Jane Bites Back_ A Novel - Michael Thomas Ford [50]
“The Great Depression quite a while or the fall of Rome quite a while?” Lucy asked.
Jane rapped her on top of her head. “Enough questions,” she said. “All in good time.”
Lucy groaned. “You’ve got to tell me something,” she protested. “After all, I almost gave up my soul for you.”
“Another legend,” Jane said. “The devil has nothing to do with it. My soul is still intact, thank you very much. But you’re right; I do owe you something. So here’s a clue—I once sat around a table while Madame Blavatsky attempted to summon my ghost for a group of curiosity seekers. She had no idea I was sitting across from her, and you can imagine my surprise when my spirit began to speak to the assembled guests. What a fraud she was, that one.”
“Gee, that narrows it down,” Lucy said. “Thanks.”
“I’m afraid it’s all you’re getting for tonight,” said Jane. “Now it’s up to the guest room with you. I think it’s best if you stay here tonight. It’s difficult to say what Byron—Brian—will do.”
Lucy looked at her and started to say something. Then she turned and walked to the stairs. “Good night,” she said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night,” Jane called back. “I’ll be up in a bit myself. I just want to lock up down here.”
Lucy continued upstairs while Jane busied herself locking the door. She wondered if Lucy had heard her slip of the tongue and, if so, had understood what it meant. Probably she’ll grill me about it in the morning, she thought.
She checked the kitchen door and the windows, although it was rather pointless. Byron would be able to get into the house if he really wanted to. But it made her feel better to do it. Afterward she sat down in a chair by the fire. Although she enjoyed it, she didn’t have to sleep, and she thought she might as well stay up and make sure Lucy was safe. A moment later Tom jumped into her lap and curled up.
Jane opened up a book and started to read, but her thoughts kept returning to Byron. Would he really leave them alone? As much as she wanted to believe that the ruse had convinced him that he had no options left for blackmailing her, she wasn’t satisfied that this was the case. Lucy couldn’t play at being a vampire forever, and eventually he would see through her disguise. As for Walter, it would take only one pointed conversation with him for Byron to see that he had no idea what was going on.
Jane was relying on Byron’s pride to be his undoing. He hated losing, particularly in matters of the heart, and she hoped that what he believed to be his defeat in that arena would force him to leave. If he didn’t, she was going to have to tell Walter, and despite what she’d said to Byron, she wasn’t at all sure that Walter would be as understanding as she’d made him out to be.
“Did I make a mistake?” she asked Tom. He looked at her for a moment, yawned, and went back to sleep.
“I thought you’d say that,” said Jane.
She returned to the book. The beginning was slow, and she hoped it would get better. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 18
She longed to show the poems to Charles. She wanted to hear him read them aloud, and ached to know his opinion of them. Yet the thought of disclosing her passion to him and risking the possibility that he might laugh at her was worse even than having him turn away in disgust at learning of her involvement with Jonathan Brut.
—Jane Austen, Constance, manuscript
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, HE’S GONE?”
Jane and Lucy exchanged a glance as they waited for Walter to answer Jane’s question.
“He’s gone,” Walter repeated. “He left last night. Apparently there was some kind of family emergency back home. I went over this morning to do some final touch-up work on the veranda railing, and I found this taped to the door.” He waved a crumpled piece of paper at them.
Jane stifled a smile. “It was a bit rude to just leave you a note,” she said.
Walter sniffed. “Writers,” he said. He looked at Jane. “Sorry.”
Lucy, busy unpacking a box of books, said, “That’s too bad. He seemed like an interesting man.”
“That’s not the