Jane, Actually

by Jennifer Petkus

  “It is all the same to me,” Jane said, “but I want pictures of your young man.”

  “A little discretion also might be a good thing,” Melody advised.

  Mary must now endure some good-natured teasing from Melody and Jane but the return of Ms Smith ended the call. Ms Smith returned to her interrupted discussion of the agenda and then asked again if Mary needed anything.

  “That water would be lovely.”

  Their hostess suddenly remembered her earlier promise. “I’m so sorry I forgot. I’ll get you a bottle … no, we can’t have Jane Austen drinking from a bottle.”

  She dispatched someone on the task of finding a glass of ice water and then returned to say it was time to get started. Mary took a seat in the front row while Ms Smith went to the lectern. The audience had been steadily arriving and now all the seats were filled with several people standing in the back.

  “Thank you everyone for coming,” Ms Smith said. “It’s a little early to start, but we’ve already filled the room and the fire department would frown if we tried to squeeze in anyone else. And if we start early, that allows more time for questions and answers.

  “As you all know, our guest today is Jane Austen who has just published her completed Sanditon, the book she was writing before her death in 1817.”

  A store employee arriving with a glass of ice water distracted Mary’s attention. He first tried to deliver the glass to the lectern but Ms Smith discreetly instructed him to give the class to Mary.

  “So please join me in welcoming Jane Austen,” Ms Smith concluded, while the man was still putting the glass in Mary’s hands.

  Mary had been so distracted by the delivery of the water that she missed her cue until she heard applause. She quickly took a sip of the water and felt a repeat of the sharp twinge in her mouth and wondered what it could be about, but she did her best to cover her discomfort as she shook Ms Smith’s hand.

  “Thank you. It is such a pleasure to visit Colorado again. I was last here in 1947 and I have such wonderful memories of my first view of the Rocky Mountains. I am embarrassed that I have waited so long to return, but I return finding the state of Colorado and the city of Denver more lovely than ever.”

  At that moment Mary realized that Stephen was standing in the back row of the room and made eye contact with him. Jane observed this and asked, “Is that him?”

  “Yes, now hush,” Mary said silently in reply and to disguise their conversation she took another sip of water, carefully this time, not allowing it to reach the side of her mouth that twinged.

  “I had forgotten, however, how dry the air is,” Mary said, as she put down the glass.

  “I do remember him. He is quite handsome, and look, he waves at you.”

  While Mary talked, Jane continued in this chatty fashion until Mary was forced to mute her earbuds.

  . . .

  “Have you any idea how difficult it is to talk while you’re giggling in my ear?” Mary asked after the last question had been answered. “What are you, twelve?”

  She had just finished shaking the hand of an enraptured woman in her sixties who for five minutes had been relating her entire association with Jane Austen since reading Pride and Prejudice in high school. She was finally alone and wanted to use the time to chide Jane.

  “Do not be cross, Mary. I am merely enjoying the prospect of a budding romance.”

  “We talked about going for a drive in the mountains. I don’t think that counts as a budding romance.”

  “I agree. A romantic dinner would be a better choice.”

  “And hardly discreet. Melody would have a fit if there’s a picture of Jane Austen out on a romantic date. My only worry is it leaves you on your own in the hotel room for a long time.”

  “Pish. I am easily kept amused with a good Internet connection. You rarely have time to be yourself; I insist you do this. After all, even Melody had no serious objection.”

  That had not escaped Mary’s notice. “Yeah, that was strange. Does it seem to you she’s been distracted lately?”

  “I think she allows no time for herself, which is precisely the danger you are in if you do not … ah, finally he approaches.”

  Stephen had hung back during the farewells, but as the last of the people left the room he came forward.

  “Hi, Stephen,” Mary said. “I’m glad you made it in time for the reading.”

  He hesitated, unsure how to address Mary. “Miss Austen, a pleasure to meet you again,” he finally said.

  “We’re alone, well except for Jane. You can call me Mary.” The moment she said this, however, they could hear the sounds of people approaching the room and Ms Smith and another woman entered.

  “Oh, here you are, Miss Austen,” Ms Smith said, “I want you to meet … oh, hello.” She pulled up short at seeing Stephen and must have read Mary and Stephen’s body language and realized she had interrupted an intimacy.

  “Ms Smith …”

  “Laurie, please,” she said.

  “Laurie, may I introduce Stephen Abrams. He is a graduate student who is studying … me. Stephen, this is Ms Smith, who works here, at the Tattered Cover.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, putting out his hand.

  “And you. Were you here for the reading?”

  “I was one of the last to squeeze in. I just drove up from Colorado Springs,” he added.

  “Oh, are you at UCCS?”2

  “Uh, no, University of Chicago. I’m attending a … conference … and I wanted to … interview Miss Austen … about the paper I’m writing.”

  “He’s charming, but not very elegant,” Jane said in Mary’s ear.

  “And who is your friend?” Mary asked Ms Smith, to rescue Stephen.

  “Oh, pardon me. This is my friend Jeanette. She’s a fan but she couldn’t make it in time. She works at our Colfax store.”

  The next thirty minutes were spent with pleasantries and Mary must sign Jeanette’s copy of Sanditon and inquiries as to what were their plans for the rest of the day. Stephen tried to avoid looking at his watch and Mary tried to avoid noticing his glances, even though she also chafed at sacrificing their time together.

  Finally they were able to part with Ms Smith, her friend, and two other store employees who arrived to meet Miss Austen.

  “OK, if we hurry, we can get to the mountains while it’s still daylight,” Mary said once she was alone with Stephen. It was an exaggeration, of course, for in July they had many hours of daylight left.

  “Pardon me, but do I not have an opportunity to speak to your young man?” Jane asked.

  “What?”

  “I would like to speak with him directly … before you abandon me in our hotel room.”

  “Argh! OK, Stephen, Jane wants to talk to you before we …” She stopped because the smile on his face made it obvious he had no objection to speaking with Jane. “Oh right, the girl of your dreams. How about we go back to the hotel, I can get changed, and then we can meet you in the coffee shop and you and Jane can chat?”

  This plan was agreed to and Mary hurried back to the hotel while Stephen remained behind at the bookstore a few minutes—to avoid to be seen leaving together. Mary quickly changed clothes, all the while ignoring Jane’s speculations, and hurried down to the coffee shop where Stephen was waiting.

  Stephen had already ordered Mary a coffee, apparently remembering her order from their meeting in Chicago, which pleased her, although she would have preferred plain water. She thanked him and then put the terminal on the table so that Stephen and Jane could talk directly.

  “So you are the young man who had Mary so excited after Chicago,” were Jane’s first words, to Mary’s embarrassment.

  “Thank you Dolly Levi,”3 Mary said. “Ignore her, Stephen.”

  “Uh, OK. I mean, it really is nice to see you … to talk to you again, Miss Austen.”

  “To be precise, this is our first direct communication—without Mary as interlocutor. And I do apologize for teasing you bo
th. Making young people blush is one of the few pleasures I have left.”

  “Oh this is typical Jane,” Mary said. “She says something outrageous and then she puts on the charm.”

  “I guess that’s what I’ve always hoped you’d be like,” Stephen said.

  Stephen’s obvious worship made Mary roll her eyes, which Jane chose to ignore.

  “Now, I believe your thesis had something to do with the Enclosure Movement?”

  And so Stephen began to ply Jane with questions relevant to his thesis. To Mary, most of the questions were incomprehensible, despite her study of Jane’s life and times. She heard Stephen and Jane refer to the Reform Act, open field farming, famine, climate change, riots and Karl Marx. She kept looking at her phone to check the time, which was approaching four.

  “So did Knightley enclose the commons?”4

  “Mr Knightley? No, of course not.”

  “But then what was all that about digging drains and moving rights of way? And the gypsies attacking Harriet? It sounds like the underpinnings of …”

  Mary had had enough and said so. “Fascinating as this is …”

  Jane got the hint. “Quite right, Mary. You and Stephen had hoped to travel to the mountains. Mary shall give you my personal email address, Stephen, and you may ask any question you like. Your thesis sounds fascinating and again I wonder at how very clever I was to put all these observations into a simple love story.”

  Mary rose when she saw Stephen about to voice another question.

  “OK, we better get going,” she said. “Oh, wait, I have to get you back to the room. I’ll be right back.” She said this last to Stephen.

  As Mary was retrieving her terminal from the table, Jane said, “Well goodbye, Stephen, and I hope we meet again soon. And I shall be disappointed if Mary does not tell me you have rescued her from a grizzly bear.”

  1 A small purse closed with a drawstring

  2 The University of Colorado at Colorado Springs

  3 The titular character of the musical Hello, Dolly! about a matchmaker in turn-of-the-century (the Twentieth Century) New York City

  4 George Knightley is the hero of Emma. His brother, John, is married to Emma’s sister, Isabella. Unlike John Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility, Mr Knightley did not enclose the commons (see the footnote in the chapter titled Ripples)

  Rocky Mountains

  Awkward

  “I don’t know, Jane usually navigates,” Mary said.

  “We can just use the GPS,” Stephen suggested.

  “No, I should be able to read a map as well as a dead Regency author. OK, here it is, we take the Interstate 70 exit west … it’s just a mile or two more … and then Evergreen Parkway.”

  Mary was providing Stephen directions to a nearby mountain drive that had been suggested to her by the hotel concierge.

  “See, we should have plenty of time,” Stephen said, and pointed to the dashboard clock that indicated it had just gone past five.

  “I don’t know, they still look far away,” she said.

  “It should go pretty quick once we’re on the interstate. Look, there’s the exit.”

  He negotiated the wide, curving exit and then they were climbing a steady grade through a cut in the foothills. Soon Stephen was forced to pass lorries labouring up the slope.

  “How far to Evergreen Parkway?”

  “Maybe ten miles. Jane would know precisely.”

  “You’re talking about her a lot. I thought you were looking forward to a little time apart.”

  “I was, but now I’m worried about leaving her alone, which is stupid considering she’s usually out on her own at night.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh right, you don’t know. Well Jane likes to go walkabout at night, at least that’s what Melody calls it. She doesn’t like being cooped up in the room after I go to sleep, so I have to let her out and then she turns up in the morning. It’s like having a cat. Oh, I shouldn’t have said that. Melody would have a cow if she heard me telling anyone this.”

  “Why?”

  Mary, however, was busy marvelling at all the traffic climbing up the foothills and the realization that the foothills were impressive on their own.

  “Huh? Oh, she doesn’t like anything that makes Jane sound weird. She’s pretty protective of Jane.”

  “Well it doesn’t sound weird to me. Anyone would be strange after being dead all that time.”

  “And she’s not strange, not at all,” Mary said in defence of her friend. “It’s not like she’s wandering around like a ghost or something.”

  Of course, Mary often did wonder exactly what Jane did on her nightly excursions, and she wondered whether Jane, before the discovery of the afterlife, was a full-time voyeur. Jane had a knowledge of human—peculiarities—that no self-respecting daughter of a clergyman should possess, and yet she viewed most of those peculiarities without judgment.

  “I don’t suppose you … oh wait, is that Evergreen Parkway?” he asked.

  Mary looked at the map on Stephen’s tablet and said, “Yes, and we stay on it until we turn right onto County Road 66, which is Squaw Pass Road. So what were you about to say?”

  “It’s nothing, I just wondered if … if Jane ever did anything that made you think … no, forget it.”

  Mary looked at Stephen, who tried to pretend he was intent on looking for the road that would take them to Echo Lake, but he guiltily looked at her when he noticed her scrutiny.

  “Don’t be all mysterious. If you have something to ask, ask.”

  “OK, has Jane ever done anything to make you wonder if she really is Jane Austen?”

  “No, of course not. Why do you … do you doubt she’s Jane? Didn’t you get the answers you wanted from her?”

  “Yeah, sure, that was incredibly helpful. I admit it’s a little counter to my argument that she intentionally inserted those elements, so I have to attribute her remarks properly.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked, misunderstanding him.

  Stephen started panicking, realizing his trait of not editing his remarks was again getting him in trouble.

  “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just you started talking about Jane doing strange stuff.”

  “No I didn’t,” she said, alarmed at his question and also worried that she’d divulged more about Jane than she should have. “I just said she takes walks at night. You’re the one who said it was strange.”

  “And it’s not. I’m sorry I asked. I mean … can you forget I asked? I really don’t have any reason to doubt she’s Jane. I don’t know why I asked.”

  “Turn here.”

  “What?”

  “This is the road to Echo Lake1.”

  Stephen turned sharply into the right hand lane without a chance to signal. Luckily he’d already slowed for the traffic light and there were no cars behind them.

  “It’s forgotten,” she said.

  “Thanks. I really don’t know why I asked,” he said, feeling guilty because he knew precisely why he’d asked. Dr Davis’s suspicions had influenced him and he didn’t want to admit that to her. “Maybe I just figured …”

  “You know I really can’t forget it if you keep talking about it. And now the light’s changed.”

  Stephen looked up and saw that the light had indeed changed. He turned onto the road and hoped he would soon find that grizzly bear.

  1 Echo Lake is about 40 miles west of Denver and is part of the Denver Mountain Parks system. The lake and nearby Echo Lake Lodge are at 10,600 feet. The Mount Evans Scenic Byway, America’s highest paved road, begins at the lodge and ends at the summit at 14,264 feet.

  Toothache

  All too mortal flesh

  Jane peeked into the bedroom again and saw Mary sprawled out on the bed, her feet tangled in the sheets and most alarmingly, not visibly breathing. When she looked at Mary in infrared, however, she could see that Mary’s heart was beating and it also seemed to her that Mary’s body temperature was ele
vated.

  She went back into the seating area of the hotel room and continued typing her message and sent it and then waited anxiously. Possibly ten minutes elapsed until she noticed the hotel door open, but stopped by the door limiter. A minute later, she was rewarded by movement from the bedroom and finally saw Mary, looking frightful and wearing nothing but an oversized Colorado Rockies1 T-shirt and exercise shorts, dragging her body to the door.

  Mary looked through the peephole and then opened the door, held a brief conversation with a hotel employee and then ruefully looked over to the computer where Jane sat. After a few more words exchanged with the man, Mary closed the door and walked over to the computer. She looked confused for a moment but then woke the computer from sleep.

  “Finally,” Jane said after the computer awoke. “Mary, I was so worried. It’s ten o’clock. We will miss the signing.”

  “Oh God, Jane, I feel awful,” Mary said, and then dropped into the couch and nearly onto Jane.

  “You are ill?” Jane asked.

  “It’s my teeth. I couldn’t get to sleep until 4 a.m. What time did you say it was?”

  “It’s just gone ten, but if you are unwell … you have a toothache?”

  “I guess so, but I’ve never had problems with my teeth, only now my jaw hurts and I have this awful headache.” Mary cupped her right hand behind her jaw and the look of pain on her face brought back a memory to Jane.

  “It is a wisdom tooth, I fear. I remember Fanny holding her jaw in just that way. You must see a dentist.”

  Mary was confused and asked. “Fanny Price had … what do you call it, an impacted wisdom tooth?”

  “No, my niece Fanny. We had to take her to Mr Spence, the dentist and he … well perhaps the science of dentistry has advanced. But you must make an appointment immediately.”

  Mary, who had a positive fear of dentists, was uncertain what to do.