Page 71 of The Austen Escape
We were standing on the sidewalk of the Royal Crescent, a mile from Braithwaite House, in full Regency dress. And at that moment, three separate families were taking pictures of us.
“Can you pose again please?”
Isabel clapped her hand over her mouth. “What do we do?”
“Smile, then run.” I stretched my lips wide.
She grabbed at my arm with both hands, then looked out at the growing crowd. “‘For what do we live,’” she quoted, “‘but to make sport for our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn?’”
Three women clapped.
I cringed. “Can we go back now?”
Isabel shook her head. “There’s something cathartic about humiliation. Let’s walk to the end and back.”
“I don’t need any more humiliation.” As soon as the words escaped, I wished to call them back. Isabel understood that I was reacting to more than the dresses.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t.” I looped my arm through hers. “Going back won’t help us. I shouldn’t have said that. And in the end maybe I’ll be thanking you.”
“Thanking me?”
“Nathan had left WATT, and you know me. I wouldn’t have pursued him—ever. There is a chance I wouldn’t have seen him again.”
“I will never take credit for that.” She tugged me close. “Come on. One lap for good-bye.”
Arm in arm, we took our lap. We were stopped seventeen times for pictures—and several groups cut in front of us to take selfies with us as their backdrop.
Chapter 23
Isabel stalled at Brathwaite House’s front gate. “I don’t want to do this... Do I have to?”
“It’s a few apologies. The rest we can work out later.” I started forward.
She gestured to the path. “This way is faster to the stables. I owe everyone an apology, but I owe him more, Mary. I need to see Grant first.”
“Go then.”
She gave me a hug and headed down the side path while I continued up the main drive. The sun was behind the house now. Afternoon sent slanted rays across the roofline and shot a warm rose glow off the chimneys.
I didn’t want to go back either. Each step felt heavy. I pushed open the front door and found myself alone in the darkened front hall. Sonia had not gone through and switched on the lights or lit the evening’s candles.
It was that Regency resting time, the lull between the afternoon event and the procession of the evening. I suspected the Muellerswere in their room asleep; Clara was curled up with her iPad with Sylvia nearby; and Aaron, if not comforting his daughter, was out-side somewhere with Grant.
I climbed the stairs, intending to change for dinner as was expected. Yet without thinking about it, I found myself pulling on jeans and a sweater. I grabbed my Converse from the bottom of my suitcase.
I stepped into the gallery as Gertrude passed, clutching a high stack of linens.
“Can I help you?” I reached for the toppling tower.
“The cupboard is at the end of the hall.” She righted the stack and continued on. I followed. “Is Isabel okay now?”
“She will be... I don’t think I ever truly understood. I doubt I do now.”
“Sometimes you can’t see something clearly until you step away from it.” Gertrude propped the linens on a display case while she opened another concealed closet. She turned and took in my outfit. “Are you going out?”
“Would you mind if I walked into Bath? I might even skip dinner. I need to clear my head.”
