Midnight in Austenland

“What?” She couldn’t seem to soak in what Miss Gardenside was saying, perhaps distracted by her liberal use of “free.”

Alisha whispered, “He fancies you for real.”

She smiled and squeezed Charlotte’s hand.

Charlotte dared look at him now. He smiled broadly, showing teeth, his cheeks fully dimpled, his eyes wide, as if slightly fearful of her reaction.

“But … he’s scripted for you.”

Alisha—it was definitely “Alisha” now, in accent and manner—screwed up her mouth and shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not here for the romance. To tell the truth, I find it all fairly weird.”

She kissed Charlotte’s cheek with a smile and left without another word, and Charlotte was left in the warm breath of the conservatory alone with Mr. Edmund Grey. Or with Reginald, perhaps. But certainly with Eddie.

“Not quite the way I imagined this moment,” Eddie said.

He’d imagined it! Charlotte pressed her icy fingers to her cheeks to cool them down.

“What did you have in mind?”

“ ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day,’ that sort of thing. It always works, doesn’t it?”

She was near him now, though she didn’t remember walking into the room. Perhaps she was floating like Colonel Andrews’s ghost-on-wheels. “Why not give it a try?”

His smile softened. His hand was warm in hers.

“You are more like an autumn day. Your presence makes me sure that change is coming, and it is a change I want and welcome.”

“I’m sorry I spoiled your evening with Lydia. I hope you won’t get docked pay or anything. But I … missed you. Is that silly?”

“Wisest thing I’ve ever heard.”

They were sitting on a bench, though Charlotte didn’t remember walking there either. She seemed to be floating all over the place. Someone could tie a string to her and sell her at carnivals.

“I have a confession to make,” said Eddie. “I have a friend, a former cast member here, who fell in love with one of the clients. I thought he’d confused fantasy and reality and imagined he was in love when he was just acting a part. I hadn’t thought it truly possible. But you made it possible.”

She laughed. “This is crazy!”

“I have yet another confession: I love crazy.”

He kissed her.

You were wrong, Charlotte told her Inner Thoughts.

The Inner Thoughts nudged her kindly then took off, giving them some privacy.

And he kissed her.

And Charlotte thought: He seems to like me. He really does. Maybe (oh my, if he keeps doing that, I won’t be able to breathe), maybe there’s nothing really wrong with me. (Holy everything, he has the most delicious lips.) Maybe James would have snookered me for Justice no matter what I did. Maybe (good gracious, I could kiss this man forever), maybe it wasn’t about me after all. Maybe I’m not broken and unwantable. Maybe I’m … (Is a man holding your face while he kisses you the sweetest thing ever? Because it feels like the sweetest thing ever.)

And still he kissed her.

Now that they’d stopped talking, Charlotte could hear the music through the walls, through the windows, an echoey, spectral sound. It was sad and eerie and beautiful too, and Eddie pulled her to her feet and they danced. He held her hand, held her back, and spun her around the room. She supposed it was the waltz, or nearly. She didn’t really know what her feet were doing.

It must be near midnight by now, Charlotte thought and idly wondered if her dress would turn to rags, and horses, née mice, would come to fetch her home.

But I’m not ready to go home yet, she would tell those pesky, homebound mice. And she wouldn’t care if her dress turned to rags and she was barefoot before Eddie, the dazzle magicked away. She wouldn’t care as long as she could stay. And for the first time, she felt confident that he would want her to.

They danced to the ghostly music until it stopped. Then they kissed well past midnight and talked till dawn.

Home, last year

“I’m not leaving you,” James told the children as he emptied the closet of his clothes.

“I’ll always be your father. I’ll never leave you,” he said as he packed up some boxes and left.

Austenland, day 14

It was dawn. Eddie and Charlotte walked slowly up the stairs, the pale light from the windows pushing down on them like gravity. Her body felt like a sack of straw, but her mind buzzed, and her hand tingled where Eddie held it. They passed Colonel Andrews and Miss Charming heading for bed, and Eddie still held on.

At Charlotte’s door, they stopped, too tired to do anything else and too sorry to let go.

“I have two weeks off before the next session,” he said, his voice hoarse with morning.

“I’d like to stay,” she said. Could she stay two more weeks? Would her kids be okay? She hoped so. But what then? It didn’t matter. She was in love, and her heart felt brand-new.

She went into her room before her practical mind could wake up worrying.

She didn’t bother wrestling out of her ball gown. It turned out it was possible to sleep in a corset, though perhaps not advisable. She shut her eyes against the growing light and dreamed instantly of a truck carrying crates of cabbages.

Her Inner Thoughts grumbled. Come on! There’s nothing the least bit romantic about cabbages. After a night like that, at least you could shoot me something hot and steamy.

Charlotte, asleep, shrugged. Couldn’t be helped. Dreams chose themselves, and that morning, it was cabbages. In a truck.

She woke feeling shy. And sore. Really, it’s worth the time to remove the corset. The sun was high—she’d slept past breakfast. She was hungry but embarrassed too. Today was The End, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to wrangle a permanent happily-ever-after into it. She definitely wasn’t sure two more weeks could form something strong enough to withstand the Atlantic Ocean when it rushed between them. And after they put Austenland behind, would it become weird between her and Eddie? Would he realize that she was normal, would he make excuses and send her home?

He’s worth the risk, she told herself. Don’t go back to being numb.

After bathing, Charlotte put on the corset one last time—feeling sentimental about the constricting, torturelike undergarment—dressed, and went out.

“Good morning, Charlotte,” Miss Gardenside said. “You missed breakfast.”