He had attracted a sizable crowd. Fans encircled him, asking him to sign his book, and this meant the show had been a hit.
Vanessa took a shot of him with her phone and posted:
Found: Mr. Darcy. Join the fray in the lobby near the . . . tea bar. #JASNAagm #UndressingMrDarcy
She waited for a natural break in the impromptu signing before talking to him. “I see you’ve met Lexi.”
Julian nodded. “Oh, Lexi, yes. Listen, I do hope you’ll join us all in Bath. It seems to be all settled.”
She smiled. “Thank you for the invitation. But I’m sure you understand I can’t possibly go to Bath—but, more importantly, how did the photo session go?”
“Brilliant! Just brilliant.” He turned from his posse and looked her in the eye. “You’ve done some fabulous work for me.”
“When we have a chance I’ll take you through those new ideas I had.”
“Looking forward to some time alone with you, Vanessa.”
She took a step backward. “Now, don’t let Lexi distract you from interacting with your fans. I’m just going to step aside to post some of the footage of your show. Don’t go anywhere without me, please.”
“Absolutely not.”
Lexi nudged in next to him. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him out of my sight.”
That was exactly what worried her. She had her doubts about leaving Julian with either Lexi or Xena, Warrior Princess, much less a combination of the two. She pulled Sherry aside. “Sherry? Would you be willing to chaperone Mr. Darcy while I’m editing the footage?”
Sherry cracked her bubble gum with a smile. “I am Mrs. D, after all, aren’t I?”
Aunt Ella had been right; Sherry was a gem. “I’ll have to think of some way to compensate you for your work.”
Sherry laughed. “Oh, I’m compensated! It’s hardly work.”
A text came in from Chase saying he was having lunch with her aunt and Paul, and all seemed fine with them. Vanessa considered herself lucky to be so suddenly surrounded by reliable, helpful people like Chase and Sherry. Certainly, when it came to men, reliability ranked right up there along with good communication skills, and Chase, so far, seemed to have both. With the whole bonnet maker’s daughter–Batman debacle he had proven himself resourceful, flexible, on time, and on task. He’d make a great business partner, but clearly Paul had already recognized that.
She found Kai at a tall table behind his laptop with headphones on, but she knew him well. Instead of working he was staring at Catwoman sipping a Bloody Mary. Vanessa slid his headphones off. “I didn’t think you liked cats.”
“Now I do.” He laughed.
“Did we get some decent footage?”
“Yeah. I also got the audience reaction, too. Pretty flippin’ awesome.”
“What do you mean the audience reaction?” Vanessa asked.
“Those women were hot for him.”
“That’s exactly what we want!”
“Lots of fans fluttering in that room. Your photo session idea really worked, too.”
“I guess it gave his donations an uptick. Did he announce his book signing and the social media handles?”
“He had Paul do that for him.”
“Okay. Good solution. At least he took my advice in some capacity.”
“Um, I just have to tell you that you and Julian really did a cool thing for your aunt today.”
“What are you talking about, Kai?”
“You weren’t there, but after his show was over, the audience was really into it, I mean, as jazzed as people get at one of these things, but he got them all to calm down, and he said you and he wanted to take a moment to recognize the founder of the Chicago Jane Austen Society, and he had your aunt stand up and said all kinds of amazing stuff about your aunt, and then he asked everyone to give her a hand, and they did, and she started tearing up, and I got that on video—you have to see it—and then the audience stood up and gave her a standing ovation, and, well, since this is going to be the last meeting in Chicago for another ten years or so, I just thought you should know. The guy’s a dude, really. A cool dude.”
“Wow. I didn’t know a thing about it. Is it cued up? I have to see it—I can’t believe I missed it—I had to take a call from the doctor’s office—” She steadied herself by setting down her phone and holding on to the table.
In the frozen frame on the laptop, Julian stood onstage with a bouquet of flowers in hand, the very same bouquet that ended up in her aunt’s arms.
Vanessa’s phone vibrated with a call and, without looking at the caller ID, she picked up.
“Vanessa? It’s Chase.”
Vanessa kept staring at Julian holding the bouquet of flowers. “Hi,” she said. She liked this shot of him holding the bouquet of cabbage roses, snapdragons, foxgloves—
“If you’re free, why don’t you join me for a swordsmanship workshop tomorrow at eleven thirty?”
Kai signaled to her that he needed to rewind a bit.
“Yes, that’s fine,” Vanessa said to Kai and, inadvertently, Chase.
“Great!” Chase said. “I’ll let you get back to work. I’ll be in touch.”
Wait. What had she just said yes to?
“Let me know if you need any help rescuing wayward bonnet makers’ daughters.”
“I—I will—”
And he hung up.
A few seconds later he sent a text:
Swords r provided btw . . .
Vanessa stared at her phone. “Oh, no.”
“Another thing to do?” Kai asked.
“Another thing to undo. I think. It was very nice of him—never mind. Let’s get rolling here.”
“Okay.” He put the headphones on her and pressed play.
On the screen, Julian put his hand over his eyes and looked out into the audience. “I will ask again, is Vanessa Roberts in the house?”
“She had to step out,” Sherry called out from the audience.
“I see. I know she wanted very much to help, as we both agreed to honor her aunt, the illustrious Ella Morgan, at this point in our program.”
Vanessa hadn’t known anything about this! Why did he mention her name?
Julian continued. “Ella Morgan, might you please stand up?”
He made his way to her with the mike, stopping briefly to pick up a bouquet of flowers from the front row.
When, where, and how did he arrange for the gorgeous flowers?
“Oh, my,” Aunt Ella said as she stood.
“Miss Morgan,” Julian said in a sincere and reverent voice, “you are solely responsible for bringing me here to this side of the pond, and I thank you, but that is the least of your many accomplishments. You are a one-of-a-kind ‘lady’ in the truest sense, because, much like the lady to the lord, you care for, and help take care of, so many people in your sphere of living. You are a benefactor to many causes, including helping to start the Chicago chapter of the Jane Austen Society in 1979 for the simple purpose of promoting study of her work. Look around you and see what you started!”
Aunt Ella laughed and blushed and beamed.
People in the audience began standing and clapping.
“Let us all take a moment to honor and thank Ella Morgan.” Julian bowed and handed her the flowers.
Soon the entire room stood to clap and shout.
Aunt Ella was tearing up, Vanessa could see that.
Vanessa dabbed the corners of her eyes. More than the overwhelming feeling of guilt over missing that moment came the undeniable feeling that she would never again meet a man like Julian.
But he was a client, he would be gone in just over a week, and worse, he was, at the moment, surrounded by a throng of women and Lexi, leather-clad warrior princess.
“Let’s edit this and get it uploaded as quickly as we can, Kai,” she said.
She pulled a business card out of her wallet. “I have a mantua maker to see.”
“A what?”
“I’m going to have a gown made
.”
* * *
The mantua maker, it turned out, was no fairy godmother.
“I’m not a fairy godmother,” she said when Vanessa asked about a gown for the following night. She didn’t laugh so much as she actually cackled along with her assistant. Her green eyes turned into little half-moons and her cheeks grew red with laughter. “These gowns are not off-the-rack. They’re custom-made, just as they would’ve been in the Regency era.”
Vanessa looked around, hoping the crowd in the Emporium, and especially Julian, who stood across the room, mixing and mingling at the Jane Austen Books stall as she’d instructed, didn’t hear the dressmaker laughing at her.
The room buzzed with people, and the vendors on either side of the mantua maker were busy. On the left stood a table dedicated to Jane Austen Christmas ornaments, and on the right a woman sold Regency “reticules,” silk drawstring purses.
Vanessa found herself drawn to one of them—for Aunt Ella, of course.
“If you need the gown for tomorrow night, you’re best off going to a costume shop and renting one,” the mantua maker said.
Vanessa made a mental note to look up costume shops.
The mantua maker eyed Vanessa up and down. “Although, a rental will look like a gunnysack on you, you’re such a thin thing. Although you are well endowed . . .”
Vanessa blushed. She hadn’t been—sized up like this ever. She leaned in and whispered, “What if I paid you overtime?”
The mantua maker folded her arms. “What kind of a gown are we talking about?”
Vanessa pulled out a pen and began sketching on the conference program. Her graphic skills were marginal at best, but she narrated as she went along. “There’s this woman. She gave me your card, and she’s petite, with brown hair? She had on a white gown—muslin, she called it—and it had a low, square neckline like this and off-the-shoulder sleeves like this, see? And—”
The mantua maker ripped the mediocre drawing out from under Vanessa’s pen. “You’re describing Jane Austen’s gown.”
“What? No. It was someone here, someone at the conference—”
“Yes. That’s our Jane Austen. She’s a Jane Austen actress—she plays Jane Austen. Her name is Deb Miller.”
She had spoken to—Jane Austen? And Jane Austen had advised her to get a corset?
The mantua maker raised her voice. “That’s a custom creation. You can’t have Jane Austen’s gown!”
The customers at the surrounding booths looked sideways at Vanessa.
This time she was causing a ruckus at the Jane Austen conference.
Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she feared it would be Julian, but then she recognized the rings. It was Aunt Ella.
“Vanessa, my child, whatever are you doing here with Martha?”
“She wants a gown,” the mantua maker said. “Not just any gown, but our Jane Austen’s gown. And she wants it ready by tomorrow night.”
Vanessa hadn’t realized a group of customers had formed behind her.
“Never mind. I’m sorry. Please. Let your other customers go first—”
Aunt Ella held fast to Vanessa. “Wait. You want a gown? For yourself?”
Vanessa stepped back.
Aunt Ella smiled. “Answer me. Do you want a gown?”
Vanessa looked down until, just like when she was a little girl, Aunt Ella’s hand lifted her chin. “You want to go to the ball in costume?”
“Yes.”
Aunt Ella turned to the mantua maker. “Martha, my niece Vanessa needs a gown for tomorrow night. I have some ideas on how we could make it work.”
“She’s your niece? Why didn’t she say so to begin with? Of course we can make something work!”
The two women conferred while the Emporium swelled with people buying their Jane Austen paraphernalia. Julian could be heard talking to a gaggle of women, and Vanessa leaned against the dressmaker’s table for sheer strength.
She had wanted to keep this gown thing on the down low and see if she still felt as strongly about dressing up for the ball tomorrow, but now with Aunt Ella in the know, there was no going back. Her going to the ball in costume, though, might soften the blow of the doctor’s appointment . . .
A quick check on her phone confirmed she already had two hundred and eleven women hoping to open the ball with Julian. Two hundred and eleven!
“It’s all ‘sorted,’ as the English would say.” Aunt Ella smiled. “We shall have a fitting tonight at my place. By the way, thank you, Vanessa dear, for the lovely tribute from our Mr. Darcy at the opening of the conference. How very thoughtful of you.”
If only she had thought of it. She had Julian to thank, that was for sure.
She looked over toward the bookstore stall, but he had vanished. If he was following the schedule she had drawn up for him, the schedule that maximized his exposure for the sake of his book, he should be on his way to the Cravat Tying 101 Workshop.
“Auntie E, would you and Paul like to join me for Cravat Tying 101?”
“I thought I’d never hear you ask such a thing,” she said. “What’s happening to you? Let’s hurry before you change your mind!”
Vanessa linked her arm in her aunt’s. “Although I think it would be much more useful to learn how to untie a cravat, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re really getting my hopes up, darling.”
“I’m just kidding. Whatever you’re thinking—don’t.”
She couldn’t spoil this moment by telling her about the doctor’s appointment. It would have to wait.
* * *
As she sat in Cravat Tying 101, the message she sent out to the Internet floated around the cell phones and tech devices of Janeites the world over:
Want to tie the knot with Mr. Darcy? He’s in Cravat Tying 101 right now. #JASNAagm #UndressingMrDarcy #OrDressingMrDarcy?
“To best learn how to tie a cravat,” Julian said to Vanessa, “one must put one’s phone down and actually interact with the neck cloth.”
He gently took the phone from her hands, their fingers brushing against each other, and set it facedown on the table.
Vanessa laughed. She had been struggling with the swath of white fabric and the wooden post in front of her while fielding messages from her clients and tweeting on his behalf! She sat squarely between him and Aunt Ella. Paul sat on the other side of Aunt Ella, while Lexi flanked Julian, and Sherry sat behind them all.
“I’m doing my best,” Vanessa said as she once again pulled the fabric over the knot she’d made on her post. But something wasn’t working. She figured the faster she went, the better.
“It’s a dying art, but it’s also an exercise in patience.”
“What are you implying, Mr. Darcy?”
He smiled. “It’s a skill best acquired slowly, through practice. After all . . . one never knows. You may one day find that the gentleman in your life needs a hand.”
Was it getting hot in here or was it just her?
She whispered to Aunt Ella, “I’ve often found that men in my life have needed a hand, but not, alas, with their cravats.”
“Vanessa!” Aunt Ella whispered with a giggle.
Really, her aunt was still as sharp as her hatpins, and she had tied her cravat impeccably. How could Vanessa reconcile it with the dementia diagnosis?
Paul laughed.
She hadn’t thought Paul could hear her. She’d only wanted to amuse her aunt.
“Perhaps you haven’t met a true gentleman yet,” Julian said.
Hmmm. She could say a lot of things, but he was a client, so she chose silence.
“Allow me,” he said.
He stood and, from behind her, reached over, his arms brushing against hers, and unwound the fabric she had just carefully wrapped around the pole in front of her.
“It looks like I’ve pushed your patience to the limit,” she said as she watched his hands deftly wrap the cravat around the pole.
He laughed. “You have, I’m afraid. You must keep
one end of the neck cloth longer than the other, you see. You’ll need the extra length to create the ‘waterfall’ effect the instructor was referring to for this particular knot. There.” He sat down and Vanessa felt a blast of air-conditioning on her back. “Now try tying it.”
“I’m sure I’ll have just as much trouble tying the knot,” Vanessa whispered to Aunt Ella.
Her aunt laughed. “It’s not as if nobody ever asked you, either. The trouble’s all yours, dear.”
These were the moments with her aunt she wanted to remember. This conference, time like this spent with her aunt, it might never happen again.
She brought the long end over to hide the knot and made a picture-perfect waterfall over it.
“There,” she said as she shook off her wistfulness. “Does it pass muster, Mr. Darcy?”
“Well done. Well done.” Julian smiled.
Lexi began whining from the other side of Julian, no doubt because Vanessa was getting too much of his attention. Her cravat, though, looked perfect.
“What do you think of mine, Mr. Darcy? I’m quite good at tying things up, aren’t I?”
More than one bonneted head turned around in front of them and then turned back.
“Quite,” Julian said.
Aunt Ella nudged Vanessa and whispered, “See what you’ve started. You’ve gone and provoked Caroline Bingley again.”
Vanessa sighed. “What have I done?”
Lexi continued to chat with, or rather, chat up, Julian.
“You’d best let her have Julian’s attention. There are friends of mine from all over the country in this room, and if Lexi causes a scene, I know it will be due to the fact that you took something she wants. It’s always been this way with her, Vanessa. Now, just share your toys and play nicely.”
“He’s not mine to share, you know. He’s a client.”
Aunt Ella looked disappointed. “You always let work spill into your leisure time—why not mix business with pleasure in the man department?”
Vanessa laughed and reached for her phone, but her aunt’s purple-veined hand gently stopped her.
Undressing Mr. Darcy Page 7