Page 20 of The Austen Escape
I turned my attention to the walls. They were papered in a cream color with laurel-colored vines running up every few inches. I ran a finger along a vine. It was slightly bumpy.
“Could these be hand painted? It’s three-dimensional.”
“Sure, lots of papers are, especially the really expensive ones.” Isabel dropped her handbag on one of the beds. “It feels a little too haute couture, doesn’t it? Modern meets Regency meets Limitless Funds.”
“Stop.” I flapped a hand to soften the command. “You’re used to this stuff, but it’s the most exquisite room I’ve ever seen. Don’t tell me this doesn’t floor you. You can’t have seen anything like this often—ceilings this high, the fabrics, the furniture. Look at those carvings.”
Isabel tipped her head back. “Plaster.” She then caught my expression and held her hands up in surrender. “What? They are. Plaster moldings applied to the ceiling. That’s how it’s done.”
“Please. Let me enjoy this.”
“Youaregetting into it.”
“It’s surprising me too.” I lifted a shoulder. “Maybe because it’s all so different. It feels like nothing I could imagine. What in my world approaches this?” I walked to the window and grabbed a section of the curtains. “Come feel this. It’s so heavy. I bet there’s more than fifty pounds of fabric here.”
“Do not weigh the drapery.” Isabel laughed as she headed to a large standing wardrobe.
I opened the door to the bathroom and ogled again. Here historical accuracy ended. It was all white marble with two porcelain freestanding sinks and a huge claw-footed soaking tub. The fixtures were curved and arched like the necks of swans and their slight warm coloring let me know they were finished in polished nickel rather than chrome, including the heated towel rack mounted outside the shower. But it was the sense of air and light that captivated me most. Sunlight shot through tree limbs and dappled the marble in subtle color. It was so much softer than the bright white glare of a Texan sun. It felt like music. Brahms’ Lullaby compared to Def Leppard. And...
“Isabel, get in here. The floor is warm; the marble floor is heated. You’ve got to come feel this.”
She came in and didn’t comment, but I could tell... She liked the floor as much as I did. Her lips were pressed tight. She was trying not to smile.
“Oh, let it out.”
She giggled and clasped her hands together. “This is so awesome. The pictures were gorgeous, but I didn’t expect this.”
A few minutes later I crawled under the desk to plug in my adapter and insert cables for both my computer and my phone. “I wish I didn’t have to do this. It feels like I’m betraying the house.” I backed out and sat on the carpet, pressing my hands into the soft wool. “What do you want to do now?”
Isabel was curled on her bed tapping on her phone. “Give me just a second to e-mail my father, then we’ll dress up.”
“What?”
Isabel didn’t reply. “There.” She dropped her phone onto the bed and stood. “Come on. I checked both wardrobes, and since these dresses are shorter, this wardrobe must be mine.” She bentout of sight on the other side of her bed. “The bottom drawers are full of underclothes. They’ve even got boots and silk slippers.” She pulled up one champagne-colored shoe with a pink bow on the toe. It looked like an icing rose atop a birthday cake. “I sent in all our sizes. They even asked color preferences.”
I pushed off the floor and opened my own wardrobe. “So everything here is tailored to fit me? In a week?”
“Actually, they had a month—I knew you’d say yes.” Isabel tossed out the sentence with light flippancy, then froze. She faced me. “Iwantedyou to say yes, Mary. I didn’tknowyou would, but I hoped. That’s why I called your dad.” She pointed back to my wardrobe. “Pick one. Did you notice the palette?”
I turned back to my wardrobe. All the dresses had that same high empire waist of the mannequin halfway up the stairs. Some were thick and heavy, wool for winter. Others were light. Cotton for warmer weather. And some, just a few, were organdy and lace or silk, with intricate flowers or swirling designs embroidered on the bodices and hems. And all were warm colors—browns, purples, oranges, dark yellows.
“Thank you. All my best colors.” I pulled one out and draped it across my bed. “Can you imagine peeking into the room to find this lying across the bed? Maybe Lizzy has just stepped into the bathroom and you missed her, right before the Netherfield ball.”
“Or Emma has pulled out one of her good gowns to go to the Coles’ party. After all, she’ll lead the dance. She takes special care in hopes it might be with Mr. Churchill, but of course, little does she know...” Isabel raised her brows as if keeping back a salacious secret.
“Or maybe we’ve just missed...” I searched my newly gained repertoire of knowledge. “Anne going to check on little Charles,because this is Mary’s room and she’s wearing this dress to dinner at the Musgroves’, terrible mom that she is.”
“Well done.” Isabel’s grin lit her whole face. “You’re deep intoPersuasionnow.” She pulled down a dress, a light summer sky blue, from her own wardrobe. “Come feel this.”
It was made of thin wool and felt heavenly soft, like cashmere.
“These aren’t cheap.” I picked up the one I’d pulled down, a dark-brown silk with red and rose flowers embroidered along the edges. There was a narrow matching ribbon circling each sleeve. It looked rare and special and long enough to fit my five-nine frame. “Not cheap at all. Look at this detail... This one’s definitely the loveliest.” I held the dress at my chest.
Isabel stepped to me and dropped the gold chain around my neck over the dress’s collar. The stone’s gold and maple tones glowed atop the brown silk. “The color matches your eyes and it’s beautiful with your amber.”
I reached up and fingered the necklace my father had given me for my college graduation—a beautiful chunk of polished and radiant amber hanging from a delicate gold chain. It was the only piece of jewelry I always wore. He loved thatambermeant “electron” in Greek. It was to remind me of him, of our work each and every summer, and, in many ways, to signal my bright future. Dad was optimistic like that. It also meant “beaming sun.” I liked that definition best; it felt hopeful. And after Nathan’s recent gift of the unpolished rubbing stone, it now reminded me of him too. “You know—”
“Electronfrom ancient Greek. Electricity. Energy. Light.” Isabel smiled and recited words I’d probably told her a thousand times. I appreciated that she understood its importance to me and never made fun of the gift, just the fact that I constantly defined it for her.
