Jane Austen & the Archangel

by Pamela Aares

  ***

  “I believe you’ll find Lord Hathloss greatly recovered,” Michael told Serena with a mysterious grin. “In many ways,” he added under his breath as he followed Jane out the door and into the gardens beyond.

  Not only had he conjured the safety of Darcy and his carriage, that afternoon Michael had also managed to work a small miracle and restored the man’s memory. At least the most important bits. Who needed the rest, anyway? And, since the endeavor had only to do with the past and there was no worry about meddling with the future, he was sure his handiwork would earn him no censure from the heavenly realms.

  He and Jane were barely obscured by the garden shrubbery when she turned a fiery face to him. He hadn’t calculated the censure he might face on earth.

  “I find I’m in a most awkward situation,” she said, anger coiling in her voice. “While I’m grateful for all you’ve done to restore Darcy to us, I find I cannot—I will not—condone your deceptions.”

  Her dismay was no surprise, but her anger had caught him off guard.

  He’d had days to consider the repercussions of his trip to Spain and of personally delivering Darcy to Anderley. And the deceptions that troubled her at the moment weren’t really what they seemed. But he couldn’t explain. And he hated to lie, tried to never do it. And he wouldn’t lie now, not even to assuage her temper. Not even to improve his case.

  But her anger shouldn’t have caught him off guard. Gabriel was right; he was slipping. As Gabriel had departed Anderley, he’d warned Michael to be careful, had said that his fascination for Jane was causing him to be careless. This was not the heavenly realm, Gabriel had warned—things were different here. He’d reminded Michael that his powers were not what they were when he worked directly out of the heavenly realm. Michael had in turn told Gabriel to stop fussing over him, it was highly annoying. After all, he’d jested, what harm could possibly come to him in the bucolic English countryside?

  He couldn’t have been more wrong.

  The demon that he’d exorcised from Rendin was likely just a starting flurry. Clearly, evil forces were gathering strength for an all-out attack. And it was his job—his real job—to deal directly with evil forces; he was one of the few who could. He had to get a grip. And he should be more careful.

  “Mr. Grace!” Jane exclaimed, drawing his attention back to the present. “At the very least, you could pretend to listen to me.”

  He snapped his gaze to hers. As he assessed the anger on Jane’s face, he wondered if he should’ve taken Gabriel’s advice and disappeared.

  “Though I will not ask you to disclose how you knew certain information about me,” she seethed, stammering slightly but obviously incensed, “I do require that you resist, that you refrain from speaking of me, of ... of my life circumstances, to others. To anyone.”

  The mangled sentence signaled her distress, even more so than her pacing in an erratic circle or her increasingly unsteady gait.

  “However,” she said, her voice faltering, “at this point I expect no truth from you at all.” She ran her hands down her arms, perhaps an attempt to disguise her trembling. She wasn’t able to hide the quiver in her voice.

  He edged closer to her, and she recoiled.

  “Miss Austen,” he said, “I know you’re feeling—”

  “You know nothing about me. And I find, sir, that I want nothing to do with you.”

  With a gasp, she toppled forward. He caught her and then cradled her against his chest, looking down into her glazing eyes.

  “Your work here, sir”—her voice was less than a whisper—“is done.”

  ***

  Jane woke to find Serena sitting at the side of her bed.

  “Here,” Serena said soothingly as she held a cup of water to Jane’s lips. “You’ve been sleeping since yesterday. The doctor said it was exhaustion from being in the sun. He said you’d be fine today.” She slanted Jane a worried glance. “How do you feel?”

  Jane sat up. She felt remarkably well.

  “I’m fine, Serena, truly.” She sipped the water, then stopped. “Darcy?”

  “He not only slept through the call for the hunt, he slept until the early afternoon.” She peered at Jane. “From the look of you when Mr. Grace carried you into the parlor, I thought maybe you had accidentally taken the laudanum.”

  Mr. Grace. The last thing she remembered was giving him some sort of ultimatum. She wasn’t sure she wanted to remember that conversation. Perhaps Darcy was fortunate.

  Some memories were best left behind.

  Chapter Eight

  Two days after the incident in the garden, Jane sat staring out at the very spot where she’d last spoken with Mr. Grace. While she couldn’t recall her actual words, she knew she had in no uncertain terms told him off. She turned the event in her mind, trying to remember. The discussion hadn’t gone as she’d planned.

  “It seems that I owe my rescue from Spain to you, Jane.”

  Darcy’s gentle voice startled her. He smiled as he walked along the path toward her. “Though Mr. Grace was mighty intent on having me believe otherwise. He implied that my mother had sent him, but from her shock at seeing me, it was clear she had no knowledge of any of it.” With a ceremonious bow, he added, “I am truly grateful.”

  “We’re all happy to have you back,” she said, pressing her lips into a smile. She’d assumed this moment would come but felt no more like discussing Mr. Grace with Darcy than she had imagined. “Though I must confess, I had little to do with it.” It was nearly true.

  “Mr. Grace was rather close-mouthed about what had spurred his mission. But you were at the heart of it, that much I did gather.”

  “Perhaps he’s a man who doesn’t easily accept recognition,” Jane said. She certainly didn’t know for she’d never properly thanked him. No matter who or what Mr. Grace was, he’d at least deserved her thanks. She’d sent him away with no kind words, that much was certain. Now she was denying her role in instigating Darcy’s rescue. Was she any less deceptive than the man she maligned? She lowered her gaze from Darcy’s questioning face, not trusting that she could hide her tumultuous feelings. They were unseemly, given the brief contact she’d had with Mr. Grace, and especially unseemly given her disdain for his deceiving ways. It was frivolous and distracting to be wasting her thoughts on such a man; if she didn’t keep her mind on ideas for her next book, her funds would be even scarcer than they were now. And her behavior was selfish. The challenges facing Darcy and Serena were of much greater consequence. But though she fought to tame the emotions stirred by those seemingly innocent hours spent with Mr. Grace, she couldn’t deny that her feelings haunted her. She jerked her attention back to Darcy, brought her eyes to meet his but found she had nothing to say.

  “Forgive me,” Darcy said. “I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that everything is a mystery to me, although much is clearing, if slowly. Lord Gabriel was right—returning to Hartley, seeing my parents and being on the land, even for the short time I’ve been back, is helping me to recall.” Lines fanned out from his eyes as he frowned. “But I still fear what I may eventually remember—what I may have done, during the war, what I have become. I told Serena as much.”

  He reached out and fingered the petals of a lush peony, stroking it gently.

  “I love her,” he said. “Even if I hadn’t recalled a few precious memories of our earlier days together, I feel it now, feel it so deeply that it strikes awe in me. Yet I fear I may no longer be worthy of her.”

  “Darcy,” Jane said firmly, “had you seen Serena in your absence, you would know she couldn’t imagine a life apart from you. You must trust who you are. One’s deepest character doesn’t change; it’s simply not possible.” She looked him in the eye, hopeful he could read her sincerity. “And you must trust your heart.” But as the words left her, she realized that she wasn’t trusting her own. The vigil that it kept for word from Mr. Grace only disturbed and unsettled her.

  How odd for sadness and foolishnes
s to occupy the same space in the heart as hope.

  ***

  “Oh!” Serena exclaimed, as she raced into Jane’s chamber the next afternoon. “You should have seen Lady Morland lay into my mama! The dowager’s low estimation of Lord Rendin’s character is bested only by my own.”

  She leaned against the bedpost and waved her hand, mimicking Lady Morland.

  “ ‘Vanessa,’ she said to Mama, ‘you are a fool beyond my estimation of what a fool can be. If you do not banish that man from this house, I am leaving immediately!’ ” Serena giggled. “I could see my mother calculating which of the two would carry the most damning consequence. I swear she can weigh the social advantages of her actions faster than hawks can fly. And she positively hates being called Vanessa. But in the end, she concurred, with evident reluctance. When Papa met with Lord Rendin this morning, the man was foolish enough to argue. Papa told Rendin to leave—well, he suggested that he might want to repair to London, I think is how Papa told me he put it.”

  She sat at the edge of the bed.

  “It was as though all the events of the past days finally made them acknowledge my objections, made them see the man for what he is. And it was in good time. I was afraid that if he spent one more night under this roof, Darcy would call him out!”

  Jane had observed the growing tension between the two men; in fact, everyone had. And though Darcy seemed determined to act the gentleman and to respect that Lord Rendin was a guest of the Baringdons, she suspected Darcy’s disgust for the man cut deeper than any of theirs.

  “This is the best possible news, Serena!”

  Serena wrapped Jane in a hug. “As usual, you are my guardian angel.” She pulled away and looked into Jane’s eyes. “Rendin’s gone, Jane—gone! I can scarcely believe it. You were right about everything.”

  Jane turned away from Serena and eased over to the window. Tears of relief and happiness welled in her eyes, and she batted them away with the back of her hand.

  “Serena, you’ve made an absolute melting pot of me,” she jested. “I shall never forgive you.” Never before had it been so hard to witness joy and feel so little herself. But she vowed she simply wouldn’t allow her absurd feelings for Mr. Grace taint her happiness for Serena. Lost in her thoughts, she nearly jumped when Serena slipped to her side and intertwined their fingers.

  “Oh, I am being insensitive,” Serena said thoughtfully. “You’re fretting—I can see it. I know we’ll hear from Mr. Grace, some word, surely. Though it is strange how quickly he departed.”

  “Mr. Grace fulfilled his pledge to help,” Jane said flatly. She hadn’t told anyone of the scene in the garden. “And I’m grateful to him, as I know you are.” Though her words were measured, she failed to keep the ambivalence out of her voice.

  Serena eyed her, clearly unconvinced. “Now I am certain there’s more to your feelings for him than you’ve revealed. You should hear yourself.”

  “I have enough sense to know that whatever Mr. Grace inspired, it’s best to simply settle for the inspiration.” She’d meant to say the words with a calm dignity, but her voice wavered.

  Serena stared. “I know something of losing one’s heart to a man considered inappropriate. Hearts care little for convention.”

  “I suppose I’ve discovered that feelings can be awakened in even the most resolute hearts,” Jane admitted. “And I am, in the least, glad for the stirring. But I must make no more of it than that.”

  A sphinx-like smile came into Serena’s face. “I think that Mr. Grace was right—you, my dear Jane, are afraid of love. But don’t worry; your secret’s safe with me. That is, it’s safe as long as you let me do something about it.”

  When Jane looked away from her, Serena sighed. Loudly and dramatically. Jane had to bite back a grin.

  “You can’t orchestrate longings of the heart, Jane, you told me so yourself. And you certainly can’t think your way out of them, much as you might wish it to be possible.”

  “I’m fine,” Jane protested. “Truly. What matters is that he helped restore Darcy to us. It’s more than I ever imagined.”

  But it wasn’t. If she were to be even remotely truthful with herself, she’d have to admit that Mr. Grace had affected her more than she’d known was possible. But she’d allowed her imagination to run away with her sensibility. Worse, she’d allowed herself to be less than truthful—no, to be actively deceptive— about the whole matter and didn’t even know why. At a time when she should be celebrating her friend’s good fortune, she felt peevish and miserable, and disappointed in herself for both.

  “Well, in any case, I must ask you a favor,” Serena said. “Another favor.” She touched her forehead to Jane’s. “I often wonder—how do you tolerate me? I can only hope that through some mysterious office of fate, something I do will bring you the greatest joy.”

  “Serena, if you had any inkling of how you light the world, you would be intolerable.”

  Serena wrinkled her nose and laughed. “You sometimes say the most preposterous things!” She stood and started to pace the room, hands clasped behind her back. Jane wondered if she knew she looked like a general preparing a campaign.

  “There’s to be a ball, at the end of the week, to celebrate Darcy’s homecoming,” Serena said. “Princess Charlotte has arranged it—commanded it would be more accurate. It’s to recognize Darcy’s heroism during the war. It appears that the rumors of her having a tendre for military officers and topics militaire are true.”

  “Likely they’re the only men of her acquaintance with something of consequence to say,” Jane said. She heard the bite of sarcasm in her voice.

  For the first time in her life, she didn’t like it.

  “Papa told me this morning that several officers who fought beside Darcy have come forward with astonishing details of his bravery—astonishing to others, perhaps, but not to me.”

  Serena began to fidget with the trim on the bodice of her gown. Jane grew instantly wary.

  “Since Mama has let it be known widely that you are our guest,” Serena said, “well, when Princess Charlotte heard of it, she specifically asked that you attend. Evidently she’s fond of your writing; she has at least that in her favor.” She stopped in front of Jane. “I know how you loathe such attention, but given the circumstances, would you consider it?” Without taking a breath she added, “In my secret heart, I think of it as a coming out celebration for me and Darcy.” A radiant smile lightened her face. “And we wouldn’t be together again if it hadn’t been for you.”

  “That smile of yours should be regulated.” Jane laughed. “Or perhaps employed by England to best Napoleon—I doubt even he could stand in the face of it. In any case, even if I had the heart to refuse you, which I don’t, I can hardly refuse a royal command.”

  “You are a dear friend!” Serena said with infectious delight. “And now that the waltz has been introduced at Almack’s—there’s even to be waltzing!”

  “But I don’t know how to waltz,” Jane protested. Dancing, though it had been a childhood passion, was currently the least of her concerns.

  “But you will! We’ll have lessons every morning this week, compliments of Lady Morland’s dance instructor, she has sent for him already.”

  “She has a dance instructor?” The image brought a smile to Jane’s face.

  “She’s kept him on for years. He’s probably an antique. But she assures me he knows the steps.” Serena waved her arms in the air. “We’ll be brilliant. And there’s time to fashion a new gown for you.” She shot an impish grin at Jane. “Don’t pretend that fashion isn’t one of your finest pleasures; I know you too well to hear that denied.”

  Serena began rifling through the armoire, then, in a fit of inspiration, rang for her maid.

  “Carrie, would you bring the dresses down from the attic. Make sure to bring the blue one from the farthest chest.” A smile lit Serena’s eyes as the maid left the room. “I had them made before Darcy left for Spain. My trousseau, I had imagined.
Though they may be a touch out of mode, they are lovely and we can add a modish trim. Why, we can go into the village and you can select trim of your liking!” She winked at Jane. “And maybe, just maybe, we can take your mind off the mysterious Mr. Grace.”

  Serena was right, Jane realized, her spirits lifting. The prospect of a ball would provide a welcome diversion from the foolish ache in her heart.

  “Blue is my favorite color, Serena,” she said, rallying. “And a ball sounds like great amusement. Not to mention that the antics of the royals and their coterie could inspire volumes.” Feeling lighthearted, she returned Serena’s wink.

  “You are wicked, Jane,” Serena teased.

  Jane laughed and hoped Serena’s proclamation was true only in the best sense of the word.

  Chapter Nine

  Lanterns lined the entire lane to Avdingdon Park, their light sparkling through the trees like hundreds of dancing stars. The great house blazed with light from its enormous chandeliers, and they cast a glowing circle onto the stone paths edging the closest gardens. As they approached, Jane saw the shadowed figures of dancers already swirling in the main ballroom. She watched and wondered whether her slippers would bear such rigorous activity. Then she scoffed at the silly thought, for she knew no one present aside from the Baringdons and was unlikely to be asked to dance.

  Their party moved through the crush of festive revelers in the foyer. Lady Baringdon was intent upon greeting their hosts and angling for an introduction to Princess Charlotte.

  “Mama, on a mission to intersect with royalty, is unstoppable,” Serena whispered to Jane in apology.

  They were halted in their progress when Jane found herself surrounded by a group of ladies who began pelting her with questions about her books. They were obviously acquaintances of the princess, or they wouldn’t have known Jane’s identity. Unaccustomed to such attention, she couldn’t summon astute answers to their many, and varied, questions. She was particularly thrown when one young lady asked whether the hero of Pride and Prejudice had been modeled on the night’s guest of honor, Lord Darcy Hathloss. Darcy had yet to arrive, and Jane felt a pang of chagrin that he would be subject to their speculations when he did. She vowed in that very moment that she would never again name characters after identifiable friends.