My Jane Austen Summer: A Season in Mansfield Park

the room, what would he think when he saw me? I brushed my teeth in record time and crawled to the far corner of my bed to wait; my heart pounding.

I knew he'd come—as instructed by my follies portrayal of Fanny Price. Willis was back from the dead; here was my chance to ask one last question, to understand the truth about what happened between us and say good- bye to him perhaps forever.

His knock penetrated my bones. I asked all blood rushing to my heart to please resume its normal speed and direction. If he saw me now—he'd remember me forever like this! My nightgown! Just to be safe, I stopped breathing.

He knocked again. I could clean up and find him later.

'Lily.'

The sound of my name in his voice melted my resistance. If he knocked again, I would open up. Again, please. We both waited. Every rustle of his rain jacket traveled over the open transom. I froze, not risking a creak of the floor or mattress. What would I give for an opportunity to speak with my mother one more time?

He gave up. Willis walked away, his footsteps growing softer as they receded to the stairwell until I couldn't hear them anymore. Deep regret set in. The mess didn't matter. This was my last chance. He would be long gone by the time I cleaned up. The mattress and floor creaked and moaned as I jumped up and ran to the door. I threw it open and shouted, 'Willis!' The dimly lit hall was not vacant, he had not walked away, and I screamed when he stepped out of the opposite wall.

He smiled. 'The old diminishing footsteps trick.'

'You scared me to death.' I touched my heart.

'Well, then we're even, Fanny,' he said, pausing near the threshold.

I stepped aside allowing Willis into my room. 'We had a hurricane in here,' I said, folding my arms in front of me as he noted the devastation. 'I'm surprised you didn't hear about it on the news.'

'I'm too busy for news.' He turned, appraising the extent of the disorder. 'So this is where you live.' He took in the dirty clothes and unmade bed. 'Ah, my jacket,' he said.

I handed him the jacket and he tucked it under his arm. We stood looking at each other; me still catching my breath while raindrops tapped nervously.

'That was quite a performance with Sixby.' He shifted his weight and the floor creaked. 'I didn't much care for the ending.'

'It was theatre,' I said, frowning. If he only knew. But he would never know.

Willis draped his jacket over a chair and then stepped to the window. 'What a mess,' he said touching his forehead on the frame. He ran a finger along the wet sill; hard to know if he referred to the weather, the mess in my room, or the two of us. 'You're not working today?'

'Later.'

We stood silent while the rain fell, dark and dreary outside. My legs felt weak. 'Would you like to sit down?' I gestured to a chair holding a big box of Bets's stuff but Willis stood his ground on the opposite side of the table, his rain jacket rustling when he moved.

'I can't stay. I wish I could,' he said, hands in his pockets.

Bits of sorrow gathered near my throat. His hands seemed so far away in those pockets, as if they didn't know me. 'How are you?' I asked.

He shrugged, and took a step away from the window. 'How are you?'

'I have a half sister,' I said. 'And I find the news overwhelming.'

'So do I,' he said, connecting my words with the news Fanny delivered from the stage. 'How are you dealing with it?' he warmed, his empathetic manner emerging.

'I keep remembering what you said about forgiving my dad,' I said, 'but I don't know where to start. And it keeps getting bigger.' I did not share the reflection I'd caught of myself in the family mirror; mistakes could pile up quickly without a single bad intention.

'You don't have to condone his behavior,' Willis said as he lifted the box off the chair and sat at the table he didn't have time for. I moved the spotted muslin and sat across from him.

'The forgiveness is for you,' he said. 'Let go and move on.'

'I've already done that part.' I waved a hand in dismissal.

Willis looked at me, skeptical, almost smiling. The messy room coughed. 'I've missed you,' he said.

'I've missed you,' I said.

Willis straightened. 'I should tell you I'm going to London.' He touched the table as if to push off. 'Lady Weston is comatose and I need to be with them.'

A wave of the jealousy rolled through my stomach. 'To be with her.' I immediately regretted my words, small and petty.

Willis frowned at me. 'You of all people should know I can't walk out when her grandmother is dying. The only mother she's known.'

'I do know,' I said, my voice competing with the wind and rain against the window. 'But I'm trying to get to the other side of all this.' I gestured to the space between us. 'Can you help me make sense of it?' I leaned into the table to emphasize my need, early tears blurring my vision.

'I'm sorry,' he said, glancing away, silent, until he added, 'I've made promises I need to keep.'

'Can't you tell her about us?'

Willis drew himself up. 'Look, I'd like to follow this thing with you. But it won't work on your schedule.' Willis looked at the ceiling and took his time; the music room seemed impossibly far away. 'We planned the wedding for June,' he said softly.

Lightning flared behind my eyes. 'Last June? A month ago?'

'Yes. But postponed, obviously.' He shrugged. 'Her grandmother's health.' His sleeves rustled as he shifted in his chair and unzipped his jacket. 'And I wanted time to think. I used my thesis as an excuse to be alone.' Willis pulled the jacket apart as if he were hot.

'Think about what?' I asked.

'Everything.' He shook his head, not willing to elaborate further. 'But then you showed up.' He looked at me and smiled as if that were the end of the story.

'So?'

He swallowed. 'So.' He gestured. 'You were fresh and vulnerable, delivered directly to me in my attic. And very attractive in your costume, I might add. Upset about something. No trace of artifice.'

No trace of artifice? He'd never met Cosmo me.

'And you appeared to believe I invented the written word.'

I nodded.

'I wanted to know you,' he whispered; the shy amusement lit his face. 'I wanted to see where it would go.' He cleared a path through the junk on the table and took my hand while the rain rallied outside and tears pooled in my eyes. 'I couldn't decide if you were sent to me as a gift or a test.' He kissed my palm. 'I started writing the vampire story the day after I met you.'

'Why?'

Again, Willis looked at me as if I should understand from context. 'Because I was afraid.'

'Afraid of what?' I asked.

Willis shook his head uncomfortably. 'Afraid of what would happen if I failed to honor my commitments,' he said. 'Afraid of what would happen if I did fulfill them.' Willis leaned into the table and pulled my forearm to him. His face was slightly flushed from emotion, the muscles around his mouth not quite under control. He looked straight into me and I knew he spoke from his heart. 'I was afraid you would give up on me. That you would stop coming to find me.' He closed his eyes and kissed the inside of my wrist, the white place where the veins meet close to the surface.

Tears fell down my cheeks. I rose from my chair and stood before him, my bare feet on the old wood floor, shivering in my thin lavender nightgown.

'I like looking at you.' He sighed.

'Hold me,' I said.

He pulled off his raincoat and let it fall, then opened his arms and took me on his lap. I fit myself into him,