Murder Most Austen (10 page)

CHAPTER 9

My hair was at least tidy, which was all my ambition.

—LETTERS OF JANE AUSTEN

“N
OW, LIZZY,”
Aunt
Winnie said to me some hours later as we readied ourselves for the ball, “I hope you’ll not keep Byron to yourself all night. I want to dance with him as well, you know.”

“I promise I shall not. Even if I wished to, I
could
not. I have to dance at least one with Mr. Ragget,” I replied.

“Oh, Lord, yes. He’s threatened to dance with us all.”

I sighed and put down my tube of mascara. “You know, this would be funnier if it weren’t for the fact that I’m the one dancing with the Official Tour Guide of Bath—which wouldn’t be so terrible in itself if it weren’t for the fact that nearly everything he says is incorrect.” I looked in the mirror and studied my handiwork. “Do you know that he actually told me that the Catholic church imports the waters of Bath for their Holy Communion water?”

Aunt Winnie giggled and patted my shoulder sympathetically. “I am sorry, Elizabeth. Try and bear it as best as you can. If it makes you feel any better, you look very nice.”

I glanced back at the mirror. I did love the Regency fashions, I thought as I admired my pale blue gown. It had a low square neck, short sleeves, a high waist, and a short train. Unlike authentic gowns (or Izzy’s), mine was not made of silk but of a heavy cotton. I didn’t care. It was fabulous. I had parted my hair down the middle and curled the bangs. I twisted the back into a kind of loose bun. For a final touch, I ran a ribbon embroidered with seed pearls around the crown of my head.

Aunt Winnie’s ensemble was—of course—more elegant. Although her dress was a similar cut to mine, rather than a pale shade, it was a turkey-red paisley print, and instead of a ribbon in her hair, she wore a plume. An enormous purple plume.

Think Cher at the Oscars, but Regency style, and you have Aunt Winnie’s outfit.

We grabbed our reticules and headed back to the Guildhall for the masked ball. The variety of costumes we encountered was amazing. Many wore dresses similar to mine—relatively simple cotton frocks; however, others had gone all out for the occasion. Luxurious silks in brilliant colors swirled around us, with many attendees wearing gowns identical to those worn by the actors from the 1995 version of
Pride and Prejudice.
In fact, many had not only copied the outfits but had taken it a step further. Rather than the simple eye masks that Aunt Winnie and I wore, some were wearing actual face masks of the actors: Darcy/Colin Firth, Elizabeth/Jennifer Ehle, and even a few of Wickham/Adrian Lukis were wandering around.

While Aunt Winnie and I were getting ourselves glasses of wine, we ran into Izzy and Cora. Izzy hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d described her dress as something Gucci would have made had he been around during the Regency period. It was a deep golden silk with intricate jeweled braiding across the chest and down the front. On her head, she wore a turban of the same gold material with a jeweled cockade in the front.

Cora was one of the guests wearing a reproduction of a gown from
Pride and Prejudice.
It was the silk gown of creamy white that Elizabeth wears for the ball at Netherfield. Cora had even donned a brunette wig and face mask to complete the illusion that she was Elizabeth Bennet. By my modest count, this brought the total number of Elizabeths I had spotted so far to twenty-three. It was strange enough to be in the room with one Elizabeth Bennet, let alone twenty-three.

No sooner had I said hello than Cora burst out, her voice shaking with anger, “Have you seen them? It’s horrible!”

“Seen who?” I asked.

“Richard and Alex! They’re dressed as Darcy and Elizabeth! Look at them.” She swung her arm out to point to a far corner of the room. Turning, I saw them. The man was wearing a Darcy costume and mask, and the woman was wearing the same dress and mask as Cora. At first I couldn’t see how Cora could discern the couple’s identity, but then I noticed Richard’s pinkie ring.

I was about to mention that Richard and Alex had also copied the costumes from the movie at the promenade when I thought better of it and shut my mouth. Izzy rolled her eyes and handed Cora a glass of wine. “Mama, calm down. Here’s your wine. I suggest you drink it. You’re practically frothing.”

Cora took the proffered glass, pushed her mask up, and took a large sip. If Izzy had hoped that the drink would calm Cora down, she was disappointed; in fact, it had quite the opposite effect. She glowered in Richard’s direction. “Look at him. Preening about like he’s actually Darcy. And the whole time he’s getting ready to sully Jane Austen’s name with his ridiculous theory. Well, I, for one, won’t stand for it!”

“Cora, you’ve got to let this go,” Aunt Winnie said. “It’s not your battle. People who hear him will have enough sense to know that he’s wrong.”

“But what if they don’t?” she retorted. “What if the press gets hold of this? You know they’ll have a field day. This could ruin our upcoming membership drive.”

“Oh, not necessarily,” replied Aunt Winnie with a smile. “Who knows? It might actually increase membership.”

Cora did not return the smile. “Oh, no,” she said with a determined shake of her head. “It will ruin it. You don’t know how conservative the ladies in my town are. Any hint of a scandal and they attack.” She glared in Richard’s direction again. “I really hate that man!”

Izzy ignored her mother and moved to stand next to me. From somewhere in the large hall, a voice boomed over the microphone that the dancing was about to begin. Linking her arm through mine, she said teasingly, “I am resolved to stay with you tonight, dear Lizzy. You have such a calming effect on me and will stop me from smacking my dear mama upside her thick head. Besides, we are both women whose sweethearts are not here. We will keep each other company.”

We turned our attention to the couples as they paired off for the dance, commenting on the various outfits. “None are as pretty as yours,” Izzy said loyally. “You make me feel like a gilded lily in all this finery. I should have remembered, simple is always better.”

I paused, wondering if that really was a compliment. For some reason, I doubted it. A second later, Ian was next to us, smiling shyly at Izzy. “Well, hello again, Ian,” Izzy said brightly. “Don’t you look handsome tonight! Where is Valerie?”

“Oh, she’s with my mom. Valerie wanted to ask her a few questions about Zee.”

“So you are not dancing, then?” Izzy asked. “Well, then, you must stand with Elizabeth and me. We are determined
not
to let the fact that we are overlooked wallflowers dampen our spirits. Besides,” she added with a mocking smile, “the rewards of observation and reflection are much greater.”

I laughed. “Indeed, they are. We will have to be philosophers.”

Ian’s lips pressed together as if he were fearful of saying the wrong thing. Finally, he overcame his indecision and said, “Well, I’d be honored to dance with you, Izzy.”

Yep, I thought wryly. I was living proof that there was just no beating that “simple” look on a woman.

“Oh!” said Izzy with a little gasp of surprise. “Ian! How sweet! Well, I would be delighted. Thank you!”

Then, taking his arm, she said to me, “I won’t be gone long, Elizabeth!” A second later, they were out of sight, caught up in a brightly clad swirl of dancers.

I looked around and noticed Valerie peeking furtively around the side of an open doorway. Her checks were flushed, giving her a most unusual appearance of life. After a quick glance around, she reentered the ballroom, putting her phone back into her reticule as she did so, and then headed toward the bar.

Next, I looked over to where Aunt Winnie stood talking to Cora. They were just out of earshot. However, from the annoyed set of Aunt Winnie’s mouth, I gathered she was still trying to calm Cora down. From the way Cora kept angrily gesticulating, I also gathered it was a losing battle. Although I had a twinge of guilt at leaving Aunt Winnie to deal with Cora alone, I remained where I was. I simply was not up for another rehashing of the evil that was Richard Baines. I quite preferred the solitary role of philosopher.

“Um, this is probably bad timing,” said an apologetic voice behind me. “I just came over to say hello.”

Then again, I got a C in philosophy, I thought, as I turned with a welcoming smile. It was Byron, looking very handsome in his blue coat and cream britches. “Hello, Byron. Why would it be bad timing?”

He shot an uneasy glance in Cora’s direction. “I’m probably considered part of the enemy’s camp, aren’t I?”

Before I could answer, Cora saw him and rounded on him. Stepping away from Aunt Winnie, she said, “Byron, how could you let him do this? You always seemed such a nice, sensible young man. How did you ever get mixed up with the likes of Richard Baines?”

Byron gave a half shrug. “You’d be surprised the jobs one considers when faced with mounting grad-school debts.” Then, with a guilty glance over his shoulder, he quickly amended his traitorous words. “But Professor Baines really does have some interesting theories, and they are not without merit. He takes his subject very seriously.”

“He takes himself very seriously, you mean,” Cora shot back. “All of these so-called theories of his are nothing more than thinly disguised vehicles to call attention to himself.”

“I’m sorry you’re so upset,” Byron said. He seemed earnest, but then again he was working for the man, so who knew what he really thought.

“I take it he really is going to announce his belief that Jane Austen died of syphilis, then?” asked Aunt Winnie.

Byron nodded, his expression sympathetic. “I’m afraid so. I must admit, that’s one of his theories that I’m not convinced of, but he is quite determined to publish it.”

The small orchestra took up their instruments and began a piece by Mozart. Music swelled through the room, drowning out Cora’s next words. From the expression on her face, I suspected it was just as well that we couldn’t hear them. Downing the rest of her wine, she stomped off to refill her glass, the curls of her wig bouncing in irritation with each step. I had just turned back to Byron when I heard another voice behind me. This one was less welcome.

“Well, Elizabeth! There you are!” said John. “Are you ready for our dance?”

A feeling of dread overcame me, and I had more sympathy than ever for Elizabeth Bennet when she had to dance with the odious Mr. Collins. As I was still facing Byron, he must have seen my expression of dismay. I was just turning around to politely accept my fate, when Byron stepped forward. “Oh, I am sorry, John. I just made Elizabeth promise to dance this one with me.”

John muttered something about it being a shabby trick as Byron grabbed my hand and led me out onto the crowded dance floor. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said as he took his place in the long line across from me. “But your face looked so miserable, I couldn’t in good conscience hand you over to him. My mother would never have forgiven me if she learned I’d left a lady in distress.”

I laughed. “Your mother would be proud. But I’m going to have to dance with him at some point. He practically made me promise earlier.”

“Have you danced a country-dance before?” he asked as we queued up.

I nodded. “My aunt Winnie and I took a lesson before we left.” I moved forward when it was my turn, performing the simple steps before returning to my proper place in line. “I’m curious. Do you really like working for Professor Baines? He seems a rather polarizing character.”

“You don’t expect me to admit otherwise, do you?” he asked with a laugh.

“So he is a man without fault?” I asked teasingly.

Byron finished his steps before replying. “No, of course not. I suppose one might say that there is, perhaps, a slight disposition to vanity and pride.”

I affected an expression of amazement. “Are you suggesting that Richard Baines is vain and proud? I’m all astonishment.”

Byron assumed an intentionally blank face. “You may very well think that. I couldn’t possibly comment.”

“Oh, a fan of Francis Urquhart, are we?”

Byron let out a laugh and shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Now I must give one smirk, and then we may be rational again.” He produced the promised smirk and then added, “Honestly. I do need this job. It’s not perfect, but it pays well.”

“Don’t apologize. I just quit one of those jobs myself. The resulting giddy feeling of emancipation is wonderful until you look at your checkbook.” I was just completing another step-and-turn routine when I was thrown off balance as someone ran past me. Thankfully, Byron caught my arm and righted me before I fell down. Turning, I saw that it was Lindsay who had pushed past me. I almost didn’t recognize her. Gone was the meek creature I’d met on the plane. Underneath her cable-knit sweaters and wool skirts, Lindsay was hiding a very sexy figure. The clingy gown she was wearing tonight made that perfectly clear. However, her figure wasn’t what caught my attention; it was her face as she threaded her way through the crowd and out of the room. It was splotchy with high emotion. I glanced up at Byron. His eyes stayed focused on her before seeking out another figure in the crowd. I followed his glance. It was to Richard he looked. Richard was adjusting his Darcy mask, which seemed to have been pushed (or slapped?) askew. Looking back to Byron, I saw that his face was dark with anger.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

Byron didn’t answer immediately. “I don’t know,” he finally said.

“Lindsay seems upset. Should someone go after her?”

Byron seemed to debate this as we continued our steps in time to the music. “I wouldn’t know what to say. I think she’s developed something of a crush on Richard.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, you think?”

Byron raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“It’s kind of obvious,” I amended.

He sighed. “She’s a nice kid, but she doesn’t seem to get the fact that Richard is married. And he’d never divorce Alex.”

“Really?” I asked. “I guess I have a hard time picturing Richard as an until-death-do-us-part kind of guy, especially as it sounds like he left his first wife for her.”