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

by Cecelia Gray

  Chapter Seven

  Lizzie could have sworn that with each passing mile on the way to Rick’s family’s house, Anne turned greener and greener.

  “Are you all right?” Georgiana asked Anne for the tenth time since the car service that Mrs. Wright had sent had pulled away from Jasta.

  Anne nodded, turning to face outside.

  “Is this driver making you sick? Maybe you should have driven in the other car with Rick, Dante and Edward,” Georgiana persisted. “We can call them, have them come pick you up.”

  Anne looked even more sick as she groaned, settling her forehead against the glass.

  “She’ll be fine,” Lizzie said. She dug through her backpack to see if she had an emergency plastic bag in case Anne’s sickness decided to make its way out. Something told her Anne’s weak stomach had more to do with spending the weekend with Rick than their driver’s skills.

  “Cheer up,” Georgiana said. “I think we’re here.”

  Lizzie pressed her nose to the window as the car passed through two large, open iron gates and up a long, landscaped driveway. She tilted her head to look up the driveway to the house.

  Or mansion was a better word.

  The home was four stories tall with enough windows that it must have had as many rooms as Jasta. The kind of house that would belong to the kind of people who would know the kind of people who would buy a boarding school. The kind of house with wings.

  The car stopped at the top of the driveway by the steps to the front entrance. Lizzie noted neither Anne nor Georgiana seemed as impressed as she was. Her parents were by no means poor—they were both surgeons—but their money came from actually working and not by inheritance and they were constantly going on about their medical school student loans and the cost of housing in Chicago and the expense of having two cars instead of one not to mention the pricey ticket of The Jane Austen Academy and how grateful Lizzie should be that she had the opportunity for such a quality education.

  She was grateful, which was why she intended to see the education stayed topnotch.

  Lizzie dragged her backpack from the backseat—until she realized neither Anne nor Georgiana had taken their bags. Instead they stood at the base of the steps, their hands free to stick in their pockets. When the driver came around to grab their things, Lizzie self-consciously pulled her bag higher on her shoulder.

  “Miss,” the driver said, holding out his hand.

  “That’s okay, I got it,” Lizzie said. She slowly tiptoed up the stairs, with each step her ratty sneakers, faded jeans, and pilling sweater feeling more and more out of place in such elegance.

  Anne and Georgiana did not seem similarly concerned as they passed her on the stairs to the front entrance. Even Anne, who seemed ready to puke from nervousness, was not out of place in the opulent surroundings.

  Before they even reached the French doors that formed the front entry, they swung open and a woman in khakis and a beige turtleneck identified herself as the “secretary”—although Lizzie was certain she did not mean the typing kind—as she informed them that Rick’s car had not yet arrived and offered them a tour of the house on the way to their wing.

  Lizzie could barely take it all in. The estate was nearly the same size as Jasta, but only for one family. Imagine that. They passed libraries and parlors and hallway after hallway of chandeliers and Turkish rugs and polished, elegant black statuary.

  “It’s not theirs,” Anne said after a while.

  Lizzie pulled her gaze away from a mid-hallway fountain as they continued their short, polite steps down the hall. Georgiana was locked in conversation with the secretary, asking about the origin of a gilt-framed painting hanging on the wall.

  “What do you mean, it’s not theirs?” Lizzie asked. “This is Rick’s house, right?”

  “Right, but his father inherited it,” Anne explained. “Exactly like this—decor and all—and while they were very uncomfortable with the surroundings, they never changed anything—out of respect.”

  Before Lizzie could ask for clarification or even how Anne knew such a thing about Rick and his family, the secretary beckoned them ahead. “Your bedrooms are just around this corner,” she said.

  Lizzie assumed they were all headed for the same room, but the secretary directed them into three different rooms. Hers had a four-poster bed with a robin’s-egg blue satin coverlet and a mattress so high she was sure to have to run at it just to jump in.

  She swallowed, feeling a ball in her throat. No matter what Anne had said about this house not being to Rick’s family’s taste, it was theirs nonetheless. Likely the new owners of Jasta were similarly rich.

  She began to doubt whether, even if she discovered their identity, she could win a battle to keep her school the way it should be.

  As she set down her backpack, the secretary peeked her head inside. “Dinner will be served at the lake. Please do come prepared to swim.”

  “I shall,” Lizzie answered, half-mocking, but in truth, she couldn’t help but enjoy trying on being so ridiculously rich for size.

  * * *

  Lizzie told Anne and Georgina to go ahead to dinner without her.

  “I have to take care of some grooming,” she claimed, even though she had already changed into her swimsuit and had pulled a floral sundress over her head and slipped on sandals. Being in a swimsuit and sundress made Lizzie homesick for Ellie, who had taught her to swim—she felt a little sour at the thought of the Blondies off having a fun weekend.

  She couldn’t help but think all her problems were the new Jasta owner’s fault.

  “Are you sure we should leave you alone?” Anne asked, her voice sounding a little desperate, as if what she was really saying was that she was the one who didn’t want to be left alone.

  “I’ll be there in twenty,” Lizzie said. “Let’s not all be late—it would be so rude.” At Anne’s hesitation, she added softly, “Just head straight for the lake. You don’t have to talk to anyone if you’re under water.”

  Anne smiled with an assenting nod and walked away with Georgiana.

  Lizzie waited until she heard the retreat of their footsteps down the hall, then counted to a hundred for good measure. She opened her door to peek into the hallway.

  She retraced her steps back through the bedroom wing, down the flight of stairs past another set of bedrooms, back down the hall to another set of stairs, and finally, to the suite of rooms that the secretary had identified as “the offices.”

  She heard a creak and spun around, her heart pounding—but no one was there. She held still, not even breathing.

  Was it just that the house was old and creaky?

  She hoped so.

  She turned back to the suite of offices and slowly turned the doorknob to the first door, cringing with every squeak. As she released the handle, the door clicked open. She nudged her flip-flop’s toe into the opening so the door slowly swung in on its hinges.

  The room was cavernous. A grand redwood desk sat in front of a floor-to-ceiling stained-glass window overlooking the circular driveway. As she expected, photographs lined the walls.

  Photographs of Rick’s family with other families and friends and, Lizzie was certain, the current owner of her beloved Academy.

  She need only step inside to study her suspects.

  “Are you lost?”

  She spun around at the voice, her heart pounding, and came face to face with Dante’s suspicious frown. “Ye…yes,” she stuttered. “I’m just looking for a way to the lake.”

  “You can’t get to the lake from the second floor,” he said.

  She blinked, forcing herself to take a hidden, deep breath and calm down. Was he teasing her? No—he had to be on to her. Of course he’d be the one to find her. He, who wanted to steal her Georgetown admission, who didn’t think her worthy of mentoring his sister, and who didn’t really want to be a student at the Jane Austen Academy.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you the way.”

  He held
out his hand—and it was then she finally took in his appearance. He was wearing dark board shorts and a white T-shirt that made him seem tan—and that only served to make his teeth whiter as he smiled and his eyes even bluer. She felt heat in her cheeks.

  She hadn’t realized how good-looking Dante was—or maybe she had and that was part of what annoyed her about him. That much like Anne, everything seemed to come easily to him, although she now knew that wasn’t true for Anne. Not really.

  “Elizabeth?” Dante asked, dropping his hand back to his side.

  “Lizzie,” she blurted, which made her realize she hadn’t spoken a word since he’d found her. She must seem an idiot.

  Dante smiled—a real, dazzling smile—and Lizzie felt her entire body cramp, down to the curling of each toe.

  “Well, come on, Lizzie,” he said. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

  * * *

  Why was Dante being nice to her? Not just civil—actually nice. He’d shown her the way to the lake. He had gone back into the house to bring her a towel when she realized she’d forgotten one of her own. He had brought her a bottle of water when she’d breezed by the picnic table of food to jump straight into the lake—as if dunking her head under the cool, clear waters would shake off her nerves from nearly being caught sneaking into the office suite.

  It hadn’t helped at all, she decided as she lay back on the dock to catch the last hour of sunshine. She felt more confused than ever.

  “Watch this,” Georgiana said before running off the dock and catapulting straight into the lake.

  “I will not be outdone,” Edward said with a battle cry as he ran after her, jumping clear over her and landing six feet farther out.

  Lizzie saw Dante’s smile soften as he watched his sister—perhaps that was it. Perhaps he was on his best behavior for Georgiana. Perhaps he wasn’t so abhorrent, given how he cared for her…even if he was completely misguided about her participation in Journalism.

  Dante leaned over his lounge chair to say something to Rick, who was lounging next to him. Rick pulled off his sunglasses to answer.

  Lizzie wished she could mic every conversation around her. She always wanted to know what people were saying—she supposed that was what made her so into journalism. Dante whispered something and Rick nodded.

  Why were they being so secretive? Was Dante tattling on her? Or did he have secrets, too? And what were they?

  She mentally shook herself. She had more important stories to tackle than Dante’s secrets. More important things to think about, too.

  Anne emerged from the water looking like something out of a cologne commercial.

  “Are you feeling better?” Lizzie asked Anne as she stretched out to sunbathe next to her. She looked like an exotic goddess in her gold bikini and made Lizzie feel like a beached white cow.

  “This all feels so surreal,” Anne said.

  “I feel like I’m on a reality television show or something,” Lizzie agreed. “This house…the servants.”

  “They’re not servants,” Anne said. “They’re employees—with health benefits and everything. But that’s not what I mean. I just meant…”

  Lizzie leaned in, waiting for her answer but instead of continuing, Anne just sighed.

  Lizzie didn’t need Ann to say more to know what she was sighing about. “You should ask him out.”

  Anne’s eyes flew open, darkening in shock.

  “You should. Rick’s a nice guy—maybe not Edward nice—but he’s nice. He takes care of his mom. That’s a plus.”

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “You have history, but so what—that’s the past,” Lizzie said. “You’re clearly into each other. You spend more energy not being around each other than most couples expend on dating.”

  Anne peeked over at Rick, and Lizzie could almost taste the angst. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, please, put us innocent bystanders out of our misery.” Lizzie smiled encouragingly and got to her feet.

  She stretched and walked toward the pier. She sat and dipped her toes into the lake, glancing behind her. The scene felt like something out of a commercial. They were all so happy, all smiles. The staff was grilling up burgers for them on a small island grill. Mrs. Wright stopped by to check on them before retiring for the night, warning them not to swim too much after dark.

  Lizzie couldn’t help but feel a moment of resentment. Rick’s mom, who was recovering from cancer, had time for Rick when her own parents couldn’t spare the time to make her dinner – hence her being shipped off to boarding school. Although, she reminded herself, her parents were the ones treating sick patients like Rick’s mom. She stood and dove off the pier and surfaced to clean strokes.

  Somehow, here, in this life, Lizzie felt like she could put all those feelings behind her for a while.

  Edward cannonballed in after her so that a wave of water splashed over her head. He surfaced, grinning.

  “Isn’t the weather amazing?” he said, flipping onto his back to float while he stared at the sky. “Almost sunset and it’s still warm. Minnesota isn’t like this on its best day.”

  “Neither is Chicago,” Lizzie said. “It’s either too cold or too hot to live.”

  “Ellie said Santa Cruz weather is even better than Merrywood.”

  “She did?” Lizzie said, swimming closer. “When were you talking to Ellie?”

  “Uh…lunch? Yesterday, maybe? She’s out on the town with Emma today, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Lizzie’s mood immediately soured. How could she have forgotten that this weekend wasn’t supposed to be about fun and games? If she wanted fun and games, then she’d be hanging out with her best friend Ellie. Instead, she was supposed to be undercover, investigating her big story.

  “I’m going for another cannonball,” Edward said, kicking for the pier. “Fair warning!”

  Lizzie watched as he pulled himself up onto the pier—then she yelped loudly and grabbed her leg.

  Everyone’s heads swiveled toward her.

  “Cramp,” she said—parlaying her excuse so she could go inside and take a closer look at the pictures. “I better get out.”

  But just as she was starting to swim back toward the pier, Dante shot up from his chair and sprinted for the water, diving in beside her. He surfaced to her right, and she felt his hand circle around her waist. The shock of his skin sliding against hers sent her pulse into overdrive.

  “Hold on,” he said, kicking off to pull them back toward land. “Slow breathing will also help the cramps.”

  She was so dumbfounded by his chivalrous reaction that she tightened her hands around his neck and held on as he paddled.

  His lashes were long, blond, and spattered with drops of water from the lake. They even clung to his eyebrows and to a soft shade of stubble on his chin. His chest was touching hers—touching!—separated only by the thinnest of swimsuit materials.

  Dante let go of her as he pulled himself up on the pier. By then, Edward and Georgiana had come out of the water, and even Anne and Rick were standing there, waiting to pull them in. Lizzie noted with satisfaction that in the chaos, Anne and Rick were standing inches apart, and she could have sworn Rick’s gaze kept drifting to Anne’s face.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” Lizzie insisted as she realized Dante was going to pick her up—and what, carry her back to her room?

  Dante seemed reluctant to let her get to her own feet and he hovered over her as she pulled herself onto the pier and upright.

  “I’m fine,” she said again, exasperated, as she shooed them off. “I only need to catch my breath. I think I might be done swimming.”

  “Dinner will be served in just a few minutes,” Rick said. “But if you’d rather have it in the dining room—”

  “No, no, that won’t be necessary,” Lizzie said before everyone would stampede inside, ruining her chances of checking out the office. “I’ll just change into something warmer and I’ll be back in ten minutes. Don’t worry
.”

  It took a few more minutes of convincing, but finally, Lizzie made her way inside, towel-dried off, and pulled on her jeans and sweater.

  Now for a detour back to the office.

  Chapter Eight

  Lizzie dug her phone out of her back pocket and snapped a photo of the wall of framed pictures. She moved quickly, stepping to the right to take another round of photos, then another. There were so many people in these photos—dozens!

  She recognized a few. She had covered the Jasta fundraiser two years ago and interviewed several prestigious alumni—oooh, that reminded her, could she get a list of alumni who could be swayed to her cause?

  How many minutes had passed? Certainly more than ten –but there was another wall of photos yet to go, plus the pictures on the desk. Lizzie moved quickly to the other side of the office, wincing when her shoes squeaked on the aging wood floor. She raised her phone to frame the picture on the wall—and slowly lowered it.

  The picture was a Christmas shot—one of Rick from a few years ago, because he barely looked like a teenager and his mother looked like a movie star and very healthy. With them stood Dante, Georgiana, and an older couple. Were they his parents? They had to be.

  Dante had an arm slung around Rick’s shoulders and was pushing Georgiana, who looked so young, away from him as she went in for a hug. Something about Dante’s face was different. He seemed younger, yes, but more relaxed. As if he found it easier to smile. What had happened to change him?

  Now he was so serious and intent. Like he’d dove into the lake to save her from a cramp even though she wasn’t in any danger.

  He would have done it for anyone, probably, she told herself. What a story for the Georgetown college entrance exam—Dante saves girl from drowning. Although no, that wasn’t generous. He hadn’t been thinking of that when he’d jumped in after her. Probably more likely that Rick didn’t need a stupid girl drowning at the party his mom had made him throw.

  Rick and Dante being roommates at Jasta was no coincidence. They were friends…or at least friendly enough that their parents knew each other.