The Man Who Loved Jane Austen

informal atmosphere. See how his eyes dart constantly about the room. And I saw him before, rubbing at his fork with a napkin, as if he thought the thing to be unclean.”

Jane paused to watch the American a moment longer, then she slowly shook her head. “No, sister,” she concluded, “I think there is too much of the cornered fox in Darcy’s look. And he is sorely in need of a valet to tie his cravat.”

“Oh, Jane, you exaggerate as usual,” Cassandra retorted.

“Do I?” asked Jane. “Watch this, then.” She pointedly stared at Darcy until he glanced her way. When she had his attention, she touched her throat with her fingers and shook her head slightly. Darcy immediately looked down self-consciously and fumbled with the broad silk scarf tied in a clumsy bow at his collar.

Grinning delightedly at his flustered reaction, Jane inclined her head toward her sister and raised a hand to cover her mouth. “See,” she whispered.

Cassandra looked from Darcy to Jane and back again. “But whatever can it mean?” she asked.

Following supper, the members of the dinner party retired to a large drawing room on the second floor of Edward’s manse for conversation and light entertainment. Jane, who was soon coaxed and teased by the others into taking her place at the piano, played a series of increasingly difficult pieces by Mozart and Haydn, all of which she performed with admirable style.

Hoping to avoid both of the Austen brothers, but most especially the volatile Frank, Darcy sought out Cassandra, whom he discovered sitting alone at one side of the room, and took a chair beside her. “Your sister is very accomplished,” he said quietly, for he was genuinely impressed with Jane’s mastery of the instrument.

Cassandra accepted the compliment to her sister’s musical talent with evident pride. “She does play beautifully,” Cass agreed, adding, “music, I think, is Jane’s only true passion. She practices every morning at the pianoforte at home, you know.”

Before Darcy could say that he did not know that—for he could not recall having heard any music during his stay at Chawton Cottage—Jane finished her last piece to enthusiastic applause. He and Cassandra both rose as she walked over to join them.

“That was wonderful, Miss Austen,” Darcy told her, pointedly touching his poorly tied cravat. “You are full of surprises.”

Jane accorded him a little curtsey. “I thank you, sir,” she replied with laughter sparkling in her eyes. “You are all politeness.”

“Is it true that music is your only passion?” he asked with a mocking smile.

“Not at all,” she retorted sharply. “Is it true that horses are yours?”

Cassandra, who had been listening to the conversation with growing bewilderment, took advantage of the momentary lull to step back and curtsey to Darcy. “If you will excuse me, I think I must visit with my brothers now,” she said, beating a diplomatic retreat to the other side of the room.

Alone at last, Darcy and Jane both looked around to see if anyone else was within earshot. To Darcy’s dismay, he saw Frank scowling at them from his post beside the mantel.

Jane read the anxiety written on Darcy’s features and asked him a little too loudly, “And how is dear Lord Nelson, your horse?”

“Please, not here,” Darcy begged her. “I believe your brother would gladly run me through with that saber he’s carrying.”

Jane accorded him an angelic smile. “Yes, I’m sure he would, given cause,” she agreed. “In which case, perhaps you had better explain yourself to me now, sir, so that I may properly consider whether I would wish to stop dear Frank if he tries.”

“Very well,” Darcy said. He glanced nervously around the crowded room. “Is there someplace we can go?”

She stared at him, not certain of his meaning. “Go?”

“Somewhere private,” he said impatiently, “where we can speak without being overheard.”

Jane wrinkled her brow at the odd request and she also looked around the drawing room. Then she slowly shook her head. “Not here in my brother’s house,” she told him. “Certainly not with Frank about.”

“Where, then?” Darcy pleaded. “It is urgent that I speak with you immediately.”

Caught off guard by this unexpected turnabout—for Jane had expected to be the one who would force him to reveal his secrets to her, and in her own good time—she could think of no suitable private meeting place.

And at any rate she was not at all certain that she wished to be alone with this mercurial and possibly dangerous man. “I do not know…” she replied, playing for time. “You must give me a moment to think.”

Darcy waited impatiently. Across the room, Captain Francis Austen was speaking in low, serious tones with Edward and Cassandra, turning around from time to time to openly glare at Darcy.

Chapter 24

“I stood there waiting for her to think of a private place where we could speak, the whole time with her brother’s suspicious eyes burning into me like lasers.”

Darcy looked up at Eliza in the growing gloom of early evening. Though she had long since taken her feet out of the water and folded them beneath her, she was still leaning eagerly toward him, as if she was afraid of missing some minor detail of his story. “So where did you go?” she asked expectantly.

“Jane couldn’t think of anywhere at the moment, and then we were interrupted by another of her many relatives,” Darcy replied. “We didn’t have another opportunity to be alone for the rest of the evening. But later, as she was leaving Edward’s house, I—”

“Fitz? Y’all down there?”

Darcy left the sentence hanging and whipped his head around as the shrill cry split the quiet evening.

“Perfect!” Eliza groaned. She tore her eyes from Darcy and saw Faith Harrington stumbling toward them across the lawn.

Darcy got up, gave Eliza his hand and helped her to her feet. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll finish this later.”

“Oh there you are!” Faith waved and hurried down to the lakeshore. She had changed from her riding outfit into a frilly pink summer dress, which somehow made her look even harder and less feminine than she had before. “Now y’all aren’t having a little secret affair, are you?” the tall blonde chirped, leering at Eliza.

Annoyed by the sudden interruption, Eliza stooped to retrieve her sketch pad and her shoes. “If we were it wouldn’t be a secret for long around here, would it?” she murmured resentfully.

“My goodness, aren’t we cranky? I just came to tell you that dinner is being served.” Faith’s manner was full of wounded innocence. “I wouldn’t have dreamed of interrupting your little soiree otherwise,” she pouted, turning and stomping back toward the house on her own. Darcy and Eliza waited a moment before following her at a safe distance.

“Do you two have a thing going?” Eliza asked him when the other was out of hearing range.

Darcy shook his head and smiled. “No, old family friend and Harv’s sister,” he told her as if to explain Faith’s presence, although he wasn’t sure why that was important. He looked up at the retreating pink figure flouncing through the dusk ahead of them. “I’m afraid that poor Faith just can’t stand not being the center of attention.”

Eliza laughed at the ridiculous explanation of the other woman’s bad manners. “You don’t really think that’s all it is, I hope.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Eliza said, pointing at Faith, “that the woman looks like a disgruntled postal worker who just got a pink slip.” She lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper. “You don’t have any automatic weapons lying around, do you?”

“Well, not any that are loaded,” Darcy replied with a grin. “Shall we go up to dinner now?”

Eliza shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Sure, why not?”