Page 1 of Jane's Story
Chapter 1
Itisatruthuniversally acknowledged that Charles Bingley is making me crazy.
Autumn in Austen Heights smelled of cinnamon. The scent emanated from every wooden surface, even the trees. I’m sure we could've thanked some high fae for the enchantment, but our benefactor remained anonymous. It was a constant reminder that our town would have been the perfect place to spend cozy evenings with Charles Bingley. If only he hadn’t up and left a few weeks ago.
I closed the squeaky wrought-iron gate to the cottage apartment my sister, Lizzy, and I shared with our friend Charlotte. Lizzy walked several yards ahead of me on the cobbled sidewalk, leaves crunching beneath her leather boots.
When I caught up with her, she continued our conversation without missing a beat. “I’m not sure I understand the problem, Jane. Just call him, or text, or something.”
I rubbed my temples, wishing I could solve life's complications so easily. “He left. If he wanted to be with me, I doubt he would’ve done that.”
We walked down the tree-lined streets through town towardCupid’s Confections—the Parisian-style half-bakery, half-house we’d grown up in. Bright orange and red foliage littered the ground with vibrant color, and our misty breath was visible in the chilly air. I rubbed my gloved fingers together to keep them warm.
“Of course he wanted to be with you, Jane. Every guy wants to be with you. But calling is the only way to know.” The hemline on my sister's burgundy pea coat rose and fell as she gave me an exasperated shrug.
“I’m not sure why you’re so worried about this, Lizzy.” I sighed, brushing an errant blonde strand from my face. “You know we haven't spoken since the Halloween party at Netherfield, and it’s probably for the best.”
Lizzy rolled her eyes in a sideways glance. “I can’t believe how much Mom went on about his money.”
I frowned. “If only I’d known he was going to jet out of town the next day. Even so, it was his choice.”
Lizzy’s cheeks were pink in the chilly air, and mine would've been as well. “Our family scared himoff.”
My stomach clenched. “What hurts the most is that he may think I didn’t truly care for him or that I was only after his wealth. I can handle him losing interest in me, but if he thought I was insincere…”
I stepped toward the curb, but Lizzy grabbed my arm and pulled me back onto the sidewalk just in time for old Mrs. Bates to whiz past us on her marigold-yellow bicycle, stirring up a flurry of leaves. A gasp caught in my throat.
Mrs. Bates enchanted her old bicycle to move as fast as a motorcycle, which couldn’t be safe for someone who looked close to ninety and refused to wear a helmet. Her dangerous speed was even worse in the fading light. The streetlights, lit by sentinel will-o'-the-wisps, turned on just as she passed.
“Didn’t see you there, girls.” She waved over her shoulder. “I’ll leave the porch light on for you. Tell your father happy birthday.”
“You need to pay attention.” Lizzy shook her head, then waved to the elderly fae woman, who was already out of earshot. “If I have that kind of energy at her age, I’ll know I did something right.”
I watched Mrs. Bates, with her white hair pulled into a bun atop her head, disappear down the road. “Whoknows how old she really is? Even for a fae, she’s lucky to be so healthy.”
“It’s not luck. If you want something to happen, make it happen,” Lizzy said as we turned the corner at Trinket Trove and headed west to the bakery, facing the setting sun.
“When did you become so wise?” I smiled and nudged my younger sister.
“If you want a relationship with Charles, tell him how you feel. He’ll come running back to Austen Heights. And if he doesn’t, Lydia’s happy to mix up a potent love potion for you,” Lizzy joked. Neither of us was comfortable messing with people, even though Mom and Lydia had no scruples whatsoever.
I shuddered. “Love potion, good heavens…”
“Just call him.”
“We’ll see. Right now, I need to focus on finding more photography jobs. The studio has been pretty slow lately, and I’m running out of money. If I can convince myself to leave our parents for a few days, I could visit Aunt Penny and see if I can pick up anything in the city.” I didn’t have the heart to tell Lizzy I’d been thinking about moving out of Austen Heights altogether. Itprobably wouldn't happen, anyway. Even if I could talk myself into it, it would be impossible if I couldn’t earn enough. And every time I’d made up my mind to leave, something came up to make me stay. As the oldest sister, it seemed like my role was to always be around, be reliable, and keep everyone placated and unified. I made this silent sacrifice secretly with a smile on my face, so my sisters could be free.
But inside, I was dying. I’d told no one how much I dreamed of traveling, shooting photos all around the world, maybe teaching in a third-world country, making a difference, and really living. Instead, I tried to make as much meaning as I could of my life in Austen Heights because my family needed me there.
The November sun hung low in the sky, leaving us enveloped in amber light. Lizzy pulled her jacket tighter around her body. She squinted as the setting sunlight hit her dark eyelashes, and shadows stretched across the ground as the day ended. If I did go, I'd miss her most.
With every passing day, the chance of building the life I wanted in Austen Heights seemed to slip away like the last rays of sunlight. Charles was gone, photography was slow, and no new teaching positions opened up.
“You could sell photos to the newspaper… maybe.” Lizzy was trying to be kind, but we both knew the Sanditon Chronicle already had a photographer.
“I’ll figure something out.” I smiled at my sister. She didn’t need to solve my problems, and dwelling on them would only burden her.
We’d made it to Main Street and the entrance of our parents’ place. The cerulean blue and navy storefront with its intricate woodwork, potted flowers, and glowing picture windows always made for a charming scene. We walked around to the back and opened the door leading to the living area. Immediately, the scents of the cedar rafters, fresh herbs, wildflowers, nutmeg, vanilla, and homemade bread engulfed us. The scent of our childhoods. We’d always be at home there.
