Adventures with Jane and her Legacy 01 Jane Austen Ruined My Life (28 page)

"But how could you know about Adam?" That was perhaps the most baffling question of all.

For the first time since we'd met, Mrs. Parrot looked uncomfortable. "I must confess to a bit of subterfuge. I called your cousin, that delightful Anne-Elise, some months ago and led her to believe that you were a candidate for a rather prestigious academic award." Mrs. Parrot coughed discreetly behind her hand. "She was very excited for you and most ... forthcoming."

I groaned. Anne-Elise had never been known for her restraint. Especially not when it came to those she loved.

"And her invitation to stay? Adam and me at the same time? You put her up to that, I presume."

"Merely suggested, my dear. She saw at once the brilliance of the scheme."

"But why interfere in my romantic life too?"

Mrs. Parrot leaned over and patted my hand. "Because we needed you to feel what Jane had felt so that you could see the wisdom of our decision. Our life's work. A woman who has lost love, and then found it again, is precisely the kind of person we're looking for."

I sat there, mouth agape, no idea what to say. How in the world was I supposed to respond to these revelations?

"Now, we must address the business at hand," Mrs. Parrot said, clearly ready to proceed with her own agenda.

"The business at hand? I thought I was finished with the tasks."

"You are." She leaned forward and opened a file folder on the small table in front of us. "There they are." She nodded toward the papers it contained. "The originals of all the letters you have seen."

"Even the one that Miss Golightly had in Bath?" I looked up at her in surprise.

"Yes. Even that one."

"But how--"

"Please, my dear, whatever you do, don't take me for a fool. I know that you've already copied one of the letters, but I also know you haven't done anything about it. It's only to be expected, really. I bear you no ill will. And I suppose I wasn't quite truthful myself. There is a test after all."

"But you said--"

"The time has come for you to make your decision."

"My decision?"

"I'm going to leave the room in a moment." She tapped a finger against the top piece of paper. "There's a new letter there. Please read it, if you would. And then I've left you a short note underneath. After that, it's up to you."

"What's up to me?"

"Dear me, you do want it spelled out, don't you? Why, then it's up to you whether you honor your promise to me or not. If you decide to leave with the letters, I won't do anything to stop you."

I blanched. I knew that I did because I could feel all the blood drain from my cheeks. "I wouldn't--" But I couldn't finish the sentence. At least I still had enough integrity not to lie to her face.

"Begin with the letter on top," Mrs. Parrot reiterated as she rose to her feet. "I wish you well, Miss Grant. It's been many years since we've had someone come this far. I trust you will do justice to my faith in you." Were her eyes misty or simply bleary with age? "Good day."

I watched her hobble from the room, her distinctive orange hair not quite combed out in the back, revealing little white patches of scalp. The red flowered print of her dress clashed dreadfully with her hair. For all the eccentricities, I was truly going to miss Mrs. Parrot.

Of course, on the morning when I really could have used a cup of tea, she hadn't offered me one, so I was left to retrieve the letter that rested on top of the pile and read it without benefit of caffeine.

I had to stop because of the tears that filled my eyes.

I set the letter on top of the others, but not before I slid an elegant piece of lavender writing paper from the pile. By now I recognized Mrs. Parrot's hand. I opened the paper, which had been folded into fourths, and began to read.

I couldn't have said which missive surprised me more.

If I'd known how my marriage would end, would I have changed it? I wanted to say yes, that it hadn't been worth the pain and anguish, but I couldn't. If I had known, I might not have had the courage to love Edward. Like Austen, I had loved as bravely and as sensibly and as imperfectly as I could. That's what Jane Austen's letters had taught me. That attempting to
know the future, to predict the outcome of love, would always negate the possibility of a happy ending.

Heartbreak is more common than happiness. No one wants to say that, but it's true. We're taught to believe not only that everyone deserves a happy ending, but also that if we try hard enough, we will get one. That's simply not the case. Happy endings, lifelong loves, are the products of both effort and luck. We can control them, to some extent, and though our feelings always seem to have a life of their own, we can at least be open to love. But luck, the other component, well, there's nothing we can do about that one. Call it God's plan or predestination or divine intervention, but we're all at its mercy. And sometimes God doesn't seem very merciful. Jane taught me that.

I looked down at the letters in my hands. Seven in all. A fraction of the treasure trove in the possession of the Formidables. But it would be enough, if I decided to stand up and walk out of Mrs. Parrot's house with them in my possession. They could be authenticated, I could write the definitive paper on the love of Jane Austen's life, and, like magic, my standing in the academic world would be restored. I could find a job, be invited to speak at conferences, spit in Edward's eye. Everything I'd wanted was there, literally in my grasp.

Or I could accept Mrs. Parrot's invitation and join her in keeping the greatest secret I would ever know, a task for which I was wholly unqualified, given that I'd had every intention of betraying the Formidables from the beginning. But for some reason, she trusted me, and that faith made all the difference.

With slow, careful movements, I smoothed the papers with my fingertips. And then just as carefully, I set them back on the table, both Austen's letters and the one from Mrs. Parrot. The pain that exploded in my chest almost brought me to my knees, but I knew that it was emotional, not physical. I pushed myself up from the sofa cushions, snagged my purse from the floor beside me, and lumbered toward the door of the lounge.

"Miss Grant?" I could hear Mrs. Parrot calling after me, but I didn't stop. Instead, I picked up speed, almost skidding across the tile floor of the foyer.

The door handle resisted my first attempt to wrench it open, but then it gave way. I flung the door open, stumbled down the steps, and hurled myself along Stanhope Gardens. Twenty feet along, I began to run. I ignored the curious glances and the invectives of the people I bumped against as I fled. I had to run, as quickly as possible, before I changed my mind. I was throwing it all away, stupidly, insanely.

Honorably.

Because, in the end, it wasn't Jane Austen's contagious predeliction for a happy ending that had contaminated my life. It was the sense of honor she 'd instilled in me along the way. I could neither expose the Formidables nor join them, and I certainly couldn't ruin Jane Austen's life now, given all that she'd meant to mine.

I only stopped running when I'd reached the Underground station and realized I didn't have any idea where I was going. I needed time to think things over. I needed some caffeine, preferably a latte. And I needed to figure out what in the world I was going to do with my life now.

S
everal hours and two skinny vanilla lattes later, I called my parents and finally told them the truth about my marriage and why it had ended.

Once they got over the initial shock, they were very supportive. The second call I made was to Anne-Elise's house.

"Meet me at Hatchards," I said when Adam answered the phone.

"What? Who is this?"

"It's Emma. Can you meet me at Hatchards bookshop?

Now?"

I heard him take a deep breath, and I held my own.

"Emma--"

"Please, Adam. It's important."

"I thought you didn't want to see me anymore."

"It's not a matter of want. I need to explain something to you."

"I don't think--"

"Just this one last time, Adam. Then I won't ask for anything else."

A long silence. And then, finally, "All right. I can be there in an hour."

"I'll be waiting in the classics section."

After I hung up, I took several deep breaths before emerging from the phone booth. One hour to find the right words for the man I now realized I loved with all my heart.

No pressure.

With a strangled laugh, I set out in the direction of Hatchards.

I was there, waiting for him when he arrived. I'd been skimming a copy of
Persuasion
, hoping to gain a little literary courage.

"Hey," he said.

He was out of breath, and that fact made my heart twist in my chest. A man who would hurry to meet you, even when you'd put him through what I'd put Adam through, was a man worth hanging on to. My heart banged against my ribs and anticipation set every nerve ending on fire.

"Hey." I couldn't make small talk. Not at a time like this. I said, in a rush of words, "I'm going back."

"You're going back to Edward?" Adam's face fell.

"No, back home. I'm moving back in with my parents."

"Oh." He looked at a complete loss. And then I could see
frustration and even a little anger as his mouth tightened. "You couldn't have told me that over the phone?"