Undressing Mr. Darcy (4 page)

“You’re kidding. There isn’t really a ghost, is there?”

“There is. She wears a very fragrant rosewater perfume and she delights in knocking over chairs.”

Vanessa didn’t know what to make of all this, with ghosts, roof leaks, untended gardens, and questions of a client’s relationship status swirling through her mind.

Suddenly, something hit her like a fallen roof beam and she had to set her coffee down, she was so excited.

“Julian, do you have these photos on a chip? Are they digital? Do you have any digital video footage of your home?”

“No,” he said. “I still use my old film camera from when I was a student. And I have my own darkroom, so—”

Vanessa had to laugh. Of course he didn’t have a digital camera. “You own a huge estate but you don’t have a digital camera.”

He smiled. “Even though I’m what you Americans would call ‘house poor,’ I can afford a digital camera, but I’ve refused on principle. Everyone who owns a digital camera tells me they never print their photos. It’s one of the curses of modern technology. This way one values the pictures and gets them developed.”

“You have a point.” She would have to scan these photos in, but it would be worth it. “Julian, we need to leverage this!”

“Whatever do you mean?” He stirred a lump of sugar into his tea.

Vanessa popped up. “Give me some time and I’ll lay it out for you.”

He smirked. “You will do what, precisely?”

Her response betrayed her with too much innuendo. “I simply meant I’ll introduce you to some new ideas for our PR plan.”

“Oh.”

“I have to get to work on my laptop.”

He looked at the watch dangling from a fob at his waist. “Yes, but it’s half seven in the evening your time.”

“And?”

“And you are planning to work now?”

“Why not?” She laughed.

She had gotten a glimpse of the man beneath the Darcy trappings, and, oddly enough, she liked what she saw.

C
hapter 3

S
he woke the next morning with her e-reader on the pillow next to her, open to the last page of
My Year as Mr. Darcy
. She had breezed through it, but after working late on the new additions to the PR plan, she’d fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion.

She wanted to tell him about the new elements of the plan, but that would have to wait. This morning marked the opening of the conference and Julian was the second keynote speaker.

Aunt Ella had gone ahead with her friend Paul, while Vanessa escorted Julian to the conference hotel. He, in his full Regency attire, carried her video cam tripod for her—ever the gentleman.

“I must warn you, Julian, that our conference hotel has been double-booked with a comic-book sci-fi conference called Hero Con. At first I was upset, but then I realized we could spin this to our advantage, and I’ve been plugging your book and
Undressing
show to their conference attendees, too.”

“I admire your ingenuity and glass-half-full perspective, but I can’t imagine that extraterrestrials would have any interest in Jane Austen.”

Vanessa laughed. “Their conference has three times the attendees, and yet a third of them have also signed up for our conference. Don’t be surprised if you see a Batwoman or two in the audience.”

A man dressed as Mr. Spock stood outside the hotel lobby doors.

Once they stepped into the lobby, they saw that Caped Crusaders, goth girls, and werefolk peppered the escalators and main floor. Julian, in his breeches, tailcoat, and hat, faded into the comic-book background.

Vanessa happened to be the one who stood out. She had to be the only one in a skirt and blazer. She’d seen these comic cons on the news but had never been to one. She’d never been to a Jane Austen conference, either, for that matter.

A fortune-teller with heavy makeup lasered in on Vanessa from across the lobby and came right up to her. “I see foreign travel in your future. It’s what you need, darling.”

Vanessa furrowed her brows. She dismissed the gypsy’s prediction. She wouldn’t go overseas—not with her aunt’s health problems.

“Mark my words, you will be flying abroad very soon.”

Vanessa watched her walk away, leaving a hint of jasmine.

“Perhaps you will be going to England,” Julian said. “She seems convinced you are going abroad.”

“She’s also wearing gym shoes under her fringed skirt.”

He laughed.

This had to be the most fun she’d had with a client in a while.

“If you do venture across the pond, I can offer you free all-access tickets to the Jane Austen Festival in Bath. I’ll be doing my show there. Nine days of Jane Austen for you!”

She smirked. “I’ve practically grown up with Austen. Nine days wouldn’t phase me. Look over there by the coffee bar. It’s Obi-Wan Kenobi eating a cake pop.”

He smiled. “As Austen would say, ‘I am excessively diverted.’”

Thor sipped a frozen coffee topped with whipped cream from a straw.

Vanessa’s intern, Kai, arrived exactly ten minutes late. He always showed up late—it was his m.o.—but then again, what can you expect from a kid who gets paid in college credit and the occasional coffee?

Kai really wanted to be a film director, not a PR man, and he dressed, always, in a T-shirt, black jeans, and black high-tops. He wore a silver ring on his thumb, and to her friends in the biz, Vanessa referred to him as her “bf”—short not for “boyfriend” but for “boy Friday.”

She’d always joked about getting a boy Friday, as opposed to a girl Friday, to help her out with things, but this past year she’d made it happen, and it was worth dealing with his tardiness and hangovers. Kai did have a talent for shooting, and she often let him do the filming and editing for client sites. Today she’d asked him to come as a backup, just to be sure she got all the footage of Julian she needed.

“This is so cool,” Kai said.

“Quite,” said Julian.

Vanessa stifled a laugh. These two couldn’t be more diametrically opposed. She made the necessary introductions.

“Lean on us, Julian; we’ve got your back,” Vanessa said. “Whatever we can do to help you out, just let us know.”

“Will do.”

“We all have each other’s cell phone numbers, so we’re only a text or call away.”

Julian cleared his throat. “I shall not be using my mobile, as I prefer to keep it off. It breaks character. People don’t expect Darcy to be texting.”

Kai looked at Vanessa.

“We’ll do our best, then, to stick near you, Julian, won’t we, Kai? But I am expecting an important phone call from my aunt’s doctor today, and I do have to keep in touch with my other clients and may need to step away. And Kai has homework to squeeze in. If you need us and can’t find us in the crowd, please, consider stepping into the men’s room to call.”

What did he have against modern technology? He couldn’t exactly send a messenger on horseback.

“Okay. Ready to roll?” Kai asked Vanessa, as he always did, as if she was the one holding him up, even though he always arrived late.

As the three of them made their way through the lobby, Vanessa felt as if she had fallen into a parallel universe. Even though she had been immersed in Darcy fandom for the past several months, clearly he wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. From what she was seeing, apparently some women preferred vampires.

When they entered the West Tower and left Hero Con behind in the East Tower, a wash of familiarity and, yes, warmth came over her. The conference check-in area looked more elegant than she’d imagined, with white-tablecloth-covered check-in tables; lavish floral arrangements with pink cabbage roses; cellophane-wrapped raffle baskets filled with tea, quill pens, and books; and silver trays of frosted cookies in the shape of teapots and Austen’s silhouette.

She peeked into the “Emporium,” nothing more than a conference room but abuzz with vendors of all sorts selling everything from bonnets to tea to antique books. Everything seemed in order and going as planned, just the way she liked things to go.

A group of professors pulled Julian aside and Vanessa spotted a sprightly, petite woman who had fallen behind her flock of Janeites to read her conference program. She looked fantastic in her Regency gown and gloves. The nearly sheer white fabric begged to be touched, the low, square-cut neckline proved the opposite of matronly, and the tiny off-the-shoulder cap sleeves suggested a certain state of—undress. The blue ribbon drew attention to the woman’s bust while tight gray leather gloves accentuated her arms and culminated in loose bunching at her biceps. The effect proved mesmerizing.

Vanessa had never associated anything Austen with anything—sexy. She couldn’t help but stop and stare at this gown. What had gotten into her? She hadn’t seen anything so fetching in a long time, it seemed.

Fetching? Since when did she use the word “fetching”?

She just had to ask. “Your gown is gorgeous. Where did you get it?”

The woman smiled. “I had it made by the mantua maker, who is right there in the Emporium. It’s muslin.”

“Muslin” didn’t mean anything to Vanessa, and neither did “mantua maker.”

The woman began to rifle through her little silk-tasseled bag.

“What’s a mantua maker?” Vanessa asked.

“A dressmaker. This one is superb.” The woman pulled something out of her little bag. “Here’s her card. The secret is the corset. They were called ‘stays’ during the Regency era. One must wear stays. Do remember that.”

“Okay. Thank you.” She didn’t think she’d need stays or a mantua maker, but she slipped the card into her wallet anyway. Everywhere Vanessa turned, attendees with their conference badges smiled and hugged one another, some costumed, some not, but they all seemed to be one big Regency family.

Julian inched his way through the conference-goers, so many of them stopping him, congratulating him on his book, wanting a picture with him.

“He’s a rock star here, isn’t he?” she said to Kai.

“I guess,” Kai said.

Vanessa posted:

Mr. Darcy will reveal all very soon . . . #JASNAagm #UndressingMrDarcy

Finally she led him toward the stage and introduced him to Paul, Aunt Ella’s friend, who had volunteered to act as valet during his
Undressing
act.

“Ella’s in her element hosting you, Julian,” Paul said. “We all wish you great success. I have heard that several regional societies have pooled funds to donate to your cause, and you can thank Vanessa for that.”

Julian tipped his hat to her. “She is a most brilliant promoter. And she has done it all without compensation. Most kind. And she’s lovely as well.”

Vanessa took it in stride. Clients complimented her all the time, didn’t they?

“Where’s Aunt Ella?” she asked Paul.

“Here she comes with her entourage through the doors now.” He nodded toward the opposite side of the huge room. “And after I’m done onstage, I’ll be by her side for the duration.”

“Thank you, Paul.” She turned to Julian. “Break a—booted leg, then, gentlemen.”

Julian went backstage while she and Paul helped Aunt Ella and her friends get settled.

Her aunt took a seat and quickly grasped Vanessa’s hands. Aunt Ella’s forehead was creased with worry. “Ladies”—she turned to her friends—“I’m sure you all know my Vanessa. What would I do without her?”

Vanessa knew all of them. “Welcome to the big day, everyone. I hope you enjoy the conference.”

The ladies nodded and smiled.

“Darling, everyone agrees we must have Julian open the ball tomorrow night. But who shall be his opening dance partner? I can’t believe I forgot this ever-so-important detail. It’s so unlike me!”

Paul didn’t skip a beat. “He should open with Vanessa. Who else? They’d make such a stunning couple.” He cocked his head at Vanessa. “You even look a little Miss Elizabeth Bennet–ish, if I do say so myself. ‘Fine eyes’ and all that.”

“Oh, it can’t be her, unfortunately.” Aunt Ella let Vanessa’s hands drop and snapped open the antique fan she’d bought in England on her last visit. “I’m afraid Vanessa merely
tolerates
all this for my sake.”

“Auntie E, I think this whole conference is just delightful, really. I’m actually enjoying it!”

“It hasn’t even started, dear.”

Vanessa smiled. “We’ve been working on it for months now and I’m so glad to see it come together so beautifully.”

“I really think you and Julian would be perfect,” Paul said.

“She doesn’t even have a gown, Paul,” Aunt Ella said as she fanned herself.

Vanessa pulled out her phone. “Not to worry. I’ll send out a post and in no time we’ll have enough takers to fill his dance card for the entire evening. It’ll be sort of a . . . contest . . . and help generate more buzz for him and his book.”

“Are you suggesting we leave his opening dance partner to chance?” Aunt Ella closed her fan and tapped it in her palm nervously.

“Who in this room wouldn’t be worthy? A room full of Janeites is a room full of fascinating, quality women, is it not? Anyway, I’ll screen the top three just to be sure.” She winked.

Aunt Ella sighed with a bit of relief. “Once again you’ve won me over. Or worn me down. I’m not sure which!”

“Leave it to me, Aunt Ella; it’s a win-win. Don’t give it another thought. Now, please excuse me, everyone. I have to set up the cameras with Kai.”

Once the cameras were set up, she sent out the post:

Mr. Darcy needs a dance partner to open the ball tomorrow night. Any takers? #JASNAagm #UndressingMrDarcy #onlyMissBennetsneedapply

Within seconds she had a handful of replies.

Almost seven hundred people had filled the room by this point, chatting around her as she volleyed back some e-mails and texts to her clients. The congeniality and camaraderie that surrounded her could practically be poured into a teapot, it was so palpable.

“Well, you know,” she overheard a woman behind her say, “it’s just like Jane Austen and Tom Lefroy.”

“It is?” was the female reply.

“Yes. A handsome stranger comes into town, and the local girl falls in love.”

Vanessa tried to concentrate on an e-mail from one of her clients, but instead she followed the entire conversation behind her.

“Do you believe Austen and Lefroy were in love?”

“I want to believe that Jane had, at least once in her life, experienced love, yes. But she was so young when they met, both of them twenty, it’s hard to tell what it was.”

“And it ended so quickly—prematurely—they knew each other only very briefly.”

“They flirted quite famously, though. Quite a statement in those days. As she said in a letter to Cassandra, ‘I am almost afraid to tell you how my Irish friend and I behaved. Imagine to yourself everything most profligate and shocking in the way of dancing and sitting down together.’”

“Yes, yes, good for her. I like to think of our Jane as ‘shocking.’”

“I’ve always thought of her that way.”

Jane Austen? Shocking? Vanessa was the one who was shocked. For some reason she’d always thought of Austen as prim and proper. A titan of literature, yes, but never “shocking.”

She wanted to know how the Jane Austen–Tom Lefroy story played out, but the women had moved on to a discussion about a manuscript that Austen never tried to get published titled
Lady Susan
.