Bobby Winkle, age twenty-three
Theirs was a relationship that began as friends and slowly transformed, allure building like static electricity between their bodies. They dated for six months during that post-undergrad, no-career-yet tricky time. Jane wondered if her unpredictable mother might sabotage it with his parents (he was Black; she was white), but both families approved, apparently seeing how well they got along, as if they were made for each other. He left for an internship in Guatemala, a step toward his future career in international affairs. They both cried at the airport.
She missed him prodigiously and supplemented her frequent texts with handwritten letters. But three months in he stopped texting her back, and she never found out why. After he returned, Jane was suddenly dropped fromhangouts with their mutual friends. Last year, Jane heard that Bobby (“Robert” now) was running for the state legislature. At a recent polling, he wasn’t doing so hot in the thirtysomething-jilted-female demographic.
Day 7, Continued
Post-croquet, Miss Charming declared she would take a nap till dinner, and Colonel Andrews absconded somewhere, but Amelia still had hold of Jane’s arm and begged her to go riding.
“I adore a ride,” said Jane, even though napping sounded nicer. Engaging thoroughly with the story took so much energy, and she was still buzzing over her near-banishment. But if she was going whole-hog for Austenland, then her answer must be yes.
She changed back into her rough-and-ready pink dress (the bottom inch stained from her surreptitious speed walks), paired with an outdoorsy spencer jacket and her action bonnet. She exited out the back of the house and stopped short when she noticed that Mr. Nobley had changed into his pleasantly snug hunting breeches, which was far from unpleasant. Then Amelia joined them, somehow even more bright andbeautiful in a gorgeously tailored riding dress, glowing under the autumn sun.
Spending an afternoon as the third wheel sounded tiresome, but Jane was curious to watch the pair. Were they already secretly engaged? Mr. Nobley never touched Amelia, didn’t so much as lean, step in closer, whisper in her ear, any of the subtle, Regency-approved PD of A that Colonel Andrews had gallantly drizzled over Miss Charming during the croquet game. Really, if Mr. Nobley had already declared his love for Amelia, then he was a pathetic lover.
Or was he the kind of man who loved too much, who only left his crazy wife because he wanted that much to be a father?
Wait, that wasn’t Mr. Nobley, that was Henry Jenkins. Were they the same? Real and imaginary were crisscrossing in a dizzying way.
Jane tightened her bonnet ribbon, hoping it might help keep her thoughts snug in her head.
She had clambered into the ever-intimidating sidesaddle and was whispering, “Easy, there, donkey friend,” when Captain East appeared.
“Going for a ride, Miss Erstwhile?”
“Yes, and I wish you would come.”
He had agreed before Amelia walked her horse into view. Captain East flinched but couldn’t back out now.
Jane was determined to keep distant from the Nobley-Heartwright couple and have a little alone time with prince charming. Captain East didn’t make her heart patter, but he was beyond high school quarterback cute, and being fake-courted by him seemed like the best, biggest way to go all-in. But like a bumbling fool, Mr. Nobley kept letting his horse trot forward, separating Jane and Captain East, and leaving Ameliariding alone. Jane would correct it, and Mr. Nobley would mess it all up again.
She glared. And still he didn’t get it.
Soon he was glaring at her, and she glared back the why-are-you-glaring-at-me glare, and his eyes were exasperated, and she was about to call him ridiculous, when he said, “Miss Erstwhile, you look flushed. Will you not rest for a moment? Do not trouble yourself, Captain East, you go on with Miss Heartwright and we will follow straightaway.”
When the other two were out of hearing range, Jane turned her glare into words. “What are you doing?”
“Pardon, Miss Erstwhile, but I was trying to allow Captain East and Miss Heartwright a few moments alone. She confided in me about their troubled past, and I hoped time to talk would help ease the strain between them.”
Jane exhaled a laugh. “Okay, so I’m a little slow.” She knew she didn’t sound Austen-y, but yet again, she struggled to approximate the forced dialect when alone with Mr. Nobley.
After she swore secrecy and did her best to seem trustworthy, Mr. Nobley revealed that Heartwright and East had been more than fond acquaintances. In fact, last year he’d proposed and she’d accepted.
“Her mother disapproved, as he was merely a sailor. Her brother informed East that he was dismissed from being her suitor, and Miss Heartwright never had an opportunity to explain that it hadn’t been her wish. She fears it is too late now, but I don’t believe her heart ever let go of the man.”
“Ah,” Jane said, now fitting their story into the correct Austen novel context—Persuasion, more or less. And that was a real bummer. Captain East had offered Jane the best shot at curative romance.
So wait . . . did that mean . . . was Mr. Nobley for her?
Certainly not! came her immediate and resolute thought.
And at the same moment, a thrill rolled down through her, from the base of her neck, zapping through her spine, all the way down to curl her toes in her riding boots. Her whole body visibly shivered.
“Are you cold, Miss Erstwhile?” asked Mr. Nobley. “Shall I—”
“NO!” Jane answered way too loudly. Her cheeks burned, embarrassed that he’d spotted any sign of her freakishly excited physical reaction just at the idea of him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean . . . sorry.”
He was watching her, and she had the impression he could see all of her, down to the rapid firing of her neurons and the confusing cause of her shivers. Feeling so exposed in front of this man felt unbearable, and she wished to turn the attention back on him.
