2 Emma, Mr. Knightley, and Chili-Slaw Dogs

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  “Just tell him how you feel. Manning says Brooks has been wandering around like some kind of resident ghost from the War, never speaking, hardly eating.”

  “It wouldn’t matter if I told him how I feel because it’s not about me.” She sat up on the lounge chair, not wanting to talk about her broken heart anymore. “What are we doing when we get there?”

  “Dr. Stroud has some costumes for us. I think we’re local women.” She leaned over, lowering her voice. “I’m not real sure there were women at that fort, but I won’t complain. I love watching the ships and hearing the cannons.”

  Caroline smiled. “You’re sounding just like the boys, now.”

  “A bona-fide die hard,” she agreed, nodding. “How’s your friend, Lexi? Did she ever get her business up and running?”

  She shook her head. “It just wasn’t working. We both tried really hard but it was more than I knew how to do.” She looked up into the bright white-blue sky. “The good news is that she’ll be taking her art supplies to school. She won’t give up on her gift just because she has to split time between her studies and her art.”

  “And the bad news?”

  “The bad news is that she’s still determined to study accounting.” She grinned. “But hey, the world needs accountants, right?”

  “It sure does. Especially artist accountants.” Debbie Mae leaned back in her chair. “I guess Brooks was right.”

  “Thanks for bringing it up, but yes. Brooks was right.” It almost didn’t hurt to say his name. She was getting used to it. Maybe in another year or so, she could even think back on this time and smile. She could always hope.

  An hour later they docked and walked down the log pier to the Fort. Men milled around, holding muskets and wiping sweat from under their hats. Caroline couldn’t help searching for Brooks and within seconds had spotted him. His back was to her but she knew the slope of his shoulders, the angle of his jaw.

  He turned as if he felt her gaze and his eyes widened just a bit. She lifted her hand in mute greeting. He lifted his chin, then turned back to the group. She swallowed back the disappointment. Of course, he was playing a role. He wasn’t going to break ranks and rush to greet her.

  “Miss Caroline! Miss Debbie Mae!” Dr. Stroud stood before them in full Confederate costume, his white mustache looking particularly bushy. “Come on inside and I’ll have you outfitted to match the group.”

  “With a musket and pair of hobnail boots?” Debbie Mae giggled. “I tried Manning’s one night and thought they were the most uncomfortable shoes I ever put on my feet.”

  “That’s because they’re not made for left and right. Just for a foot. Saved on shoes, when you think of it. No need to search for a lost right boot, when you can grab any boot.”

  Caroline nodded. Made sense really. She looked down at her strappy blue sandals and was glad she was a modern woman.

  They were led into a room where several dresses hung. “How do they know these will fit?” Caroline eyed the yards and yards of material. The Regency dress had been sewn to her exact measurements.

  “I think everything is fairly big and then they bring out the corsets.” Her cousin wrinkled her nose. “As if it’s not hot enough out there.”

  They helped each other change, lacing up the back of the corset and gathering their hair into a tight bun. When they were satisfied, they emerged into the main area of the fort. The battle had already started and the boom of the ship cannons could be heard in the distance. A man called out the movements of the battle and people stood with binoculars at the edge of the railing.

  “Shelby!” She saw her old friend and called out without thinking. She clapped a hand over her mouth and hoped she hadn’t ruined the entire scene.

  Gorgeous auburn hair and green hazel eyes were all Shelby, but the outfit was not. She was head-to-toe Civil War womanhood. She grabbed Caroline and squeezed the breath out of her. “Look at you! How did you get sucked into all of this craziness?”

  “Watch it.” Ransom stood a bit behind her, darkly handsome and a grin that made her feel as if they could be instant friends. “We’re called historians, technically.”

  “Are you staying long? We can have dinner.” Shelby patted her pockets. “Shoot. I had to surrender all my technology.”

  Ransom handed over a small notebook and a pencil that looked like it had been sharpened with a pocket knife.

  “Thanks, sweetie.” She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss. He reached out and snagged the notebook and pencil back.

  “What now? No pencils allowed?” Shelby put her fists on her hips and looked dangerously irritated.

  “No, I just liked that reward and thought we should repeat the process.” He held out the notebook and pencil. She giggled and took it, planning another, louder, kiss on his mouth.

  Caroline rolled her eyes. “Sickeningly cute.”

  They exchanged information and the next moment Caroline felt a touch at her elbow. She turned, sucking in a sharp breath. Brooks stood there as tall and as handsome as she remembered him. It only been a few weeks but she missed him so much that tears sprang to her eyes. She stared out at the Bay, feeling her cheeks go hot. Get a grip, he’s trying to say hi. Nothing more, nothing less.

  “Captain Owen Hartford, at your service.” He tipped his hat.

  Oh, so it was going to be like this, was it? She searched her memory for a good name. “Patience Corntower. Of Thorny Hollow way.”

  His grin went wide. “We are well acquainted. You may not recollect me.”

  “But I do, sir. Quite clearly.”

  Something flickered in his gaze. “Would the Miss be available for a short walk on the pier?”

  “In the middle of a battle?” Her eyes went wide and she tried not to laugh. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting something amputated?”

  “Shhh.” He held up a finger, eyes crinkled at the corners. “Don’t break character.”

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  He offered his arm and they strolled out onto the pier. People snapped photos of them as they walked.

  “Miss Corntower, I am happy to find you here.” His voice was tight, as if it wasn’t quite true.

  She threw him a look and tried to smile.

  “I’ve been wanting to address you for some time.”

  She frowned, trying to translate the old-fashioned terms into something that made sense.

  He paused near a secluded spot and turned to her. “You once said you knew me, Miss Corntower.”

  “So I did.” She searched his face, trying to understand what he was doing.

  “I don’t believe you were correct.” He looked over her shoulder and took a breath. “I don’t believe you know everything about me. And I would like very much if I could bare my soul to you, in a way I have not yet been able.”

  Her eyes went wide. He was going to bare his soul? Brooks or Owen Hartford?

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief. It was tied in a knot and he worked to loosen it, muttering a few words under his breath. It came undone and he pulled a small, gold ring from the fabric. He knelt down, holding it out. His hand was shaking but his voice was clear.

  “I am asking you to be my wife. I want to grow old with you, to raise children with you, to spend every moment of my life being the best of friends with you.”

  She stared at the ring, speechless. It was her worst nightmare. She was being proposed to by Brooks, and she had to answer as Miss Corntower. She opened her mouth to respond but no words came out.

  Panic flared in his eyes. “The ring is etched with forget-me-nots. They’re a special flower for you, are they not?”

  She nodded, confusion flooding through her. Brooks went to the trouble of having a ring made for this play-acting scene?

  “If you can’t give me your answer now, please say I can have some chance to win your heart.”

  She wanted to say yes but her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t understand you people.” The cannons b
oomed behind her. “Battles and amputation and dressing up as people long dead, fine. But this? Isn’t this going a bit too far?”

  He shot to his feet. “Caroline, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  He reached out for her and she pushed him away. “You never mean it like that, Brooks. Don’t you think I have feelings? Don’t you think I might take this proposal seriously?”

  He put his hands on her face, palms hot against her cheeks, ring still held between a thumb and forefinger. “Caroline, I love you. I’ve loved you for so long I don’t even know when it started. I’m not kidding around.” He dragged in a breath. “I proposed like this because I thought it would be easier if we stepped out of our shoes and pretended to be someone else. I never meant that I wasn’t serious.”

  Her lips parted but she couldn’t speak. With all the noise behind them, maybe she’d misunderstood, maybe he was still playing some Civil War role in a story she’d never heard.

  “Please, Caroline. Tell me I have a chance with you.”

  She tried not to weep but the tears squeezed out from under her lids. A cannon boomed in the distance. “Brooks, if I haven’t said anything it’s because I’m afraid this is all just a big misunderstanding. What about Lauren? Are you Owen Hartfield? Are you proposing to me or to Patience Cornstock?”

  He gripped her hands and laughed. “I thought your name was Corntower.”

  She laughed but it came out in a sob.

  “Caroline, I’ve never loved anyone but you. I didn’t go about any of this in the right way, so can we pretend this is the first time we’ve ever tried to talk about falling in love? Everytime I tried to tell you, it got shoved aside by my fears of losing you. Then Frank showed up and I thought I was going to lose my mind over him flirting with you. That kiss was all wrong, but I meant every second of it. Do you think we could try to start over?”

  She took a shaky breath. “Oh, boy. This isn’t really good timing, is it? I’m stuck at home, and my mom has become a recluse and your dad…”

  He nodded. “I know your mom isn’t well. And my dad isn’t doing so great, either. We have a lot of work to do to take care of them. But you’re family to me. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and you were right in front of me all along. I can’t give you up, I won’t give you up.”

  She walked into his arms, sobbing into his shirt. She gasped for breath. She always hated those girls who cried all over their boyfriends but sometimes it just happened that way.

  He smothered her with kisses, kissing her eyes and her hair and her cheeks. “Is that a yes, Finley? Will you marry me? I promise to bring you chili-slaw dogs and taste all your terrible cakes and never worry about Absalom being poisoned by your cooking.”

  She laughed, pure happiness spilling out of her. “Yes to the slaw dogs, but it’s okay to keep Absalom from my cake disasters.” She gazed up at him, loving every wrinkle, every feature. She touched his cheeks, ran a finger over his lips. “I thought I knew you, Professor Elliot. I thought I knew everything about you, and you still surprised me.”

  He leaned down and kissed her nose. “You can look forward to a lot of that.”

  She closed her eyes, not really hearing the rest of what he murmured against her ear. All she knew was that it echoed everything that was in her heart. He was a surprise. Love was a surprise. And a surprise love between friends was the best kind of all.

  Dear reader,

  Thank you for reading the second in this series, Austen Takes the South! Emma has always been my favorite of Austen’s novels and I couldn’t wait to see where our Southern characters went with the story.

  As romance novels go, the friends-turned-more story is one of the hardest. There is no lightning bolt moment, except perhaps at the end. If you can get the reader to that moment, it’s all good, right? Austen was truly brilliant at keeping us entertained until Mr. Knightley got up the guts to profess his love and Emma woke up enough to see he was the only man she ever loved.

  Midlands College and Spartainville are purely fictional places, but hold similarities with other small college towns.

  I hope you enjoyed meeting Brooks and Caroline (and Absalom). Please leave a review on Amazon and find us at Pride, Prejudice, and Cheese Grits Facebook page. Until next time!

  Mississippi Mud Pie

  Preheat oven to 350F

  Start with about 40 cookies (chocolate sandwich type, like Oreos) and 5 TBS melted butter. Crush the cookies and add the butter, pressing into a pie shell. Put it into the freezer for a bit so it will set.

  Combine in a pan and stir until melted:

  4 TBS butter

  6 oz. dark chocolate, chopped

  1TBS vanilla extract

  2 TBS instant espresso powder

  ¼ cup coffee

  ¼ tsp. salt

  Next:

  Separate 6 eggs

  Blend with a mixer the yolks with ½ cup sugar until foamy, about 4 minutes and then

  ADD to the melted chocolate

  Mix the whites with the other 1/2 cup of sugar and then fold in carefully until just combined. Add to the cookie crust (in your freezer) and bake about 40 minutes. Take it out even if it moves a bit in the middle. That’s normal. Let it cool.

  Now add ½ cup unsweetened cocoa powder, like Hershey’s to

  4 oz. dark chocolate

  ¾ cup sugar

  ¼ cup cornstarch

  ¼ tsp. salt

  4 large egg yolks

  4TBS butter

  Whisk all of these together in a sauce pan on medium until it’s a thick paste.

  Gradually whisk in 2 ½ cups milk until it boils, stirring constantly. Transfer to a cool bowl and let sit for ten minutes.

  Scoop into the cookie crust, refrigerate for 30 minutes and top with whipped topping.

  ENJOY!!

  Chili-Slaw Dogs

  This is your basic hotdog… except it’s got all sorts of good stuff piled on top.

  Start with a really good sourdough bun. Steam until hot, but not sloppy.

  Smear one side with mustard. You can use stone-ground mustard or the bright yellow stuff. (I prefer the traditional mustard, myself.)

  Grill a great hotdog. Some people do a kielbasa sort of things, but I like just a beef hotdog.

  Add spicy chili. (Homemade is best, but I know we can’t have everything! Grab a can of Hormel’s, put it in a bowl and stick it in the microwave. There. Chili.)

  Top with creamy sweet coleslaw. Some people (like my husband) add chopped onions, but I prefer mine traditional.

  Enjoy!!

  About the Author:

  Mary Jane Hathaway is the pen name of an award-nominated writer who spends the majority of her literary energy on subjects un-related to Jane Austen. A homeschooling mother of six young children who rarely wear shoes, she’s madly in love with a man who has never read a single Jane Austen novel. She holds degrees in Religious Studies and Theoretical Linguistics, and has a Jane Austen quote on the back of her van. She can be reached on Facebook at her regular author page of Virginia Carmichael (which is another pen name, because she’s just that cool).