What Would Jane Austen Do? (35 page)

   The choice of restaurants was a disaster. Even though the food was decent, the small dining room was crowded and the atmosphere noisy, keeping conversa tion to the minimal please-pass-the-salt variety. At the Jane Austen House Museum the students scattered with their notebooks to gather information.

   Eleanor found what she was looking for. She stood in front of the glass case that held Jane's familiar amber cross necklace. She traced the outline of the cross on the glass and remembered the happiness on Jane Austen's face when her necklace had been returned to her—its rightful place.

   James came up beside her. "That's like the necklace I bought you," he said, a bit of confusion in his voice. "Not an exact twin, but—"

   "A sister," Eleanor finished for him. She fished Cassandra's necklace out of her pocket and put it on. "Let's go find your students and talk about the Regency."

   Later, when he took her back to the inn, he lingered on the steps even after he'd thanked her and congratu lated her on a job well done. She had maintained their interest enough so that they asked questions, which was saying a lot, and had given them good information.

   "We make a good team," he said.

   She smiled her agreement. "You'd better go if you want to make it to Oxford before seven o'clock. There could be traffic."

   "I'll drop them off and come right back."

   "That's a long trip, and I know you hadn't planned to stay here another night."

"Who said so?"

"Toby."

"He just flunked the class."

Eleanor shook her head.

"Just kidding," James said.

   "I know. Look. I'm exhausted. Jetlag is catching up to me. Why don't you come back tomorrow?"

   "It's a date then. I'll be here bright and early."

   "Not too early," she cautioned. "I'm not a morning person. Don't tell me you're one who gets up cheerful and talkative before a decent hour."

   "Best part of the day. Although I'm more the cheerfully silent, read-my-paper-and-drink-my-coffee type of morning person."

   "This doesn't bode well for—"

   "Sure it does. Opposites attract. I'll pick you up at nine—"

   "Ten."

   "Nine o'clock," he said. "But as compensation I can promise you a good cup of coffee which, believe me, is a rarity around here."

   "Agreed. Nine. Coffee."

   "After breakfast we're taking the kids to Stonehenge."

   "We are?"

   "You'll enjoy it. A real life Druid is meeting us to talk about… Druid stuff. And an archeologist will talk about the dig inside the stone circle."

   "Sounds fabulous. Count me in."

   "Then Monday we'll be alone, and I'll take you anywhere you want to go." It was an offhand remark, and yet there lingered a promise of more than a mere sightseeing trip in his eyes.

She touched her necklace as he drove away.

   Even though he didn't consciously remember her, she believed his heart recognized the connection between them. She believed in their future together.

ELEANOR SAT AT THE DRESSING TABLE PUTTING THE finishing touches on her makeup.

   "This place is fantastic," her friend Kristen said from the window. She turned around. "I can't believe it's really yours."

   "Every creaking floorboard and leaky pipe," Eleanor said, her words not hiding the pride in her voice. She'd purchased Twixton Manor with a portion of the proceeds from the sale of the Jane Austen books. Even though they'd been renovating for the past year, there was still much to do. And everything had cost more than estimated. The rest of their ambitious plans would have to be adjusted to match cash flow.

   "It's so cool that the two of you met here and now you're getting married here." Kristen sighed. "So romantic."

   She smiled her agreement. Funny how the first time around she'd had so many of the elements right, almost as if it was destined to be. The right place. The right time. Just the wrong groom. On the second time two years later, James had been the one to suggest getting married in the garden on the anniversary of the day they met. He'd even agreed to a Regency-themed wedding.

   She'd chosen Deirdre and Mina's tower rooms to dress in, for old time's sake. There had been no reports of the ghosts making an appearance. Of course, she'd told James some of what had happened, but since he had never remembered much, she'd couched it in terms of a dream.

   A knock sounded on the door.

   "I'll get that. You'd better put on your dress." Kristen walked into the sitting room. "Who is it?" she called through the door.

   "I need to speak to Eleanor."

   "You can't see her now. It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the wedding."

   Eleanor heard the edge of agitation in his voice, and since he so rarely got upset about anything, she decided she'd better see what the problem was. She grabbed her robe and shrugged it on while she walked. She entered the sitting room as she tied the sash.

   "It's all right," Eleanor said to her friend. "Open the door."

   James stepped in, already dressed in his wedding finery,
sans
tall hat. The dove-gray tails, embroidered blue waistcoat, and charcoal gray pants were a perfect foil for his snowy cravat and stormy eyes. He carried a present, about ten inches square, wrapped in shiny white paper and tied with white and silver ribbon.

   Kristen stabbed a finger in his direction. "You have five minutes," she said before ducking around him and closing the door behind herself.

   "She's rather bossy," he said with a glance over his shoulder.

   "She's the perfect choice to run the L.A. shop." Since she and James would be living in England, Eleanor planned to open an overseas branch of her successful costume-making business. "What's that?" she asked with a gesture to the box.

   "I thought we agreed to not get each other gifts. The reestablishment of the garden would be our present to each other."

   "We did."

   He stared at her as if expecting her to say more. She cautioned herself to proceed with care. James could be a bit touchy where money matters were concerned. His pride. Not that he was poor by any means. He had a wonderful job at Oxford that he loved, his doctoral thesis had been published to critical acclaim, and he had even turned his research into three successful historical novels. It was just that he had been shocked and amazed, as had she, at the fortune brought in by the Austen papers and first editions.

   "Then why did you leave this on my desk?" James had taken one of the rooms in the north wing near their bedroom suite to use as an office.

   "Me? I've never seen that before."

   "The other wedding gifts are downstairs in the parlor. Why would this one—"

   "Did you read the card?"

   "There isn't one."

   "Perhaps it's inside."

   He gave the present to her.

   "It's heavy." She set it down on the table and

unwrapped it. Inside was a silver box. The cloisonné design on top depicted a man and woman in Regency dress in a garden. When she opened it, the tinkle of music filled the air. "How lovely."

   He looked over her shoulder. "Is there a card?"

   "No. Just an old key."

   He reached around her and slowly picked it up. "This… is the key to the safe that I gave Huxley after I put the jewelry back… I… I remember. I remember everything. It wasn't a dream. I remember the ghosts, time travel, getting beat up, Lord Shermont, Digby, and…"

   She spun around and hugged him.

   He pulled back to look her in the eye. "And I remember you, Eleanor. You were there. You weren't dreaming either."

   She nodded and shook her head in turn.

   "You might have told me."

   "Would you have believed me?"

   "With my head? Probably not. With my heart… always. I think I fell in love with you the moment we met. Both times." He kissed her gently and thoroughly.

   "I wonder how the key got here," she said.

   "You don't suppose the jewels are still hidden in the wall after all these years."

   "Let's find out," she said with a grin.

   There was a knock on the door. "Hey, you two. We have a wedding to go to," Kristen called through the door.

   "I guess it will have to wait until after the recep tion," Eleanor said.

   He smacked his head. "I forgot to tell you. Carol's flight finally made it, and she arrived about an hour ago. I asked Helga to put her in the blue room."

   Eleanor nodded. One wing of the house was still as it was when it was an inn, which had come in handy with all the wedding guests. Their small staff had been stretched to the limit, even with the addition of a veritable army of temporary workers. "You aren't going to spend the evening talking to your editor about your next book, are you?"

   "No. In fact, she wants to talk to you about Deirdre and Mina's journals that you mentioned last time we were in New York. She's thinking book and docudrama. Simultaneous release. Could be big."

   "Oh."

   "What's the matter? That's good news."

   "I only mentioned them in relation to the Jane Austen memorabilia. Their story isn't mine to tell. I really doubt they would want their journals made public."

   "Time's up," Kristen called. "On the count of ten, I'm coming in."

   "It's not something you have to decide right now. The only thing you have to decide is whether you still want to marry me."

   She smiled. "Absolutely. In about fifteen minutes, if I can get dressed that fast." She turned her face toward him for another kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck.

   "If you keep that up," he said, "you'll have to get married in your bathrobe."

   "Ready or not," Kristen called, "here I—"

   James stepped back and swung the door open. Kristen, hand firmly on the knob, stumbled headlong into the room.

   "You ladies should really think about hurrying. The ceremony starts in twelve minutes," he added over his shoulder as he left.

   Kristen let out a huff of exasperation.

   "Don't worry about it," Eleanor said. "I've always been a fast dresser."

   "Take your time," Kristen said. She, of course, had been dressed in her light turquoise maid of honor outfit for at least an hour. "It's not every day you get married, and it's not like they can start without you."

   Exactly nine minutes later, Eleanor started down the main stairway. Her cream silk dress was made in the empire style, cut full in the back, even though there wasn't a train. Thin blue satin ribbons were interwoven through the lace edging on her small puffed sleeves. The long veil that she had draped over her arm was designed to pool behind her, thus allowing the butterfly pattern of the lace to be visible against the sunny yellow runner she'd chosen. The only jewelry she wore was her engagement ring, the tiny diamond stud earrings James had given her on the anniversary of their first date, and, of course, her amber cross necklace.

   Her father waited below to escort her to the garden and walk her down the aisle. He looked quite handsome and slightly uncomfortable in his Regency attire.

   "You are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen," he said. "Your mother would have been so proud of you."

She gave him a hug while she blinked away a tear.

   At the arbor that marked the beginning of the garden path, they paused for Kristen to arrange the long veil behind her. The wedding planner handed them their bouquets and started Kristen down the aisle.

   While they waited for the bridal march to start, Dad said, "This is the moment every father fears from the moment his daughter is born. I guess I'm supposed to say something wise, but…" He patted her hand and swallowed. "I'll drive the getaway car if you want to ditch this shindig. It's not too late."

   "Dad! I love James and want to marry him more than anything else in the world."

   "Good. I just wanted you to know you had an option. I support whatever decision you make."

   "That's the sweetest, most loving thing you could have said." She kissed his cheek. "You are a wise man."

   "Are you ready?"

   "Yes." As she said it she suddenly felt nervous, not for what she was doing, but the how. Would she get down the aisle without tripping and falling? Would she get the words out without stuttering or mixing them up?

   Then she looked up and saw James. The love that shone from his eyes made her feel as though she could do anything, even fly, if he were by her side.

   The chairs had been set up facing a flower covered arbor on the western boundary, and as they said I do, the sunset painted the sky glorious colors. The guests had been instructed to open their small white boxes as the new Mr. and Mrs. James B. Wright walked up the aisle. A cloud of yellow butterflies, their transformation from caterpillars scientifically timed to the day and hour, took flight and swirled around them.