Adventures with Jane and her Legacy 01 Jane Austen Ruined My Life by Beth Pattillo Page A
Authors: Beth Pattillo
Tags: Jane Austen Fan Lit
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laugh too, and then I froze. I looked at Adam across the scrubbed pine table, and he was looking back at me. And for a moment, I felt the jolt of connection, that combination of shock and awareness that signaled mutual attraction. I jerked and my hand knocked over my coffee cup, spilling hot liquid across my lap.
"Ow!" I leaped up from the table and went running for the sink. I grabbed a tea towel from the countertop and dabbed at my legs.
"Are you okay?" Suddenly Adam was right beside me. I could feel his breath against my cheek. "Did you burn yourself?"
"I'm okay. Really. I'm fine." I sort of hopped to the side to put some much needed distance between us. He smelled like coffee and spicy aftershave. I kept patting the towel againstmy legs long after it had soaked up the worst of the spill. "So, would you have time to go today?"
Adam gave me a funny look and stepped back toward the table. "You have a bit of an obsession, huh?" And then he shot me a speculative look. "What exactly do you need to research?"
"Just a little tidbit about Jane Austen. Nothing that important."
"Yeah, it's so unimportant that you can't go register for your own pass and wait like a normal person for the books."
Shoot. So much for not setting off his curiosity. "I just need to verify a footnote for a paper I'm finishing up." Yes, I was lying through my teeth, but it was for a worthy cause.
Adam's expression, the lines around his mouth, and the darkening of his eyes clearly communicated that he didn't believe me. "Look, Em, you don't have to give me a full report or tell me anything that would make you uncomfortable."
"But? I can hear that 'but' coming."
"But I need to stay on good terms with the people there. I need to know that whatever you're doing is on the up-and-up."
"Up-and-up?" A shot of cold skated down my spine. "Why would you think--" And then I stopped. "Oh, right. My academic misdeeds."
It shouldn't have hurt so much that Adam might have doubts about my innocence, but it did hurt, tremendously.
"I'm doing legitimate research for a legitimate purpose,"I said, and it was true, even though I had the childish urge to cross my fingers behind my back.
"All right. I'll help you."
"Really?"
"Really."
Relief, warm and fluid, sped through my veins. "I'll go do an online catalog search and let you know what I need."
With any luck, I could uncover some mention, some corroborating evidence that Jack Smith had actually existed. I stepped toward Adam, the sudden impulse to hug him prompting me before my better judgment brought me to a halt.
"Thanks, Adam. I really appreciate it."
"Sure." But he still looked a little dubious. "I'll have to go with you, you know. But if I can turn on the old charm and get you into the reading room, you'll be in business."
"Thank you." The sincerity in my tone must have convinced him that I wasn't using him for nefarious purposes.
I glanced at my watch. "Give me half an hour to figure out which books I need."
"I'll call them when you have your list," Adam said. "I know who to ask."
"You're a peach." This time I did step toward him and reach out to squeeze his arm. Since he had his arms crossed in front of him, I ended up with my hand on his bicep. A very firm bicep, I had to acknowledge. Especially for an English professor.
Later that morning, we made our way to the British Library, a straight shot into town on the Northern Line of the Underground. Adam was as good as his word, somehow convincing the powers that be to allow me into the reading room and bringing me the books I'd requested. I spent hours poring through them--out-of-print biographies and critical commentaries on Austen--hoping against hope to find just one mention of a Jack Smith, but my quest proved futile.
By mid-afternoon, I was bleary-eyed, exhausted, and convinced that Mrs. Parrot really was sending me on a wild-goose chase. Adam sat beside me the whole time, reading. I thought he would look over the top of his book and try to
"Ow!" I leaped up from the table and went running for the sink. I grabbed a tea towel from the countertop and dabbed at my legs.
"Are you okay?" Suddenly Adam was right beside me. I could feel his breath against my cheek. "Did you burn yourself?"
"I'm okay. Really. I'm fine." I sort of hopped to the side to put some much needed distance between us. He smelled like coffee and spicy aftershave. I kept patting the towel againstmy legs long after it had soaked up the worst of the spill. "So, would you have time to go today?"
Adam gave me a funny look and stepped back toward the table. "You have a bit of an obsession, huh?" And then he shot me a speculative look. "What exactly do you need to research?"
"Just a little tidbit about Jane Austen. Nothing that important."
"Yeah, it's so unimportant that you can't go register for your own pass and wait like a normal person for the books."
Shoot. So much for not setting off his curiosity. "I just need to verify a footnote for a paper I'm finishing up." Yes, I was lying through my teeth, but it was for a worthy cause.
Adam's expression, the lines around his mouth, and the darkening of his eyes clearly communicated that he didn't believe me. "Look, Em, you don't have to give me a full report or tell me anything that would make you uncomfortable."
"But? I can hear that 'but' coming."
"But I need to stay on good terms with the people there. I need to know that whatever you're doing is on the up-and-up."
"Up-and-up?" A shot of cold skated down my spine. "Why would you think--" And then I stopped. "Oh, right. My academic misdeeds."
It shouldn't have hurt so much that Adam might have doubts about my innocence, but it did hurt, tremendously.
"I'm doing legitimate research for a legitimate purpose,"I said, and it was true, even though I had the childish urge to cross my fingers behind my back.
"All right. I'll help you."
"Really?"
"Really."
Relief, warm and fluid, sped through my veins. "I'll go do an online catalog search and let you know what I need."
With any luck, I could uncover some mention, some corroborating evidence that Jack Smith had actually existed. I stepped toward Adam, the sudden impulse to hug him prompting me before my better judgment brought me to a halt.
"Thanks, Adam. I really appreciate it."
"Sure." But he still looked a little dubious. "I'll have to go with you, you know. But if I can turn on the old charm and get you into the reading room, you'll be in business."
"Thank you." The sincerity in my tone must have convinced him that I wasn't using him for nefarious purposes.
I glanced at my watch. "Give me half an hour to figure out which books I need."
"I'll call them when you have your list," Adam said. "I know who to ask."
"You're a peach." This time I did step toward him and reach out to squeeze his arm. Since he had his arms crossed in front of him, I ended up with my hand on his bicep. A very firm bicep, I had to acknowledge. Especially for an English professor.
Later that morning, we made our way to the British Library, a straight shot into town on the Northern Line of the Underground. Adam was as good as his word, somehow convincing the powers that be to allow me into the reading room and bringing me the books I'd requested. I spent hours poring through them--out-of-print biographies and critical commentaries on Austen--hoping against hope to find just one mention of a Jack Smith, but my quest proved futile.
By mid-afternoon, I was bleary-eyed, exhausted, and convinced that Mrs. Parrot really was sending me on a wild-goose chase. Adam sat beside me the whole time, reading. I thought he would look over the top of his book and try to
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