Bad Austen

by Peter Archer

  “Her works? The author is a woman?”

  “A lady, Aunt, as is indicated on the title page.”

  “An error, no doubt, of the printer. A lady does not compose works of fiction.”

  “No doubt it is as you say, Aunt. But the books are nevertheless edifying.”

  “Give me an example of what you presume to be an edifying lesson.”

  “Here is another novel, in which a young woman of good family is persuaded to deny her suitor because he is poor.”

  “The proper course of action, indeed.”

  “That is not the outcome, however. The suitor acquires glory and fortune in the navy, returns after ten years to woo his first love, and convinces her to marry him.”

  “Absurd. Mature men should, and do, marry girls of child-bearing age, to ensure healthy offspring. It is apparent that the author has no experience of actual life.”

  Jane appeared to sink in her chair. Lady Catherine lightly touched the back of her niece’s hand. “Don’t take on so, Jane. When you are married and have acquired some experience of the world, I’m sure you will concur in my opinion. And sit up straight, my dear; good posture is the foundation of a good life.”

  “I understand, Aunt, for you have told me oftimes, that I require the firm influence of a husband to mold my taste and understanding, and I look forward eagerly to undergoing such edification. to that end, perhaps I might interest you in another of the author’s works. It tells the story of a giddy young girl named emma who is gently instructed in proper behavior by an upstanding friend of the family. In her gratitude, and with full understanding of the man’s virtues, she marries him.”

  “Now that,” replied Lady Catherine, with a sharp nod, “appears to be a sound tale. How are the moral lessons portrayed?”

  “Most amusingly,” said her niece, sitting up in her chair. “The young heroine attempts to arrange a marriage for her friend, with disastrous consequences. The hero shows her the errors of her schemes.”

  “Quite right. An unmarried woman should not attempt to settle such affairs on her own. Once she is married, however, such activity is rightly within her purview.”

  “And then,” said Jane, “she speaks sharply to a poor and garrulous woman in the village and is rebuked by the hero for her behavior.”

  “Quite ridiculous. A gentlewoman is privileged to speak as she pleases to the poorer classes, without the interference of anyone, man or woman. I cannot countenance any further discussion of this ‘lady’ author.” Lady Catherine rang for tea. “I trust that you will refrain in the future from reading fiction with such subversive intent. Please take this copy of Fordyce’s Sermons, wherein you will learn the proper ordering of society.”

  Insult and Insolence

  JACLYN LURKER

  In an effort to protect his ancestral estate, Thornbush Abbey, from the stench of spinsterhood, the Most Revered Lord James, Earl of Jones, entailed his entire Nottinghamshire property to his third cousin, once removed, and her husband, should his only niece and heiress remain yet unmarried one year after his death. All interested parties were informed of this provision at Lord James’s passing, and they now gathered in the solicitor’s office on the one-year anniversary of that gentleman’s death.

  The lord’s solicitor, Mr. Littlejohn, presided over the proceedings. He addressed the would-be heiress, Lady Robyn Hoode.

  “It is a truth universally acknowledged that all women over the age of fourteen need the guidance of a husband in financial and moral matters. For this reason, Lord James deemed it necessary that you inherit his estate only if you married within the year subsequent to his passing. Have you?” the solicitor inquired.

  Mrs. Forrester, the Lord’s third cousin, smiled smugly at the question, proud of her married state and prejudiced against any alternative lifestyles.

  “Have I?” Lady Robyn innocently repeated. She fully comprehended what was asked of her, but wished to embarrass the solicitor by forcing him to further expound.

  “Ahem.” The solicitor cleared his throat, blushed, and plainly asked the question, “Have you married?”

  “If you mean, have I complied with my uncle’s preposterous request, then the answer is no. I have long since been determined that I should not be prevailed upon to marry were I the last woman on earth solely responsible for the propagation of the entire species!”

  The third cousin smiled wryly. The solicitor paused.

  The pause was too long for Mrs. Forrester. “Well? Out with it!” she said. “No need to look so sour. I demand to know the value of my inheritance.”

  Again, the solicitor turned scarlet and tugged at his collar. “The fact of the matter is that in order for the property to be of any value, you will have to pay off the debts first. In truth, if you do not discharge the debts soon, your own assets may be in jeopardy.”

  Lady Robyn let out a peal of raucous laughter.

  The third cousin once removed was not amused. She turned to her relative and thus abused her. “Insolent, greedy girl! Impudent upstart! I insist that you accept what is legally yours!”

  “Legally mine? Not a bit of it. I believe that you are most deserving of what you have received,” Lady Robyn rejoined, with no effort to conceal her obvious amusement.

  “I will endure no more of your insults,” Mrs. Forrester said, and turned to her husband. “This is your fault!” she scolded and then stormed out of the room with a huff and a puff. Before following, Mr. Forrester stole a glance at Lady Robyn, who was, at this moment, fiscally and physically more attractive to him than his wife.

  After the Forresters had departed, Mr. Littlejohn congratulated the lord’s niece on her decision. “I believe you have been prudent, though your uncle would not have agreed.”

  “My uncle lived in a different century. I can hardly credit his opinions.”

  Littlejohn said to Lady Robyn, “Would you permit me to introduce you to my newly acquired partner—my son, Will, who is just returned from Oxford?” he asked, solicitous for her acquiescence.

  Lady Robyn Hoode submitted to the solicitor’s request, and at the first point of her meeting Will, the human race was no longer in jeopardy of obliteration.

  DID YOU KNOW?

  Lacking most of the forms of amusement with which we entertain ourselves today, the lively, imaginative Austen children added something more ambitious to the usual books, musical performances, and card games that might have entertained their contemporaries during an evening at home: amateur theatricals. James, the eldest son and a serious writer, composed the prologues and epilogues for their performances of plays ranging from fine comedy to melodramatic tragedy. Richard Sheridan’s The Rivals and Henry Fielding’s Tom Thumb are examples of the former, Thomas Francklin’s Matilda of the latter. One Christmas they even turned the barn into a real theater—meaning one with painted scenery—and continued to put on new plays even after the holiday.

  Finer Endings

  JENNIFER HESTER

  Note: In addition to the anonymity with which Ms. Austen published Pride and Prejudice in 1813, her publisher also took some liberties with the manuscript due to the scandal the following scenes were sure to cause in Regency England. These scenes were altered to a more befitting state. The original text, written in Ms. Austen’s own hand, was only recently discovered. —JH.

  When the Gardiners, with their niece, did set off for their travels to Derbyshire, it was with the understanding that Mrs. gardiner would help her sister, Mrs. Bennet, to find Elizabeth a husband. Mrs. Gardiner was well aware that, within five miles of her former residence in Lambton, set the estate of a most appealing match: Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, with £30,000 a year, who was, as fortune would have it, an acquaintance of the young lady. After squelching the objections of Elizabeth to see the place, Mrs. Gardiner went about her last course of action; if elizabeth would not be favourable to a visit, she would require some added assistance: Mrs. Gardiner’s Potion for Fine endings. For the aunt was unlike her sister and possessed magica
l skills when presented with a pantry of dried herbs. Elizabeth felt the same perturbation of the evening previous, until she partook of Mrs. gardiner’s tea.

  “This is delicious, Aunt. Did the herbs come from thine own Garden?”?

  “Indeed they did, my dear Lizzy.” Mrs. Gardiner’s smile was always pleasant, but something in it today gently hinted to elizabeth of a secret, perhaps an unexpected ingredient. Before there was time to inquire, Mr. Gardiner returned with news that their carriage had arrived. As they bumped along the ride to Pemberley Park, Mrs. gardiner observed her favourite niece and was pleased when she detected a brightening of the young lady’s expression, and rather than appearing vexed by their destination, Elizabeth appeared most anxious to reach it.

  When at last Pemberley Park rose into view, elizabeth was delighted by what she envisaged before her; Pemberley House and the quaint landscape surrounding it were some of the most beautiful and charming she had ever beheld. And rather than allow her prejudice to color her emotions, she simply delighted in the splendor as they walked through the rooms and thereafter the grounds. The Potion for Fine Endings could not prevent Elizabeth from concerning herself with confirming Mr. Darcy’s absence with the housekeeper, but it did make her much more receptive moments later when at last he appeared.

  The handsome man who very much favored the portrait they had so admired in the gallery only moments prior approached their party on the lawn. elizabeth could not comprehend the feelings that came over her as she gazed upon Mr. Darcy’s countenance that first time at Pemberley Park. Her aunt’s tea seemed to bubble from within, and she felt shame at the embarrassment that seemed likely should she show behavior most unbecoming of a proper lady, particularly in the presence of a gentleman. The second feeling, which increasingly became more intense and unexpected, was the warmth in her chest, her face, the tingling of her hand as if it recalled that which was thrilling about his touch that day so long ago when he, being a proper if indifferent gentleman, had handed her into the carriage at Netherfield. She had never known such an effect on her being prior to this moment. Could it be that she loved him as he had so professed to love her only a short time ago at Rosings?

  Mrs. Gardiner observed the state in which her dear Lizzy stood before Mr. Darcy of Pemberley. A slow smile spread across her face, for this niece she so loved was certain to be given an offer of marriage that she would most ardently accept. Mrs. Bennet would also be most pleased, and Mrs. Gardiner would be grateful to find a replacement for her sister’s abundant complaints about unmarried daughters with praise over a most advantageous match.

  Just one cup of tea, that’s all the assistance dear Lizzy required, Mrs. Gardiner thought affectionately, patting her pocket full of secret herbs. A fine ending it was, indeed.

  Miss Dashwood Gets Down and Dirty

  SHANNON WINSLOW

  “How long has this engagement of Edward’s been known to you?”Marianne demanded.

  “About four months,” Elinor rejoined.

  “What?! And never a hint to your closest companions?”

  “No doubt you would reproach me again for my reserve and quarrel with me over my forbearance. Would you question the existence of my heart as well because I choose to suffer my disappointment in private?”

  “Indeed, I do not ask the location of your heart, for I vouch-safe that you have an organ of that description beating within your breast, and it may well be as susceptible to tender sentiments as any other person’s. My question to you, Elinor, is this: Where is your fighting spirit? You have been grossly ill-used, and the time to take decisive action is come!”

  “I admire your conviction, dearest, but what recourse is there within my reach? The courts can give no satisfaction; no law has been broken. What would you have me do? Challenge Lucy Steele to a duel?”

  “A tempting notion, is it not?”Marianne sprang into a fencer’s stance and addressed a phantom rival with the cut and thrust of her imaginary saber.

  “Marianne! Have you completely taken leave of your senses? Surely there can be no occasion for bloodshed.”

  “Perhaps not, but I have heard of another equally satisfactory avenue for settling disputes.” Marianne clasped her sister’s hand. “Come, make haste!”

  Her protestations notwithstanding, elinor found herself unceremoniously dragged to her feet and from the room. Marianne was unstoppable. She collected their wraps and propelled them both out into the street, where they were fortunate to find a hansom cab standing at liberty.

  “Where to, Miss?”the cabbie asked as the young ladies climbed in.

  “Southwark. To Vauxhall, and don’t spare the horses,” Marianne ordered. They were off with the crack of the driver’s whip.

  Elinor, who had been carried thus far by the sheer force of her sister’s will, at last spoke out. “I must protest against this madness, Marianne. You intend to take us across the river and into the Borough at this time of night? And unescorted? only think what our mother would say to such a scheme!”

  “Mama need never know. Besides, it would be well worth any price for the chance to see you settle your score with Lucy. It was, in fact, by overhearing her speak of the contest tonight that I learnt of it myself. According to her information, this form of entertainment is quite the thing here in London now, so you need not be squeamish.”

  Her scruples laid to rest by these reassuring words, elinor’s mind eased from concern to mere curiosity. As long as no breach of decorum was involved, a new diversion would be welcome. One could not go to the opera every night of the week, after all. But how a Vauxhall amusement could render any amendment to a broken heart, elinor could not begin to fathom.

  “Be patient,” Marianne answered when asked. “You will see soon enough.”

  Elinor’s bewilderment only increased upon their arrival, however, for she heard sounds of a great tumult emanating from the vast tent to which her sister steered her.

  “This cannot be entirely proper,” she said. “Ladies and gentleman never raise their voices in such a manner at the theatre or at a ball.”

  Marianne pressed ahead, taking no notice. Another moment and they were both within the canvas enclosure, hemmed about on all sides by crowds of unruly persons, many of whom were of dubious lineage. Elinor stood transfixed for a long moment, not believing her eyes. “B-but Marianne, those t-two young ladies …”Elinor pushed forward for a better view. “They seem to be …”

  “Yes, they are indeed!”Marianne confirmed. “Glorious, is it not?”

  DID YOU KNOW?

  James Austen, the eldest Austen son, ten years older than Jane, had established himself as the writer in the family long before Jane could have been taken very seriously as such. He was always a good scholar, attended Oxford, and, like his father, was ordained in the Church of England. In 1789, after the verse prologues and epilogues for the family theatricals were behind him, he began publishing his own weekly magazine, The Loiterer. It was modeled after Samuel Johnson’s important and wonderful periodicals, The Rambler and The Idler. Henry, another brother, also contributed to it. The Loiterer was published for fourteen months and distributed in London, Oxford, and other major towns in England. In later life James continued to write poetry for the pleasure of his family, but if he had any greater ambition for his writing beyond that, it was unrealized.

  “I hardly know. I would not have imagined such a thing possible … or prudent,” Elinor murmured, tilting her head this way and that as she followed the movements of the female contenders. An inner voice whispered that she should be repulsed, that she ought to turn on her heel and flee the den of iniquity at once. Yet she found that she could not; she was irresistibly drawn to the spectacle before her. The singular visage of Lucy Steele sud- denly appeared amongst the onlookers across the way, and, when their eyes met, Elinor shot her a pointed look through the steamy atmosphere betwixt them. Lucy nodded, accepting the silent challenge. As if by some audible signal, they started toward each other at the very same moment. The crowd
cheered, apprehending that some considerable augmentation to the evening’s entertainment was forthcoming. With an expression of exhilaration overspreading her countenance, elinor cast caution to the wind, hoisted up her skirts, and waded into the mud-filled arena to meet her adversary.

  The Perilous Plot at Pemberley

  PATTI WIGINGTON

  It was a dark and stormy night. Our hired carriage broke down on the side of the road ten miles from Pemberley. The driver, fearful of the lightning and thunder, ran off into the darkness.

  My darling Freddie suggested I stay with the coach while he went for help. I had not long to wait, for shortly he returned in a second carriage, driven by a disheveled young man. Frederick assisted me into this conveyance and explained that the lady within was also headed to Pemberley.

  “I am Georgiana Fitzwilliam,” I said, “and you have met my husband, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

  “I am Miss Dinkley,” she said, blinking through a pair of thick spectacles. “I am to be governess to the Darcy daughters.”

  Before I could reply, I was nudged by something damp. I nearly leapt from my seat, startled as I was.

  “Oh,” Miss Dinkley laughed, “pay no mind. Mr. Rodgers, the coachman, has brought his dog with him. He answers to Scoobert. I have treats in my reticule, if you would like to offer him a snack.”

  We soon arrived at Pemberley. The storm had worsened, and Freddie recommended the coachman spend the night rather than venture back to his village. He readily agreed, and we left him and his dog indulging in a plate of mutton in the kitchens. It was a joy to see my brother and Lizzie after our years in India. Their daughters, Charlotte and Catherine, were abed, but we spent hours catching up on news of the surrounding countryside. It was good to see familiar faces; Lizzie’s sister Jane and her husband, Bingley, were there, as were Bingley’s sister, Caroline, and Mr. and Mrs. Collins of Rosings Park.