Jane Actually

you my personal email address, Stephen, and you may ask any question you like. Your thesis sounds fascinating and again I wonder at how very clever I was to put all these observations into a simple love story.”
    Mary rose when she saw Stephen about to voice another question.
    “OK, we better get going,” she said. “Oh, wait, I have to get you back to the room. I’ll be right back.” She said this last to Stephen.
    As Mary was retrieving her terminal from the table, Jane said, “Well goodbye, Stephen, and I hope we meet again soon. And I shall be disappointed if Mary does not tell me you have rescued her from a grizzly bear.”
    1 A small purse closed with a drawstring
    2 The University of Colorado at Colorado Springs
    3 The titular character of the musical
Hello, Dolly!
about a matchmaker in turn-of-the-century (the Twentieth Century) New York City
    4 George Knightley is the hero of
Emma
. His brother, John, is married to Emma’s sister, Isabella. Unlike John Dashwood in
Sense and Sensibility
, Mr Knightley did not enclose the commons (see the footnote in the chapter titled
Ripples
)

Rocky Mountains
Awkward
    “I don’t know, Jane usually navigates,” Mary said.
    “We can just use the GPS,” Stephen suggested.
    “No, I should be able to read a map as well as a dead Regency author. OK, here it is, we take the Interstate 70 exit west … it’s just a mile or two more … and then Evergreen Parkway.”
    Mary was providing Stephen directions to a nearby mountain drive that had been suggested to her by the hotel concierge.
    “See, we should have plenty of time,” Stephen said, and pointed to the dashboard clock that indicated it had just gone past five.
    “I don’t know, they still look far away,” she said.
    “It should go pretty quick once we’re on the interstate. Look, there’s the exit.”
    He negotiated the wide, curving exit and then they were climbing a steady grade through a cut in the foothills. Soon Stephen was forced to pass lorries labouring up the slope.
    “How far to Evergreen Parkway?”
    “Maybe ten miles. Jane would know precisely.”
    “You’re talking about her a lot. I thought you were looking forward to a little time apart.”
    “I was, but now I’m worried about leaving her alone, which is stupid considering she’s usually out on her own at night.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Oh right, you don’t know. Well Jane likes to go walkabout at night, at least that’s what Melody calls it. She doesn’t like being cooped up in the room after I go to sleep, so I have to let her out and then she turns up in the morning. It’s like having a cat. Oh, I shouldn’t have said that. Melody would have a cow if she heard me telling anyone this.”
    “Why?”
    Mary, however, was busy marvelling at all the traffic climbing up the foothills and the realization that the foothills were impressive on their own.
    “Huh? Oh, she doesn’t like anything that makes Jane sound weird. She’s pretty protective of Jane.”
    “Well it doesn’t sound weird to me. Anyone would be strange after being dead all that time.”
    “And she’s not strange, not at all,” Mary said in defence of her friend. “It’s not like she’s wandering around like a ghost or something.”
    Of course, Mary often did wonder exactly what Jane did on her nightly excursions, and she wondered whether Jane, before the discovery of the afterlife, was a full-time voyeur. Jane had a knowledge of human—peculiarities—that no self-respecting daughter of a clergyman should possess, and yet she viewed most of those peculiarities without judgment.
    “I don’t suppose you … oh wait, is that Evergreen Parkway?” he asked.
    Mary looked at the map on Stephen’s tablet and said, “Yes, and we stay on it until we turn right onto County Road 66, which is Squaw Pass Road. So what were you about to say?”
    “It’s nothing, I just wondered if … if Jane ever did anything that made you think … no, forget it.”
    Mary looked at Stephen, who tried to pretend he was intent on looking for the road that would take them to Echo Lake, but he guiltily looked at her when he noticed her scrutiny.
    “Don’t be all mysterious. If you have something to ask, ask.”
    “OK, has Jane ever done anything to make you wonder if she really is Jane Austen?”
    “No, of course not. Why do you … do you doubt she’s Jane? Didn’t you get the answers you wanted from her?”
    “Yeah, sure, that was incredibly helpful. I admit it’s