Day 6, Continued
That night, the precedence walk from drawing room to dining was in upheaval.
“Let me see,” Aunt Saffronia said, catching herself just before she chewed on a fingernail.
“Mr. Nobley, would you be so kind as to take my arm? Colonel Andrews, would you escort Miss Charming? And Captain East (so happy to hear of your promotion, my dear! And much deserved, I am certain), if you will accompany Miss Heartwright, I believe you two know each other. Jane dear, you are certain you do not mind coming along alone? I can dine in my boudoir, if you prefer? No? Sir John extends his apologies for not returning to the Park, but he plans to stay in town to be near the apothecary until at least two weeks hence, so I am afraid you will not see him again before departing. Well, now that is settled, shall we dine?”
All through the soup, game bird, fish, fruit, and walnut courses, and later in the drawing room, Jane flirted madly (in a guarded, Regency sort of way) with Colonel Andrews, who was invigorated by the attention.
After it seemed clear to Jane that Miss Heartwright was uninterested in her former acquaintance, she added Captain East to her list of men-to-bat-eyelashes-at.
Mr. Nobley was off-limits now, she supposed.
He certainly seemed to be Miss Heartwright’s darling.
But after Miss Charming’s visit to Mrs. Wattlesbrook’s customer-complaint desk, she was sure to get priority over the man of her choice.
Perhaps the two ladies would fight over him.
Pembrook Park was pining for a hearty ladies’ mud wrestle.
Jane, the captain, and the colonel begged out of cards, sat by the window, and made fun of Mr. Nobley. She held out a hand to Miss Charming, inviting the lady to come sit beside her and join the fun. Miss Charming snickered as she wiggled her hips between Jane and Captain East.
Jane glanced once at the garden, imagined Martin seeing her now, and felt popular and pretty—Emma Woodhouse from curls to slippers. It certainly helped that all the men were so magnificent. Unreal, actually. Austenland was feeling cozier.
“Do you think he hears us?” Jane asked. “See how he doesn’t lift his eyes from that book? In all, his manners and expression are a bit too determined, don’t you think?”
“Right you are, Miss Erstwhile,” Colonel Andrews said.
“His eyebrow is twitching,” Captain East said gravely.
“Why, so it is, Captain!” the colonel said. “Well observed.”
“Then again, the eyebrow twitch could be caused by some buried guilt,” Jane said.
“I believe you’re right again, Miss Erstwhile. Perhaps he does not hear us at all.”
“Of course I hear you, Andrews,” said Mr. Nobley, his eyes still on the page. “I would have to have wool stuffed in my ears not to, the way you lot carry on.”
“I say, do not be gruff with us, Nobley, we are only having a bit of fun, and you are being rather tedious. I cannot abide it when my friends insist on being scholarly. The only member of our company who can coax you away from those books is our Miss Heartwright, but she seems altogether too pensive tonight as well, and so our cause is lost.”
Mr. Nobley did look up now, just in time to catch Miss Heartwright’s face turn away shyly.
“You might show a little more delicacy around the ladies, Andrews,” he said.
“Stuff and nonsense. I agree with Miss Erstwhile, you are acting like a scarecrow. I do not know why you put on this act, Nobley, when around the port table or out in the field you’re rather a pleasant fellow.”
“Really? That is curious,” Jane said. “Why, Mr. Nobley, are you generous in your attentions with gentlemen and yet taciturn and withdrawn around the fairer sex?”
Mr. Nobley’s eyes were back on the printed page, though they didn’t scan the lines. “Perhaps I do not possess the type of conversation that would interest a lady.”
“You say ‘perhaps’ as though you do not believe it yourself. What else might be the reason, sir?” Jane smiled. Needling Mr. Nobley was feeling like a very productive use of the evening.
“Perhaps another reason might be that I myself do not find the conversation of ladies to be very stimulating.” His eyes were dark.
“Hm, I just can’t imagine why you’re still unmarried.”
“I might say the same for you.”
“Mr. Nobley!” cried Aunt Saffronia.
“No, it’s all right, Aunt,” Jane said. “I asked for it. And I don’t even mind answering. One reason why I am unmarried is because there aren’t enough men with guts to put away their little-boy fears and commit their love and stick it out.”
“And perhaps the men do not stick it out for a reason.”
“And what reason might that be?”
“The reason is women.” He slammed his book shut. “Women make life impossible until the man has to be the one to end it. There is no working it out past a certain point. How can anyone endlessly endure the lunacy?”
Mr. Nobley took a ragged breath and his face went red as he seemed to realize what he’d said aloud. He put the book down gently, pursed his lips, cleared his throat.
No one in the room made eye contact.
“Someone has issues,” said Miss Charming in a quiet, sing-songy voice.
“Don’t we all,” Jane said softly.
“I beg you, Lady Templeton,” Colonel Andrews said, standing, his smile almost convincingly nonchalant, “play something rousing on the pianoforte. I promised to engage Miss Charming in a dance. I cannot break a promise to such a lovely young thing, and break her heart and further blacken her view of the world, so you see my urgency.”
“An excellent suggestion, Colonel Andrews,” Aunt Saffronia said. “It seems all our spirits could use a lift. I think we feel the lack of Sir John’s presence, indeed I do.”
Mr. Nobley, of course, declined to dance, so Jane and Captain East stood up with Colonel Andrews and Miss Charming, whose spirits were rising higher than her bouncing bosom.
Twice she turned the wrong way, ramming herself into the colonel’s shoulder, saying, “Pip, pip,” and “Jolly good.” Jane spied Mr. Nobley on the sofa, staring at the window and a reflection of the dancers.
Captain East was not so fun and witty as the colonel, lacking that wicked glint that Jane found appealing despite herself, but he was, frankly, gorgeous in a Clark-Kent-sans-glasses way.
And such a sure dancer. And made her feel petite and girlish when he put a hand on her waist to promenade between the other couple.
It was a scrumptious experience just to be touched, her Regency skin starved for intimacy, her real skin still missing Martin’s fingers. The scurrilous beast.
“We’re so happy you’ve come to visit, Captain East,” said Jane.
“So am I. Indeed I am.”
Was he for her, then? Could Mrs. Wattlesbrook have a soft heart after all?
She had warned Jane to have patience and guaranteed her turn at romance.
She must have been hinting that another gentleman would arrive later.
East would be a very good sort of brick wall to beat her head against and knock out the Mr. Darcy nonsense.
He would also be a fine sight on her arm on strolls through the garden, should Martin happen to glance her way.
At the end of the song, gentleman that he was, Captain East went to Miss Heartwright, alone and downcast on the sofa.
“Miss Heartwright, would it please you to dance?”
It seemed obvious to Jane that Miss Heartwright would not be pleased, but she stood up with the captain anyway.
What was their story? Sometimes Miss Heartwright seemed like Fanny Price, sometimes like Jane Bennet or Jane Fairfax, sometimes like Anne Elliot.
There were so many Austen heroines to choose from, why only pick one?
“I would beg a second dance with you, Miss Charming,” said the colonel. “You do live up to your name!”
“Oh, go on,” said Miss Charming.
The way Miss Charming was blushing now—real, honest blushing—it seemed she’d made her choice, and her choice wasn’t Mr. Nobley after all.
And so Jane was left neatly on the sidelines again.
She didn’t mind. Seriously she didn’t. Okay, maybe just a little.
After all, tonight was the most fun she’d had since she’d come.
“Miss Erstwhile?” Mr. Nobley was suddenly beside her. “It would seem my gentlemanly duty to ask you to dance.”
She glanced at his hand. “You’re still holding your book, Mr. Nobley.”
He set it on a table, put one arm behind his back, and held the other out to her.
She sighed. “I’m sorry I pestered you back there, but I’d rather not dance for duty.”
His hand extended toward her. “But it would be my honor.”
She rolled her eyes but took his hand. Her fingers buzzed, as if with anticipation.
The first time he touched her waist, she started.
There was nothing passive in his touch, nothing wasted.
She was aware of his hands the way she was often conscious of his gaze seeking her out.
It was, to say the least, surprising. She looked down at his hand holding hers, marveling at the feel of it.
Most of her energy focused on resisting an impulse to rub her thumb across his palm.
With only three couples, they kept in fairly constant motion. As a general rule, conversation is more intimate in a crowd, but among only six people, every word, and silence, became public.
Colonel Andrews: “What a lovely gown, Miss Charming! You wear it well, or should I say, it wears you?”
Miss Charming: “Oh, you rascal!”
Miss Erstwhile: “Do you know the name of this tune, Mr. Nobley?”
Mr. Nobley: “I do not. It is a country tune.”
Captain East: . . .
Miss Heartwright: . . .
Colonel Andrews: “I beg your pardon, Miss Charming. I seem to have stuck my foot under yours yet again.”
Miss Charming: “Spit spot!”
Miss Erstwhile: “It is such a relief, Mr. Nobley, to already know that you find this exercise vulgar and your partner unworthy. It saves us the idle chitchat.”
Mr. Nobley: “And yet you chat away.”
Aunt Saffronia: “Lovely dance! Shall I play another?”
Miss Erstwhile: “What say you, Mr. Nobley? Ready to be done with me?”
“I think . . .”
He looked at her, and she could feel the intensity of his gaze like a wash of warm energy.
He was still holding one of her hands from the dance, and he looked down at her fingers.
His thumb moved slightly, the barest brush against her knuckle, and yet it sent another bone-deep shiver through her body.
His brow worried, and she held her breath, both fearfully and excitedly anxious for what he would say next.
“I . . .” His manner stiffened, and he dropped her hand, declaring, “I will retire early. I bid you a good evening.”
“And so ends the fun,” Colonel Andrews said.
“Since when was Mr. Nobley a requirement for fun?” Jane said in her playful tone, though beneath it she spotted a twinge of hurt.
Captain East laughed. “You are a wit, Miss Erstwhile.”
Or a clown, thought Jane.
“Wait, I don’t feel right . . . all that dancing . . .” Miss Charming put a hand to her forehead, stumbled toward the departing Nobley, and half fainted delicately into his arms. He was forced to put his arm around her and walk her slowly up the stairs to her chamber.
Miss Charming peeked back under her arm to wink at Jane. She saluted her back with two fingers. Well played, Miss Charming. The game was afoot.