Jane and Austen (30 page)

Redd barred me from entering. “Jane, stand back.” He crashed into the door, and the hardwood stopped him with a jolt; it sounded like he was running into a tree. The reinforced timber we used at North Abbey didn’t budge. Bella screamed again, and Redd shoved his shoulder against the door, shouting out in the confusion.

“Use the handle,” I reminded him.

He went for that next, and it turned easily under his hands.

I rushed inside after him, and we found Bella in the middle of tackling Freddy. She threw her fists against his back and beat him over the head with her glittery purse. “I’m going to kill you, Freddy Tiney!” Bella screamed. Her hair was a mess. Mascara ran down her face, making her look like an 80’s rock star. The warm fire in the living room crackled in the fireplace behind her, mocking her with a cozy scene straight from a Hallmark movie.

Redd easily pulled Bella off the struggling bellhop. She pointed a manicured nail at Freddy. It was chipped. “Freddy, you’re a horrible disgusting creature. You may not live in your mother’s basement, but you should!”

“What happened?” I asked.

“He had these photographs—ooh—and he said such awful things. What a turn-off! Being a jerk doesn’t impress the girls, Freddy!”

“Where are the photographs?” Redd asked.

“There.” She pointed to the crackling fire. “I threw them in there and then Freddy got mad. At me! Me? Told me he knew I had a nose job, recognized one when he saw one. What a freak!” She glared at him. “It was just a little nose surgery, Freddy! What a horrid basement creature you turned out to be.” She held her hands out to me, and Redd released her so that she could hug me. “Thank you, Jane, for warning me away from him. I’m so sorry for all the things I said about you. You were right about everything!”

“Thank you for destroying those photographs,” I managed through her strangling grasp. The girl was as strong as a bull. I could see now how she had gotten the best of Freddy.

She pulled away, her golden hair falling every which way. “After everything you’ve done, how could I
not
help you?”

I knew the destroyed photographs weren’t the end of it, but I was still touched that despite Bella’s resentment, her first instinct was to protect me.

“You’re not fat either,” Bella assured me. “I was horrible for saying it.”

“Well,” I felt my lips tip up. “I
am
curvaceous.”

I heard a snap behind us. Freddy had taken a picture of Bella with his phone. He breathed out heavily, his eyes indignant, and I knew he didn’t like being bested by a girl. “Now who looks like a basement creature?” he growled. He held his phone up, showing Bella at her worst. Bella made a weak, strangling noise. Her hand fluttered to her heart. Freddy smirked. “How about I post it online? Make a meme out of it. By the time you get to it, it will be viral. No man will have you.”

The phone was out of his hand halfway through Freddy’s speech. Redd smashed it against the wall. I heard the delicate pieces inside crunch. The glass over the screen cracked like broken ice, and then the screen went black.

Redd was amazing, just like the hero he was meant to be. He glanced back at us as if vaguely aware that we had witnessed his valiant act. “I hate anything viral,” he said. “Everyone is always sharing it on Facebook, calling each other Nazis. A complete waste of time.”

Bella fell into his arms. “You saved me. I would’ve died. Just died. Ruined! Such a thing—such a thing would’ve been worse than death.”

A fate worse than death was the phrase she was looking for. Bella arched her neck back and kissed the taller man. His arms tightened around her, and he dutifully kissed her back. Her hands went to his hair, and he escaped long enough to wipe her face clean of mascara. She giggled and kissed him again, getting lipstick all over his face.

Freddy glowered beside me. I felt like he was the bumbling villain in a bad movie and I was his awkward sidekick. I shifted. “Well, Freddy and I are going now,” I said, averting my eyes from the passionate couple.

Bella waved at me behind her back.

“He owes me a new phone,” Freddy grumbled.

“You’ll have to get a new job, too,” I told him as soon as we were out on the patio. “Bella was a guest here. Even your dad can’t get you out of this one.”

“What good will that do you?” he asked. “Those photos of you aren’t gone for good.”

“Then I’m taking you down with me, Freddy. Living in your mom’s basement will be the least of your worries!”

Something sinister snapped in Freddy’s eyes, and his bored, devil-may-care attitude turned into an evil glare. He lurched forward, his hands closing the distance between us.

“Jane!”

I turned as Bertie came out from the Southerton Bungalow, interrupting Freddy’s possibly murderous intentions. I had never been so glad to see her. She held her little rat-bear in a crushing grip. “What was that all about?”

Freddy was completely acting out of character!
“Freddy was just putting out some fires,” I said, giving him a warning glare. “Weren’t you?”

Freddy’s eyes twitched, and he dropped his hands back to his sides. I noticed that they made powerful fists. “Hmm,” Bertie said, “well, I’d like you to send up some fresh towels.”

I gulped. “Sure.”

Freddy’s face had turned a molten red, and I wondered if he would explode in front of my eyes. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Bertie said. “I’d like them warmed if that’s not too much to ask for in this backwards place!”

Freddy swung around and marched the other way. I shivered. No way was he getting Bertie fresh towels—I was just glad for her waspish ways, or he would’ve killed me. Bertie held her puppy out to me. When I didn’t immediately take Puggy, she stomped her foot. “Jane, I’m waiting!”

Did Bertie not know I was fired? I cleared my throat and wove a nice little story for her. “I can’t take poor Puggy. It’s part of North Abbey’s new regulations. They’re very strict. You’ll have to walk Puggy yourself.”

Now it was Bertie’s turn to look like she might strangle me. “Very inconvenient! It was possibly the only thing the staff was good for!” When I didn’t budge, her lashes lowered in heavy annoyance. “Then if it isn’t against North Abbey’s
new
regulations, I need you to play messenger girl for me. Harry Crawley isn’t answering my texts. Go find him. It’s vital he find his brother for me. Now that Chuck is marrying my closest friend, we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other. I think it’s only proper we get to know each other over drinks.”

I stiffened. That was a very bad idea. She had to know that Bigley was at his worst when drinking. Had Bertie given up on Crawley and decided to take advantage of his stepbrother? It seemed she had or why else would she do this? After her little rendezvous with her best friend’s husband, she might even expect gifts. Despite all that, she brought up a good point—maybe the best way to figure out what was going on with Bigley was through his brother.

“You know where Harry Crawley is?” I asked her.

“That’s why I’m asking you to find him.” Bertie slammed the door, leaving me staring at it.

I had last seen Crawley with Ann-Marie. I texted her on the off-chance that she knew where he had gone.

ME: HAVE YOU SEEN HARRY CRAWLEY?

A minute later, she answered.

ANN-MARIE: HE’S WITH ME. WE’RE BY LONGBURN LAGOON.

That got me worried. I didn’t want anyone else to find our romantic foosball setup, and I especially didn’t want Crawley to be there with Ann-Marie. I took off for the lagoon. It was in the middle of Maple Grove, in a clearing overhung by palm trees. There was an elegant bridge over it and a Chinese garden off to the side. I heard the foosball game long before I saw Crawley hunkered over it. Ann-Marie shouted out when she got a score.

“You’re not getting away with that,” Crawley said.

He had orange petals all over in his hair; so did Ann-Marie. The two had clearly gotten into a fight with the California poppies. Crawley seemed to have gotten over me, too; his eyes were only for Ann-Marie. I was tempted to scold the two for letting the dog and cat escape and then hijacking the foosball game, but they looked so happy. At least they were getting something out of my hard work.

“There you are,” I said. They glanced up with brief smiles and bent down again to concentrate on the game. “So, Bertie is looking for your brother,” I said.

Crawley’s shoulders stiffened. “Why? She’s a succubus. I don’t want her anywhere near my brother.”

A succubus? Very apt description—my respect went up for him tenfold. “Well, good,” I said. “You’re protective.” I remembered everything that he’d said at the rehearsal dinner. “You seem to love Bigley a lot. Is your stepbrother a good guy?”

“Yeah,” he answered quickly. “He’s just going through a hard time right now.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. I could tell that he wasn’t concentrating on the game anymore. Ann-Marie made another score, and he wordlessly marked the point on the scoreboard.

“He doesn’t want to marry my friend, does he?” I asked.

The game stopped. Crawley looked up, his eyes wary, his hands frozen on the handles. “Who told you that?”

It was a lucky guess. “Can you tell me why?” He was silent, and I tried harder to get him to talk. “Is it his mother? Does she have something to do with it?”

“She—she . . . look, there’s a reason my stepdad couldn’t get along with her, okay? Taylor’s just the first girl that Chuck’s mother ever approved of. Chuck likes her too.”

“Who was the girl his mother disapproved of?” I knew as soon as I said it that I had guessed what really happened. Crawley had a hunted look. “Oh c’mon,” I said, “are you trying to protect Mrs. Bigley the First? She’s been rude to your mom all week.” I cleared my throat and pulled out the big guns. “She called your mom a whore.”

“There was a girl he liked.” Crawley’s eyes filled with self-reproach when it came out. “Don’t say anything to Taylor, okay? Chuck could see that Dancey had a thing for Taylor anyway, so my brother didn’t think it was that big of a deal. He left his best friend alone with Taylor and thought that would take care of everything.”

“Bigley loves someone else,” I breathed. It all made sense.

“Chuck had it bad, so bad that he let it slip to his mom, even talked about marrying her. His mom freaked out, said she’d disinherit him, said she’d even take Taylor over some girl with no money or a good family. When Chuck got home from that, he didn’t know what to do; but he found Taylor crying on his couch, and she told him that she had gotten into a fight with Dancey. So Chuck made his move and asked her to marry him. He tried to make everyone happy, but he did a lousy job of it. And now Chuck’s a stupid drunk like his old man.”

As if I didn’t have enough to worry about, now I had to add to that the shared fates of Bigley and some mysterious girl from England? Still, the solution seemed so simple. “Why does your brother care if he gets disinherited?”

Crawley looked grim. “He’s worked too hard to lose everything. He’s completely dependent on his mother. If he loses her approval, his businesses go under. People lose their jobs. He’d have to give up everything to marry the girl he loves. I warned Chuck. I told him to stop his dependence on his mother before she pulled something like this.”

What a tragic, beautiful love story. “We have to do something,” I said. I remembered the insane prank Crawley had planned when we’d first met. “Help me steal Taylor’s ring tomorrow.”

He laughed. “What?”

“I can’t go to the wedding. You’ve got to do it for me.”

“You really are a mover and a shaker. I knew it the moment I met you.”

“I told you that Jane was.” Ann-Marie skipped next to him. “She’s one awesome chick.”

Crawley put his arm around her, and I smiled, liking this side of him. He studied me, his blue eyes narrowed into thoughtful slits. “I’ll see Bigley tonight. I don’t see how it will help, but give me the word and I’ll do what I can.”

“Oh.” My heart lurched in excitement and I squeezed his arm. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Do everything in your power to stop this wedding, and I’ll do the rest.” I ran the opposite direction, then dug in my heels to spin back around. “Put the foosball table away when you’re done, will you?”

Crawley groaned, but he wore an amused expression. Ann-Marie poked him in the ribs as a reminder that there was more fun to be had, and they went back to their game like I had never been there. I was glad that Crawley’s love for me was so forgettable. The two made a perfect match; both of them were devilish little imps.

Honestly, I didn’t know what stealing Taylor’s ring would do, but it was my last attempt to delay the wedding. DeBurgy’s threats still hung like a cloud over my efforts. I had nothing left to do but to find Bigley. It was his turn to get the Jane treatment. He was the only one who I hadn’t tried to force my reason on yet.

Chapter 26

“There is safety in reserve, but no attraction. One cannot love a reserved person.”

—Jane Austen,
Emma

I felt some déjà vu
on my way to my room when I saw Elly hurrying to Taylor’s bridal suite with a bucket of ice. Elly wore her boots with her rolled-up pajama bottoms again. I loitered outside the hall, at war with myself. What a terrible friend I had turned out to be. I wanted to comfort Taylor, but wasn’t sure what sort of welcome I’d get.

Taylor and Elly talked in low voices. “You have to follow your heart on this one,” Elly said. “I can’t tell you how to feel, Taylor. It just happens.”

“And then what?” Taylor asked. “I become like Chuck’s mother? Or my dad? I can’t be like them. What am I doing, Elly? I’ll hurt everyone. What I want is too crazy, too illogical. I can’t trust this.”

My heart thumped out an irregular rhythm. Taylor could be talking about anything, but what she was saying was enough to make me want to stay around and help if I could.

Elly made soothing noises. “It’s not crazy if it’s right. Love might make you feel like you’re in a rollercoaster, but it also feels secure, like it will last forever.”

“On a rollercoaster forever? I don’t want that.”

Elly laughed. “You know what I mean—love is exciting and comfortable all at once.”

“It makes sensibility sensible,” I said at the door.

The cousins turned as one to look at me. Both of them sat on the big patchwork quilt on Taylor’s bed. There was just enough room for me. I waited for Taylor’s verdict to see if she’d let me join. “Jane!” She rolled out of her bed and came for me, her arms enfolding me in a protective circle. “I know why you did it. I get it, but it’s unacceptable. How are you going to take over weddings here if you try to break up all the brides and grooms you don’t feel love each other enough?”

My throat felt tight. “Our friendship means more than my job, Taylor.”

“What makes you think that friends do that?” Taylor pulled away from me to give me a stern look. “You see things so differently than I do. I can’t ask you not to care, but can’t you turn it off for once? You’re not fired anymore, Jane. You’re not, but Elly will get me ready for my wedding tomorrow, okay? I don’t want you to try to talk me out of this anymore.”

“Taylor, I just want you to be happy.”

“Just open your eyes!” Taylor looked contrite as soon as her sharp words came out, and she moderated her tone somewhat, “I knew what would happen with Dancey if I ever got together with him. I didn’t have to see it for myself to know that he’d never be faithful.”

She reached over and handed me a manila envelope from her bed. I knew they were Jennings’ photos. “DeBurgy?” I asked.

“Yes.”

And Taylor had still taken me back as a friend and an employee. I had been thinking up explanations for days and wondered if the one I had would at least get Dancey out of trouble. “We were on the rebound, Taylor—though neither of us knew it. He thought he could forget you. I thought I could forget Austen, but neither of us could.”

“Jane, Jane, stop. I know.” Taylor hugged me again. I felt horrible. This misunderstanding was so cliché. We were supposed to be more sensible in life. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m giving you another chance because we’re friends,” Taylor said.

“Dancey?” I asked.

Taylor glanced over at Elly, and the two seemed to be having some mental argument before Taylor’s hand tightened on my arm. “I told him to leave and I meant it.”

She had told me to leave too, but here I stood unfired. “Taylor?” I tried to reach her, knowing I was fighting a battle on rocky ground. “If you won’t think about Dancey or yourself, then think about what Bigley’s going through.”

Taylor sighed and paced the perimeter of the room, her hands clasped tightly together. “You heard about that, too? I suppose I have DeBurgy to thank for that.” She sat next to Elly. Her cousin’s green eyes were downcast. “Chuck told me about her tonight,” Taylor said in a subdued voice. “I know that he cared about . . . someone else, but we’re willing to make it work.”

“You can’t!”

“Jane,” Taylor’s voice was soft, sad. “You’ve got other things to worry about. Austen knows about the photographs, too.”

The envelope felt heavier in my hand. The fire in my heart built to a raging storm that would not break until I felt my hand around DeBurgy’s throat. I was going to kill him. Taylor’s voice made me realize I was halfway out the door and heading for someone completely different. “Jane, where are you going?”

“Austen!”

I hurried down the staircase, not knowing where to find him. I didn’t have time to talk sense into Bigley anymore. He was stupid enough to make his own decisions. Taylor too. I was out of charity with everyone, especially Dancey, who had done more than his share to implicate me with those ridiculous photos. Why did he have to hire such a stupid PR nut like DeBurgy, anyway?

I decided against Churchell’s Shack. Since I knew DeBurgy was handing out photos in the courtyard like candy, Austen would’ve gotten them there. I headed for the Wood House where he was staying. It was a horrible lean-to on the side of North Abbey. It was aptly named, since it looked just like an old log cabin. A lone figure sat forlornly on the steps. By the time I was close enough to figure out that it belonged to Junie, she reluctantly stood to greet me, her lower jaw trembling. She wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Junie?” I slowed down, not knowing what to do with her. She looked so sad, but I didn’t think that she’d take a hug. I noticed her luggage to the side of her. It was the same luggage that she had taken to London when she’d stolen my trip with Taylor last fall. DeBurgy had said that Jane had taken his deal, whatever it was. “You’re leaving?” I asked.

She nodded, her fingers clenching and unclenching like she couldn’t figure out where to put them. “Thank you, Jane, for throwing Chuck into the pool. It probably meant nothing to you, but it meant everything for me.” She lowered her head against my shoulder and broke down crying. “If you hadn’t been there . . .”

Jennings would’ve gotten her photos to replace mine. Stupid paparazzi. I couldn’t believe that I had tried to put someone in the same position that I was in now. It had been horribly thoughtless of me.

“DeBurgy talked to me,” she said, “and he told me that you didn’t care for Austen, not like you should. I saw the photos of you . . .”

“Those aren’t what they seem,” I tried to defend myself.

“Austen deserves better. He’s kind and good, everything a girl would want.” A tear slid down her cheek. “You’ve never treated him like you should. Please don’t hate me, Jane. You know what’s been going on, what I’ve been feeling, don’t you? I know you know.”

“I know that I know too.” It was lame, but how else could I respond? I felt prickly with dread. I had always known Junie had something for Austen, but he had dropped all of that for me. Now that he knew about the photos, all that might change.

“I never could see myself with anyone else,” Junie said. “Maybe that’s wrong. I know I’m not the only one who loves him. I know what you feel about him, too, but I don’t care anymore. I don’t care what anyone thinks. He wants me back. We’re leaving here tonight.”

“Tonight?” My heart shouted out in protest. Austen was being too rash. If he just gave me time to explain, he might stay here with me.

“Please, Jane,” she said, “I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I’m sorry! Tell Taylor in the morning. You’re the only one who knows. She deserves to know too.”

 “You’re running away together?”

“Secret’s out, Jane. We’re in love.” She broke down crying.

This was Junie’s big secret—just like her counterpart on
Emma
, she was running away with her Frank Churchill—except her Frank Churchill happened to be the guy that I was crazy about. I knew that Junie didn’t like that we were dating—her crying spells, her glares, trying to forget her pain by using Bigley. The anger and sorrow boiled inside me. I hadn’t saved Junie from the paparazzi for this—Junie and Bigley had so much in common; I should’ve let them rot together.

She touched my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jane, but nothing will stop us now.”

I couldn’t react; I felt weak from all the emotions charging through me. “Did Austen tell you that?”

Austen came from the darkness then, his shoulders stiff. He had changed from his wet clothes and wore a jacket. He didn’t speak to me, his eyes only on her. “Are you ready?”

She let him take her luggage. Her hand still rested on my arm in a final farewell. “Please, don’t be mad. It’s better for everyone this way. You’ll see.”

I rallied my last bit of fight, afraid of living a life without Austen, so afraid that it would make me do anything, even beg to keep him with me. “Austen?” I clutched his arm. “DeBurgy gave you the photos?”

He pulled away. “I don’t want to talk about that right now, Jane. I’ve got somewhere to go.”

“With Junie?”

“Yeah, and we’re late.”

I didn’t want to chase him all the way to the airport declaring my love, but I would if that’s what it took. “You said yourself that misunderstandings were lame, Austen.” I couldn’t believe that I had to throw his words back at him, but I was desperate. “You said people should find out all the facts before they do something stupid.”

“You want to talk stupid, Jane? Do you really want to talk stupid?”

Wait, was he calling me stupid? I stiffened. “Hey.”

Remorse filled his expression. “That’s why I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’ll say things that will hurt both of us. I’m too mad to think.”

And too mad to listen. There was nothing that I could do. I’d lost everything. My regret couldn’t take anything back. Maybe Dancey was right—there was a time to give up. If Austen didn’t care about me, then I didn’t care about him . . . except I did. The thought tortured me. I couldn’t lose Austen, everything that he was to me—the laughter, the love, the hope. I couldn’t comprehend how terrible life would be with only tainted memories and thoughts of our unrealized future together, but I dreaded a life without our love. More than that, I mourned the loss of Austen. He meant more to me than any friend. He felt like my family. The part of my soul that kept a part of him couldn’t let him go. I doubted I ever could.

I turned from him and Junie, not able to see where I was going. I couldn’t run anymore. My legs felt weak, and I could barely put one in front of the other. Austen walked away, taking everything from me. His footsteps, the lowered voices—all usual noises took more meaning and burned into the night. Real life felt too heavy. It felt yucky, painful and hopeless. Exactly as Austen had described it.

I wasn’t sure how I made it back to my room, but as soon as I closed the door behind me, I found my luggage, the one with “London” written across it. It used to be that leaving San Diego for some romantic countryside was the only thing I could think about. Now I threw everything I owned inside luggage I had never used before. It was strange that I was using my dreams from yesterday to pack up my dreams of today.

If I helped Taylor into a loveless marriage, it would go against everything that I believed in. Weddings were happy, the beginning of something wonderful. It would kill me to go to this wedding tomorrow. Even if I could force myself there, I would only think about losing Austen and what we could’ve had. He had no right to go off on a romantic elopement without me. I had stolen that idea from him fair and square. A hysterical laugh escaped me at the memory. He had been so logical about his plan, and I had completely ruined it by putting my romantic spin on it. Life was so much better spent together. How could there be an Austen without a Jane?

I broke down crying. My belongings were quickly disappearing from the room that I had grown to love. I really
did
have next-to-nothing to my name. The room looked as bare as it had when I’d had to find a room for Dancey. Austen had saved me back then.

My hand went to the bracelet that he had tied to my wrist only hours earlier. A rush of pain and regret stole through me, and I forced my thoughts elsewhere. I concentrated on my luggage, instead. It would be difficult to keep my escape quiet in the middle of the night. Using all my inner and outer strength, I dragged the heavy luggage from my room and down the stairs. I felt I was taking someone else’s belongings down to the lobby one last time.

I walked into the familiar room downstairs and saw a guest waiting next to the front doors with luggage. I recognized his sleek, black jacket—I had worn it on the day that we had met. “Dancey?”

He turned. “Jane?” It felt like fate was throwing us together again, but life wasn’t about “fate.” I had Austen’s logic to thank for that. In reality, Dancey and I were both losers in love. He stepped closer to me and handed me his cardkey.

I took it, not wanting to explain that I was leaving too. Clutching it, I saw the “unintended gifts” basket to the side of me. I loosened Austen’s bracelet from my wrist and dropped it in. My eyes stung again, but I refused to give in to more tears.

“Jane?” Dancey was at my side. “You’re upset. Come here.” He wrapped his arms around me, and I fell against his chest, crying out my sorrow and frustration.

“The photos?” he asked me. He took out a handkerchief and wiped at my eyes. I nodded, unable to get a word out without crying harder. “Me too,” he said. His eyes went to the basket.

I turned away from it. “It’s where you put useless items left behind by people you care about. It’s a stupid tradition. Usually, it doesn’t mean anything. It just means love is fleeting. That’s all.”

After a moment, Dancey reached into a pocket and threw a poppy into the basket with my bracelet. His eyes went to my luggage. “You’re leaving too, aren’t you?” he asked. I nodded, and his chin tilted stubbornly. “My car is waiting outside. Let’s go.”

At least I didn’t have to call a taxi. We headed out into the passenger drop-off area, and I allowed him to help me to his car. The jaguar glistened under the light like before, but it didn’t feel as impressive. It carried Dancey’s sadness. He threw my luggage in the trunk, but before closing it, his mouth lifted in a smile. “Your bags already say London on them.”