Emma, Mr. Knightley, And Chili-Slaw Dogs Part 16

"Too bad." Obviously a man, and he would bet the farm that it was Marshall. "You signed up for this. You took money for the job. It's not finished."

"I'm finished. I've been to every mansion in three states. I can't go to one more party and spew that c.r.a.p about the book deal. Eventually someone will check it out."

"That's not my problem. Set up a fake website. Put out a news release. You thought it was a great plan four months ago and you've certainly made enough from it."

There was the sound of a door slamming. Brooks stepped to the side, trying to see down the hallway. A woman appeared, her long dark hair swinging from side to side and she stomped out of the shop.

"Is that who we're looking for?" Blanche whispered behind him.

He shook his head. That wasn't who he was looking for, but now that he'd seen her, it all made sense. "I'm done here. We should head out."

They exited the shop in a hurry, brushing off the salesgirl's offers to take a card. Brooks unlooped Absalom's leash and quickly unlocked the car.

"We should stop for lunch. I need something to keep me going. Shoppin' can be such a drain on an elderly lady's reserves."

"Elderly?" He shot her a glance. "But you're right about the food. You choose. I'll take wherever you want to go." He didn't have any appet.i.te. There was nothing left for him to feel but anger.

"I've a hankering for some pulled pork. Does that sound good to you?"

"Sure does." Pulled pork, pork chops, dog biscuits. It all sounded the same.

All he wanted right now was a few minutes with Marshall in a secluded area where they could have a little talk, man to man.

There he was, among the standers-by, where he ought not to be; he ought to be dancing, - not cla.s.sing himself with the husbands, and fathers, and whist-players [...]so young as he looked! [...] His tall, firm, upright figure, among the bulky forms and stooping shoulders of the elderly men, was such as Emma felt must draw every body's eyes[...] He moved a few steps nearer, and those few steps were enough to prove in how gentlemanlike a manner, with what natural grace, he must have danced, would he but take the trouble. Whenever she caught his eye, she forced him to smile; but in general he was looking grave.-- Emma

Chapter Nineteen.

The old barn was opened, both doors pulled wide. Caroline stepped out of her car, drawing a deep breath of what must be freshly mown alfalfa. The frogs were calling to each other and a few crickets joined the chorus. It was a magical night, perfect in every way. The humidity had let up to a bearable level and she felt like she could inhale without drowning. The fine hairs moved on the back of her neck. Turning, she saw a man walking toward her across the gravel drive. His deep blue morning coat was perfectly cut and the breeches didn't show a single wrinkle, tapering into leather hunting boots. The vest and cravat glowed whitely in the dim light. Her eyes moved to his face and her mind worked to reconcile what she knew with what she was seeing. From the first glance, she'd known it was Brooks, simply by the familiar movements of his body. As well as she knew her own hand, she knew his walk, his bearing. And she knew that mathematical knot.

But his expression was not the Brooks she knew. His mouth was a thin line, as if he was steadying himself for something painful. They locked eyes and he nodded at her, jaw tight.

"There you are!" She waved enthusiastically and walked toward him, holding her long dress tucked in one hand. The curls from her elaborate hair-do blew into her eyes and she brushed them back with an impatient motion.

"Here I am," he said. He held his arms out to the side and waited for a verdict.

"Where did you park?" She didn't see where he'd come from, it was just as if he'd popped out of the twilight.

He pointed to the edge of the field, his Brando-mobile leaned in the shadow of the barn. "Wouldn't we have made a pair, riding through the streets of Th.o.r.n.y Hollow on a vintage triumph, in Regency gear?"

She giggled. "All the old people would have rushed to the doctors for a tonic." Holding up the edge of her skirt she said, "Poor dress wouldn't have survived that kind of treatment, forget about my hair."

He bent closer. A small smile touched his lips. "Forget-me-nots. Fitting for a girl who loves a mud pie from Bravard's."

"Right. The chili-slaw dog embroidered dresses were all sold out."

He laughed out loud and she felt the breath catch in her throat. n.o.body could possibly look better in this costume than Brooks. It wasn't humanly possible. His gaze locked on hers and for a moment she saw a debate rage inside. And then it was gone. He straightened up, away from her. The laughter was gone and in its place was this new, solemn Brooks.

"I know you didn't want to come. If it hadn't been for Debbie Mae-"

"I did. I did want to come." He interrupted. "I just didn't want to come as someone else."

"But you make a perfect Mr. Knightley." Caroline looked up at him, taking it all in once more. "Really. It's almost like you've walked right out of that PBS movie. I haven't seen it yet, don't tell our hostess. She might roast me for the guests instead of the pork shoulder the caterers brought. No, you're perfect. Definitely taller, but just as handsome."

Something in his face softened at her words. "As long you think so." He paused, shaking his head. "You see what terrible manners I have? My Southern forebears are spinning in their graves. I haven't yet complimented you on your costume."

Caroline laughed, twirling in a circle. "It's not uncomfortable at all. When Debbie Mae hatched this plan, I thought we were going to be laced into corsets and be struggling with bustles." She ran her hands down the length of her bodice. "It's very soft. I think might wear this all the time."

"You look beautiful." It was a pat answer, but something in his voice made her glance up in surprise. The tightness in his face was back and his expression was serious.

"You don't have to do this, you know." She moved forward, laying a hand on his arm. Maybe he had a phobia of costume parties. Maybe he was afraid of what Lauren would think of him.

His gaze fixed on her hand and he seemed to be choosing his words. "What can it hurt?"

She nodded, feeling a deep down sureness that he was saying something quite the opposite. What was he dreading? Glancing back at the barn door, she could see the groups moving inside. Bright costumes whirled by and laughter echoed out into the drive. An image flashed in her mind, of Lauren and Brooks sitting on the wrought iron bench together in the botanical garden, admiring Badewood in all its beauty. Her heart squeezed in her chest. Had he asked her out and she refused him? But she seemed drawn to Brooks, just as much as every other woman in the universe.

"I'll protect you from all the pretty girls inside, okay?" She forced herself to laugh, but it came out sounding like a pale shadow.

"All of them? You promise?" He leaned toward her, eyes locked on hers.

"Promise." She smiled, hoping it looked genuine. Her heart was tight, wondering how any woman could refuse a man like Brooks. A light breeze spring up, carrying the scent of jasmine and pushing curls into her eyes again.

He stepped closer. "There's only one I'm afraid of, honestly."

She nodded. Lauren's bright white Regency dress was stunning in its simplicity, setting off her tan and enormous gray eyes. She had looked like a 19th century painting. Even a glimpse of Lauren must be torture if she doesn't love him back. "I'll do my best."

"If you said the word, everything would change." He took a deep breath. "Caroline-"

"But how?" She shook her head. "I don't have that much influence over anybody. I know you think I do, but I don't." And she certainly wouldn't tell Lauren to go out with him if she did have the power to change the girl's opinion.

He opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to think better if it. He smiled, shrugging. "A man can always try."

The sound of footsteps reached them right before Manning's voice called out. "You two! Stop dilly-dallying around outside and come help me out. I've got more women than I can possibly partner."

"Oh, joy." Brooks sighed and threw a sharp look at Caroline as she laughed out loud.

"I thought you were resolved to be dancing tonight."

"I only had one partner in mind." He mumbled the words under his breath as he jammed the top hat on his head. Setting off for the door, looked grimly determined, he held out his arm.

She took it, holding the hem of her gown in one hand. They really should have been wearing gloves but it was so warm. She noticed the softness of his jacket, how the heavy material felt under her hands. No wonder he wasn't thrilled with this party. He must have been wearing a good five pounds of fabric compared to her loose and comfortable dress. The bodice was fitted but it only came to the top of her rib cage. Nothing like the long coat he wore.

The room was booming with sound and she gasped in happiness. The band was already playing a reel and couples were marching up and down a long line. Brooks pulled her to one side and they stood, watching the swirl of dresses and tails.

"Word must have gotten out," he said into her ear. "This party is definitely bigger than Debbie Mae intended."

Caroline nodded, a huge smile spreading over her face. "I bet it was Blanche. She can really pull the folks together when we need it."

The barn had been decorated with long swags of greenery. White-clothed tables held serving dishes piled with food and several punch bowls filled with a deep rose colored drink.

He noticed her surveying the barn and leaned down again to say, "Manning hung the boughs. I swept the pigeon p.o.o.p. I think I should get more points for tackling such a job."

She turned, laughing. His face was close to hers, and he looked happy, relaxed. "Gold star, definitely."

The band at the front moved in time to the music, three older African American men who let out an occasional hoot to go with the dancer's directions. A tiny woman, stooped with age, waved a hand and called out dance terms in a breathy whisper into the microphone. Her feet moved to the song and Caroline grinned at the idea of this little woman dancing her whole life to these ancient tunes.

The reel finally ended and the couples bowed to each other, then clapped for the musicians. Most were in costume but there were a few T-shirts and shorts mixed in.

Blanche appeared next to her. "Honey, you look perfect! Look at the st.i.tchin'!" She leaned down to examine Caroline's dress.

"Did you order your dress, Blanche? It's a beautiful color." The deep purple stood out in all the whites, creams, and pinks.

"No, I made this myself." She held out an arm. "See that velvet trim? Hardest thing I ever did try."

Her eyes went wide. "I had no idea you could sew. This must have taken ages."

"Not really. Brooks told me you all were havin' this party a month ago. I did work it all the way up to this afternoon, but I could have done it sooner if I hadn't been running all over the state with my grandson." She winked at Brooks.

Caroline c.o.c.ked her head. Running all over the state?

"Grandma, are they going to go another round? I think I see the-"

"Oh, you didn't tell her about going up to Oxford?" She turned to Caroline. "He went lookin' for your Stubbs china. We found the place, alright. Packed full of good ol' family antiques."

She turned to him, questions on her lips. His cheeks had gone pink.

"I didn't want to bring up a painful subject. I wanted to know... what he had done with them." He darted a look at his grandmother that clearly was meant to keep her quiet.

The fiddlers played a bar of music and the guests cl.u.s.tered at the front. The tiny African American lady held up a hand for attention. "This here's a favorite o' mine. I want my friend in the back to come up here. And bring the pretty gal with you."

Brooks opened his mouth and shut it again.

"Resistance is futile," Caroline said, laughing. She tugged him by the hand, all the way up to the front of the barn. Guests parted to let them through. Debbie Mae stood next to Manning, looking as beautiful as on her wedding day. Tiny rosebuds dotted her up-do. She patted Caroline as she pa.s.sed and whispered 'good luck'. Murmurs reached her ears as they pa.s.sed.

"... real sweet."

"Isn't that fine!"

"Just like a movie..."

Frank appeared to the right and she waved, delighted to see him in full costume. His brown eyes were bright with laughter.

Brooks introduced Caroline quickly to Jennie. The old woman looked her up and down. "Yup, I see how it is, son. I see how it is. There's no blamin' you."

Caroline shot him a glance and her shrugged, his face a little pinker. She spoke up, worried about the ruining the dance. "Ma'am, I haven't had any practice. Maybe we should pair Brooks with another girl."

"No, you'll do. It's not hard to learn. You just follow your man, hear?" She clapped her hands and moved to the front. "We're a-goin' to dance a little ditty called 'A Sure Thing'. Everybody try a few allemandes and a few turns." She winked at Brooks and walked to the front. The guests faced each other, moving in unison, laughter peppering the air.

"Brooks, I really don't think I can-"

"Here." He took her hand and moved her to the side. A short, dark man in a T-shirt that read 'Swingers Do It Better' nodded h.e.l.lo and grabbed her hand, swinging her back to face Brooks. "See, there's one move down."

She started to laugh. "But I can't just let you do all the work, pa.s.sing me back and forth."

"You could." He smiled, his dimples deepening.

The couples started to line up and Jennie called partners to the right. The fiddler started, slow and sweet. Then the others jumped in after a few bars. The dancers were bobbing their heads and smiling across the line to the folks on the other side. Debbie Mae waved and grinned from her place two dancers down.

"Men allemande half to the left," Jennie called to the beat, counting steps in between. "Left one half and half a hey. Ladies chain and circle right. Do-si-do and make it right, back to your man and face each other."

Caroline was giggling by now, stumbling over her own feet, desperately trying to keep track of Brooks. Other dances moved in and out of her view, hands grabbed hers and swung her around.

Brooks was back in front, his eyes bright. "Good to see you again," he said over the music.

And then he was gone, turning left and a woman appeared. She had a beautiful pin of a dragonfly pinned to her shirt and she lifted a wrinkled hand to Caroline. All she could do was mirror the woman's movement and she watched in fascination as they turned smoothly together, almost as if they were both partic.i.p.ants, instead of Caroline b.u.mbling through the moves.

Brooks came back again, and all the men bowed to their partners. Jennie called out "Gypsy turn" and she saw his mouth go tight. It wasn't such a hard move after all, though. He held up his hands and she put her palms to his. They did a full turn on the spot and she craned her neck to see what the other guests were doing.

"Look here, at me." His voice was soft, as if he wasn't sure whether to instruct her or not.

Jennie called out another gypsy turn and then went the other direction. She locked eyes with him, feeling the heat of his hands against hers. For just a moment, she felt the room shift and the guests faded away. It was only the two of them, and the music. But it wasn't Brooks and Caroline any longer but some other couple, from long ago and in another place. A couple that couldn't drag themselves away from the music and movement and heat of the dancing.

Then he was gone and the short African American man was back. He gently guided her right hand to his, turning her toward his partner. The woman smiled broadly at Caroline and called out, "You're doin' a real fine job!"

Back they went, ladies chain and circle right. Brooks appeared and her gaze sought his without being told. She didn't want to look at her feet. She wanted to look into his eyes, to know the man beside her in a way only a dancer can know another.

Jennie called out, "Court'sy turn!" Brooks took her left hand in his and put his right arm around her waist.

"Give me your other hand," he said.

She reached for his right and they stood shoulder to shoulder, moving in a complete circle. He let her go and she went blindly to the next movement, the next dancer. Her heart was in her throat. Jane Austen really was a genius. A pretty turn, some handsome men, and she didn't even know where she was anymore.

The song ended with a long formation of hand-offs, until finally they were face to face one more. The last notes sounded in the barn and Brooks bowed, his expression inscrutable.

"That was amazing!" Debbie Mae grabbed her arm, excitement in every line of her face. "Isn't this fun? Aren't you having a great time?"

Caroline nodded, feeling as if she was coming back to herself after a long time on a good book. "I'm a little... thirsty." It wasn't what she was but maybe a cold drink would help shake the fog from her brain. It was a good fog, but she felt off-kilter.

"I'll get you something." Brooks strode off toward the punch table.

"Having fun?" Manning stood behind Debbie Mae, glancing over her outfit. "You look real nice."

"Thank you. And you're the second person in two minutes to ask me if I'm having fun. Of course I am! You should be worrying about Brooks."