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“It was sincere,” she said.
He put his hand over hers. “And you, Miss Gardenside, are the bravest and best of your sex.”
They smiled. And wow, their fondness for each other seemed real. Charlotte looked away. Miss Charming was beside Colonel Andrews, patting his back in a consoling way while making goo-goo faces to get him to smile. Mr. Mallery stood aside, hands in his jacket pockets. He was probably looking at her, though she couldn’t tell for certain in the darkness. Did Miss Gardenside ever observe Charlotte and Mallery and think, Wow, their affection seems so genuine!
The night was as warm as a breath on the cheek, and the couples took arms and strode through the garden, calling out for the ghost to attend them and grant them wishes.
“Yoo-hoo!” shouted Miss Charming. “Come back and make me the prettiest lassie at the ball!”
“I am not certain this particular specter was of the fairy godmother variety,” said Eddie.
“Well, you never know unless you try,” she said.
“By Hamlet’s father,” said Colonel Andrews with mock shock. “The wish has already been granted. You are stunning!”
Mr. Mallery was humming some tune under his breath.
“You seem content this evening,” Charlotte said.
“You know, I think I am.”
“You thrive out here where ghosts wander?”
“That is an intriguing place to inhabit.” He placed his hand atop hers, where it rested on his arm. His hand was cold. “Or perhaps I am just content to be with you.”
She sighed. And decided it was okay to let her heart flit and flutter around, and for her breath to get caught in her chest like the ghost’s flowing headdress on a shrub. It was okay to fall in love inside books and stories, and where was she if not inside a story? And wasn’t this why she’d come, after all? She felt certain she would be able to withdraw herself intact when the time came. She felt certain she was not in too much danger.
Home, the previous two years
About a year before the divorce, James remarked to Charlotte that they ought to put their various bank accounts, investments, and Charlotte’s business in both of their names.
“For tax reasons,” he said.
“Really? Since we file jointly, I didn’t think that would make a difference.”
James frowned. “It’s almost as if you don’t trust me. It’s almost as if you are trying to keep separate from me.”
The next day, Charlotte added his name to everything of hers—except the business. That turned out to be a little more complicated, and so she put it off until after her Web site redesign. But by then James had revealed the affair and asked for a divorce. There would be no alimony—Charlotte was the real breadwinner, and James’s infidelity prevented his asking for payments. Despite her lawyer’s advice, Charlotte didn’t want to make a fuss and agreed to a fifty-fifty split of their joint assets. Which now included her bank accounts and investments. Everything but her business.
Despite the financial severing, over the next few months her income boomed. The harder she worked, the easier it became not to feel.
Austenland, days 10–11
The next morning, Charlotte dragged Miss Gardenside and Miss Charming to the second floor.
The night before in the garden, the colonel had told them, “Dear ladies, there is still a clue on the second floor. And, I mean to say, in the corridor. No need to open doors and disturb the maids in their chambers.”
But what about the secret room? Charlotte thought. She was sure Colonel Andrews would bring that back into the story at some point and she would finally understand what she’d seen the night of Bloody Murder, but apparently it was not time yet.
“I need fresh eyes, ladies,” said Charlotte. “What are we missing?”
Miss Charming hunched over, examining the carpet.
“It is quite bare, is it not?” said Miss Gardenside. “Nothing in the corridor but that table, vase, and the painting of Saint Francis.”
Charlotte whirled around. “Did you say ‘Saint Francis’?”
“Yes, that painting there. It depicts the story of Saint Francis speaking to the wolf.”
