Read Online Rude Awakenings of a Jane Austen Addict by Laurie Viera Rigler - Free Book Online Page B

walked in on Frank cozying up to another woman. The woman who was designing your wedding cake,” she says, raising an eyebrow, “as if infidelity weren’t bad enough. Wes knew about it, but instead of telling you the truth, he agreed to lie for Frank. And Wes was supposed to be your closest male friend. Trouble is, he’s been friends with Frank since high school and clearly made a choice between the two of you when push came to shove.”
    She regards me narrowly. “Any of this sound familiar?”
    Indeed. For I know that sort of betrayal all too well. I can see myself back on Edgeworth’s estate, watching as he emerges from the stables, smoothing a lock of hair from his face and brushing straw from his clothes. He is walking towards me but does not see me, and something makes me hesitate to make my presence known. And then a pretty young serving woman also emerges from the stables, her apron flecked with bits of straw, her hair, which tumbles from her cap, glinting like burnished copper in the sunlight. She overtakes him, her hand reaching out for him, her smile confident as he turns to her. I am as still as can be, hiding behind a bush like a thief, heart pounding as I watch him stop her hand, then bring it to his lips. She colors deeply, clearly pleased with his attentions. He then hurries away, brushing bits of straw from his coat and giving his surroundings a furtive glance, for it is clear he would not want to be observed dallying with a servant. It is only when he disappears into the shrubbery and is well past me that I realize I have been holding my breath.
    “Courtney? You do remember, don’t you?” Paula’s voice brings me back to the table and the picture of Frank and the bustle of waiters and diners and the clink of tableware and cutlery.
    “Unhappily, it is a familiar tale.”
    “This is the first time I’ve seen you talk about it without tearing up,” Anna says. “You’ve really turned a corner, sweetie.”
    I have not the heart to tell her that the story I have just heard is as removed from my own life as the woman I am impersonating. Instead, I venture a sip from the fluted glass. “Mmm. Champagne. And orange juice.”
    “At least there’s something you remember,” says Paula. “It’s your favorite. At least for brunch.” She signals to a waiter and points at her empty glass. “And mine.”
    “Do I generally take wine at such an early hour?”
    Paula’s brows contract. “And that’s another thing. Amnesia I can understand. Confusion I get. But the way you talk? What’s up with that? It’s almost as if you were trying to sound like Keira Knightley. But without the English accent.”
    Anna gives Paula an exasperated look. “Do you have to be so blunt?”
    Paula looks a little ashamed. “I didn’t mean to be, sweetie,” she says to me. “I’m just confused is all. And you know me; I say what I think. It’s who I am. That’s why you love me. I’m a truth-teller.”
    “And I’m a liar, I suppose,” Anna says peevishly.
    A second mimosa arrives for Paula, and she takes a sip. “No, you’re just a nice person. And I’m not.”
    Anna smirks. “Which is why you love me.”
    “Don’t push your luck,” Paula says, at which Anna smacks her playfully, and Paula hooks her arm round Anna’s neck. “You know I love you, darling.”
    I can’t help but be affected by their obvious fondness for each other, despite the public display. Or perhaps here such manners are unexceptionable. Would that be so very disagreeable? To show whatever I feel whenever I feel it to whomever I feel it? Have I ever even imagined such freedom? Would that not be a little bit of heaven?
    “And you love us, too,” Paula says to me. “I can tell by that smile on your face. You may not remember us all that well, but you love us. And if not, you definitely will. I guarantee it.”
    Anna giggles. “Or your money back.”
    “But why you love Wes,” Paula says, her manner more sober now, “I’m sure I