Jane Bites Back

“You’re one to talk,” she replied. “I don’t know what—”

“Here’s the coffee,” Walter announced, interrupting the moment. “And I’ll be right back with the cake.”

Jane started to follow him back to the kitchen, but Brian grabbed her arm. “Meet me tomorrow,” he said.

“Why would I do that?” asked Jane, snorting.

“Because you want to,” Brian said. “I can tell.”

Jane hesitated.

“Tomorrow,” said Brian. “You choose the place.”

Jane sighed. “The bookstore,” she said. “Nine o’clock, after closing.”

Brian grinned. “I look forward to it,” he said.

Dessert seemed to pass with agonizing slowness. Jane picked at the cake; despite its being chocolate, she couldn’t bring herself to eat more than a few bites of it. She contributed little to the conversation, which had turned to American politics. When finally Brian announced that it was time for him to leave, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good night,” Brian said to Walter after he’d collected his coat. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I suspect.” Then he took Jane’s hand. “And I hope to see you again as well.”

When he had gone, Jane offered to help Walter clean up. They were in the kitchen, Walter washing and Jane drying each dish as he handed it to her, when Walter said, “You’ve met him before, haven’t you?”

Jane finished drying the plate in her hand. She was unsure how best to answer Walter’s question. She decided to be honest. “Yes,” she said. “I have.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jane took the bowl Walter held out. “I don’t know, really,” she said. “At first I was shocked to see him. Then … well, it’s difficult to explain.”

“He didn’t say anything either,” Walter noted.

Jane nodded. “I think he was just as surprised to see me,” she said.

“Were the two of you lovers?” Walter asked unexpectedly.

“No,” Jane said instantly. “Really, we only met briefly.”

Walter finished rinsing the last dish. “I see,” he said.

Jane could tell that he didn’t quite believe her. And she didn’t blame him. She was not telling him everything. Not nearly. But for the moment it was all she was willing to share.

“I should be going,” she said. “Thank you for a lovely dinner.”

“Thank you for coming,” Walter said. He paused a moment, then leaned in and kissed her.

To her surprise, she kissed him back. When did I decide to do that? she asked herself. But apparently she had.

Walter pulled back. “I’ll get your coat,” he told her.

At the door he kissed her again. Then she was outside, walking home through the crisp, cold night. When she reached her house, she took her key from her pocket and began to insert it into the lock. But as she grasped the knob the door swung inward. She remembered having locked it as she left.

Stepping inside, she looked around. Everything seemed to be in place. If she’d been burgled, it had been by very neat thieves. Then she sensed someone behind her. The next moment a pair of warm lips grazed her neck just below her ear.

“You didn’t really think I could wait until tomorrow, did you?” Brian whispered.

Chapter 12

“You knew what you wanted when you came here,” Jonathan said. “We both knew what you wanted. Yet now you hate me for giving it to you? That strikes me as most ungrateful.”

—Jane Austen, Constance, manuscript

Jane shoved Brian away, but he was too strong for her. His arms circled around her and he continued to kiss her neck. “It was all I could do not to take you there in his house,” he said. “You’re as lovely now as you were when we first met.”

“That’s because I’m dead,” Jane said. She drove her elbow into his stomach. He let out a surprised grunt and his grip on her loosened. She took the opportunity to escape, whirling around to face him. “Get out,” she ordered.

Brian, bent over as he tried to catch his breath, looked up and smiled seductively. “I don’t think so,” he replied.

Jane started to argue, but she knew better. He was stubborn. She could yell at him all she liked, but she knew he wouldn’t leave. She briefly considered threatening him with calling the police, but that would achieve nothing.

“Oh, how I despise you,” she said icily.

“You don’t really,” Brian said as Jane walked into the living room and turned on a light. “As I recall, you were once very fond of me.”

“Not least because you led me to believe that you were fond of me as well,” said Jane.

Brian laughed. “But I was fond of you, my dear. I still am. If I wasn’t, why would I have come here?”

“Funny,” said Jane. “That’s exactly what I’ve been wondering ever since you appeared in my bookshop.”

Brian sat down in one of the living room chairs. “I suppose it has been a long time,” he admitted. “You probably thought I was dead. Well, more dead. Deader.”

Jane suppressed a smile as she seated herself on the sofa. “The thought did cross my mind,” she told him. “As you yourself said, ‘I am not sure that long life is desirable for one of my temper and constitutional depression of spirits.’”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Brian laughed.

Jane glowered. “So, how did you find me?”

“Ah,” said Brian, holding up one slender finger. “I’d like to say that it was difficult, but you must admit that you haven’t exactly gone to great lengths to hide yourself. Elizabeth Jane Fairfax indeed.”

Jane picked at the cloth of the couch. “Yes, well, I got rather tired of it all after a century or two, didn’t I? Besides, you haven’t exactly strayed too far from the path yourself in that regard, Lord Byron.” She said his name with all the venom she could muster.

Byron laughed. “So we’ve both tired of being other people,” he said.

Jane couldn’t argue that point. She hesitated before asking, “Why now?”

Byron leaned back in the chair and sighed deeply. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I suppose I’ve been feeling a bit nostalgic of late. Missing the good old days and all that.”

“I don’t remember there being a lot of good involved,” said Jane. “At least not as far as you’re concerned.”

“Come now,” Byron said. “Our time together wasn’t all bad, was it?”

“No,” Jane admitted. “Dinner the first night was quite nice, as I recall. It was everything after.”

“Come now, Jane,” said Byron. “Look what I did for you. Despite your age you were still a child. Why, you were practically imprisoned in that vicarage. I saved you from all that.”

“Saved me?” Jane exclaimed. “I was perfectly happy in my little world.”

Byron waved away her protest. “If you were happy, then why did you come to me?”

Jane started to speak, but found she couldn’t. He had hit upon the weak spot in her argument. Sensing this, Byron smiled at her, his eyes bright. “You see?” he said. “You came because you wanted experience. You were determined to offer up your virginity to me.”

“I came at your invitation!” Jane objected.

“Yes, yes,” Byron agreed. “But it was you who wrote to me first. I simply did what I could tell you wanted.