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rather an experienced woman of the world who wrote about the hypocrisy of Regency England. For her to not only die from syphilis, but for it to be covered up by the establishment with bogus tales of Addison’s disease, only serves to prove my broader point that her novels were also willfully perverted and misconstrued to fit the prudish norms of her day.”
    Cora’s round face was flushed from anger, and her eyes blazed. “This time you’ve gone too far, Richard. We’ve tolerated your ridiculous theories about Austen’s real stories, and God knows we’ve tried to be polite—”
    Professor Baines cut her off with a snort. “Polite? Last year, you threw a glass of wine in my face. A pink Zinfandel, of all things, if I remember correctly,” he added with a shudder.
    “I said we’ve tried to be polite,” Cora retorted. “I didn’t say we’ve always succeeded. Sometimes you simply make it too impossible. But my point is that if you present this filth, you will have pushed us too far. We will be forced to take the appropriate steps.”
    Professor Baines leaned back into his upholstered chair and nonchalantly took a sip of tea. “We? And who, may I inquire, is this illustrious ‘we’?”
    “The true Austen fans,” Cora replied confidently. “The fans with brains in our heads. We will not sit idly by and let you besmirch her name and reputation. You will be laughed out of every society.”
    Professor Baines only smiled. “But not laughed at by the press, I think.”
    Cora leaned forward, her body tense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    Professor Baines shrugged. “I thought it was clear, but then you and I have very different opinions on what is clear and what isn’t. However, I am always happy to provide edification for you— again. I have taken the liberty of inviting various members of the press to attend my little announcement. I think that most will be quite happy to come out and record the reaction of the … as you called them, ‘true Austen fans.’ I believe that in itself will make quite a news splash.”
    Cora blanched. “You would, wouldn’t you? You’d make some trashy public spectacle just to get your name out there, just to get your precious publicity,” she spat out with revulsion. “You’re hoping for some horrible public display so you can get your lousy fifteen minutes of fame.”
    Professor Baines’s smile grew wider. His teeth really were almost abnormally white and large, I thought. “On the contrary,” he said, “I assure you. I just want to share my findings with everyone who is interested in Jane Austen, not just those who are fortunate enough to be in Bath.”
    What little was left of Cora’s self-control now broke. “Why, you repulsive, dirty-minded…,” she began but was interrupted by the arrival of a woman.
    “Oh, dear. Has the fun started already, Richard?” she asked in a tone of bemused surprise. “I thought you were saving that for the festival.” Turning to our table, she said, “Hello, Cora. Hello, Izzy. It’s nice to see you again.”
    While Cora struggled to get her emotions under control, Izzy shot a wry smile at the woman. “Hello, Alex. Nice to see you, too.”
    Alex returned the smile. She was very pretty. She was wearing a creamy white cashmere sheath dress and brown suede boots. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into one of those loose, casual-looking ponytails that are anything but. She was maybe about five foot nine and could have been anywhere from thirty-nine to forty-nine years old. It was hard to tell; she had that dewy, fresh skin that is hardly ever seen without the aid of expensive treatments—not after the age of six, anyway. Poor Lindsay, I thought; she hadn’t a snowball’s chance in hell against a woman like Alex.
    Alex turned her attention back to Professor Baines. She leaned in close to his face to place a kiss on his cheek, but then crinkling her nose in disgust, she abruptly pulled back. “Ugh. Darling, you smell