My Jane Austen Summer: A Season in Mansfield Park

sliding my arms around his back, savoring the essence of this person who attracted me so ferociously, whose existence connected me joyfully with my own life.

He spoke into my hair. 'Is this what you wanted to know?' he asked. 'Does it make things better? Or worse?'

'I love you.' I moved my lips, barely making any sound, knowing my words would be met with silence.

He held me tighter. 'I don't know what to make of you, Lily. We should have met in our secret attic years ago.'

'I won't be your secret,' I said softly.

He kissed my hair. 'Of course you won't.'

I listened to the rain through his arms.

'I'll try and sort things out,' he said. 'Can you give me some time?'

I told myself that if I let him go, he would come back to me. But I sensed My Jane Austen somewhere, making a list of silly ideas. Certainly some Austen character had agreed to wait for a man. Fanny waited for Edmund, sort of. Marianne waited for Willoughby. Sue waited for my dad.

'I'll wait for you,' I whispered.

'You won't run off with Sixby?' he said.

'Heavens, no.'

*   *   *

Once Willis was gone, I staved off regret and despair by cleaning furiously, feeling like a secret in spite of assurances to the contrary. I made the beds, threw Bets's dirty clothes into her closet, and disposed of trash, all the while contemplating the news that Willis almost got married in June. He had forgotten to take his jacket, again.

In the bathroom, I filled the tub with just enough water, blending cold and hot from separate faucets, to wash my hair and get clean. Leaning forward and rinsing under the cold-water faucet, I felt exhilarated by my newfound lack of artifice. A large quantity of soap foam quickly melted to milky scum and I was about to stand up when urgent footsteps sounded in the hall; distant knocking. I waited, not moving in the tub. He couldn't be back already. Gray scum clung to the side of the tub.

The knocker struck again; a new voice called my name.

'Lily,' Vera said.

'I'm in the tub,' I yelled, quickly lifting myself out of the water, wondering what excuse I would offer for being AWOL.

Her footsteps grew nearer; I grabbed my towel.

'Lily?'

'I'm in here.' I opened the door of my stall and Vera leaned against the frame, a book in her hand. Her face had lines today that hadn't been there before.

'Are you okay?' she asked. 'Everyone's asking where you are.'

'I'm fine.'

Vera hesitated, catching her breath.

'What are you reading?' I asked.

Vera looked at the book. 'Magda left this for you.'

A copy of Mansfield Park. Bitch.

The drip from the faucet plopped in the dirty water.

'Lily,' Vera said. 'Lady Weston is in a coma.'

'Yes,' I said. I clutched the towel around my shivering body as Vera took a breath, leaning her head forward as if praying. I reached into the tub and pulled the plug as Vera watched. 'Is Nigel okay?' I asked.

'I haven't told him yet,' she said, somber. 'I thought I'd practice on you.'

We looked at each other, tears pooling in Vera's eyes.

'I can't tell him.' She shook her head.

'It doesn't have to be the end,' I said.

'It certainly feels like the end.' Vera stared at the water draining so slowly one could probably fill the tub without plugging it. Vera backed out of the stall as I gathered my things and followed her out.

'We still have Randolph and the business plan,' I said. A terrible wave of loneliness crashed against itself and stretched away from me; the anesthesia of our last meeting was wearing off.

'Yes, there is that,' she said in the hallway, turning to me. 'Before I tell Nigel,' she said, 'I just wanted to see if you'd heard anything from Randolph.'

I looked at Vera. 'No, I haven't heard from him since we met at the hospital.'

Vera tried to smile. 'I just thought he might get in touch with you, and let you know what we're to do.'

'We're probably not a high priority at the moment,' I said, imagining them waiting, and how waiting for death felt a lot like waiting for a birth, a suspension of ordinary life. I imagined black cars and gravesite umbrellas. 'You'll be the first to know if he calls.'

Vera sighed. 'You might make a point of remembering to keep your phone with you.'

'Yes,' I said. 'Can I help you tell Nigel?'

'No, she said. 'I'll do it. You need to get to work on your play.' I'd told her about my one-woman show.

I shut my door and sat at the table, still wrapped in my towel recalling the look on his face. Away from me, Willis might get the distance he needed to lose his resolve and marry Pippa.

Maybe Vera was right. This did feel like the end.

Twenty-Two

Bets and Gary executed their plan on Saturday. They drove up in her tiny car as I was walking back to the dorm in the late afternoon, having spent the day selling tickets in order to give the scheduled volunteer—who also managed scones for us—some well-deserved time off. Naturally, Sixby was the first person I saw that morning. 'I love your dress,' he'd said. We would both pretend the scene in his room never happened.

I waved to Bets in her driver's seat. 'Where are you going?' I asked, relishing the prospect of an empty room and my book.

Bets whispered, 'I'm taking Gary to London, losing him there.'

London? She hadn't been to London in weeks as far as I knew. She'd had no chance to look for my necklace. 'Will you find my necklace?' I asked.

'Not likely,' Bets said. 'I'll be busy.'

'Please,' I said. 'I'll be going home soon.'

'You come and look for it yourself.' Bets nodded to the backseat and rolled her window up.

'But I have to change clothes, I can't go like this.' I was still wearing Mrs. Russell's Elinor dress, white empire with a high-collared gauzy blue overlay that reached from behind to tie like a scarf around my bosom.

'Get in, we're leaving right now.'

I crawled into the tiny backseat, an accessory to the crime. As she drove, Bets brought me up to speed on Gary. He had not managed to solve his student visa problem via matrimony or matriculation, so Bets masterminded a plan to conceal him in the mighty chaos of London. The genius was in the timing, hiding him one day before his scheduled flight to Lebanon and Magda's departure for Michigan. No time to search for him.

Bets said Magda had covertly planted the idea to hide Gary, 'Although she would have preferred that I marry him.' I wanted to ask Magda if she'd read anything by Jane Austen. So cavalier with other people's commitments, she seemed to believe the institution of marriage existed solely to manipulate at her discretion. Escaping Hedingham, passing charming green hills littered with sheep, I pulled out the copy of Mansfield Park Magda had left me. I read her note to me on the title page.

Lily, This is the critical edition my freshmen read. I assign all of the materials in the back. I'm assigning them now to you. Read.

Magda