Aunt Nellie, the owner of Twickenham and hostess of the Regency immersion experience, insisted everyone who worked for her looked the part. The dresses she provided were lovely. Most of them looked as if they fit the period for which they were designed, only with the modern conveniences of zippers and machine embroidered designs sewn into the fabric. Aunt Nellie’s clothing requirement almost stopped her from accepting the job as dance instructor to the group of mostly Americans who wanted a Jane Austen experience.
The class left the room, giggling and flirting as they went. Jane sighed, swinging her fan around her wrist irreverently, before slamming it into her dress.
“You’d better be careful with that thing, or you’ll break it.”
Jane lifted one side of her lips at Aunt Nellie, trying to push down her smile. “They are ready. You won’t be in need of my services again until the next group arrives. Do you have their schedule ready for me?”
“Won’t we be seeing you for the ball tomorrow evening?” Aunt Nellie’s ethereal silver-blue eye’s danced with mischief.
Jane stopped herself from rolling her eyes at Aunt Nellie. She knew Jane’s aversion to all the pretending that went on here. “The help is not usually invited to those kinds of things.” The only reason she had agreed to become the dance instructor at the manor was because she needed more capital to start her new venture.
“Why are you so against what I’m doing here?” Aunt Nellie’s brows knit together, looking offended. Jane might have believed Aunt Nellie actually was, but for the light twinkle to her eyes.
“I don’t understand why people would want to go backwards. The stories Jane Austen and her contemporaries painted were romantic ideas, I’ll give them that, but I don’t understand the fascination of wanting to relive it all. Progress is a good thing. Looking back does no good for anyone. Time moves forward not backward.”
Aunt Nellie chuckled lightly, and the twinkle in her eyes brightened, if that were possible. “But what is the harm in living in a fantasy, if only for a short time?”
The edge in Jane’s voice was palpable. “Fantasy is for children. The real world might be hard at times, but the danger comes when one tries to hide from problems instead of facing them.”
“Is that why you push yourself so hard?” Aunt Nellie asked with kindness.
“I’ve always wanted to be someone.” Jane was becoming deflated as the fire dimmed in her voice. Aunt Nellie had always treated her with kindness, and Jane was a dolt for being so rude to her. “I find other ways to unwind. Thank you for your offer, but I prefer to stay out of the thick of things.”
Aunt Nellie weaved her arms through Jane’s, escorting her through the twisted halls of the manor until they were in the front entry.
“You are always welcome here, remember that, and not just as an instructor. One of these days, I will have you as my guest.”
“Thank you, Aunt Nellie.” Jane placed a light kiss on Aunt Nellie’s cheek. Static charged at the touch, momentarily stunning Jane.
She pulled away quickly, moving down the concrete-like front steps of the manor. She’d felt the same sensation upon touching the painting in her front parlor. An unexpected feeling of excitement charged through her veins. The two were connected, she could feel it, literally. Maybe she would take Aunt Nellie up on her offer after all.
She opened the door of her small dark blue Kia and jumped in, making sure her skirt was tucked snugly in, before closing the door. She gripped the wheel, staring at the large castle that was Twickenham Manor. It had been built upon over the years, and Jane suspected that it was Aunt Nellie’s close relation who had added on the latest part, causing it to look more gothic with spires and square castle walls whitewashed brilliantly bright. No wonder the Americans were drawn to this place. It was breathtaking and would have been complete if it boasted a moat.
Though one could argue the fissures that sprouted near the house acted as a decent substitute. She stopped her gawking and pulled out, driving the short distance to her home, noting the lined drives of row houses she was sure were not yet built in the 1700’s.
As much as Aunt Nellie and the people who stayed at the grand manor house wanted to pretend, this was the way life was now. She wondered if her father hadn’t left the way he had, would she be as cynical? Because she knew in her heart it wasn’t hurting anyone but herself.
It only took a couple minutes to arrive home. She could have walked if she wasn’t forced to wear these dresses she despised. As she parked her car, she studied her home. She had been blessed, and the way she was acting now, caused a prick to sting her heart. She needed to change her attitude if she were ever going to have the future she imagined. One where she made her paths possible.
She unbelted and stepped out of her motor, pausing to crane her neck while putting her hand to her eyes, looking at the building she had just inherited only a few short months before. The quaint structure was the perfect setting for the lush green foliage that surrounded her home. Her dream was becoming a reality and so soon after graduation. University had paid off, learning the intricacies of how to become a servant afforded the start of this dream, one she’d harbored since she was a child.
She’d seen a royal function on the telly, mesmerized by how the servants worked in tandem together to keep things working like clockwork. Ordered. Her mother never agreed with her fascination, often asking why Jane would put such effort into starting such a menial career. The life of a peasant. But her mother had always lacked the drive to do much of anything. Jane hadn’t gone to school, learning every little detail of servant life just for the sake of helping others. No, her mother would never understand her need for order and predictability.
Opening a school of her own was her dream. It would hold the clout and prestige of a certified academy. She was on track to train servants for Buckingham Palace. This unexpected inheritance of owning Buckley Cottage helped that dream become a reality sooner than she ever expected or even dreamed.
Fortunately, learning to dance in the old style was a required class at University. She’d hated it at the time but was grateful now. Aunt Nellie was pleased to have her, though she’d only been teaching the class for a month. Every other moment of her time was filled with preparations for her own sort of school.
Being such a convenient distance from Twickenham Manor was one of the many perks of the place. She loved her new home, once a cottage for the toll-master on the banks of the River Thames, now practically a mansion in its own right, with its seven bed chambers and two sitting rooms. It was worth millions now, sitting just a stone’s throw from London and within walking distance of Twickenham Manor. Jane didn’t know how she’d been so lucky to inherit it but took it as a gift and a sign that she was on the right path.
Rachel, the instructor Jane had hired to help with the task of managing the business side of things, was at this moment preparing the rooms for their first season of students. They would arrive soon. Thrilled that each bed had been filled, Jane was now able to relax.
The spark she’d felt upon kissing Aunt Nellie’s cheek still lingered slightly, and the open invitation to visit the manor whenever she felt bounced around in her mind. She’d already turned Aunt Nellie down once, just before she’d started working for her, and though she would never go to the actual ball, she had an idea of visiting the vast estate to paint.
The picture hanging in her front sitting room begged to be painted. She knew the exact spot where the fissure had been painted and felt a strange sort of pull to recreate it. Jane walked slowly into the house and made her way into the sitting room, placing her handbag next to her overstuffed chair. She stopped in front of the painting that had been on her mind since the light kiss she’d given Aunt Nellie and the spark that went along with it. It was a very lifelike rendition of the fissure cracks on the estate garden.
Aunt Nellie had informed Jane that the natural fountain had been there since the beginning of time. A fanciful notion she was inclined to believe every time sh
e stared at the painting. There was an almost magical quality to it that fascinated her.
One day she would capture the whimsical feeling of the fissure. She wished she dared to pop over to the manor and paint but knew if she tried, Aunt Nellie would contrive a reason for her to attend the full moon ball. She’d bide her time and pounce on the offer as soon as she felt it was safe.
She smiled at her newly formed plan before moving up the small staircase to find Rachel. All thought of Aunt Nellie and her manor fled from her mind, replaced by the fact that she was about ready to open her own business. She was in control now. The sensation gave her a jolt of giddiness, and she bounded up the stairs faster, thinking of all the things that still needed to be done.
JANE SMILED AT THE thought of being free for the first time since opening up the house to her guests. Her students had been here almost a month, and things were beginning to run like clockwork. She had just one latecomer arriving tomorrow. Her schedule was open today for the first time all month. With her easel and art supplies tucked under one arm, she opened the door to her small car and shoved the things inside, closing it quickly before anything had a chance to fall out. She was on the road for Twickenham Manor before she could talk herself out of it.
With a smile, she drove the short distance through the housed streets. Aunt Nellie would be happy to see her, no doubt, and might even give her house guests an impromptu painting lesson.
Thankfully, no one was in sight as Jane positioned her easel to get the best view of the natural fissures bubbling from within the ground. She dipped the brush into the paint on her palette, ready to start her first carefully ordered stroke. As she moved the brush to the canvas, something stopped her. A feeling that something was about to change whirled around her. Panic set in at the thought. It was silly. She tried to push it aside as she attempted to start again, but the feeling remained. She put the brush and palette on the grass, closing her eyes and breathing evenly. She wasn’t prepared for the unnatural feeling that fought to toss her order. She’d felt a constant pull to the place for nearly a month. She’d thought it was the fissure wanting to be painted, but now she wasn’t so sure.
Aunt Nellie sauntered up, stopping beside her. The garden breeches Aunt Nellie wore felt out of place for the lady of the manor house who was usually required to dress her Regency part. Sitting on the bench beside her, Aunt Nellie spied the blank canvas, her light smile making Jane feel foolish. She hadn’t laid even one brush stroke. And as the weird feeling subsided in Aunt Nellie’s presence, Jane felt that maybe she had imagined it after all.
“I find the best remedy for painter’s block is to put away my brush and give myself a change of scenery.” Aunt Nellie’s light smile changed into a full cascade of brilliant white teeth.
She went on, and Jane knew exactly what Aunt Nellie was going to say. This evening’s full moon ball would already be decorated, and Aunt Nellie wanted Jane to attend. She’d been caught, just as she knew she would. She’d been able to avoid it last month, and Jane wondered why she had been so careless this time.
As she tried to think of a polite way to extract herself from an invitation, Aunt Nellie interrupted her thoughts. “Have dinner with me this evening.” Aunt Nellie said, confirming her suspicions.
“We’ve been over this before. I don’t like being overly crowded. Tight ballrooms fall into that category. And besides, you know I find them silly.” It wasn’t exactly the polite extraction she envisioned, but it was all her muddied mind could conjure. She knew it was a weak excuse.
“Don’t worry, I will spare you this time. Today there will be no dance. In fact, it will just be you and me. I’ve been dying to show you something.” Aunt Nellie was being coy. She always had a purpose, even if it was just to bend Jane to her own eccentric wishes. Jane found the offer intriguing though since Aunt Nellie always held the ball.
Jane shot an eyebrow up. “And why this sudden change from the norm?”
Aunt Nellie laughed a light magical laugh. “I have already told you; I’ve reserved the evening especially for you. I knew it was the only way you would accept my humble invitation. If you refuse me, I shall be so lonely, I have no idea what I should do.”
“And what of your house guests?”
Aunt Nellie’s eyes sparkled even more than was usual. “I have sent them on an excursion into London!”
“Would that not disrupt the illusion you have so carefully created?”
“The temptation was too great for them to pass up since they are traveling in my carriage that has been passed down through several generations.”
This surprised Jane. A vehicle such as that would do better in a museum, rather than being used, even if the roads were better in this time period. The chances of it falling apart seemed highly in the carriage’s favor. Not to mention the lack of comfort it had to offer. Jane didn’t think she could be paid to travel in such an outmoded contraption.
“Are you not afraid that it would become damaged?”
“I have a capable groom. It has been kept up to the highest standards, I assure you. Now stop trying to change the subject. Are you going to accept my invitation or not?”
Jane hesitated only a moment before slowly nodding. “If you promise this isn’t some sort of trick to get me to attend your ball.”
Aunt Nellie only laughed in a way that did not comfort Jane in the least. For all her pleasantries, Aunt Nellie knew exactly how to win the game. But Jane would not fall into her trap. She would come to dinner comfortably dressed in modern attire. The thought of uprooting any mischievous plan Aunt Nellie had, made Jane smile. She found herself looking forward to her evening in spite of her reservations.
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Thank You
FIRST, I WANT TO THANK my readers. Without you, writing would be a more selfish endeavor. You make me want to keep reaching, bending, molding my writing to be better than before. Also, for your patience in getting this next book out. I’ve had so many cheerleaders along the way, giving me prayers, letting me know that my health comes first.
More thanks to my mother for caring about my writing, being my secretary while I was in the hospital, and being the mom to my kids when I couldn’t.
Thanks to my editor Cindy Ray Hale, and my review team for being the last defense in catching errors. Karen Lynne for creating the new cover.
My God, for giving me talent, and the drive not to hide it under a bushel.
The Barrister's Challenge: A Regency Romance (Heirs of Berkshire Book 2) Page 12