I tried to make that scoffing sound people make when they’re shrugging something off. Instead it came out like a horse sneezing. “I’ll be fine. Gone this way a hundred times.”
“All right then. Good night, Emma.”
“’Night, Nik.” I paused. “Thanks for the escort.”
Dimples flashed, and I suddenly found myself lost in that blazing smile. Oh, my. He was definitely trouble.
“Anytime, Emma,” he said softly. “Anytime.”
Chapter 5
I GASPED IN DELIGHT at the view from the train window. Below me, spread across the green hills of the Cotswolds, were rows upon rows of Georgian houses, stone walls glowing warmly in the morning sun. It was like something out of a postcard.
“How could Jane Austen not have loved this place?” I whispered to myself. “It’s stunning.” It seemed odd that my favorite author hadn’t enjoyed the city I was already in love with.
School started in less than a week, and I figured if I was going to do any sightseeing outside London, I was going to have to do it right away. First on my agenda was Bath, the setting for two of Ms. Austen’s novels. Though not, of course, the most famous of all: Pride and Prejudice. Still, as I stepped off the train, I felt a rush of excitement. I was about to walk the same streets she’d walked before writing the novels that would eventually make her famous. And make women everywhere fall in love with Fitzwilliam Darcy.
I heaved a sigh. This was going to be a magical day. I could feel it in my bones.
I hadn’t wanted to look like a tourist, so I’d left my backpack at home. Instead I wore a green-and-white polka dot messenger bag slung across my body. I’d skipped the sneakers in lieu of ballet flats and decided to use my phone to take pictures instead of the fancy camera my parents had given me as a going away present. Sure, I was doing touristy things, but I didn’t have to look the part.
I had taken one of the earliest trains into Bath on a Saturday, and there were only a few people getting off before the train went on to Bristol. I ignored my fellow travelers as they spilled through the streets of the city. It was as if I was alone in my own little world as I imagined horses and carriages instead of cars lining the street, gentlemen in tight breeches and top hats, and ladies in flowing, high-waisted gowns. Oh, yes. Perfect.
A short walk up the slightly inclined street led me into the old city center and the majestic cathedral soaring into the heavens, stark against the blue sky. I decided to avoid the tourist information building and headed straight to the Roman Baths on the other side of the small square. I’d heard they got crowded later in the day, so viewing them first thing seemed a good idea.
The Roman Baths were breathtaking. Just envisaging something that impossibly old gave me goose bumps. I listened carefully to the audio narration as I wound deeper into the ruins, imagining myself among the citizens of ancient Rome.
Crumbling stone walls and collections of ancient frescos gave way to the glorious main bathing pool, the one I’d seen pictures of everywhere. Columns lined the green water, and steam rose in delicate tendrils in the cool morning air. I wandered around the edge, visualizing the Romans enjoying the mineral waters of the ancient spring.
Finally winding my way out through the gift shop, I paused to browse the goods on sale, everything from grape and fig soap to miniature silver gladiators. Nothing struck my fancy so I stepped back on the cobblestone streets and made my way to the small square in front of the Baths.
A crowd of people, tourists and locals, were gathered around a man singing while performing magic tricks. An old man sat on a park bench reading the paper. Nearby two young women with prams sipped furiously at paper coffee cups and gossiped loudly about someone named Lil who was shagging a married man. On the other side of the square was a row of shops, including one with a sign above it proclaiming it to be Medusa’s Chocolates.
Interest piqued, I strode quickly across the square, dodging some of the more rambunctious members of the crowd, and took the short flight of steps into the shop. It was like walking into the past. Instead of glass and chrome, it was glass and wood, wide plank floors, and the scent of chocolate perfumed the air. I could definitely imagine Jane Austen here, buying treats for herself. Not that she did, mind you, but I could imagine it.
The man behind the counter had a thick French accent and greeted me in a hearty, booming voice. After selecting a few treats for the ride home, I skipped out the back onto a new street lined with more shops. I moved from one to the other in a haze of delight, ahhing over the Christmas shop stuffed full of ornaments and oohing over the small bookstore with its rows of brilliantly illustrated cookbooks and collections of poetry. My stomach was growling by the time I made my way up hill to the Jane Austen museum. A sign advertising cream tea caught my eye. Seemed like just the thing.
The Jane Austen Center was located in an old Georgian townhouse at the edge of a lush green park. The museum was in the basement and ground floors with a small gift shop in the front. At the very top of the house, in what would have been servants’ quarters, was the tea room.
The walls were sky blue with matching toile curtains. Oil paintings of Mr. Darcy (as played by Colin Firth) and Elizabeth Bennett hung on the wall above the faux fireplace as if it was someone’s drawing room, and the hostess might appear at any moment to greet you as her most welcome guest. Small tables were set with pretty china. Waitresses in black gowns, mob caps, and stiff white aprons wound through the tables with trays of scones, jars of clotted cream and jam, and steaming pots of tea.
The hostess sat me next to a tall window overlooking the narrow street below. For a moment I pretended I was a fine Regency lady out for a spot of tea while shopping. Mr. Darcy would join me momentarily, and we would chat about mundane things while staring soulfully into each other’s eyes. I shook my head at my own silliness. My mom always said I had an overactive imagination.
The scones were heaven, crumbly and light, still warm from the oven. The clotted cream was rich and fresh, and the strawberry jam tasted of summer. I ate slowly, savoring every bite.
Filled to the brim, I stopped at the gift shop long enough to buy a collector’s edition of Pride and Prejudice. While I was at it, I got one of Persuasion since it was one Ms. Austen had set in Bath.
“You know the walk Captain Wentworth and Anne Elliott took isn’t far from here,” the man behind the counter informed me as he rang up my purchases. “You know, from the famous scene in the movie where he professes his love. Very romantic.” The big man beamed at me, the overhead light shining off his bald head. He had the most amazing moustache I’d ever seen, like a huge white caterpillar stuck on his face.
“No, I didn’t,” I admitted. “Can you show me how to get there?”
He took one of the pamphlets stacked on the counter and drew me a map. Then he wrote down a website address. “If you go to this site, there’s a narration for the walk you can load onto your phone. It’s very interesting and will make the walk that much more moving.”
I thanked him before following his directions. Sure enough, a few steps led to a wide gravel path, the same one I’d seen in the latest movie adaption. My heart rate picked up with the excitement of my newest adventure. I was going to walk the same path Anne and Captain Wentworth had walked! Well, fictionally speaking.
I found the audio file the man at the Center had told me about, plugged in my headphones, and strolled slowly as the narrator explained the history of the path in relation to Austen’s novels, reading portions of the novels to illustrate. I was lost in my own little world when a touch on my elbow nearly made me jump out of my skin.
Yanking an earbud out of my ear, I stared up at one of the most handsome men I’d seen in a very long time. Dark hair flopped artfully across a wide forehead. Thick lashes set off whisky-colored bedroom eyes. His lips were on the thin side, but that didn’t detract one ounce from his attractiveness.
“Sorry to startle you,” he said in a rich baritone. His accent wasn’t the smooth, pl
ummy tone of London, but it was still lovely and British. “You dropped this.” He held out the map the man at the center had drawn for me. I didn’t actually need it anymore, but I smiled at him anyway.
“Thank you. I didn’t realize I dropped it.”
His eyes widened in delight. “You’re American.”
“Yes, but I live here now. Well, in London.”
His smile grew even wider, if that were possible. He held out his hand. “William Whaite. My friends call me Will.”
“Hi, Will.” His smile was infectious. I shook his hand. “I’m Emma. Emma Roberts.”
“Would you do me the very great honor of joining me for a drink, Emma?” The look in his eyes told me he wanted a lot more than a drink. I felt myself flushing. Good heavens, he was gorgeous.
“I’d like that very much.”
Mr. Expectations
THINGS WENT SO WELL on the date with Will, I found myself thinking I might have actually found my Mr. Darcy. He was sweet and solicitous, pulling out my chair for me even though we were at a pub. He insisted on paying for my drinks and, as the conversation grew longer and longer, even ordered us dinner. Nothing fancy, but it was delicious and filling.
He asked me all kinds of questions about myself, seeming very interested in what I had to say. He was especially fascinated by my field of study.
“I love that you’re interested in British literature. I don’t think I’ve met anyone before who wanted to study this specific period of literature. More than Jane Austen, I mean.”
“Well, I admit Jane Austen is my focus, but there are a lot of other very fascinating writers of the time period. And the whole gothic fiction movement intrigues me. I guess it was sort of a precursor to the modern love of paranormal romance.”
“Do you really think so? I had no idea.” He appeared delighted with the prospect.
We chatted about books that were grandparents of current fads. It was such an intellectual conversation, I found myself getting lost in it. It wasn’t often I found a man both gorgeous and intelligent. Not to mention interested in me. I mean, how often did that happen?
As the evening wore on, and the sky outside got dark, I realized how late it was getting. I glanced at the time. “Oh, crap!” I jumped to my feet and grabbed my bag. “I’ve got to go. The last train leaves in ten minutes.”
“No worries. I’ll drive you down.”
“Would you?”
“Of course. You’ll never make it on foot. Let’s hurry.” He ushered me out the door, one hand on the small of my back. So gentlemanly. So courtly. Not at all like Nik... Why was I always thinking about stupid Nik? I’d seen the guy, what, twice? And, okay, he’d been very nice to me when I was drunk, but other than that, he really didn’t matter. Or so I told myself. He was definitely not what I was looking for in a man.
Will’s car was a flashy BMW thing with special fancy wheels and extra speakers in the back. Not quite what I’d expected from someone of his caliber, but I guess boys had to be boys. Or something.
“It’s my one splurge,” Will admitted as he slid behind the wheel. “I know it’s a little over the top.” He shrugged. “At least it’ll get us there fast.”
Sure enough, he zipped through the narrow streets so fast, I was afraid he was going to get us killed. My heart jumped in my throat as we passed a line of parked cars so close, I was sure we were going to leave paint behind.
We slid to a stop in front of the station. The train idled on the tracks. Two minutes to go.
“Thanks so much for drinks and dinner. It was lovely.” Without waiting for an answer or for him to get my door, I grabbed my things and tumbled out of the car. I dashed toward the station and through the gates just as the train pulled out.
“Tarnation!”
“Sorry, miss. That was the last train for the night.” The man in the blue uniform gave me a sympathetic look.
“Is there another station where I can catch a train to London?”
“No, miss. This was your best shot.”
I heaved a sigh, closing my eyes. I did not have the money for a hotel. “Is there a youth hostel in town?” At least hostels were cheap. I could probably swing that.
“Of course, miss. There’s one at the top of the hill not far from the Roman Baths. It’s about fifteen pound a night.”
Around twenty dollars, give or take. Yeah, I could manage that. Barely.
The man gave me the address and wished me the best. Then he ushered me through the gates before locking them behind me.
“What’s wrong?”
I glanced over to find that Will hadn’t left. Relief flooded me. I wasn’t alone.
“Missed it,” I admitted. “But the station guy said there’s a youth hostel up the road. I can stay there and catch a train in the morning.”
“I’ll give you a ride,” he said, opening the door for me.
I hesitated. “I don’t want to put you out.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He grinned, carefree and cheerful. “It’s no trouble. Really.”
I climbed into the car, and we headed back up the hill toward the hostel.
“I’ve got a better idea,” Will said, stopping several blocks away from where I knew the hostel was located. “I’ve got a very comfortable couch. It’s free, and I promise I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”
“I, ah, I’m not really comfortable with that,” I said softy. I barely knew the guy. I couldn’t possibly stay at his place.
“You can have the bed then, and I’ll take the couch,” he said gallantly.
“That’s not what I mean. I don’t feel comfortable staying at your place. We don’t know each other. Thanks for the offer, though.”
His expression turned dark and foreboding. A muscle in his jaw clenched. “What do you mean, you don’t feel comfortable?” There was a dangerous edge to his voice that made me nervous, and I suddenly realized how stupid it had been to even get in his car. The comradery and chemistry earlier in the evening had fooled me into thinking he could be trusted.
“We only just met,” I tried to explain. “We’re practically strangers. For all you know, I could be a crazy person,” I joked, trying to put it on me. He just got angrier.
“You little tart,” he snarled, startling me with his venom. “After I bought you drinks and dinner, this is the thanks I get.”
Holy Moses, the dude was cray cray. I fumbled for the door handle. “Listen, mister, I appreciate the drinks and dinner. But if you recall, I offered to pay for myself, and you insisted. I do not owe you anything but a ‘thank you.’”
He reached for me, and I yanked on the handle, very nearly falling out of the car in my haste to get away. I held up my cellphone so he could see 999 on my screen. “Leave, Will, or I’ll call the cops.” My thumb hovered over the green call button as I slammed the door.
I won’t repeat what he snarled at me, but it wasn’t polite. He flipped me the two-fingered bird, the British version of our one-finger salute, before driving away with a screech of tires. I let out a shaky breath, but I knew I wouldn’t feel safe until I was behind a locked door.
As I trudged up the hill, I berated myself for getting into such a stupid situation. I knew better. If I’d been back home, I’d never have gotten into a car with a man I barely knew. But somehow he’d lulled me into a sense of false security. Never again.
I finally reached the hostel only to find the doors locked. The sign on the door said the place was closed until six in the morning. A fitting end to a day turned a little bit nuts.
Chapter 6
I SLUMPED ON THE STEPS, exhausted. Now what? I was too tired and freaked out to think. It was nearly midnight, and I didn’t want to bother Kate. She was asleep, no doubt, and she’d want to drive all the way to Bath to rescue me. Instead I dialed Kev. I knew he’d still be up and might have an idea what to do.
“Hello, darling,” he drawled. “Please tell me you haven’t been kidnapped. Or if you have it’s by a rich, exotic prince, and he has a gay br
other.”
“Well, I almost got kidnapped, but he was no prince.”
There was a lengthy pause. “Tell me.” The joking tone had left his voice entirely.
I told Kev everything, from meeting Will to the way he’d reacted to me turning him down. “And now I’m stuck in front of this hostel. I’ve got nowhere to sleep, and I’m scared he might come back.” I was shaking a little by the time I was done. Stress, maybe. Adrenaline crash definitely.
“Girl, we have got to teach you some self-preservation skills,” Kev finally said with a sigh. “But we’ll work on that later. For right now, I’ll call my sister, Pippa. She lives in Bath. You can stay with her tonight.”
I almost started crying. “Thanks, Kev. I owe you.”
“No you don’t. This is what friends are for. And I plan to read you the riot act when you get home. Now you need to move so that jackass doesn’t find you if he decides to be stupid and come back.”
“I can wait in the square by the Cathedral,” I suggested.
“Very good. Pippa’s on her way.”
PIPPA BAKER WAS NOTHING like I expected. I knew she and Kev were twins, and I guessed the twinkling blue eyes and devilish smiles were the same, but that’s where the resemblance stopped.
Pippa’s short hair was cotton candy pink, her ears were pierced multiple times from lobe to top, and a tattoo of a peacock swirled down one bare arm. She was dressed in a black nightie with white polka dots, her pale, bare legs poking from beneath the hem, which came to mid-thigh. She was wearing fuzzy bunny slippers.
Her car was a MINI Cooper that had to be nearly as old as I was. I got in, and when we drove under the streetlamps, the purple paint job shimmered in multi-colors like glitter. Blue fuzzy dice swung from the rearview mirror.
“Thanks for rescuing me,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry Kev woke you up.” I could tell she’d been in bed because one side of her hair was plastered to her head and the other stuck out in seven different directions.
Kissing Mr. Darcy Page 4