday parcel some years earlier. ‘Oh, Dr Trevellyan, this is the – I’m so sorry; I’ve mixed up the bags. We have a guest checking in today from California. And – oh dear…’

  He smiled slightly, a rare sight of no help whatsoever to Rose’s flustered heart. ‘Well, I can’t fault their taste, but I’m not sure I can make it through all of these in just a few days.’ He peered back into the bag and withdrew a bottle of water. ‘No wine?’

  ‘She doesn’t like it; or tea—’

  ‘Who doesn’t?’

  ‘My… this client. Look, I’ll pop down the road and get something. I’ll be back really quickly.’

  Rose held out the keys as she made for the door, but his hand closed over hers, forcing her to stop.

  ‘Please don’t bother. I can see there’s tea bags in the caddy – that’s all I need for now. I never eat the things you leave. In fact, I don’t eat in at all when I’m here; the people-watching in restaurants is far too entertaining.’

  He took the keys and let go of her hand, which felt warmer than possibly it ever had in her life, but Rose pursed her lips, not feeling any better about the mix-up. It was clear, however, he didn’t want – or need – anything further from her, his attention already drawn back to emptying his briefcase. It was time to go.

  ‘I will leave you to settle in.’ She picked up the unwanted carrier and walked towards the door, and he waved a vague hand at her as he extracted a pair of wire-rimmed glasses from his jacket pocket and placed them on his nose.

  Closing the door to the flat, Rose leaned back against it with a sigh. ‘Welcome back to Bath,’ she whispered under her breath. Then she hurried out into the street, relishing the cooling air as it brushed her still warm cheeks.

  Chapter Three

  Rose had been back in the office for over an hour but still there was no sign of James. She picked up her mobile. Damn. It was now completely dead. She couldn’t try Morgan any more, and she didn’t know her number by heart, so she couldn’t use the office phone. Thank goodness she knew which property she was in.

  The phone rang again, and Rose glanced at the clock. She had been fielding calls ever since she returned from checking Dr Trevellyan into his flat, leaving her no time to reflect on how quickly she had succumbed to the charms he didn’t s
eem to know he possessed, or whether Morgan was settling in to her flat okay. Rose knew to credit her friend with enough sense to cope, but it was her first time in the country, and she could imagine that the differences between one’s homeland and another, even if they did claim to share a language, might be rather challenging on first encounter.

  By the time she had dealt with the last of the calls, it was close to six o’clock and, impatient to find Morgan, she quickly shut down her computer and left the office. James would set the alarm whenever he got back.

  Making her way through the streets, part of the endless flow of people heading home after a day’s work, Rose dodged the tourists clogging the corner opposite Pulteney Bridge and hurried across it, jumping on and off the narrow pavement to avoid a passing bus and pedestrians alike.

  She fetched up outside Morgan’s apartment in Laura Place out of breath, but there was no response when she rang the bell. Could her friend have fallen victim to jet lag? From what Rose knew of Morgan’s family it was very large, very loud, and very tied to North America. It was possible Morgan had never experienced enough of a time zone shift to suffer from it.

  Keen to get home and charge her phone so she could reassure herself Morgan was fine, Rose walked briskly towards Sydney Place, pausing outside number 4 to extract her keys from her bag. She was about to flick the latch on the wrought-iron gate when a movement caught her eye and, glancing up, she saw an indistinct figure in one of the windows of the flat above her own.

  Whoever it was, they didn’t seem as though they wished to be seen; by the time Rose had opened the gate they had disappeared, and she shrugged as she hurried down the steps to her flat. It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed someone hovering in the shadows when she returned home in recent weeks.

  She suddenly recalled the figure in Regency costume she’d seen coming out into the rear garden of the same flat that morning and then seeming to no longer be there. Goosebumps rose on her arms, and she shuddered. Then, laughing at her silliness, Rose let herself into the flat. There would be plenty of people in costume over the coming week and no doubt the visitor upstairs was just one of them.

  Rose spied her charger immediately and connected her phone before turning to put the kettle on. It would take a few minutes to come to life, so she hung up her coat and picked up the pile of papers on the table: tickets for the upcoming festival events. The one on the top was for Dr Trevellyan’s talk, and she wrapped an arm around her middle as it made a strange lurch. Smiling ruefully, Rose turned to the fridge for the milk. She needed to stop being such an idiot over him, and now would be a really good time to start.

  * * *

  Barely had Rose sat at the table with her mug of hot tea when incoming messages began to appear on her phone. There was more than one missed call from James, but also a whole slew of messages from Morgan, which she quickly scanned, then laughed out loud.

  There were several selfies again – including one with some very blonde men captioned, I’m lost in Bath but with the nicest Germans – we’re lost together and having a marvellous time! After that, there were a series of messages apparently detailing her path wandering the city. It was no help whatsoever as to where Morgan might be now, but at least it confirmed she was in town and making friends already, though Rose did spare a thought for James. Did this mean Morgan had been late arriving for her check in?

  Rose sipped her tea, but then a new message came in: James.

  Reading it, Rose abandoned the tea, shrugged into her coat and headed once more for the street. She had no idea how her boss had come to have Morgan safely in hand in a bar just a few steps from the office, but she didn’t care. She ought to call James to say she was on her way, but with her battery so minimally charged, she didn’t want to waste it. Barely ten minutes later, she was back in the city centre and unable to stop smiling over the imminent meeting with Morgan.

  She was quite a few years younger than Rose, and only recently graduated from university. Rose still couldn’t understand how such a vibrant and outgoing person could find Rose interesting company; she felt like a pale shadow by comparison. She’d spoken to her friend on video enough times to appreciate how genuinely lovely she was, with large, brown eyes, luminous skin and dark, shining hair. Rose had stared at her own reflection for some time after that first video-chat.

  Her skin had the paleness of a traditional English rose complexion, with a smattering of freckles over her nose and dusting her cheeks. Her eyes were sufficiently lacking in blueness to seem grey in most lights and her tresses – long and curling beyond the control of any hair appliance – were ginger. Soft auburn, her hairdresser always called it. It certainly sounded more elegant, but Rose was no fool; she knew ginger when she saw it.

  Ultimately, it had taken Rose a while – a few years of deepening online friendship, in fact – to gather the courage to invite Morgan to visit. Morgan was thrilled, excited and grateful for the offer, so much so that Rose had regretted the reticence preventing her from making it sooner.

  The fact that Jonathan had so vocally discouraged Rose from taking the ‘risk’ had been one of the final straws in Rose’s decision to end the relationship. All they’d waited for then was for Morgan to complete her degree and their plans were set.

  Convincing Morgan’s rather charmingly paranoid parents that Rose was a real, genuine person, their having met through an Internet forum, had been an experience. In the end, it was Morgan’s father’s company that had clinched the trip. Up until very recently, Dan Taylor’s travel periodicals had focused purely on North America. Now Morgan had been offered a chance to spend a couple of months in the brand new London office, as the company had finally decided to expand into Europe. After spending time in Bath with Rose, Morgan would be learning the ropes and reporting back to her father for a few weeks.

  Rose found it touchingly sweet the family was so close, for her own was certainly lacking. Her friends had been the ones to caution her over meeting people online and being sure they were who they claimed to be. She doubted very much her mother, whom she rarely saw, would care one way or the other.

  With relief, Rose arrived outside Hall & Woodhouse, taking the steps two at a time and was instantly enveloped by the after-work crowd. She eased her way between the chattering people, trying to catch a glimpse of James’s tall figure, gripped by a sudden and totally irrational panic she might not recognise Morgan at all.

  Two more ‘excuse me’s later and she had squeezed through the mass of people standing in the bar to emerge on the other side, close to where they tended to gather on the leather sofas, and there, exactly as Rose had hoped, was Morgan. To her surprise, she was curled up in a corner of one of the sofas chattering away to two young men, waving her arms around and making them both laugh; James, in the meantime, sat opposite, a faint look of surprise on his face.

  Rose felt suddenly nervous, almost frozen in place, but just then Morgan glanced over her shoulder and their eyes met.

  Normally shy in public situations, Rose barely comprehended what was happening as Morgan leapt to her feet with a squeal and rushed over to throw her arms around her. Thankful for the melee and general noise around them, Rose realised she wouldn’t have cared if they were in the middle of Milsom Street. Hugging her friend back, she felt a lump rise in her throat and, unable to stop them, tears spilled down her cheeks.

  If this was making a scene, just for once, Rose didn’t mind. They pulled apart and looked at each other, both crying and laughing at the same time.

  Morgan looked just as Rose had expected… except that she was so much tinier. In all their communication – even over Skype – Morgan’s personality shone through as just so big and to see her now, Rose wondered how so much life, so much energy and vibrancy could be contained within such a petite frame.

  Morgan had fished tissues from a pocket and handed one to Rose before dabbing her own cheeks. ‘You’re beautiful, Rose.’

  ‘Me?’ Rose shook her head in disbelief. Then she laughed. ‘
And I’m certain this wet-faced look makes things worse.’ She patted her face dry, then smiled at her friend. ‘How are you? Are you okay? I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there this afternoon.’ She glanced over to where James was seated, certain he had just that moment turned his head away. ‘Have you been with James all this time?’

  Morgan waved a hand towards the seating around the coffee table. ‘Yes, no, sort of – James was my hero… a couple times already, and do you know these guys? We’ve been having a blast.’

  Rose smiled faintly at the young men, then turned to James. ‘I can’t thank you enough. My phone died so I only just started to receive texts again.’

  James shook his head. ‘No problem. Do you want a drink?’

  Rose nodded. ‘Yes, please. Morgan? Can you last a bit longer or do you need to get some sleep? What about food? Have you eaten?’

  ‘I feel wide awake now you’re here.’ Morgan beamed and gestured towards James. ‘And I’ve been fed, too.’

  The young men seemed to realise they were surplus to requirements and excused themselves, and Rose and Morgan took their places on the sofa as James ordered the drinks.

  Rose looked from one to the other. ‘I have so many questions right now – for both of you – I don’t know where to start.’ She met James’s eye. ‘The meeting! Oh, how did it go?’

  He looked slightly taken off guard, but said hesitantly, ‘It went – I don’t know. It was over very quickly. My first instinct is that I messed up – but Stock seemed to be trying to make me feel comfortable at the end – there were all sorts of undercurrents; I should’ve taken you along to translate.’

  Morgan frowned. ‘This is the meeting you were on your way to after opening up Laura’s Place for me?’