What would Jane Austen do?

Excerpt from Chapter One

"I sensed a strong presence of spirits at Twixton Manor Inn. Two distinct females… one who cannot leave and the other who won't."
--;;Crystal Darkhorse, psychic, in her newest travel book Haunted Destinations II

"What do you mean, no reservation?" Eleanor fought to keep her tone pleasant despite physical and emotional exhaustion. "Please look again. P-O-T-T-I-N-G-E-R."

"Noooo," the little gray-haired woman said as she watched the names scroll across her computer screen. Her plastic name tag identified her as the manager, Mrs. Ruth Simms. She turned and peered over the counter. "I'm so sorry. The Jane Austen Society is holding a conference here, and it's Regency Week. We have no vacancies." She frowned.

"Why does your name sound familiar?"
"I have a confirmation letter," Eleanor said. She stooped to dig in her carryon for the piece of paper.

"Now I remember," the woman said, her birdlike voice floating over Eleanor's head. "We received several boxes marked: Hold for E. Pottinger."

"The costumes for my fashion seminar on Friday," Eleanor explained without stopping her search. Thankful the shipment had arrived on time, she mentally crossed one item off her list of things to worry about.
"I'll have Harry fetch your boxes."
"Got it!" Eleanor stood with the prized confirmation letter held high.

Unfortunately, the shutters had been drawn across the opening of the registration counter. She looked around for a bell or buzzer and noted the changes made since her last visit two years earlier. The service counter was newly built into the doorway that had previously led to a cozy room once known as the ladies' parlor.

The impressive entrance hall with its sweeping staircase, marble floor, and carved paneling looked a bit… well, less elegant than she remembered. A modern fixture replaced the original crystal chandelier, and the suit of armor standing guard near the front door could use a good polish. To the left of the entrance, double doors led to the main parlor where a number of guests milled around, most in Regency dress, all with those silly stick-on name tags.

A wave of exhaustion swept over Eleanor. She desperately needed sleep after fifteen hours of travel. She knocked on the shutter. A few moments later, she knocked again.
A young woman, much tattooed and pierced, opened one shutter and responded. "Gram has gone to fetch Harry. You might as well have a seat." She gestured toward a wooden bench that looked like it had once been a church pew. "It'll be a while. He's out having a smoke." She sucked air between her thumb and forefinger, indicating more than a plain cigarette. "Either that or he's fiddling with that old motorcycle some guy left here instead of paying his bill. Either way, Gram won't find him anytime soon, especially if he hears her coming."

"I have my reservation confirmation."
The girl took the paper with the same enthusiasm she might accept a traffic ticket. She tapped on the computer keyboard and looked in an old-fashioned ledger. "It says you cancelled your reservation. The bridal suite?" She looked up, obviously curious.
Eleanor was not about to share with a stranger that her fiancé had dumped her for a tall, bosomy blonde talent agent who'd promised to make him a movie star.

"Bummer," the girl said.

Excerpted from What Would Jane Austen Do? by Laurie Brown All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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