Read Online Jane Austen Made Me Do It by Laurel Ann Nattress - Free Book Online Page B

wouldn’t have to fake the shivers.
    Fred spoke directly into the camera. “We have with us the owner of Northanger Abbey, Mr. Morland Tilney-Tilney. Mr. Tilney-Tilney, your family has lived in Northanger Abbey for how long now?”
    Mr. Tilney-Tilney tucked his nonexistent chin into the opening of his sweater vest. “Well, you see, there was a spot of bother about Henry VIII and the monks a few hundred years back—”
    â€œFascinating, Mr. Tilney-Tilney! But what about the paranormal appearances?”
    â€œThe whatsits?”
    Erin oozed into the frame. “Ghosts, Mr. Tilney-Tilney. Specters, ghouls …”
    â€œThe shades of the not-so-departed departed,” contributed Hal, from safely out of range of the camera. He shared a wry smile with Cate.
    What was a bright man like Hal doing in an operation like this? At least Hal had the excuse of filial affection. Whereas Catewas here out of cowardice and habit, too afraid to leave the security of the familiar to actually go after what she wanted. What did that make her?
    She decided she’d rather not think about it. She’d gotten very good at not thinking about it.
    â€œGhosts?” Mr. Tilney-Tilney cocked his head in confusion. “Oh, you mean that rubbish by the lady novelist! Frightfully famous, too, can’t think of her name at the moment. Crashing bore, all this dance and that aunt and who’s going to marry whom. Don’t go in for that sort of thing myself.”
    â€œWho would?” The only thing Fred read was
Hello!
and, occasionally,
OK!
If it didn’t have an exclamation mark in the title, he wasn’t interested. “Now, Mr. Tilney-Tilney, what about—”
    â€œSlept here once, you know,” Tilney-Tilney carried on, oblivious. “More trouble than they’re worth, those writing folk. Frightful cheek, putting all those lies in print. Aged housekeepers, secret passageways, murdered wives. Nonsense!”
    â€œNonsense … or truths too terrible to be contemplated?” Fred jumped once more into the breach. “Tell me about the White Lady. Was she the murdered wife of General Tilney? Or yet another lost soul haunting the ancient grounds of Northanger? A novice, perhaps, seduced by a renegade monk and shamed into an early grave, leaving a phantom infant behind?”
    Tilney-Tilney crushed his hopes with a decisive, “Lies, the lot of it! Never had a speck of trouble until
she
got here.”
    Fred pasted on a big, fake smile. “Excellent, Mr. Tilney-Tilney! Beautifully done!” Leaning towards Lenny, Fred murmured, “We’ll edit that out later.”
    Lenny sketched a brief thumbs-up. They’d played this game before.
    The team trailed along after Fred as he led them into a spacious hall, well furnished in cobwebs but conspicuously lacking inpennants, baronial fireplaces, dark paneling, and the other indicia of a good haunted manor. The room had obviously been remodeled in the eighteenth century. Neoclassicism made for poor haunting grounds.
    â€œThis,” said Fred into the camera, “is the Great Hall.”
    â€œEr, just call it the hall, actually,” said Mr. Tilney-Tilney, popping into the camera frame.
    Fred shouldered him out. “
Thank
you, Mr. Tilney-Tilney. Now, if you look here, you’ll see—What’s that, Hal?”
    Hal rubbed the back of his neck. His lips were blue. “Is it just me, or is it colder in here than out?”
    It was one of their standard lines, but this time, Hal actually looked as though he meant it. Cate felt a shiver travel up her spine. Hal was right. It
was
cold. Not that that was unusual—old building, poor heating, limited sunlight. All logical.
    Even so, she couldn’t help but look uneasily over her shoulder. Crap, this job was beginning to get to her. Next thing you knew, she’d be gibbering on about White Ladies.
    Or just gibbering. “Ouch!”
    Fred had