The Man Who Loved Jane Austen

indicated. Eliza stood there for a moment, watching him go. She briefly considered remaining where she was, just so he wouldn’t think she was hanging on to him, then she shrugged and hurried to catch up. 

Stepping out of the clothing display she found him standing by an open doorway that had been roped off so visitors could look through but not enter. 

Eliza stepped up beside the stranger and looked into the dimly lit room beyond. “Oh,” she breathed, “it’s wonderful!” She was looking into a comfortable room in what she assumed was a Regency-period English country house. The furnishings and decorations were exquisitely inviting, right down to a richly colored needlepoint settee, a fine piano and a roaring fireplace. 

“This is a reproduction of Jane’s music room at the house in Hampshire, as described in a biography written by one of her brothers,” Eliza’s anonymous guide informed her. “She is said to have written the final drafts of several of her novels there,” he continued. 

Standing at the velvet rope, Eliza was only half-aware of the descriptive lecture she was receiving, her head tilted to one side as she gazed longingly into the cozy space. The tall man took a step back to allow her the privacy of the moment. He watched as her hair fell over her shoulder hiding her face, the flickering light of the artificial candles playing among the highlights of her dark hair. A raven-haired beauty; he blushed at the overly romantic thought and turned his eyes away. 

Dreamily she sighed, “I feel as though I belong in there.” Only half-jokingly she queried, “You don’t suppose they’d let me move in?” 

He chuckled and shook his head. “I seriously doubt that Dr. Klein would go along with that,” he replied. “I read somewhere that she borrowed most of these furnishings from the British Museum.” 

Eliza tore her eyes from the delights of the room long enough to glance over at him. “Dr. Klein?” she asked. 

He nodded. “Thelma Klein, head of the Rare Document section here at the city library. She’s the one who put this exhibit together. She’s also reputed to be a leading Austen authority,” he said somewhat sarcastically. 

This new bit of information definitely piqued Eliza’s interest. Turning away from the charming exhibit, she fixed the stranger in her gaze and asked, “Do you happen to know this Dr. Klein?” 

Strangely, she thought, the question seemed to make him uneasy. “No…not personally,” he confessed, abruptly raising his arm to consult a gold watch. 

“Well you seem to know an awful lot about Jane,” she persisted. “You wouldn’t happen to be an authority on her yourself?” she asked hopefully. 

“An authority?” The stranger frowned and glanced over Eliza’s shoulder into the music room, then he slowly shook his head. “No, just a confirmed fan,” he said. “But I have read several of Dr. Klein’s articles, so when I came into the City today I couldn’t resist dropping by to see her exhibit.” 

He smiled again and gestured toward the busy hall behind them. “I must admit it’s very well done, don’t you think?” 

Eliza smiled slyly. “Well,” she conceded, “except for the ball gown…” 

“Yes,” he laughed, “except for that.” 

He looked down at his watch again. “Well, I’m late for a meeting…” And without further ceremony he turned and walked away. 

“It was nice talking with you,” Eliza called out. 

Without looking back he raised a hand in farewell. “Yes. Enjoy the rest of the exhibit,” he said. 

Eliza stood and watched as his straight, athletic figure was swallowed up in the crowd at the far end of the exhibit hall. She hadn’t wanted him to leave. Why hadn’t she said something to stop him? Sighing deeply, she scoffed at herself; she’d waited for him to ask for her phone number or something and when he hadn’t she did… nothing. No risk in nothing. 

She shook her head, casting a final backward glance at Jane’s cozy little music room and set off in search of Thelma Klein.

Chapter 6

“I’d like to see Dr. Klein in Rare Documents.” Eliza stood at the circular information desk in the main lobby, addressing a long-haired, gum-chewing security guard who appeared to be hearing impaired. “Hello! I’m talking to you,” she called, though he was sitting not more than three feet away. “I said I want to see Dr. Thelma Klein.”

The guard finally glanced up from his Spawn comic book, clearly annoyed at the interruption. “I heard you,” he said. “But Dr. Klein doesn’t see anybody without an appointment.” He gave Eliza a taunting smirk. “You got one?”

“No, I don’t,” Eliza replied evenly. “So I’d like to make an appointment.”

“Klein never makes appointments,” the guard gleefully reported. Then, pointedly dismissing her, he returned his gaze to a full-page illustration of an implausible buglike creature attempting to ravish an equally implausible Amazon babe in a strategically tattered bikini.

Moments later he noticed that Eliza was still standing at the counter, scanning the lobby. “Anything else I can do?” he asked over the top of the magazine.

Biting her tongue to prevent herself from telling the little creep precisely what he could do with his comic book, Eliza shook her head. “No thanks,” she said sweetly as she walked away. “You’ve been ever so helpful.”

Slowly circling the lobby, she stopped to consult a wall directory near the front entrance and learned that the Rare Document section was located on the third floor. She spotted a staircase nearby and casually walked over to it, only to discover that a velvet rope blocked the stairs. To one side of the steps a small plastic sign informed her that the stairway was reserved exclusively for library administration and research personnel.

Sneaking a quick look back at the information desk where the guard was once again wholly engrossed in his garishly illustrated tale of bug rape, Eliza unclipped the brass hook on the rope, stepped into the forbidden zone and vanished up the stairs.

A metal fire door on the third floor opened onto a darkly paneled corridor of offices with old-fashioned frosted-glass doors and tall overhead transoms. Each door had a department title and the name of an individual neatly lettered in bold black type on the glass.

Eliza walked down the deserted corridor, reading the signs on doors marked ANTHROPOLOGICAL STUDIES, POETRY, LITERATURE-MEDIEVAL, LITERATURE-AMERICAN, ADMINISTRATION, PERSONNEL, FOREIGN LANGUAGE, SPECIAL COLLECTIONS and LITERATURE/POETRY-ANCIENT NEAR EAST. She was beginning to worry that she was going to run out of corridor before she found what she wanted when she spotted the words RARE DOCUMENTS/FORENSICS LAB—T. KLEIN, PHD, DIRECTOR stenciled onto a door set in a recessed alcove.

Taking a deep breath, Eliza raised her fist and knocked twice on the wooden frame with feigned confidence.

Nothing happened.

After waiting for several seconds she knocked again. When there was still no answer she looked around to be sure the corridor was still empty. Then she placed her ear against the door. From the other side she thought she could make out the low murmur of voices.

Straightening, Eliza placed her hand on the worn brass knob and turned it. The door was unlocked, so she pushed it open halfway and peeked into a long, narrow room cluttered with computers, benches filled with complex mazes of bubbling, horror-movie-type lab equipment and several large pieces of unrecognizable electronic machinery. At the far end of the room three or four white-coated techs were leaning over their equipment or peering into microscopes, oblivious to her presence.

After considering her options for a moment, Eliza decided that walking into the lab unannounced was probably not a good idea. Perhaps if she waited in the corridor someone would come along who could help her find Dr. Klein.

Her mind set on this new plan of action, she backed out into the corridor, stealthily pulling the door shut behind her. She squealed as her backside bumped into something unyielding and a booming voice oddly