She left him abruptly and he realized that the only reason she had been in the ballroom was to talk to him.
“That was the woman from the meeting yesterday, the one who was questioning Jane’s identity,” Albert said.
“Yes, my graduate advisor. I thought for sure I’d be looking for another, but maybe not.”
“I’m afraid I still don’t know all that transpired in that meeting.”
“Well, since you weren’t exactly invited … I’m sorry, said that without thinking.”
“No, you’re quite right. I wouldn’t be … Jane wouldn’t be mad at me if I’d just kept my nose out of things that don’t concern me. And now Mary suffers from my stupidity as well.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it. There’s been enough stupid to go around the past couple of days.”
Albert was about to reply when simultaneously his roommates and Ms Henshaw arrived.
“Stephen, there you are. Have you forgotten your promise to dance?” she asked in a loud voice. “There are several ladies who are looking forward to this.”
“Stephen, Ms Henshaw is here,” someone said in Stephen’s earbud.
“Quick, before the next dance starts,” another said, his comment overlaid on the previous. Stephen had no idea who said what.
“Introduce us.”
“No, of course not, Ms Henshaw. I’ve been looking forward to this, and so have my roommates. Uh, may I introduce: Mr Albert Ridings, Mr Alan Timison, Mr Michael Chapman … um, Mr Rob Perkins and Mr Clarence Higgins. Is that everyone?” Stephen asked, after looking at the display of his AfterNet terminal.
“Susan, please call me Susan. And accompanying me, I have Ms Agnes Hutchins, Mrs Catherine Stone … I mean Stein, Miss Mary Ellen Meyers, Mrs Nora Latham, Ms Roberta Hoskins … I mean Miss Roberta Hoskins, I am sorry, and Ms Shawonda Dobie. Well, let’s find a line to join,” she said, and took Stephen’s arm in a surprisingly strong grip and led him to the shortest of the three lines that had formed in the ballroom. She was dressed in Regency costume and seemed to be very familiar with country dancing.
When she heard the name of the next dance, she clapped her hands together and pronounced it fun. Stephen, however, was too intent on listening to his fellow roommates.
“How is this supposed to work, exactly?” a voice he thought might be Alan’s asked. “Don’t we just use the hotspots in the room?”
“No, the idea is we use Ms Henshaw’s terminal to talk to the ladies and we follow Stephen and when he gets separated from Ms Henshaw we stop talking,” someone said.
“Why, what’s the range on her terminal?”
“No, that’s the idea, so it’s more like a real dance.”
“Well whose stupid idea was that?”
“That was decided at the meeting for the first-time AGM attendees. It’s not my fault you didn’t go to the orientation.”
“Then we better set up private chats with the ladies.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Stephen gave up trying to follow. The most important thing he’d learned was that all he had to do was dance with Ms Henshaw—Susan. So he turned his attention to understanding the directions the dance caller was issuing, but that proved impossible. His partner had decided that she should instruct Stephen, but her incomprehensible volley of dance terms left him hopelessly confused.
“No, no, the odd numbered couples are ‘active’ couples and progress down the line. The even numbered couples are ‘inactive’ and progress up the line,” she said to him as if he were a simpleton.
The dance, which Stephen learned was called “Hole in the Wall,” finally started. Susan assured him it was a simple dance, but her instructions soon had him confused. When he heard her say—“Join hands and go clockwise … now turn to your left … your other left”—he collided with her rather violently.
Albert returned immediately after this and began to give Stephen advice. He told Stephen when to turn and in which direction.
“You’ve done this before,” he said to Albert, but his partner interpreted the comment as directed to her.
“More than once. It’s a popular dance for beginners,” she said.
He and Ms Henshaw progressed through the line until they found themselves at the other end, which event coincided with the end of the dance. He had just made the last set without any mishap and was disappointed.
“But I was … I was just getting the hang of it,” Stephen said. “Can we dance again?” he asked her.
Still feeling sore from their collision, she answered, “I … uh, I did promise the next dance to someone else. And the next dance … oh, hello.” Her guilty look turned into a surprised look and Stephen turned to follow her gaze.
“Mr Abrams, I believe you had promised the next dance to me,” Mary said.
Stephen was stuck for a moment what to say until Albert said, “Introduce her to Ms Henshaw.”
“Oh, right. Um, Ms Henshaw, may I introduce you to Mary … I mean, Miss Austen, may I introduce you to Ms Henshaw. She probably knows who you are,” he said ungallantly.
“Christ, that’s Jane Austen,” one of his roommate’s exclaimed.
“Stephen’s going to dance with Jane,” someone else said.
“QUIET EVERYONE!” Albert said. “Give him a moment.”
“Thanks, Albert,” Stephen said, although so quietly he wasn’t sure the terminal had detected him.
Both ladies, however, heard his remark and viewed him quizzically.
“I’m sorry,” he said, pointing to his earbud, “too many voices in my head.”
“I understand,” Ms Henshaw said. “I have several women in my ear who want to say how happy they are to meet you, Miss Austen, and … they all believe in you.”
“That is very kind of them, and I am sure I’ll have a chance to thank them all privately in a chat room. Now, I hope you won’t mind me claiming this next dance?”
“I am happy to release … relinquish him to you. Perhaps we can dance again later this evening?” Stephen suddenly realized that despite his poor performance his desirability had increased.
“Thanks, that’d be great,” he said, and took her hand in his and bowed over it.
“You’re supposed to kiss it,” Alan told him, which Stephen ignored.
Ms Henshaw then left and Mary began to speak, but he interrupted her.
“Could you give me just a second?” he asked. Mary consented with a smile and Stephen walked a short distance away.
“OK guys, I’m going to take a little alone time here. I’m going to turn off my earbud and the speech recognition, but leave the terminal on.”
“We’ll be OK,” Albert said.
“Yeah, just remember to turn it back on,” someone he thought might be Mike Chapman said.
The dance caller, however, announced they would take a little break before the next dance to allow people to take refreshment.
As soon as Mary arrived, Albert searched for Jane in the locally hosted chat rooms. He soon found the username JaneActually listed in the appropriately titled Meet Jane Austen chat room. He saw that JaneActually was a verified AfterNet account belonging to Jane Austen.
BertieFromHants has entered the room
JaneActually(VID) says:
I’m sorry I was delayed in joining you, but I had a series of interviews to do before I could enter the ballroom.
ILoveJaneAusten says:
With who, I mean whom?
JaneActually (VID) says:
The BBC, NBC and the Minneapolis newspaper—I’m so sorry, I forget the name.
Helen.Carnahan says:
I’m glad the media recnogizes youre speaking her was a big deal.
JaneActually (VID) says:
Yes, it’s very gratifying, but my greater pleasure is in meeting everyone here
AlanJTimison says:
Everyone here believes in you, Jane.
KarenKares says:
We heard rumors that someone was t
rying to say you’re not really Jane, but I don’t have any doubts.
JaneActually (VID) says:
You’re very kind, Karen. You’re all, very kind.
Shawonda.Dobie says:
I adore Sanditon Mis Austen it sso funny
WalkLikeADuck says:
I definitely think you should write mysteries … with a disembodied sleuth.
poppethoskins says:
ooh, like Miss Marple form beyond the grawe
JaneActually (VID) says:
That’s a delightful suggestion Mr Duck, Miss Hoskins, but I wouldn’t want to pre-empt Dame Agatha.
orribleiggins says:
That’s right, we disembodied have to stick together, Miss Austen. Your work proves we still have worth and that we can still contribute.
JaneActually (VID) says:
Thank you, orribleiggins. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think the next dance is to begin and I have already promised it. I shall return to this chat room periodically, however, and look forward to future conversation.
JaneActually (VID) has left the room.
BertieFromHants has left the room.
To whom has she promised a dance? Albert wondered, just as he received the message: JaneAusten3 has requested a private chat. He accepted.
“Jane, you must know how sorry I am for causing you such pain. I let my anger blind me and I acted rashly.” He sent his words out into the void as quickly as he could, not sure how long Jane would allow him to speak. But as quickly as he sent his message, he received from Jane: “Shall we dance? You promised me long ago that we should.”
Albert’s quick contrition surprised Jane and Jane’s offer surprised him.
“Yes, I would love to dance,” Albert said happily, although he now felt as if his apology had been ignored.
“Shall we use the young man who asked the questions at the keynote and my Mary as surrogates?”
“His name is Stephen, and he’s my roommate,” Albert replied. He unconsciously positioned himself next to Stephen.
“Is he? It is a small world indeed. I know him as well. Then may I assume it was your question he asked and that he and Mary colluded with you to ask it?”
“Your avatar, Mary, had no part in it.”
“That’s very gallant of you, Albert, but as she and Stephen are dating … well, no matter, she has already admitted to it.”
“I’m very sorry to have caused trouble between you and Mary.”
“Somehow I doubt that … charade … was your idea.”
“Well no, it wasn’t, but after I sent you that letter … I desperately needed to speak to you. When they suggested their plan … I readily agreed.”
The mention of the letter occasioned a flash of anger in Jane, which she fought to suppress. Fortunately Albert still had more to say.
“I did not realize that the meeting that I … overheard … that it was … that there was such danger for you.”
His comment brought home to her that Albert had seen things that must have him confused. She debated explaining to him the fictitious journal, but then she would have to explain the very real letter. Her confusion did, at least, have the effect of defusing her anger.
“Albert, you should know that not everything …” She did not know how to continue.
“Stephen explained most of what happened. It’s sufficient that I know that your identity was threatened, but now that has passed. I should not have been there but …”
Now it was his turn to stop, for he did not want to say that the reason for his being there was his suspicion that he had lost Jane’s affection.
“I know full well why you there, Albert. I had been distant with you, primarily because I was busy with … no, I lie again. I was distant for I had been deceiving you for years and did not know how to explain away my deception. And before you say another word in apology, I now own up to my sin being the greater.”
Her comment made him look for her, an action he knew to be stupid and nonsensical, but he sought her out nevertheless. Finally he consoled himself to look upon her avatar.
Mary and Stephen had walked to the refreshments table and were drinking punch. He had unconsciously followed them. They seemed to be happy—he saw Stephen laugh at a joke from Mary—and was reassured that any unpleasantness with Jane had been resolved.
Jane had also followed the couple and observed Stephen more closely. She also noticed that many of the guests observed Mary and Stephen as well and that their easy rapport caused some comment.
She thought she should say something to Mary, but then was reminded of her own pleasure when she had been the object of speculation at assemblies. She was about to remark on this to Albert when she realized that the next dance was to begin.
“I think the dance is to begin,” Albert asked. “Shall we join Stephen and Mary and follow the convention of using their terminals?”
“What convention?” Jane asked, and Albert explained the convention that had been suggested at the orientation meeting. He felt a little silly as he did so.
“What a charming idea,” Jane said. “We truly will be dancing.”
“How do you think they’re getting on?” Stephen asked as Mary sipped the too sweet punch. She’d only just arrived at the ball and really didn’t require refreshment but Stephen had fetched it and so she felt obliged.
“Something wrong with the punch?” he asked, quickly drinking the remainder of his cup. The dance had left him surprisingly thirsty.
“No it’s fine,” she answered, and fought to suppress her distaste of it. Then remembering his previous question, she replied, “I have no idea how they’re getting on. Jane was ready to rip my head off right after the Q&A, but later back in the room … she and Mel talked and something happened. At least Jane’s no longer talking about firing me. So she’s calmed down. I don’t know how she feels about Albert, though.”
She said the last in a whisper, although the general noise made it unnecessary. Occasionally they’d been interrupted by introductions, but it was obvious that a certain awe kept many from approaching Austen’s avatar uninvited. She wondered for a moment if people were worried that they couldn’t approach her without someone to make an introduction. And that thought led her to the image of Mr Collins, the obsequious clergyman from Pride and Prejudice, who’d presumed to introduce himself to Darcy. She couldn’t help but smile at the image.
Stephen was feeling very guilty, forgetting that she was actually author of the scheme, and was about to apologize again when he saw her slight smile.
“What’s funny?” he asked.
“Huh? Oh, I just I’ve become a Janeite.”
Her response was so unexpected that he laughed and she looked at him with an even wider smile.
“It’s not funny. You don’t have any idea how complicated this has become.”
“But I should have. I know how much Austen guarded her privacy.”
“Hey, it was my plan, not yours. I just hope it worked in the long run. Better she should be mad at me than Albert.”
He wanted to remark how her comment did her credit, but saw she was distracted.
“They’re getting ready for the next dance.” She put her punch glass on the table behind them and then took his as well. “It’s Mr Beveridge’s Maggot, thank God. I know this one by heart.”
She unmuted her terminal to inform Jane.
Jane saw Mary’s remark, although the terminal translated it as “It’s Mr UNINTELLIGIBLE Maggot.”
“Oh no, I’ve never actually danced that,” she said with some alarm. She was familiar with the dance from the various filmed adaptations of her novels and from watching Mary practice it, but she had never bothered to learn it.1
“You realize that your avatar does the actual dancing,” Albert said.
“But if I am to follow her … you think I’m being silly, don’t you?”
“Just a little, but I did promise to dance with you. I just never realized it would take this form.”
; Jane and Albert followed Stephen and Mary as they joined a line, and at the insistence of the caller, they were moved to the front.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the caller announced, “we have the pleasure of dancing Mr Beveridge’s Maggot with Miss Jane Austen herself.” She bowed to Mary, who returned a nod of suitable condescension.
“Oh great, everyone’s watching and I don’t have a clue how to dance this,” Stephen muttered.
“Don’t worry,” Mary whispered to him. “Every savage can dance.”2
He smiled at the reference and said, “Thanks, that actually helps.”
Fortunately the caller, perhaps recalling Stephen’s previous performance, led them through two practice rounds.
Albert did his best to follow Stephen’s inexpert steps. Jane followed Mary’s practiced steps with little difficulty. Not much conversation passed between any of the four during the practice, although Mary silently asked Jane if she and Albert were dancing with them.
She was a little reluctant to ask because they’d said hardly anything to each other on the way down to the ball. So her anxiety was understandable as she waited several seconds for Jane to reply, “Yes,” and then after a few more seconds, “thank you.”
Mary was still trying to decide how to respond to that when Jane said, “The choice of dance is fortunate. You know it so well.”
“Too bad Stephen doesn’t.”
“Oh, he does not do so badly.” Mary thought Jane’s comment encouraging, but little more could be said because the dance was about to begin.
Stephen bowed deeply at the beginning of the dance—perhaps, because of his height, a little too deeply. Mary curtseyed perfectly and then stepped forward to offer her hand, prompting him to take it. They rotated around in one direction and then the other and then again until he was little unsure if he should have been in his starting place.
Then he realized that Mary was prompting him to go around the next couple in line. Somehow that motion reminded him of Darcy and Elizabeth, or rather Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle in the adaptation he knew best. He now acquired some confidence for the next set of exchanges, although he failed on his first attempt of exchanging back to back with Mary.
Jane, Actually Page 39