Jane Bites Back_ A Novel - Michael Thomas Ford [38]
They placed their orders and settled into what Jane felt was an uncomfortable silence.
“I want to apologize for the other night,” Walter said after a few minutes.
“Whatever for?” asked Jane.
“For asking you about Brian,” Walter explained. “It was none of my business.”
Jane stirred a packet of sugar into the iced tea she’d requested. “Oh, it’s all right,” she said. “I’m sorry I was so mysterious about the whole thing. I hope you haven’t been fretting over it.”
“Maybe a little,” Walter admitted, playing with his fork. “After all, he’s a popular guy.”
“Do you think so?” said Jane.
Walter nodded. “All the women in town are smitten with him,” he said. “You should see them following him around.”
To her surprise, Jane felt a pang of jealousy. She hid it by stirring another packet of sugar into her tea, rattling the spoon vigorously against the sides. “You don’t say,” she remarked.
“Personally, I think it’s the accent,” said Walter. “Women seem to love men with British accents.”
“It’s Scottish, actually,” said Jane automatically. “But they’re practically the same,” she added hastily.
“Anyway, he’s quite a hit,” Walter told her.
Their soups arrived at that moment, saving Jane from having to reply.
“There’s something else I want to apologize for,” said Walter. He didn’t wait for Jane to respond before continuing. “I’m sorry for not telling you about Evelyn.”
Jane looked at him, her spoon halfway to her mouth.
“Sherman told me that you and he talked about her at the New Year’s party,” Walter said. “I should have told you about her a long time ago.”
Jane returned her spoon to the bowl. “Walter, you don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do,” he interrupted.
Jane concentrated on her soup. Secrets were one thing she was not ready to share with Walter. But she let him talk, not only because it prevented her from having to, but also because she genuinely wanted to hear what he had to say.
“For a long time I blamed myself for her death,” he said. “I know that it wasn’t my fault, but I couldn’t help it. I asked myself over and over why I didn’t go into the water with her, why I wasn’t there. Why I couldn’t save her. Eventually I got tired of asking myself those questions. And I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s not that I forgot about Evelyn; it’s more that in my mind that loss happened to someone else. Not to me, to some other man. Does that make any sense?”
Jane was trying hard not to cry. What Walter had just said was very much how she felt about the loss of her own family. She reached across the table and took Walter’s hand. At that moment she felt as if they shared something that went beyond simple friendship, or even love.
“It does makes sense,” she said as a tear slid down her cheek. “It makes all the sense in the world.”
Chapter 14
Her cheeks burned with fury as she fled the room. What Jonathan had proposed was unthinkable. She could never accept such an arrangement, not even to protect Charles from harm. She cursed her vanity. She cursed herself, too, for allowing Charles into her heart. By doing so, she had perhaps doomed them both.
—Jane Austen, Constance, manuscript
LUCY YAWNED AND SHOOK HER HEAD. I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S wrong with me,” she said to Jane the next morning. “I feel as if I haven’t slept at all.”
“It’s all that coffee you drink,” Jane teased. Lucy was on her third cup and it was only a little past ten.
“Maybe,” said Lucy, taking a sip from the mug in her hand. “But I didn’t have any last night.” She set the mug down. “Plus, I had the strangest dreams.”
“What about?” Jane asked as she arranged a display of new paperback releases. She was in a particularly pleasant mood. Not only was she feeling good about the talk she and Walter had had a few days before, Byron hadn’t once bothered her. Although his presence in Brakeston was still unsettling, and she was certain that he would cause more worry for her before long, for the moment she was determined to enjoy the relative calm in her life.
“I was in a house,