gaze and then glanced back to me. I shrugged. “Well, let’s join her,” Aunt Winnie said. With one last lingering look at the men, Izzy turned and made her way to the breakfast area. Cora saw us and waved us to the table.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I already ordered us tea,” she said. “I don’t want to risk being late to the train station.”
“Tea sounds fine—” began Aunt Winnie.
Cora cut her off. “I was up all night, trying to figure out our problem. I imagine you were, too, and I think if we put our heads together, we can find a solution by the time we get to Bath.”
Aunt Winnie responded with a blank look. “What problem?” she asked.
Cora’s eyes opened in surprise. “Why, Richard, of course! What are we going to do to stop him from spreading his filthy lies about Jane?”
Aunt Winnie sighed. “Cora, anyone who believes his drivel is no Austen fan with any sense, and all true Austen fans have sense, so don’t worry. Besides, I don’t think there’s anything we can do. If the man wants to make his claims, we can’t stop him. It’s a free country, after all.”
Cora shook her head in disagreement. “No, it’s not. That’s America.”
I stifled a laugh. “I don’t think free speech is exactly frowned upon here,” I said.
Cora shot me a level look. “Well, his particular brand of speech is frowned upon by me, I can tell you that.”
“Yes, Mama,” said Izzy, pulling her still hopeful gaze away from the lobby. “Despite your rather cagey behavior, I think we all managed to decipher your true feelings about Richard Baines.”
“Well, what do you propose we do about him?” Cora countered.
“Nothing. Tease him. Laugh at him. Please, for once, don’t rise to his bait. You make it worse. Every blessed time you make it worse.” From the way Izzy uttered these words calmly and without emotion, I gathered it was an oft-repeated speech. From the way Cora kept proposing ideas, I also gathered it was an oft-ignored speech.
And so it continued for the rest of the morning. Cora could be steered to no other topic but how to thwart Richard Baines. As we headed outside to hail a taxi for Paddington Station, I saw with delight that it was a perfect, crisp autumn day—made all the more lovely by virtue of it being a perfect, crisp autumn day in London. Cora, however, seemed oblivious of our surroundings and prattled on. Could we steal his paper? Could we somehow get to Byron? Could we preempt him by calling the press ourselves?
It went on and on. After offering a few polite responses, I gave up and largely ignored her. So did Aunt Winnie and Izzy. I don’t think Cora noticed, so consumed was she by her topic. She only briefly stopped her rant when she thought she’d lost the train tickets, but upon discovering them in her coat pocket, she quickly resumed her tirade.
Soon the taxi deposited us at the station. While Cora continued to fret about “our” problem, we quickly made our way to our assigned track and soon we were on board the ten-thirty high-speed train to Bath.
Bath!
I got a happy little chill at the very thought of it. Home of the famous Roman baths, the glorious Circus, and, of course, the Jane Austen Centre. An hour and a half later, our train was pulling into Victoria Station in the city’s center. As we emerged from the station, I glanced all around me, afraid to miss one single sight. While Anne Elliot is perhaps second only to Elizabeth Bennet as my favorite Austen heroine, I have to admit I did not share her dismal view of the city. I neither entertained a very determined disinclination for Bath, nor did I hold a disinclination to see more of the extensive buildings. Rather, I was like Catherine Morland—all eager delight. My eyes were here, there, everywhere, as I approached the city’s fine and striking environs. I was come to be happy, and I felt happy already.
All around us was evidence of the upcoming festival. Banners and posters were everywhere. The
“I hope you don’t mind, but I already ordered us tea,” she said. “I don’t want to risk being late to the train station.”
“Tea sounds fine—” began Aunt Winnie.
Cora cut her off. “I was up all night, trying to figure out our problem. I imagine you were, too, and I think if we put our heads together, we can find a solution by the time we get to Bath.”
Aunt Winnie responded with a blank look. “What problem?” she asked.
Cora’s eyes opened in surprise. “Why, Richard, of course! What are we going to do to stop him from spreading his filthy lies about Jane?”
Aunt Winnie sighed. “Cora, anyone who believes his drivel is no Austen fan with any sense, and all true Austen fans have sense, so don’t worry. Besides, I don’t think there’s anything we can do. If the man wants to make his claims, we can’t stop him. It’s a free country, after all.”
Cora shook her head in disagreement. “No, it’s not. That’s America.”
I stifled a laugh. “I don’t think free speech is exactly frowned upon here,” I said.
Cora shot me a level look. “Well, his particular brand of speech is frowned upon by me, I can tell you that.”
“Yes, Mama,” said Izzy, pulling her still hopeful gaze away from the lobby. “Despite your rather cagey behavior, I think we all managed to decipher your true feelings about Richard Baines.”
“Well, what do you propose we do about him?” Cora countered.
“Nothing. Tease him. Laugh at him. Please, for once, don’t rise to his bait. You make it worse. Every blessed time you make it worse.” From the way Izzy uttered these words calmly and without emotion, I gathered it was an oft-repeated speech. From the way Cora kept proposing ideas, I also gathered it was an oft-ignored speech.
And so it continued for the rest of the morning. Cora could be steered to no other topic but how to thwart Richard Baines. As we headed outside to hail a taxi for Paddington Station, I saw with delight that it was a perfect, crisp autumn day—made all the more lovely by virtue of it being a perfect, crisp autumn day in London. Cora, however, seemed oblivious of our surroundings and prattled on. Could we steal his paper? Could we somehow get to Byron? Could we preempt him by calling the press ourselves?
It went on and on. After offering a few polite responses, I gave up and largely ignored her. So did Aunt Winnie and Izzy. I don’t think Cora noticed, so consumed was she by her topic. She only briefly stopped her rant when she thought she’d lost the train tickets, but upon discovering them in her coat pocket, she quickly resumed her tirade.
Soon the taxi deposited us at the station. While Cora continued to fret about “our” problem, we quickly made our way to our assigned track and soon we were on board the ten-thirty high-speed train to Bath.
Bath!
I got a happy little chill at the very thought of it. Home of the famous Roman baths, the glorious Circus, and, of course, the Jane Austen Centre. An hour and a half later, our train was pulling into Victoria Station in the city’s center. As we emerged from the station, I glanced all around me, afraid to miss one single sight. While Anne Elliot is perhaps second only to Elizabeth Bennet as my favorite Austen heroine, I have to admit I did not share her dismal view of the city. I neither entertained a very determined disinclination for Bath, nor did I hold a disinclination to see more of the extensive buildings. Rather, I was like Catherine Morland—all eager delight. My eyes were here, there, everywhere, as I approached the city’s fine and striking environs. I was come to be happy, and I felt happy already.
All around us was evidence of the upcoming festival. Banners and posters were everywhere. The
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