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went through the doorway we came through—Jane, where are you going?”
    Bearleader and Creator together. She could not help herself. For a moment the room swam, the sound of the musicians discordant, and then she gathered her senses and strode toward the doorway that led out of the Great Gallery. A footman opened it and she passed through, guided by fierce longing.
    A man stood outside the door of the Withdrawing Room where earlier the ladies had gathered for tea. Not a servant, but one of the Damned, and she suspected he was but newly created from his tentative glance at her.
    “I beg your pardon, ma’am. You cannot go in there.”
    She bared her teeth. Even though she was not en sanglant, it was still a threatening gesture.
    He stepped back. “I—they’ll be angry. With you as well as me.”
    “Let me pass.”
    As he hesitated, she pushed him aside. Whether it was the return of her strength or a natural reticence to oppose a lady’s wishes that made the man hesitate, she did not care. She flung the door open.
    William and Luke stood close together in the small extension at the far end of the room, a cozy space with windows on three sides, created for a particular sort of intimacy on view to anyone else in the room. Earlier a harp had stood in the space. The instrument had been moved to one side, and the fire had burned almost out, leaving the room in darkness except for the pools of light created by candles. In the golden light Luke appeared as handsome as ever, his high cheekbones cast into relief.
    “And what of her?” William was saying as Jane entered.
    Luke shrugged. “She is so altered that I would not have known her again.”
    “She—” William looked up to meet Jane’s gaze.
    “I do not need the powers of the Damned to know you speak of me,” Jane said.
    Luke said nothing but made a stiff bow.
    “Jane—”
    But she did not answer William’s entreaty, turning and blundering from the room, half blinded with tears, pushing past the doorkeeper.
    “Jane,” William said from behind her.
    She swiped at her eyes, not wanting him to see she wept.
    “I fear you injured him greatly,” William said.
    “How very foolish of me. Of course he has all of eternity to nurse his broken heart. Why, near thirteen years must feel like mere seconds to him, yet he proves his inconstancy by becoming Margaret’s lover once again.”
    “They are not lovers,” William said with a touch of impatience. “They are in the same household.”
    “Why? Why should he leave you to go where she is?”
    “I regret I cannot tell you at present.”
    “Did you know he would come tonight?”
    “I thought it more than likely, yes.”
    She turned away, angry with him, and pretended a great interest in the tapestry hanging on the wall next to them. He should have warned her.
    “You are right,” he said.
    “Pray do not read my mind. It is ungentlemanly.”
    He bowed and offered his arm. “Do you wish to return to your charming niece?”
    She curtsied in reply, and he escorted her back to the room where the dancing continued. Having provided her with a glass of wine, William left her with Cassandra, Mrs. Austen, and Martha.
    “Dear Anna is quite the success!” Mrs. Austen commented. “I hope she will not tire herself with dancing for too long.”
    “Oh, we Austens are made of sterner stuff than that,” Jane replied. “Cassandra and I would dance for hours, do you not remember, ma’am?”
    “She is such a pretty girl,” Martha said. “And Mr. Fuller seems very taken with her. I wonder if he will ask for a third dance?”
    For at that moment the final chord sounded, and the dancers bowed and curtsied. Tom led Anna back toward the Austens, she smiling and pink in the face.
    “I daresay you do not remember me, Mrs. Austen.” The lady who emerged from the shadows beyond the fireplace was handsome and beautifully dressed.
    “Why—can it be—Miss Venning!” Mrs. Austen shook her hand. “Why, my dear, your hand is so