The Man Who Loved Jane Austen

At Jenny’s insistence, Darcy and Eliza had immediately rushed up from the lake with her and entered the darkened house. Sounds of shattering glass and shrill screams had brought a few sleepy servants out into the halls and they were standing about whispering worriedly to one another as Darcy and the others hurried past.

“You all go on back to bed,” Jenny ordered in a stern, no-nonsense tone that sent the help scurrying back to their respective rooms.

The crash of breaking glass was much louder as they reached the tall double doors of the grand Pemberley ballroom. Eliza shot Jenny a what-on-earth-is-going-on glance as Darcy halted before the ballroom doors, his gentle features set in a grim mask.

Taking Eliza’s elbow, Jenny held her back a few paces while Darcy swung the heavy doors open and peered into the huge, lavishly decorated chamber. In the center of the ballroom, which was eerily lit with only a few flickering candles, Faith Harrington stood hurling cut crystal punch cups against the nearest wall.

Wearing a diaphanous white nightgown that left few details of her spectacular figure to the imagination, Faith was carefully selecting the cups from a wheeled table that was covered in stacks of priceless crystal. She held each glittering piece to the light for a moment and carefully examined its sharply faceted surfaces before suddenly screaming, “Not that one!”

Then, winding up like a professional baseball pitcher, Faith sent the cup flying and picked up another.

“Nor that one!”

SMASH!

“Or that one!”

SMASH!

“Or this one!”

Harv and Artemis, who had been watching helplessly from the shadows near the doors, hurried over to the newcomers as Jenny quickly filled Darcy in on the sequence of events that had led her to come searching for him.

“She’s been at it for about ten minutes,” Jenny concluded in a hoarse whisper. “Said she wouldn’t stop till you came and personally asked her to, and then threatened to bean anybody who came close.”

Jenny flinched as another exquisite lead-crystal cup exploded against the wall. “I thought I’d better go find you while you still had some crystal left.”

Darcy silently nodded his understanding of the situation and stepped out onto the ballroom floor. “Faith!”

At the sound of his voice Faith turned, a fresh cup poised above her head ready to throw. With the piece of sparkling crystal dangling from one finger by its handle, she let her throwing arm fall limply to her side and smiled lopsidedly at Darcy.

“Fitz, darling, I thought I’d never get your attention,” she gushed. “Thank you so much for coming.”

Remaining back in the shadows with the others, Eliza was completely confused by the grotesque scene playing out on the ballroom floor. “What is going on?” she whispered to no one in particular.

Harv Harrington obligingly stepped up behind her and leaned disturbingly close, his vodka-tinged breath uncomfortable on her neck. “Nothing too unusual. My big sister is just pitching one of her infamous tantrums,” he informed Eliza in a hushed tone that made him sound like a sports announcer at a golf tournament.

“She’s also way drunk,” Artemis added analytically.

“That’s true, Artie.” Harv turned to address the big doctor. “But the really good tantrums only ever take off that way. Otherwise Faith sticks pretty much to biting sarcasm.”

Darcy, meanwhile, had moved closer to the blonde socialite and was regarding the mess of shattered crystal underfoot. “Okay, Faith,” he began softly, “what’s this all about? Those are very old family pieces you’re destroying.”

“I’m sorry, Fitz,” she said, as if they were discussing where to place another flower arrangement, “but if I can’t have these heirlooms, then nobody will.” Faith stuck out her lower lip and her casual, matter-of-fact tone turned suddenly poisonous. “Certainly not some uncultured, frizzle-haired Yankee upstart.”

She pointed an accusing finger, tipped with a blood-red nail, toward the little group hovering in the shadows near the doors. “I want you to order her off the place this minute,” she demanded.

Harv grinned and affectionately squeezed Eliza’s shoulder. “It appears you’ve won a permanent place in her heart,” he said.

Darcy took another tentative step closer to the distraught woman. “Now you’re just being silly, Faith,” he said soothingly. “Eliza is my guest and you are embarrassing me in front of her.”

He reached for the cup in Faith’s hand but she swiftly eluded his grasp, raised her arm and flung it across the room. “It’s not fair, Fitz!” she cried as the crystal burst into a cloud of sparkling shards that clattered like diamonds to the polished hardwood floor. “You were supposed to marry me,” she declared. “Your mother and mine planned it when I was five.”

Before she could grab another piece of crystal, Darcy deftly stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around her, pinning both of her flailing arms to her sides. The fight suddenly gone out of her, Faith collapsed sobbing against him.

“Now we’ve discussed all of this before, Faith,” he told her in his soothing Southern accent. “You will always be my dear friend,” he assured her, “but we don’t love one other, either one of us. You know that.”

Faith stubbornly tossed her head from side to side, loosening her fine hair, which shone like spun gold as it swung free in the candlelight. “It’s just not fair!” she wailed.

With a nod Darcy signaled Jenny and Artemis. They both went out onto the ballroom floor and, each taking one of her arms, led Faith back toward the doors.

“Come on, honey,” Jenny crooned in a motherly tone. “Artie and I will tuck you in.”

Faith meekly allowed them to lead her off the floor, but she suddenly pulled free and jerked to a halt in front of Eliza. “I could kill you!” she hissed at the startled artist.

Artemis frowned. “Hush now,” he told her. “You know you don’t mean that nasty talk.”

Faith smiled up at him like a doting child and willingly took the arm he held out. “Oh, but I do, Artie,” she assured him as they walked away. “I really do.”

Darcy watched as Faith was escorted from the room. He supposed this was just one more of the ways he would pay for his indiscretions in England. Heaving a sigh of regret for the weakness of a moment, he returned to Eliza, who was still standing with Harv. “I’m terribly sorry,” Darcy told her. “I hate it when she gets this way. Are you all right?”

Eliza managed a weak smile. “Well, I guess so. Although except for my credit card companies and the occasional cab driver I don’t get that many death threats in New York.”

“Don’t be silly, Eliza, my sister wouldn’t really kill you,” Harv happily assured her. “Not without an ironclad alibi at any rate.”

Darcy shot him a withering glance. “Harv,” he suggested without much diplomacy, “perhaps you should go to bed now.”

Taking the hint, Harv stepped away from them and went toward the ballroom doors. “I think I will, Fitz.”

“Sweet dreams!” he said, grinning at Eliza.

“Thanks,” she said grimly. “You, too.”

“Come on,” Darcy said, taking her arm. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

Eliza was disappointed. “Does this mean I don’t get to hear the rest of your story tonight?”

He arched his eyebrows in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d want to after all of this. It’s very late. Sure you’re up for it?”

Eliza managed a nervous laugh. “Something tells me I’m not going to fall asleep that easily anyway, what with your homicidal guest roaming the corridors.”

Darcy shook his head ruefully, “I’m afraid poor Faith never knows when to stop, especially when she’s been