What Would Jane Austen Do?

by Laurie Brown

  “We’ll give your regrets to the other guests,” Mina said with a sympathetic expression that quickly morphed into a grin. “With you resting, I’m more likely to catch Lord Shermont’s eye because he won’t be paying so much attention to you.”

  “Me?” Eleanor asked. Had he been paying special attention to her? He’d made her feel as if he were intrigued by her presence, but she’d thought that was because of her reaction to him.

  “I intend to ask Shermont to teach me to play croquet,” Deirdre said.

  “Hah! You have been playing since you were six and can beat everyone in the—”

  “He doesn’t know that. And a true sister never divulges family secrets.”

  Eleanor ignored the continued bickering and paced to the window. Her body warmed just thinking about his exhilarating touch. She recalled their all too brief encounters and judged that he hadn’t paid her more attentions than any other woman present. She turned to face the others and interrupted their chatter. “Back up a step. What makes you think Shermont even knows I’m alive?”

  Mina snorted in a very unladylike manner. “As if you didn’t notice him staring at you.”

  “Teddy certainly noticed,” Deirdre said. “If you’re trying to make him jealous, it is already working.”

  “Why would I want to make Teddy jealous?”

  “So he will propose marriage sooner.” Mina’s exasperated expression was the Regency version of a twenty-first century “Duh!”

  “I …” Eleanor tried to think of a reason that Ellen would not want to rush into marrying Teddy. “We hardly know each other anymore. To be truthful, I’m not in a hurry to get married.”

  “You’re not getting any younger,” Deirdre pointed out as she plopped her bonnet on her head and tied a bow under her left ear. “Twenty-six is not completely on the shelf, but it’s getting uncomfortably close to old maid status, or in your case, old matron.”

  Eleanor hid a smile. What would the girls say if they knew she was actually twenty-eight? True, her biological clock was ticking, but she could ignore it a little while longer.

  “And we’re not getting any younger either,” Mina added. “You remember Letticia Wilson who was a year ahead of Deirdre at Miss Southerland’s Academy? No? Well, she was six years behind you, so that’s to be expected. The point is Letticia has already been presented, married, and produced an heir. We are still waiting for our Season. Once you and Teddy are married, you can sponsor us—I hope before we are both on the shelf, too.”

  “He said he planned to take you to London in the spring.”

  “Teddy promises that every year, but something more important always comes up and prevents us from going,” Deirdre said.

  “We’re counting on you to make certain that doesn’t happen again,” Mina said.

  “I’m not sure I—”

  “We’ll have to discuss this later,” Deirdre said. “Right now, we have guests waiting.”

  “Oh my, yes.” Mina wrapped a light shawl around her shoulders and let it fall to her elbows.

  “I’ll come down in a few minutes,” Eleanor promised.

  “Take whatever time you need. In fact, why don’t you take a nice long nap, so you’ll be well rested for dinner?” Mina added as they exited.

  Eleanor waited until she heard their voices trail down the hall, then she slipped into her bedroom and closed the door.

  “All right, you two mischievous ghosts, we need to talk.” The low volume of her voice did not lessen its commanding tone. “Time for you to make an appearance.”

  No response.

  She pulled the desk chair to the middle of the room, sat down, and folded her arms. “I’m not leaving until you show yourself.”

  “Do you think we should let her know we’re here?” Mina said so that only her sister could hear.

  “She doesn’t appear to need our help,” Deirdre said. “At least not yet. We did promise we’d leave her alone.”

  “Come on, you guys.” Eleanor had to force her voice to remain strong. “I know you’re here.” Purely a bluff, but she sensed their presence. A feeling like when a word is beyond your grasp, but you know it’s there somewhere. “Energize. Manifest. Whatever it is you do to appear, do it now.”

  What would she do if they weren’t there? How would she get back to her own time? “Mina? Deirdre?”

  “Maybe we should tell her—”

  “No. Our word is our bond.”

  Eleanor stood and paced the room. “I said I’d like to go back in time, but that was when I didn’t think it was possible.” She turned and headed back toward the window. Her steps slowed. “Okay, okay, we made a deal. And you’ve done your part—or at least the first step. I remember what I said I would do for you, but surely you can’t expect to hold me to a promise based on wishful thinking. Let’s just call the whole thing off. I’d really like to go back now.”

  She stopped and closed her eyes, waiting for the room to spin. On second thought she sat in the chair. “I’m ready.”

  Nothing happened.

  Maybe she needed to be in the bed. She jumped up, climbed onto the feather mattress, and plopped into a prone position. “There’s no place like home,” she whispered and clicked her heels together three times for good measure. Nothing happened. “Beam me up? Abracadabra? Please?”

  Still nothing.

  Apparently, there were no magic words.

  Chapter Four

  “Fine.” Eleanor rose from the bed and stomped back to a post by the window. Her mind awhirl, she absently watched the servants set up the croquet course on the south lawn. So the ghosts were sticklers to the conditions of the deal. Apparently, the only way home was to complete her task.

  She reached up and held the necklace as she often did in times of stress. The amber cross was a connection to her grandmother who had believed anything was possible as long as you followed your dream and worked hard.

  “Okay, I will try to keep the two of you out of Shermont’s way—I mean, the live versions of you,” she clarified, since she was talking to the ghosts. At least she hoped she was talking to them.

  She’d committed herself without the slightest idea of how she would make it happen. She took a deep breath and exhaled. What would Jane Austen do? Probably something proactive, even though she wouldn’t have used that word.

  The fastest way to accomplish her task was to confront Shermont directly. As Eleanor changed into walking boots, she wondered what she would say. Should she threaten him with something drastic if either girl’s reputation was ruined?

  That tactic hadn’t been successful previously. Even the possibility of a deadly duel had not deterred him. Perhaps she could find something interesting in the paper to induce him to return to London. Worth a try, but since she’d just met the man, she had no idea what he would find fascinating. She’d have to wing it.

  Eleanor picked up her bonnet and shawl. She paused at the door. “In return, I expect you to keep the second part of the bargain. Jane Austen had better be at this ball, and I had better get an introduction. And just so you know, I don’t think it’s fair not to tell me which one of you I need to protect.”

  She didn’t bother to wait for a response she knew wasn’t coming. Instead she headed downstairs, planning to stop in the library for a peek at the latest newspaper. After that, she intended to confront Lord Shermont.

  Eleanor rushed down the stairs and grabbed the ornate newel post for balance as she made a sharp left turn toward the library. She nearly ran into Teddy as he exited carrying a sheaf of papers.

  He flashed an angelic grin. “May I hope your eagerness is for my company?”

  “I’m looking for a newspaper,” she blurted out.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Ah … I’ve been away so long I was hoping to catch up on current events.”

  Not exactly a lie.

  “Uncle Huxley requested the newspaper, but I’m sure we can locate a Godey’s or Home Companion for you to read. I am at your
service.”

  As much as she would enjoy reading either and would especially love to look at the latest fashions, that indulgence would have to wait. A woman’s magazine was unlikely to help in her quest for an item to entice Shermont to return to London. She shook her head. “Perhaps later. Have you seen Lord Shermont?”

  “What is it about him? Five years ago no one had even heard of him, and now every female under the age of eighty has set her cap for him.”

  “I have not set my cap for him.”

  “See there, Digby. Your theory has been disproved.”

  Eleanor whirled around to see Shermont lounging against the doorjamb of the entrance to the library. Speak of the devil.

  “Either that or Mrs. Pottinger is older than she looks.” Shermont eyed her from head to toe. When his gaze returned to her face, he grinned and winked.

  Judging by her body’s response, his blatant perusal might as well have been accompanied by the touch of his hands. The warmth of her reaction seemed to draw all the blood from her brain, and his use of the unfamiliar title flustered her until she remembered she was supposed to be Cousin Ellen, a widow. Although she was sure her cheeks were flaming, she returned his bold stare. “The year of my birth would indeed surprise you, but it shall remain a well-kept secret.”

  Shermont bowed. “As it should be with all ladies.”

  Teddy held out his arm to Eleanor. “I’m so pleased we have some time together. I want to hear all about your life in America. I’ve read of wild Indians, ferocious bears, fierce feral pigs, and other dangerous animals. How do you cope?”

  Eleanor remained where she stood. “Actually, there’s not—”

  Tuttle, the butler, entered with a wax-sealed message on a tray. Teddy excused himself and stepped away. After a muttered conversation, of which Eleanor heard only “office” and “urgent,” he instructed the servant to fetch a maid to act as Eleanor’s chaperone. Shermont raised an eyebrow.

  Eleanor interpreted the gesture as either an unspoken comment on the fact that Shermont had interrupted Teddy and Eleanor alone together or an acknowledgement that Teddy didn’t trust him.

  To cut the tension, Eleanor said, “A chaperone is hardly necessary. After all, if I can fend off wild Indians and ferocious bears, I should be able to handle Lord Shermont.” It was a lie, of course, but she was beginning to do that quite easily.

  Teddy bristled at her refusal of his suggestion, and Shermont hid his surprise with a nod of appreciation for her riposte.

  “As a widow you are exempt from certain strict observances,” Teddy said with a sniff. “However, a reputation is rather fragile and should never be put at risk.”

  The butler returned with a timid maid in tow, and Teddy reluctantly left to see to his business.

  “You’re not like other females,” Shermont said.

  “But I am. One head, two arms, two feet. Quite the same. Quite ordinary.”

  He shook his head. “There is a subtle difference I can’t quite put my finger on.” He rubbed the scar on his forehead.

  “Perhaps because I am an American?”

  “I don’t think so.” He stepped closer and picked up her hand that still rested on the newel post.

  Again, his touch sent a tingling feeling straight to her core.

  Ignoring the presence of the maid, he drew Eleanor toward him and leaned forward. “If this were any other hand, I would not desire to do this.” He placed his warm lips on the back of her hand and then turned it over to kiss the palm.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Such a simple action, not one she’d ever thought of as erotic, caused her knees to weaken and her toes to curl.

  He looked up at her face from under his long eyelashes. His eyes deepened to dark gray, telling her he felt the same electric current.

  “And that makes you different,” he said, his voice husky.

  Before she could form a response, the bickering of Mina and Deirdre announced their imminent arrival. Shermont quickly pulled away. After hesitating for a heartbeat, he mumbled an excuse, bowed, and disappeared into the library.

  Of the same mind to avoid the sisters, Eleanor took advantage of the maid’s open-mouthed attention on Shermont to duck through another doorway. Although safe from the girls for the moment, she was soon hopelessly lost in the maze of parlors and sitting rooms. She wandered from room to room until she found an exit. The French doors led to a flagstone patio that had several paths leading past walls of greenery. Assuming she would eventually run into the south lawn and the others, she headed to her right to walk around the house.

  A decision she soon regretted. The paths were designed for people to stroll leisurely through the gardens. There were alcoves with Greek statues, nooks with stone and iron benches, and stunning, colorful displays of myriad flowers she couldn’t name. Not a straight get-from-here-to-there stretch among them. An army of gardeners must be needed to keep everything in such pristine order, but she didn’t encounter a single servant she could ask for directions.

  She’d read somewhere if you were lost, you should sit and wait for someone to find you. If you kept moving you might wander into areas already searched and not to be revisited. She was ready to sit on one of the benches when the path widened onto another flagstone patio. Shermont sat in a cast-iron chair. A book lay open on his knee and he appeared to be concentrating intently. He didn’t look up until she was quite near. Upon seeing her, he jumped up and greeted her.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said, even though it was a lie. He was just the person she wanted to see. Although she knew which topic she wanted to discuss, she decided it would be better to open the conversation on a general note. “What are you reading?”

  “Oh.” He bent over to retrieve the slim volume that had fallen to the ground and looked at it as if it had suddenly appeared in his hands. “I … ah … just picked up this copy of Sheridan’s School For Scandal to pass the time.”

  Fortunately, her high school drama class had staged the classic play, so she was familiar with it. “Although the play lacks the cohesion of his earlier work The Rivals, I thought the auction scene quite clever.”

  He appeared taken aback for a moment. “Ah yes, as an American you would be familiar with Sheridan, since he sided with the Colonials in Parliament. Quite surprisingly, he was never challenged to a duel, despite using his wit in defense of such controversial topics.”

  She hadn’t known that about the playwright, but it gave her a perfect opening. “Speaking of duels …” Over his shoulder she noticed Teddy exiting the house with a man in working clothes. As the other man left, Teddy turned and obviously spied them. From the glower on his face, she wouldn’t have another chance to speak to Shermont alone.

  She rushed to say her piece, while trying to ignore Teddy stomping in their direction.

  “Lord Shermont, if your intentions toward Mina or Deirdre are anything less than honorable, I beg you to stay away and not lead either impressionable young girl astray.”

  He reared back in what appeared to be genuine shock. “I have no interest in either girl, honorable or otherwise. Good heavens, madam, they’re mere children, barely out of the schoolroom. I am insulted.”

  “But your reputation—”

  “Despite what some may say, I assure you I am not in the habit of seducing virgins.”

  “Surely you’re aware of their interest in you?”

  He dismissed any anxiety with a casual flick of his hand. “A schoolgirl crush. They will recover soon enough without encouragement. I’m more concerned with what interests you. Lord Digby seems to have laid claim to you.”

  “I’m not a piece of property. I’m a person,” she said. Knowing Teddy was within earshot, she continued, “I have no intention of anyone claiming me.”

  “It appears I have arrived just in time to forestall an argument,” Teddy said with a pleased smile as he offered his arm to her. “Come, my dear cousin. My sisters await us.”

  He obviously hadn’t realized her
words were for his edification, too.

  She laid her hand on his forearm. “No argument,” she said in a pleasant voice, “just stating a fact.”

  “Please don’t tell me you have become one of those dreadful bluestockings?” Teddy asked as they strolled out of the garden and along a terrace. He gave a slight shudder.

  “I’m rather in favor of the bluestockings,” Shermont said as he followed several paces behind. “An educated, literate female is a more interesting … companion.”

  Somehow she knew he’d almost said lover. Eleanor peeked over her shoulder at him. He grinned in response.

  “A lady who verbalizes her desires is more likely to get exactly what she wants,” Shermont said. His statement had the ring of a promise in disguise.

  “And is likely never to be quiet,” Teddy added.

  “That’s not very flattering,” Eleanor said, her tone chastising.

  “I’m not referring to you, my dear. My sisters are always demanding the latest gewgaw or trinket.”

  “Fashions change rapidly,” she said. “We all like to remain au courant with the latest trends.”

  Teddy sighed. “So I am learning. A guardian’s responsibility is a heavy burden when one carries it alone.” He looked at her with sad, puppy eyes in a blatant bid for sympathy.

  She patted his arm. “You’re lucky to have Aunt Patience, Uncle Huxley, and a bevy of servants to share your affliction.”

  “Affliction. Yes, that’s a good term for my situation.”

  The dig had apparently gone over Teddy’s head, but Shermont’s cough sounded suspiciously as though it covered a chuckle.

  The promenade ended at a wide expanse of lawn. The chaperones were seated to the left of the field under a majestic elm. The girls in their pastel dresses practiced their swings with wooden mallets. The pastoral scene brought to mind Georges Seurat’s A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grand Jatte. She had first seen the pointillism masterpiece as a child, while visiting the Art Institute of Chicago with her grandmother. The large painting, nearly seven by eleven feet, made a grand impression and remained one of her favorites for its sense of harmony. No untidiness, nothing disordered. The bucolic vista before her evoked the same poetic peacefulness.