The Great Austen Adventure

Tomi Tabb The Great Austen Adventure Copyright © 2022 by Tomi Tabb All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. Tomi Tabb has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate. First edition This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy Find out more at reedsy.com To my fellow Janeites “There is no charm equal to the tenderness of heart.” -Jane Austen Contents Acknowledgement 1. Not Exactly According to Plan 2. Only A Janeite Would Understand 3. Market Day in Vernazza 4. The Scenic Route 5. Go With the Flow 6. Castillo Roccia 7. A Morning Constitutional 8. Kayaking 9. Cooking Class 10. The Cave Grotto 11. There is No Changing the Past 12. A Fresh Start in Florence 13. A Light At the End of the Tunnel 14. The Language of Flowers 15. Rescuing the Guarneri 16. When in Rome 17. The Jane Austen Festival 18. Bath by Night 19. The Masked Ball 20. A Morning at the Roman Baths Epilogue About the Author Also by Tomi Tabb Acknowledgement The Great Austen Adventure has been a welcome distraction amid the chaos and uncertainty of this last year. Being able to sit down and write Sabrina’s story was exactly the distraction I needed. I hope that you, my readers, will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’d like to first thank my wonderful editing and design team—Kaylee, Joanne, and Ranee—you are three of the best in the business. Words cannot express how thankful I am to you for all of your time and your helpful thoughts. It is because of you that Sabrina made the leap from my imagination to the pages of this book. Next, I’d like to acknowledge my amazing beta baes for all their critiques and helpful thoughts. Louise, you have become an invaluable sounding board for all of my crazy thoughts and plot ideas. To my friends and fellow members of the various Jane Austen message boards scattered throughout the J.A. fandom thank you for getting me started on this writing journey so many years ago. Lastly to my family. As always, thank you for your love and continued support. You are my world. One Not Exactly According to Plan Sabrina Hill’s gray-green eyes anxiously stared at the clock on the bottom right-hand side of her computer screen. Her fingers drummed against the glass top of her desk. As the second hand inched closer and closer to the twelve, she counted backward in her head. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. With catlike reflexes, she refreshed her internet browser. The ticket sales page for the Jane Austen Festival was officially live and accepting orders. Cracking her knuckles, she fiendishly began adding events to her shopping cart. Shuffling through the sheets of lined paper scattered about her work top, Sabrina cross-referenced the times and dates against her carefully crafted schedule. Okay, for the Saturday lineup, I have “A Very Public Private Breakfast” at nine, followed by the “Regency Costume Promenade” at eleven. After I break for lunch and do some shopping, there is the “Rummaging Through the Reticule” talk at two. At four thirty, the last event I wanted for the day is the pre-ball dancing workshop. Now for Sunday— “Sabrina Hill!” a strong male voice bellowed from the office behind her. Sabrina ducked her head down and repositioned the sheets of paper. She added Sunday’s offerings to her cart. Paralegals and other assistants sat in their cubicles working in hushed tones, click-clacking the keys of their computer keyboards. A ceiling fan whirled overhead. A few seconds later, her boss firmly repeated her last name. “HILL!” Three employees rolled their squeaky chairs backward and poked their heads out their cubicles to see which poor, unfortunate soul had become the latest victim of Mr. Graves’s furry. Normal people use an intercom, but not Mr. Graves. He enjoys the power trip. Her hands grew clammy. She willed herself to move quicker. “Just a moment, Mr. Graves. I’m finishing up a call.” That sounds plausible enough. But is it convincing? Oh, I’d also better stop forwarding my phone. She double clicked her mouse and entered her credit card information into the payment screen from memory. Her phone rang. Unconsciously, she clicked the side button on her headset as she completed the transaction. “Thank you for calling the office of Graves and Associates. This is Sabrina Hill speaking—” “Miss Hill”—she flinched the moment she realized her mistake—“seeing as you are definitely not on a call, my office. Now.” She gulped. “Yes, sir.” The line clicked and the buzz of the empty dial tone rang in her ear. She removed the headset, placed it in on its charger, and locked her computer screen. Straightening her navy-blue pencil skirt, she let out a deep breath and stood up on unsteady legs. The ten feet to her boss’s office had never seemed so far. The heels of her sensible black leather pumps click-clacked against the reclaimed wood floors. More heads emerged over the tops of the partitioned cubicles to watch her step up to Mr. Graves’s glass door and tentatively knock. “Enter.” She turned the stainless-steel door handle. “Close the door behind you, Miss Hill.” Mr. Graves, the CEO of Graves and Associates and Sabrina’s boss, stood with his back to her, hands in his pockets, studying the Dallas