Fall For You [The Jane Austen Academy Series #1]

by Cecelia Gray

She caught Anne’s stricken eyes. “Don’t worry,” she said. “This isn’t over.”

  Chapter Six

  “We have to respond,” Lizzie said to an eager group of her journalistic peers. Could they hear the crackle of fear in her voice? After last night’s dance, all anyone could talk about was Bergie’s announcement, and everyone seemed to be looking to her to lead them. To show them how to act. Only she had to be responsible—she had her personal agenda, but the Academy was bigger than she, bigger than all of them. She cleared her throat. “But most important, we need to put aside our private feelings and represent the voice of the students.”

  She and Anne had gone back and forth on the issue all night after the dance, but they both agreed they could not tarnish the journalistic integrity of the Gazette for their own personal vendetta. While they may work in private to foil Bergie, the Gazette was first and foremost the student paper.

  A hand shot up in the air. “How do we respond, then?”

  Lizzie glanced down at the game plan she and Anne had outlined. “Everyone covers their desk,” she said. “Sports—you’re on what this means for our mascot and our team, the Ladies, and now also the Lords since we’ve gone co-ed. Academia—how would this name change affect our curriculum and our reputation at colleges? I’m also handing out three features stories.” She gave a stack of papers to the front row and they began passing them back through the classroom.

  “All the features to us?” a few of them blurted out in surprise.

  “Yes, to you,” Lizzie said firmly. “I meant it when I said everyone is writing a feature this year, and this issue is too important not to cover every angle from multiple points of view. I also want four opinion pieces instead of the usual two. We have to do pro/con from the female and male perspectives. You’ll see those assignments in the notes.”

  Another hand. “Aren’t we forgetting something?”

  “What?” Lizzie asked.

  “What do the old owners think about this?”

  Everyone turned pointedly to Anne.

  “We haven’t forgotten,” Lizzie said. “But I think Anne is the best person to cover that, don’t you?”

  “I am?” Anne asked. “Is this why you asked me here? But…I’m not even really in Journalism.”

  “Then let’s make it official.” Lizzie pulled out an elective transfer slip and pushed it across the counter to her.

  “Are you sure?” Anne asked. “I mean, I know how seriously you take the Gazette.”

  “As seriously as you take this Academy.”

  They shared a smile and Anne signed the transfer. There were nods and murmurs of approval as the door creaked open. Georgiana popped in her head sheepishly.

  “Come on,” Lizzie waved her in. “We were just discussing how to cover last night’s announcement of the Academy name change by Headmistress Berg. I need woman-on-the-street interviews. Are you in?”

  “What would that mean?” Georgiana asked, taking a nearby seat.

  “It means you approach a random and hopefully representative cross-section of students. In the hallways. In class. In the cafeteria. Ask them what they think of the name change. Whether they’re for it or against it, and why.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, batting her blue eyes which, annoyingly, reminded Lizzie of Dante. “I mean—are you sure that should be me?”

  “Definitely.” Lizzie forced herself to forget Dante and focus on the assignment at hand. “You’re a transfer. You don’t have any preconceived notions about the Academy and are our least biased interview in this regard. You’ll elicit the most honest opinions.”

  “Oh—thank you,” she said, blushing.

  “Now, everyone get to work. I want opening copy in my inbox by tomorrow.”

  The room erupted into chaos as everyone fought for access to the computers. Lizzie pulled her chair up to Anne’s.

  “You okay?” Anne asked.

  “What about you? Are you okay?” Lizzie returned. “I can’t imagine—this is your school.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “It’s still our school,” Lizzie said. “And that doesn’t change just because some new owner bought it. We need to get to the bottom of who these owners are. There must be records we could access. Someone who isn’t Bergie that knows something. Are you sure your dad doesn’t know?”

  “Not a clue,” Anne promised. “I begged, I pleaded, trust me.”

  Lizzie blew out a frustrated breath. Just last week everything had seemed perfect. Now her school was being sold out from under her and she and Ellie were on shaky terms. Not bad terms. Not fighting. Just…not close, which was worse. They’d had some knock-down drag-out fights before, but they also made up. Here, there was almost nothing to make up for.

  The door opened and Dante stuck his head in. She hated that she felt herself straightening her posture, smoothing back her hair.

  There was another problem.

  Even with everything going on with Jasta and Bergie, she couldn’t stop playing his conversation with Rick in her head. The one where he’d said he wasn’t interested in anyone, especially not her.

  Why not?

  And then there was that strange look he’d given her after she’d argued with him about Georgiana. And how he’d kept staring at her through the night of the dance.

  She should feel like she’d had her moment. She should be done thinking about Dante, but she wasn’t.

  Dante gave her a nod and she looked over to Georgiana, who was bent over a keyboard. She was not going to let him bully her out of class.

  Instead of looking to Georgiana, though, he held open the door for someone else.

  Rick guided a woman inside, middle-aged, with a scarf covering her head. She looked like a gorgeous Italian film star, although a bit tired.

  “Can I help you?” Lizzie asked.

  “Hello,” the woman said, taking deep breaths. “I’m Rick’s mother, Jane Wright.”

  She heard the squeak of Anne jumping up from her chair. “Please, take my seat.”

  “Thank you dear.”

  “Thank you, Anne,” Rick said.

  “You’re here for the family interview,” Lizzie realized.

  “Yes. Thank you for indulging me in person. I’ve been hoping to see where Rick is going to school.”

  “Let me set up a more comfortable interview space,” Lizzie said. She jumped off her seat and began pulling over a loveseat from the corner. She felt the load lighten and looked up to see Dante on the other end. “Will your parents be dropping by for an interview?” she asked him.

  “I doubt it.”

  “They haven’t returned my calls.”

  “They won’t,” he said darkly. Then he glanced away. “Georgiana looks busy.”

  So Dante had parent issues—that, at least, she could relate to. What kind of parent issues? The kind that might get him banished from Exeter to California if his parents couldn’t stand the sight of him? “She is busy. Georgiana is my new beat girl.”

  Dante frowned. “Sorry, I don’t speak newspaper.”

  “You know…the beat,” Lizzie explained. “Word on the street. That sort of thing. I don’t horsewhip her or anything.”

  “Oh—is that…the best assignment?” he asked.

  “Any assignment at the Gazette can be the best assignment if you’re talented, and she’s got a talent for putting people at ease.”

  “That she does,” Dante agreed. “Perhaps too well.”

  Lizzie wondered what he meant by that, but he had gone over to help Rick guide his mother to the loveseat. She noticed Anne had made herself inordinately busy with using a Q-Tip to clean a keyboard.

  Lizzie eased into a seat in front of Mrs. Wright. “Are you comfortable?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Thank you for asking.”

  Lizzie looked up at Rick and Dante, who were hovering over the woman like hens over a chick. “Why don’t you come back in half an hour?”

  Rick kept asking if his mom was okay and Dante nearly tr
ipped over himself to get her a glass of water and fluff her seat cushion one last time, which made Lizzie feel a little conflicted about hating him—but only a little. He was after her Georgetown admission, after all.

  “I never thought they’d leave,” Mrs. Wright said after they finally let the door close behind them on their way out. “Although they’re such nice young men.”

  Lizzie stopped smiling—she couldn’t possibly be talking about Dante. “Were you able to read the first article in the feature?”

  “Oh yes,” she said with a delighted clap. “And thank you for using that picture from Rick’s military academy.”

  “You’re welcome,” Lizzie said, not bothering to mention it was the only photo provided by Bergie—which meant she’d specifically selected the one his family wanted.

  “Although I must admit,” his mother said, “I was a little disappointed that it didn’t mention why he’d come back to Merrywood.”

  “There were so many wonderful things to write about Rick, it was hard to choose.” Lizzie could hardly admit that Anne had completely bumbled the interview because of whatever history she and Rick had, especially since his mother seemed oblivious to their history. In fact, she didn’t seem to know who Anne was at all. She hadn’t even spared her a glance.

  “Did you write the interview?” his mom asked.

  “No, no, I’m Lizzie. Anne wrote it,” she said, pointing to Anne, who was now dusting off monitors.

  “I just felt the reason he came back to Merrywood is the most wonderful thing of all.”

  Lizzie’s journalistic radar pinged. “Forgive me for asking, but why did he come back?”

  “You mean he didn’t tell you?” She nervously pulled at the sleeves of her sweater.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “He came back for me.” She pointed to her scarf-covered head. “He left the Naval Academy for me. I can’t believe he didn’t mention—”

  The next thing she knew, Lizzie had reached out and gently placed her hand over the woman’s fingers, which had formed a fist. “Rick is new here—he hardly knows anyone. I’m sure he just didn’t feel he could share such personal details about his life.”

  “Oh dear.” She blinked rapidly. “I knew he’d given up his friends to come here.”

  Lizzie bit her lip—could she say nothing right? Everything seemed to be distressing Rick’s mother more and more.

  “Oh, I know,” the woman said, sitting up. “Perhaps Rick should have you and his other friends over to the lake house this weekend. There’s Dante, and that nice boy, Edward. You should come. And Anne, for doing the interview.”

  “I don’t know—” Lizzie wasn’t sure Rick would appreciate her being grouped into the category of his friends.

  “I insist,” she said, color coming to her cheeks. “I’ve wanted to meet Rick’s friends for a while but I’m too tired to make the trip out here. I’ve barely been able to keep up with my duties on the Jane Austen Academy Trust.”

  “The Trust?” Lizzie blinked. “You’re a member of the Trust?” She’d studied the names, contacted most of them. She didn’t remember Rick’s mother being on the list. Would she be more willing than the other trustees to divulge the names of the new owners?

  “Oh yes, I turned in my confirmation late. I wanted to see how treatment went. But I’m feeling better than expected, which is also why now would be a good time to visit.”

  “You should probably ask Rick what he thinks about…me…coming.”

  “Because you’re a girl?” she asked with a twinkle. “I’m not so old-fashioned. You’ll be in separate wings, of course.”

  Wings?

  “But I trust you to comport yourselves like adults. You know, I’ve been so happy Rick could finally attend the Academy that has been part of our community for so many years, and I was saying to the new owners that the gender changes are a godsend for us.”

  “How long have you known the new owners?” Lizzie asked carefully.

  “Oh, dear.” Mrs. Wright covered her mouth with trembling fingers. “I’m just so tired these days, I forget what to say. But never mind those business matters. I’ll talk to Rick immediately.”

  “Talk to me about what?” Rick asked.

  Lizzie glanced up to see that he and Dante had returned. “It’s barely been five minutes,” Lizzie said.

  “A weekend house party,” his mother said. “We’re having one for you and your friends—like Lizzie here.”

  “Like Lizzie?” Dante repeated.

  “And Anne,” Lizzie quipped.

  The color drained from Rick’s face, and Anne slipped off her stool.

  “I would be delighted,” Mrs. Wright said. “I never got to know your friends at the Naval Academy.”

  Lizzie saw the moment Rick relented in the soft smile he gave his mother. “That sounds like a great idea, Mom.” Rick planted a kiss on her forehead.

  Lizzie actually did like Rick’s mother, but she also knew she couldn’t pass up this opportunity to search the house and see if she could dig up who the new owners were.

  * * *

  Lizzie craned her neck, searching for Ellie in the crowd of girls having dinner on the quad for Jasta’s annual fall barbecue—although now they had a grill reserved just for tofu kebabs after Lizzie’s freshman feature on the lack of vegetarian options. Before that article, Ellie couldn’t eat anything.

  It was weird to see boys dotting the green landscape. A few were tossing a football over some girls’ heads. Another couple were determined to climb one of the old apple trees.

  She supposed she could admit it wasn’t worse having them here for the annual tradition. Just—different.

  The same horseplay had been forbidden under the last administration when the student body had been all female, but student standards had been amended—for the boys, she was sure. She hadn’t liked the rules, either, and was glad they were gone, but it still made her mad that the rules had changed for boys and not for them.

  Ellie usually saved her a spot under the biggest apple tree, but since it had already been staked out, Lizzie figured Ellie had moved somewhere else. She finally spotted her on a small green slope near the boys’ wing—with Emma camped out on her picnic blanket.

  Under their tree. The tree where they were supposed to have their annual tradition, but hadn’t.

  Lizzie fought a frown of annoyance and made her way to them, her sneakers dragging in the grass.

  Ellie caught sight of her when she was halfway there and began waving comically, so Lizzie finally smiled.

  “—got you a barbecue plate already so you don’t have to stand in line,” Ellie was saying as Lizzie approached. She dropped cross-legged on the blanket, so snugly between Ellie and Emma that Emma had to scoot over a few inches to make room.

  “Thanks,” Lizzie said, taking a little pleasure in Emma wriggling across the blanket like a worm in her tight leather skirt. “I’m starving.”

  “You should be.” Emma winked and her blond bob seemed to wink, too. “You’ve been busy.”

  “Yeah, I have,” Lizzie said. “We’re gearing up the Gazette to cover Bergie’s announcement on the name change.”

  “I already asked my mom to write in a letter of protest,” Ellie said, wolfing down a barbecued tofu cube.

  “But where is she sending it?” Lizzie pointed out. “The new owners have yet to reveal themselves.”

  “To Bergie. She’ll have to pass on the tons of letters.”

  “I’m not so sure about tons,” Lizzie warned. Georgiana already had several dozen interviews under her belt from the afternoon’s work. “Almost none of the guys care about the name, so I doubt their families would write in. Neither do the incoming freshmen and about a quarter of the girls. That leaves a minority of us, many of whom are graduating, and even less who have parents who actually care. Besides, your mom writes a protest letter if someone drops a cigarette on the sidewalk.”

  “Hey!” Ellie said.

  “I meant it in a go
od way,” Lizzie said.

  “That’s not what I meant about you keeping busy, by the way,” Emma said with another wink.

  “What did you mean?” Lizzie asked, more than a little annoyed to be interrupted when she and Ellie were obviously in the middle of a conversation. It was just like Emma to yank back the spotlight.

  Emma winked again.

  Lizzie was beginning to think there was something in her eye. “Well? What did you mean?”

  “I meant you were busy procuring an invitation to Rick’s house for the weekend.”

  “You’re going to a boy’s house for the weekend?” Ellie asked, slack-jawed.

  “Not like that,” Lizzie snapped. “His mother invited me—kind of as a thank you for doing the newspaper feature. I only said yes because his mother knows the new owners, and I’m hoping to find clues.”

  “Oooh, subterfuge,” Emma said, leaning close. “I like it.”

  Lizzie inwardly groaned. Had she really just spilled the beans on her grand plan to the master gossip? Maybe that was how Emma always got her information—people told her everything. If Emma had any sense of what constituted real news, she’d be Lizzie’s greatest threat at the Gazette. “It’s in the service of a greater good,” Lizzie went on. “It’s not like I’ll enjoy it. Dante will be there, for crying out loud.”

  Ellie crinkled her nose as though she smelled something bad. “I still can’t believe what he said about you at the dance.”

  “Me either,” Emma said. “But he stared at you half the time.”

  “Glared, more like,” Lizzie said, although she bit her tongue before she explained that she’d taken Dante to task for his treatment of Georgiana. Although Emma probably knew from other sources. Emma knew everything.

  “Hey, if Lizzie is running off to Rick’s for the weekend, Ellie, maybe you’d want to spend the weekend with me,” Emma offered.

  Lizzie felt her heart drop to her knees.

  “That would be great,” Ellie said.

  “How about a road trip to Los Angeles?”

  Lizzie listened to them—the two Blondies—hammer out the details of the trip, powerless to stop them.