“I’ve reached out to everyone I can, but they won’t speak against him, for all the reasons you’ve stated. If I must be the voice, then so be it. The evidence I have to show is scientifically undeniable—”
Before I had a chance to wonder what their conversation was about, the doors opened and the crowd surged into the ballroom. Heathcliff and I were swept along with the tide. No less than three women shot me filthy looks when my Docs crushed their dainty slippers.
Heathcliff choose seats at the back of the room. I squinted at the stage, unable to read the words on the projector from this distance. I rose to move forward, but Lydia dragged a defeated-looking Morrie into our row and plonked down beside me. One of her new admirers trailed after her and took the seat on the end of our group. Now we were trapped. I sat back down.
“May I introduce my new friend, David Winter,” Lydia said, arching her back so her cleavage jutted out into David’s field of vision. “David is a graduate student and personal assistant to the fine Professor Hathaway. He is also, I’ve been told, somewhat of a demon on the dance floor.”
“Pleasure to meet you, David.” I reached out my hand to shake with him. My cheeks flushed as he turned my hand over, raised it to his lips, and offered a light kiss on top of my knuckles. He really was taking this Regency manners thing quite seriously. “What are you studying?”
“History. My thesis is on currency and measurement in Regency England.” His face lit up, like the idea of looking at old coins was exciting or something. “I’m actually giving a lecture on the subject this afternoon, in Mansfield Park, if you’re interested in learning about the fascinating world of numismatics. That’s what we call the study of currency—”
“Yes, yes.” Lydia waved her hand in front of his face. “While I’m sure that’sterriblyfascinating, what Mina and I are really interested in is finding partners for the ball. I am a very accomplished dancer and need someone who can keep up, whereas Mina’s utter lack of grace and refinement will need to be tempered with an experienced partner, and her Heathcliff is not up to the task.”
“That’s not true at all—” I started, but then my elbow knocked my purse off the end of my chair, and Lydia grinned at me in triumph.
“You must reserve a set for me, Lydia.” David’s eyes wandered to the front of the room, where they rested on a slim, blonde figure chatting with some of the older academics off to the side of the stage. “However, I am sorry to tell Mina that I’m engaged for the rest of the ball. I’ll be dancing most dances with Christina—”
“But of course you are. Mina doesn’t care, do you, Mina? She doesn’t even know how to dance. Whereas I have been dancing practically since I could walk…” David nodded as Lydia prattled on, his eyes glued to the blonde’s head.He’s besotted. Whoever the blonde is, I hope for her sake she has a passing interest in currency.
Beside me, Heathcliff leaned over. “Too bad you didn’t pack any chocolate-covered coins into your purse,” he whispered. “You’d be beating him off with a stick.” I broke down into giggles.
Lydia frowned at Heathcliff’s sleeve. “What’s that on your cuff?”
“Macaron crumbs?” Heathcliff dumped four slightly-smushed biscuits onto his lap. “Do you want one?”
“I’d rather have my head gruesomely bashed in than eat something from your sleeve.”
“That can be arranged.”
I waved to Professor Carmichael as she strode past to sit down at the front of the room. The Korean woman she’d been speaking to settled into a seat directly in front of me. Her bold blue dress stood out amongst the pastel colors. She pulled out a rainbow-colored notepad and set up a dictaphone app on her phone. From the conversation I’d overheard earlier, I gathered she was no Hathaway superfan, so that left two possible options – academic or journalist.
After a few moments, Cynthia stepped onto the stage and tapped the microphone to get everyone’s attention. “Welcome scholars and makers, ladies and gentlemen, Janeites and long-suffering partners, to the first annual Jane Austen Experience here at Baddesley Hall. I know you’re all excited to experience a fine home where Jane herself spent a magical Christmas with her friends. Here, she danced, and dined, and played the pianoforte after breakfast, although never in company—”
A smattering of titters echoed through the hall. “That’s a reference to her niece Caroline Austen’s biography,” I overheard Mrs. Maitland two rows in front of us explain to her bonneted friend. “Jane was introduced to the piano at the Abbey school, aged nine. Caroline said, ‘Aunt Jane began her day with music, ‘tho she had no one to teach; was never induced to play in company; and none of her family cared much for it’.”
Beside me, Heathcliff groaned. I elbowed him. “Let’s do a shot every time someone makes an obscure reference,” I whispered.
“What, and keel over before lunchtime?” he snorted. “At least let me survive until I can pick these stockings out from my arse—”
“Shhhh!” Lydia hissed.
Cynthia continued. “… perhaps she even penned a few pages under this very roof. My staff and I have done everything we can to recreate a magical Regency event, complete with lectures on every aspect of Jane Austen’s world, craft workshops, a costume promenade, and of course, tomorrow night’s ball.”
At the mention of the ball, the audience clapped. Heathcliff whispered in my ear. “We could drink every time people clap for things that aren’t worth clapping over.”
“At this rate, we’ll be sloshed before the end of the lecture.”
The clapping died away, and Cynthia swept her arms in a dramatic arc toward the side of the stage. “It is my pleasure to open our proceedings by inviting our honored guest to present his award-winning lecture on sex and sensuality in Austen. Please welcome to the stage Professor Julius Hathaway.”
Lively piano music played from a band in the corner as the man I’d noticed earlier strode his way confidently on stage, escorted on one arm by David’s blonde love interest. And no wonder he could not be swayed by Lydia’s ample breasts. From the front, I could see how pretty the woman was. She had a figure made for empire-waist dresses. Her blonde hair was piled on top of her head in an arrangement of becoming curls, and a hint of blush lipstick colored her bow-shaped lips.
She shared the same facial structure and hair color as Professor Hathaway, who had a full head of straw-blond hair and sparkling, intelligent eye. Daughter? Niece? Weird coincidence?
Professor Carmichael’s words ran through my head as I watched the famous historian take the stage. The professor seemed to grow in height as the applause rolled over him. By the time he reached the podium, he wore a smile so smug he could have given Morrie a run for his money.
“Thank you,” he beamed out at the crowd. He had one of those posh Oxbridge voices, because of course he did. He ran a hand through his blond hair and shuffled his notes, and for a moment I saw why he had the power to seduce young women. Intelligence combined with haughty arrogance and a gravelly voice turned a certain kind of woman (i.e., me) to mush. It was why I kept finding myself in Morrie’s bed, even though all evidence suggested he was a bit of an emotionally-unavailable wanker. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to be here, but really the pleasure is all yours.”
Women in the crowd tittered. Because of course they did. Heathcliff pretended to hang himself, and I stifled a laugh as a woman two rows over shot us a filthy look.
