Austenland (Austenland 1)

“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 Nobley, are you generous in your attentions with gentlemen and yet taciturn and withdrawn around the fairer sex?”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.” She put a hand on her hip and faced him.

“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 work out the lunacy?”

Mr. Nobley took a ragged breath, then his face went red as he seemed to realize what he’d said, where he was. 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, singsongy voice.

“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 Erstwhile in a dance. I cannot break a promise to such a lovely young thing, not 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 Templeton’s presence, indeed I do.”

Mr. Nobley, of course, declined to dance, so Jane and the colonel stood up with Captain East and Miss Charming, whose spirits were speedily improving. Twice she turned the wrong way, ramming herself into the captain’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.

At the next song, the couples switched partners, and though Captain East was not so fun and witty as the colonel, lacking that wicked glint that Jane found appealing despite herself, 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? He would be a very good sort of brick wall to beat her head against and knock the Mr. Darcy nonsense out. 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 that 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.

“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, not faking—it seemed she’d made her choice, and her choice wasn’t Mr. Nobley. 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 beside her suddenly. “It would seem my gentlemanly duty to ask you to dance.”