Austen looked like he’d rather swallow poison. The phone rang again. He tried to hang it up again, but I pushed his hand away. I realized that whoever was on the other side of that phone had instigated this whole conversation in the first place. The caller ID flashed across the screen. Colin Minster.
Why was Austen’s cousin calling? He was a condescending, disgusting, rude …
I stood up, my hand hovering over the ringing phone. Austen’s chin rose so that he met my eyes in a challenge. “Go ahead,” he said. “Colin’s been dying to talk to you. You want your next meet-cute, well, here’s your chance. The phone’s ringing. Answer it.” When I didn’t, his lips turned up. “C’mon, Jane. You’ve waited by the phone your whole life for a call like this. It’s your big moment.”
Normally the threat would be enough to make me scream and run away like a little girl, but Austen didn’t want me to talk to his cousin. I picked up the phone.
“Finally!” Colin shouted out on the other side.
I winced. “This is Jane. How may I help you?”
“Jane.” His irritated voice turned pleasant. “It’s you! How is your stomach?”
His memory was impeccable. I always developed some sort of illness when he asked me out on a date. “I’m holding on,” I said.
“I’m glad to hear it, since we will be seeing more of each other. Austen told you the good news, I’m sure?”
I glanced over at Austen, who looked anything but pleased. “He did,” I lied. “What are your thoughts on it?”
“Naturally, I’m very conscious of what is expected of me—unlike others. As an investor in North Abbey, I feel it my duty to promote the establishment and its related businesses within the reach of my influence. In fact, Jane, I flatter myself that you will not object to my extended presence there.”
“Colin.” I was more confused than ever. “Are you staying here?” I winced at the horror that came out in my voice and tried to amend it. “We’re happy to have you, of course.”
“Is that a confession?” He sniggered then coughed. “I was hoping you’d put me in your confidence, Jane. You aren’t dating someone new, I assume?”
“Not … officially,” I stuttered. “But actually, yes, I think we’re good enough friends for me to admit that—yes, I’m seeing someone.”
He went quiet on the other line before muttering, “We’ll see about that.”
I glanced over at Austen. He was laughing silently. This was going nowhere. I was still in the dark, and if I wasn’t careful, I was going to sign all my spare time away. “Colin, when exactly will you be coming to North Abbey?”
He sighed self-importantly. “I must trespass on your hospitality as early as tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, no, no, no.” I waved my hand even though he couldn’t see it. “We’re in the middle of a wedding, Colin. Every room is taken. The bungalows too.”
He took a deep breath. “How is that possible?”
Trust Colin to be offended that we didn’t keep a room vacant for him at all times. “What can I say?” I asked. “Business is going great.”
“Really? I didn’t have that impression. Austen seemed so willing to sell his half of the business.”
“Sell?” I sank down on my seat, not sure if I heard correctly. “North Abbey?” I asked. Austen leaned heavily against the counter, watching me.
“I hope that my being your new boss won’t change our relationship, Jane.”
My hand tightened on the phone.
“In fact, my mind is made up,” Colin said. “I intend to extend the olive branch to all the workers at North Abbey. You will be the go-between for myself and the workers there. I confess the allure of working with one of the greatest event coordinators in San Diego was one of the main attractions that enticed me to accept Austen’s offer, since the place is quite a dive. But we’ll make a lot of changes there … together.” He smacked his lips. “Until tomorrow, Jane.”
He hung up without letting me get another word in. I stared at Austen in horror. He was in the middle of holding up his hands like I would rip into him, but I felt limp with the horror of it all. “Austen, the business was supposed to go to you.”
“We’re changing management. Colin is soon to be the proud owner of North Abbey.”
“And that’s what you’re doing here? You’re making sure the transaction runs smoothly.”
“Jane.” He lifted his shoulders helplessly. “North Abbey is a money pit. Have you looked at the place? We’re all appearances and gold paint … and even that is fading.”
“But? But?” I stuttered as I stared around me at the Victorian rococo and carved cupids that made up the ceiling paneling. Sure, the place was old, but it was gorgeous like a priceless painting in a museum.
Austen abruptly cut into my thoughts, “After all the repairs we’ve had to do, we’re making next to nothing in profits here.”
He didn’t believe in us. He was selling us out to Colin. Didn’t Austen care about how darling this place was? We had met here—okay, forget that. He didn’t care. But Austen had grown up here. Wasn’t he sentimental in the least? My hand went to my forehead. Austen’s practical approach was ruining my life.
“What will this mean for us?” I asked.
Austen avoided my eyes, packing up his laptop. “I’m sure everything will be the same.”
As a rule, I didn’t like change, but Colin would come and drive us all out … and I would never see Austen again.
“Well, great.” I clapped my hands once, laying the sarcasm on thick. “What life would be complete without a Mr. Collins? At least I have my Mr. Darcy—there’s nothing like a fiend to hurry me into his arms.”
Austen stopped packing his laptop. “What?”
With a start, I realized I spoke the truth. “Hey!” I gave a hysterical laugh when I realized another correlation that my life had to my beloved books. “No way. We even have a Bingley here. Dancey’s best friend. Our own Mr. Bigley. I’m all set for my happy ending!”
Austen was silent a moment. He knew the movie Pride and Prejudice. His ex had made him watch it. Even he had to see what an odd coincidence this was. “And I suppose you’re the heroine?” he asked.
“Of course I am. I’m Jane!”
He wrapped his cord around his laptop in tight jerks. “Have you found out what inspires all those love songs Dancey writes, then?”
“What a good idea.” I snapped my fingers like Austen had inspired me. “I’ll ask Dancey about that the next time we meet. We were too busy dancing under the stars tonight for small talk. Hey, weren’t you the one who said that I would never enjoy a Jane Austen romance? You were wrong. I do. You know what’s even weirder, Austen? You were wrong. That’s right—wrong. I think that’s a sign, don’t you?”
“Just like it’s a sign that your name is Jane and my name is Austen.” There was an edge to his voice. “By the way, it’s not.”
“You want to hear another sign?” I asked as if he hadn’t spoken. “Dancey said that wearing white made me stand out from all the other girls in red and he likes my hair up. It didn’t stop him from doing this to it though.” I slid my hand through my messy hair. “I guess our deal is off, Austen. No need to help me out with the wedding anymore. I can handle it all on my own. Looks like you’re getting out of this place just in time. We’ll be sad to see you go.”
I picked up my high heels from off the counter and marched out of the lobby, my bare feet slapping across the tiles.
Chapter 14
“You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty years at least.”
—Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
I just wanted to make it to my room without crying. I had only one more flight left when I heard the raised voices in the hall from where I was on the staircase. Someone had beaten me to my crying fit.
“You don’t love me!” The voice was female and hysterical.
“Mum.” I recognized Chuck Bigley’s voice immediately. “It was all a misunderstanding. Let me take you to your room. Is this your luggage?”
“This is your fault,” she screeched. “What sort of woman are you marrying anyway? Why would she hire such a stupid bellboy? I’d fire him in an instant. In an instant!”
“Mum!” There was a note of desperation in Bigley’s voice, and I felt sorry for him. “Taylor isn’t responsible for the staff. She’s the event coordinator. She’s not even that anymore. It’s Jane. You’ve met Jane. Nice girl. She’ll make everything right. You’ll see.”
I hesitated on the stairs, wondering if I should go in and resolve the family crisis now that I was outed as the one responsible for whatever catastrophe happened while my back was turned. My hand went to the door leading to the hall. Taylor came up behind me. “I’ve got this,” she whispered and patted my stiff back. “I can handle Mrs. Bigley, the first.”
Gone was the insecure female fretting over her wedding. This was the Taylor that I remembered. She squared her shoulders and saved me from the confrontation by marching into the drama that she was about to call her new family.
“Louise,” she said, gushing in sympathy as soon as she came out into the hall. “Poor dear. I’ll talk to Freddy myself.”
In the time it took for the door to close between us, I saw Bigley’s look of relief and his mother’s suspicious eyes settle on Taylor. Both of them were still dressed up from dinner, but their clothes were wrinkled and sorely abused.
“That horrid bellboy of yours dropped my luggage off where Chuck’s father is staying,” Mrs. Bigley shouted. “Of all the stupid things. I walked into the room with that woman lounging on the bed.”
I squinted in frustration. This was exactly the mistake we had tried to avoid when we’d heard that Mrs. Bigley hadn’t dropped her married name. I thought I had warned Freddy to be extra careful not to mix up the former wife with the current one.
“I’m so sorry for the confusion, Mother.” Bigley tried to soothe her in a voice I’d heard him use on Taylor. “How can I make this up to you?”
She snorted in response. “I should’ve known it the moment I stepped inside Netherfield Bungalow. The establishment was much too nice for you to set me up in.”
“We have a much better place in mind for you,” Taylor said. I listened to the swipe of a cardkey and the ensuing beeping as she unlocked the room we had actually intended for Bigley’s mother. “It’s the Price room,” Taylor said. “The famous American actor stayed here in 1962.”
“An actor?” Bigley’s mother asked. The door squeaked open and she squawked out her complaints again. “Oh no. Unacceptable. Definitely not. This lodging is much smaller than what you gave your father. Chuck? Do I not mean as much to you? That is what this bedchamber tells me.”
“Mum, you mean the world.”
“I can hardly believe it. Is this how you prove your love to me? Who paid for your schooling when your deadbeat father decided to marry some aspiring actress who drained away his money? I ask you? Who is responsible for the life to which you’ve grown accustomed? Your honeymoon? Your tickets to Cancun? The money certainly doesn’t come from your father’s side, and this is how you repay me?”
“Mum, I love you. Keep all of your money.”
“How noble of you, when it is too late to take anything back. How do I cash in on your plane tickets or return your education? Hmm? It was all a waste anyway. You hardly applied yourself.”
“Louise,” Taylor cut in. “This bedchamber might be smaller than the bungalows, but it’s a relic of the original house and much more dear. Why must we compare diamonds to truckloads of glass? Look at the rococo carvings on the ceiling. The queen bed is a French antique Louis XV. See? This place is worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. We put you in a place that is closer to management. Help is only a phone call away. No waiting.”
I grimaced, wondering if I would now be required to wait on Bigley’s mother hand and foot. “I would like some tea,” said Mrs. Bigley after a moment. She still sounded disgruntled.
“We’ll have it sent up right away,” Taylor said.
“I will take this actor’s room,” his mother said. “But I’m still quite angry at you, Chuck.”
“Yes, mum. I’m sorry, mum.”
The door closed, and I imagined that Bigley’s mother was safely on the other side of it because Taylor and Bigley sighed out together. The shared silence didn’t last long. “Freddy!” Taylor said in an urgent voice. I guessed she was on the phone. “You are in big trouble. Have someone bring Mrs. Bigley tea. I don’t know, something European. Be sure to send it to Bigley’s mother, not the former actress, and don’t you dare show your face to her if you value your job. I doubt your dad could do anything for you after that.”
Now that the crisis was over, I didn’t need to eavesdrop anymore. Thinking fondly of my bed, I headed up the stairs. The next step groaned under my feet.
“Jane, oh, Jane.”
I stopped, and Taylor opened the door to the staircase and motioned me out into the hall. She slid her cell phone into the waist of her tight skirt, glancing over at her poor husband-to-be. He looked haggard, his blond hair standing up like he had taken a beating in a pillow fight.
Taylor sighed at him. “Where were you tonight, Chuck? I looked everywhere for you.”
“Yes, sorry about that.” Bigley looked stressed, and I felt bad for him. He was stuck between two explosive firecrackers—his mother and his wife-to-be. “My … uh … brother wanted to tell me something of critical importance. It turned out to be a bit of nonsense about whipped cream and … uh … chocolate. Bachelor party stuff.”
Taylor sighed at the reminder.
Bigley stared at his fiancé as if seeing her for the first time. He ran a hand through his hair, which told me how his hair had reached its present state. “I need some air, Taylor.”
Taylor looked surprised. “What do you mean?”
“I just need to get out. I’ll find Dancey. I’m choking in this tie. I have to go.”
Without another word, Bigley rushed past Taylor and went down the stairs I had just vacated. Taylor’s self-confident expression turned distressed. She headed blindly the other way, and I followed her down the hall, not sure if I should.
“Taylor, are you okay?” I asked.
She nodded, then burst into tears. “Oh, no, you’re not okay.” I threw my arms around her and hugged her tight. “Come on, Taylor. Let’s get out of here.” I helped her to her bridal suite in the Bennet room. It was a quaint suite, with an old fashioned vanity set up next to the bed. Taylor threw herself onto the patchwork quilt, her shoulders heaving. I sat next to her, rubbing her back while she cried her eyes out. A niggling worry played at the back of my mind that this was my fault.
“Chuck’s father always enjoyed his life to the fullest,” Taylor sobbed into her pillow. “He’s made everyone else suffer for it.” I rolled onto the bed next to Taylor so I could hear what she was saying. She sniffed. “He’s a playboy—so, yeah, he didn’t want a nag for a wife. He claimed to fall out of love with her: they were going different directions, they had grown apart. You know, everything guys say when they’re desperate to get away. But Chuck’s mom refused to let his dad go, wouldn’t drop his last name, said that he was the one to blame when family functions were so confusing.”
Romance gone wrong. I couldn’t imagine the hurt on both sides. Nothing made me feel worse. “Maybe she’d feel better if she just let him go,” I said.
Taylor shrugged. “Oh, it’s her habit to hold on to him now, I think. She can’t possibly love him still. I don’t know if he ever loved her. You heard her—she had a lot of money and Chuck’s father had a good time with it before he got bored.”
“That would be heartless for him to do … even if Mrs. Bigley was hard to live with.”
Taylor nodded. “From what I’ve heard, so is the second Mrs. Bigley. Carol’s even more heartless than Chuck’s mom and dad p
ut together. Have you met her son, Harry? He’s messed up.”
I had changed my mind about Crawley, but Taylor needed to vent, and so I let her go on. “Things got a lot worse for Chuck after his father remarried,” she said. “Mrs. Bigley can be a terror.”
“Which one? The original or the new-and-improved?”
Taylor gave a hysterical laugh. “The original, of course, but the new, improved one holds her own in a fight, too. Let’s just say that Carol makes sure that the original Mrs. Bigley knows that she is the new-and-improved, if you know what I mean? And yes, I feel sorry for Chuck’s mom, but I feel like … oh, Jane, please tell me that I’ll never end up like her!”
“You won’t. You’re nothing alike.” I gave her a side hug. “I don’t think that you should live close to the in-laws, though.”
Taylor was back to sobbing again. “They’re all in London. London! I’ll see her all the time. I love London, and now I don’t want to move there. But I love Chuck, so … Anyway, it’s a good thing that Mrs. Bigley approves of me. If not, then she’d never allow this wedding to take place.”
I didn’t have to ask which Mrs. Bigley she meant. Chuck’s mother had made it clear in the hall that her disapproval held consequences.
Taylor squeezed my hand. “I don’t care about money, Jane. I have enough of my own. Chuck does too, but his mother … she has a fortune that makes everybody kiss up to her. The money all comes from her side of the family. Though my soon-to-be-father-in-law squandered as much of it as he could, Mrs. Bigley—the original—owns the bulk of the shares in his businesses. Chuck’s too. His mom holds her money over us like a threat. She says she’ll leave it all to Chuck, but only if he doesn’t turn out to be a lowlife like his father and marry some fortune hunter.” She broke into sobs again.
Besides all the legal jargon and divorce talk, I felt like I was holding a conversation in the early 19th century. Fortune hunters weren’t supposed to be an actual concern nowadays—I had thought they were a thing of the past.
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