Page 45 of The Austen Escape
I’m so nervous. Do I look all right?” Isabel pirouetted around the bathroom in a soft pink gown, this one silk with intricate green beading sewn along the hem.
“You look beautiful.”
I felt calm now. My plan had worked. Grant had been at the stables and visibly happy to see her. I’d left her with him and a horse named Goliath—and the offer of a gig ride.
Isabel had lit up before grabbing my wrist. “Should we take turns? It is not strictly appropriate, but I have always wanted to ride in one. Can we?”
“You’d feel comfortable with Grant alone?”
“Of course.” She glanced to the man in question. “Don’t you?”
I looked to Grant. He smiled. I looked back to Isabel. Her face was eager and open, without strain or anxiety.
“I’ll take care of her, Catherine.” Grant winked. I almost corrected him, then remembered who I was. Catherine Morland.Northanger Abbey.
“You two go and take your time. I’ll go for a walk.”
Four hours later, and probably twice the number of miles, wemet back in our room to dress for dinner, Isabel acting like a girl in love. I shoved bobby pins into my hair.
She stopped and swatted at my hand. “It won’t stay like that. You have to twist... Here, let me.”
I watched through the mirror as she removed the pins. The afternoon had given color to my cheeks, and even my eyes felt bright. Nathan had always questioned why I ran on a treadmill, and after a day outside I questioned it myself.
Nathan was coming to Braithwaite House. I glanced at my watch. Seventeen hours. Would Isabel recognize him? What would she say? When she did remember, would she laugh it off? Maybe with anI never realizedor aYou know me; I’m terrible with namesor worst of all aYou couldn’t have really cared about him. Or maybe she wouldn’t say any of those things, maybe I was being unjust and it was all a horrid miscommunication or an innocent mistake or...
I willed my thoughts to stop tumbling toward every scenario simultaneously. All would be clear soon enough. Nathan had e-mailed his flights, and I had replied with the link to the Braithwaite House website.
We would all have confrontation and clarity soon.
Isabel pulled me into a hug from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. “You don’t look happy. Please know, again, that I’m sorry for whatever I did to hurt you.”
I bit my lip. The twinge of pain acted as an antidote for impending tears.
“Let’s get this up.” Isabel addressed me through the mirror as she slid the brush from my hand. She brushed my hair in long, gentle strokes, much as my mother had when I was little. Much as she herself had done for our eighth-grade Turnabout Dance.
I hadn’t wanted to go. Dad, Mom, and I were pretty low that year, but Isabel and Dad insisted. And Isabel made sure I felt beautiful. She found me a deep-red dress at the mall, did my makeup, and brushed my hair “one hundred times for shine.” It had flowed down my back in one silky chestnut wave.
We had fun that night—amazing, laugh-out-loud, best-friend, silly-girl fun. I also got my first kiss from Billy Lungreen as we left the gym. Then Isabel spent the night and we relived every moment until we watched the sunrise.
“You have lovely hair.” Her soft compliment brought me back to the present. She gently twisted it up and put in the bobby pins I couldn’t make work. “You look exquisite.”
I thought nothing more could surprise me, but Isabel did. Or maybe Isabel-as-Emma did. Whatever it was, this was new.
She pulled a strand of my hair from the bun and, twirling her finger, curled it to drape down the side of my face. “Perfect.”
With few words—because I couldn’t find any—we left the room. Again she surprised me by stepping back, gesturing to me to take the lead down the stairs and into the parlor.
At the threshold I stopped so abruptly she tripped into me.
Gertrude, standing at the doorway, tapped her fan against my arm. “Don’t gape, dear, it’s rude.” She gestured into the room. “Please come in. We’ve been waiting for you both.”
Herman crossed the floor, gunning straight for Isabel. He enveloped her hand within both of his own. “I have been waiting for you tonight. Come sit with”—he paused to search for the name, then with a tremulous smile found an answer—“my wife by the fire. It’s so chilly since the wind changed.”
Isabel let Herman pull her away, while I stood in awe. The lamps had been cleared. Huge silver candelabras sat on tablesand cast a gorgeous yellow glow over everything. Even the furniture was different. The large armchairs had been replaced by delicate pieces with needlepoint cushions and graceful scrolling woodwork. The thick rug was gone too. The room glowed with wood, light, and warmth—and that was only the room.
The people... The men were dressed in pants so tight and smooth they must have been made of silk; socks white beyond bleaching; and linen shirts that stood stiff but looked so thin you could see them billow with air and movement. Their coats were velvet. They reflected light. And their neck bows... They were beautiful in their stiff, odd perfection.
The women were even more stunning. Helene and Sylvia were dressed in the same high-waisted style Isabel and I wore, but having more cleavage, they filled them far better. Sylvia looked ethereal in pale-yellow silk with matching gloves. Her fair skin and hair completed the picture of a delicate yellow rose. I had imagined Jane Bennet to look just that way. No wonder Sylvia had cast herself and her husband in those roles.
