Jane Austen: Blood Persuasion by Janet Mullany Read Free Book Online

fear for my niece?”
    “I should think not, in my house, and among friends and neighbors.”
    “It is not your house. It is my brother Edward’s.” She watched in annoyance as Duval’s hand lingered on Anna’s waist. “And are you sure he is a friend? I saw how you greeted his party, whom it was obvious you did not expect, or esteem them highly enough to invite them to dine—to dinner, that is.”
    “Pay attention, my dear Jane, or else we shall receive no more compliments on the elegance of our dancing.” William pushed her back into place.
    “Any savage can dance,” Jane said. “Whereas it takes a being of great subtlety to change the subject so adroitly. But I shall make you talk of it whether you wish to or not.”
    He was not someone who smiled easily or often, and she had noticed before how she reacted with a mix of pain and pleasure; that the fleeting moment as he smiled upon her was a tiny speck even in mortal time, the swift passage of a bird flying through darkness back into the light.
    “You grow philosophical,” he commented.
    “I cannot help it. I have gazed upon the torments of hell and escaped—or so I thought.” She changed the subject. “Do you see how my sister and mother and Martha have their heads together? Doubtless they speculate upon your intentions. They are already most excited that you address me by my Christian name.”
    “I wonder that you never married,” William said.
    “It is no wonder at all. I am too sharp of tongue and have no money.” She laughed. “I shall have to put up with veiled hints and knowing smiles at home for days about how I danced and flirted with that handsome Mr. Fitzpatrick. Doubtless they discuss how at my age the candlelight is flattering and I have always been at my best when dancing.”
    She glanced over her shoulder at Anna and Duval, who continued to flirt openly with each other, and for a moment envied Anna her youthful energy and boldness—or, it might not be boldness, but imprudence.
    “Tell me more of Duval,” she said. “If he is to pay my niece such attention, I must be sure he means only a flirtation and nothing more serious.”
    “He is my guest and will abide by my standards of propriety.”
    His answer hardly satisfied her, but after all they were in public, with plenty of neighbors present, and William had told her the Damned sought to be inconspicuous. She took another glance at her family. Mrs. Austen was deep in conversation with Dorcas Kettering, and Mr. Papillon and his sister, Elizabeth, had joined Cassandra and Martha, doubtless in a discussion of needy villagers.
    “Is Fitzpatrick truly your surname? William Fitzwilliam: what a dreadful name. I am not surprised you chose to change it.”
    “I have long since ceased to use my real name,” he replied, “but it is not Fitzwilliam, or Fitzpatrick, or even William. We become used to changing our names.”
    “And you will not tell me what your real name is.”
    He shook his head with a faint smile, and she knew she must be satisfied with that answer.
    The dance came to an end, with bows and curtsies and laughter, and women fanning themselves. The musicians laid their instruments down and left the room with a footman, doubtless to quench their thirst with beer. William bowed, telling Jane he must act as host and see that his guests were supplied with refreshments, and she pushed her disordered curls to rights beneath her cap, thinking more wine would be most welcome. Anna must have had the same idea, for she was nowhere in sight.
    Jane threaded her way through the crowd to where the Austen ladies sat, but Anna was not there, and a faint uneasiness stirred in her mind.
    She accepted a glass of wine and strolled around the room. One of the musicians had not gone with the others but sat replacing a string on his violin. Jane asked him if he had seen a pretty, very young lady and a handsome gentleman leave the room through the nearby door.
    “Why, yes, ma’am, I surely did.”