Adventures with Jane and her Legacy 01 Jane Austen Ruined My Life (6 page)

Now all I had to do was figure out how I was going to get to Hampshire, to Steventon, the birthplace of Jane Austen, without Adam or anyone else finding out where I was going.

A
train ticket to Basingstoke, the closest station to the village of Steventon, was almost fifty dollars. I would have to hire some sort of cab to get me from there to the village itself, another twelve miles or so. And then I would have to pay the cab to wait.

The problem with Jane Austen, I thought as I scribbled my sums on the back of an envelope I'd found on Anne-Elise's desk, was that she'd lived more than half of her life buried in the wilds of Hampshire, about sixty miles southwest of London. It was not exactly a hotbed of public transportation, then or now.

I dropped the pencil, propped my elbows on the desk, and put my head in my hands. I'd been too proud to ask Mrs. Parrot for financial help in completing her tasks. Now I was regretting that pride. To have come so far and to fall short ... No. I couldn't let that happen.

The front door of Anne-Elise's town house slammed. "I'm home!" Adam called, as if I could have missed his noisy entrance.

"In here," I called from the sitting room just inside the front door. The tiny space strained to hold a desk, two wingback chairs, a sofa, and a mantelpiece. Underneath it all, a huge Oriental rug stretched from one side of the room to the other. The colors--dark jewel tones of hunter green, ruby, and sapphire--made the space feel even smaller, more intimate.

"Hey." Adam appeared in the doorway. "I'm glad you're here. How do you feel about a picnic?"

I looked at my watch. The afternoon had passed quickly as I'd dithered over how to finance my way to Jane Austen's modest birthplace in Hampshire.

"I could use a break," I said. "Where did you have in mind?" As wary as I was of Adam discovering my secret, I was finding him surprisingly easy to be around even after our years of estrangement.

"Feel like making the trek to Kenwood?"

The former home of the Earl of Iveagh, Kenwood House was the crown jewel of Hampstead Heath, the large park that lay on the edge of the village. I had heard a lot about the beautiful Palladian home. The clean, simple lines and the majestic prospect were considered the ideal of the perfect English country house.

I had wanted to visit it the last time Edward and I were in London, but he'd been presenting a paper at a conference, so
instead of visiting Kenwood, I'd sat in a hotel meeting room listening to one of the most boring lectures I'd ever heard in my life. Not that I'd admitted the boring part to myself at the time. Edward's pedantic prosings hadn't been the only thing I'd been in denial about.

"I'd love to." So much for my resolution to avoid Adam so I wouldn't spill my secret.

"I've already got provisions." He held up more plastic grocery bags. The man was a shopping machine, which any woman had to appreciate. "Ham rolls, lemonade, potato chips, and chocolate."

"Sounds perfect."

Twenty minutes later, we set out up the steep slope of Heath Street as it headed north, and then, after crossing near Jack Straw's Castle, we entered Hampstead Heath proper. We skirted the Vale of Health, passing the pond and the gypsy caravans, and then we found ourselves on a sandy trail heading north.

The sun blazed above us, and though I was hot, I was grateful for the warmth. It was a substantial walk, but at last we emerged at the bottom of the park, and I caught my first glimpse of Kenwood House. The pale stone reflected the late-afternoon sunlight, and scores of people were spread across the enormous swath of lawn that dipped down toward the lake on our right.

I was in awe, of course, and I wondered why on earth I hadn't insisted on Edward bringing me here the last time I'd
been in London. Had Jane Austen felt this overwhelmed the first time she'd seen Godmersham Park, the palatial home in Kent that her brother Edward had the good fortune to inherit?

I could feel Adam watching me as I drank in the sight of the house. "They certainly knew how to make an impression, didn't they?" he asked with a teasing smile.

"Could you imagine living in a place like that?" I moved forward, and Adam walked beside me. The path led up in a long curve toward the house. I knew that Kenwood was also a museum. Lord Iveagh, who'd made his fortune with the product that bore his surname of Guinness, had left the house and some rather remarkable paintings--Rembrandt, Turner, Vermeer--to the nation.

"It could be the model for any of Austen's great houses," Adam replied. "Pemberley. Rosings. Mansfield Park."

"Not Mansfield Park," I replied with a shake of my head. "It's too beautiful for that."

Adam shot me a sideways look. "Mansfield Park couldn't be pretty?"

"Austen never really describes it, not the way she does other houses. But I can't imagine a family like the Rushworths living in someplace this elegant. They're too self-centered. Fanny Price was the only one who would have appreciated it."

By this time, we'd climbed the hill and emerged onto a gravel walk that ran parallel to the house. Children scampered by, juggling ice-cream cones, while their parents hustled to keep up with them.

"There's a spot." Adam pointed toward an empty patch of grass not far off the gravel walk. "Let's grab it."

I knew that at the height of summer, there were often concerts on the lawn here and, on occasion, fireworks. Now, though, the lawn--roughly the size of a football field--was full of couples and families enjoying the sunshine and the view. I followed Adam to the spot he'd pointed out. On one side of us, a mother and father were trying to parcel out sandwiches to a pack of whining children. On the other, a couple lay stretched out on a blanket, completely lost in each other.
Great!
I thought with a sigh. How many reminders of my now-single state did I really need?

"So do you think Anne-Elise remembered that she'd invited both of us to use her house at the same time?" I asked as we sank to the grass.

"She'll figure it out at some point." Adam dug into the carrier bag and produced the promised feast. "Organization doesn't seem to be her strong suit."

"No. It never was." I unwrapped the ham roll and took a hefty bite. It was not the most ladylike display, but I couldn't help myself. I'd forgotten to eat lunch, and I was starving.

We munched in companionable silence for a bit. Finally, Adam took a swig of lemonade and then focused his attention on me. "I wish you'd tell me why you're really here." A casual prompt, but it sent my pulse skittering.

"I told you. Research."

He shot me a look of disbelief. "That's pretty vague."

"I just had to ... get away." I wasn't really lying, but I
certainly wasn't telling the truth either. "After the divorce ... well, I guess I just needed a change of scenery."

Adam handed me a bag of chips. "I knew you and Edward had split up, but I heard about Edward's allegations and your dismissal too."

Heat suffused my cheeks. So he did know after all. I wasn't to be spared that shame either. "I guess everyone knows by now."

My disgrace wouldn't have merited a lot of notice in the academic world on its own, but Edward's position as a tenured holder of an important endowed chair meant that it was news every time he blew his nose.

"What happened?" Adam was frowning, but not at me, really. The expression carved premature lines between the corners of his mouth and his chin.

"I'm sure your source, whoever it was, told you--"

"I want to hear your side of it."

Tears stung my eyes. In all the turmoil of the past few months, Adam was the first person who'd said that to me. Colleagues, friends, enemies--none of them had even thought to question Edward's account, and now here was a man who'd once been my best friend, giving me the opportunity I'd been waiting for to vilify Edward. But if I did that, I had a feeling it wouldn't be nearly as satisfying as I'd always thought it would be.

"My teaching assistant said I plagiarized a paper she'd been working on. Edward backed up her allegations. After that,
things moved pretty fast." I stopped and swallowed. "At least they allowed me to finish up the spring semester."

"Why would Edward back up your teaching assistant over his own wife?" His eyebrows arched. "And last I checked, his area was John Milton, not Austen."

Edward fancied himself the greatest living authority on Milton and had convinced most of the academic world of that belief. I was pretty sure he could recite all twelve volumes of
Paradise Lost
from memory.

I shrugged my shoulders at Adam's question. "You mentioned chocolate?" I said, trying to change the subject, but Adam was not as easily led as my colleagues, who had served as judge, jury, and executioner of my scholarly career.

He pulled a Cadbury bar, England's favorite chocolate, out of the bag, but when I reached for it, he moved it out of my grasp. "You didn't answer my question. Why would Edward take your TA's side?"

"I think the fact that he was sleeping with her might have been a factor."

"Oh. That TA."

"Yes. That one."

Adam, having devoured his half of the chocolate bar in little more than one bite, leaned back on his elbows in the grass and stretched his long legs in front of him.

"So, there you were, desperate for some recognition. And you, who've spent your entire career working on Austen, cribbed
a paper off a grad student." He smiled at me. "You must have really been desperate."

"I didn't--"

"Of course you didn't," he said. Easily. Simply. Relief, cool and comforting, slid over me like silk. "How did she do it, anyway?" he asked.

"Do what?"

"How did she make it look like you'd plagiarized her?" He smiled. "You know, it's never a good idea to let your mouth hang open when it's full of chocolate."

I shut it with a snap and chewed vigorously before swallowing. "You really do believe me?"

He snorted. "Of course I believe you."

"You're the first one."

He nodded. "I won't be the last, though. Eventually people will catch on."

"It doesn't matter now."

Even if I was exonerated, the plagiarism charge would always hang over my head. There was no innocent-until-proven-guilty in the academic world. A hint of scandal, a whisper, was enough to ruin a career. No, the only way to salvage any part of my reputation was to come up with something so astounding, so breathtakingly amazing that it would make everyone forget about my disgrace and welcome me back into the academic fold with open arms.

"What will you do now?" Adam asked.

I shrugged. "Take up welding?" I said with a watery smile.
I bit my lip so that I wouldn't cry. I was tired of all the tears and the angst. Enough already.

Adam sat up. He reached over and put his hand on my knee.

Even through the denim of my jeans, I could feel the warmth of his touch. That was one of the things I'd missed the most about being married--the simple comfort of physical touch, even from a creep like Edward.

"You can't let him win," Adam said. "Believe me, I know from experience."

"When has he ever gotten the best of you?"

Adam had done very well for himself. He'd recently gotten tenure at his university and was considered a leading scholar in his field.

"He hasn't. Not since my dissertation defense, anyway, but only because I've kept him at arm's length." He shot me a rueful look. "Turns out, he's just as big a jerk now as when we were his teaching assistants."

"Why did no one tell me this before I married him?" The words sprang from my lips unheeded.

Adam's face darkened. "You didn't give anyone much of a chance."

"You're right." What was the old saying? Marry in haste, repent at leisure? I'd done both, thinking I'd found my Mr. Knightley. Instead, I'd found my Mr. Nightmare.

"Which brings me back to my original question," Adam said. "No more vague answers. Why are you in London?"

Even if I wanted to, I couldn't tell him now. Mrs. Parrot
had sworn me to secrecy, and if I were to have any chance at all of gaining access to all those tantalizing letters, I would have to keep my word. One whiff of my compromising the Formidables, as she'd called her little cabal, and I'd be out on my ear.

"I've never seen most of the Jane Austen sites," I said, which was true even if it wasn't the truth he was looking for. "I thought it was time."

"Even with your career in the toilet?"

"What a charming way to put it."

"Sorry."

I paused. "You can make it up to me." I hadn't wanted to involve Adam in my business, but maybe I could ask for his assistance without letting him know what I was up to.

"How's that?"

I blushed. "I need your help to get to some of the places."

"Why would you need my help?"

"Anne-Elise said I could use her car, but I can't drive a stick shift." This wasn't entirely untrue. "I need a driver." I had no idea where I was going to get the money for gas, but surely it would be cheaper than train fare and a taxi.

"Where did you want to go?"

"Steventon, for a start."

"I've always heard there's not much there. The rectory where she grew up was torn down a long time ago."