Every Woman Dreams...

A Walk in Jane Austen’s Shoes, a Guest Post from Sophie Turner

Posted on April 13, 2018 by Regina Jeffers

This post originally appeared on Austen Authors on February 16, 2018. I thought you might enjoy the lovely images Ms. Turner shares.

My series on resort towns and my travels has thus far only tangentially touched on Jane Austen, but in today’s post I want to write about her, particularly her health. You might, as was generally the case for me, think of it as being poor. After all, as Kyra Kramer writes in her guest post here, she was plagued by a somewhat bizarre set of maladies, from ongoing conjunctivitis to having whooping cough as an adult, before dying at the age of 41.

Yet other things suggest she had at least periods of very good health. A fondness for dancing in her youth meant country dances and reels, which require a goodly degree of stamina: they winded even professional dancers when the BBC attempted to recreate the Netherfield Ball. And as I discovered when I attempted to walk where she’d walked, she was much nearer Elizabeth Bennet than Fanny Price, when it came to a ramble.

I keep a running Google Map of all of the places I want to visit in the UK, and at some point Bath had acquired a pin for Charlcombe, based on one of the evening walks Austen took during her time in Bath:

I spent Friday evening with the Mapletons, and was obliged to submit to being pleased in spite of my inclination. We took a very charming walk from six to eight up Beacon Hill, and across some fields, to the village of Charlecombe, which is sweetly situated in a little green valley, as a village with such a name ought to be. Marianne is sensible and intelligent; and even Jane, considering how fair she is, is not unpleasant. We had a Miss North and a Mr. Gould of our party; the latter walked home with me after tea. He is a very young man, just entered Oxford, wears spectacles, and has heard that “Evelina” was written by Dr Johnson.

This made it seem like a pleasant after-dinner stroll, so I thought it would be nice at some point to walk to Charlcombe myself, and during this trip fixed on doing it on a Sunday, my last day in Bath. While “up Beacon Hill” does not suggest the exact path taken by Austen, I’d already been hiking up a portion of that hill to indulge my interest in architecture at other points during my time in Bath, and opted for a path that was a little more around the long way, thinking the grade of the hill would be a little less steep.

Map of the city of Bath. Charlcombe is due north.

It didn’t really matter. Either way you have to go a very long way up the large hill that serves as the basis for Bath’s cascading terraces of houses. By this point in the trip temperatures were un-Englishly warm, going into the 80s, and although I had been routinely doing more than 10,000 steps a day and usually more than 15,000 during my trip, and should have been fit for it, I was an exhausted, sweaty mess by the time I reached the top.

Uphill road into Charlcombe. It’s one of those charming village roads where pedestrians and cars are completely expected to share.

This was no after-dinner stroll, and the aplomb with which Austen writes of it indicates that she must have been incredibly fit by modern standards. This makes sense, when you think about it: in her country life, walking would have been her primary means of getting about, for presumably even when Mr. Austen kept a carriage, the young ladies were not constantly ordering it to go about (like at Longbourn, the horses would have often been needed for the farm). And then in Bath, she must have grown used to walking those hilly streets: one cannot imagine the expense of a chair would have been one commonly borne by the Austens.

The walk, however, was rewarding, both for the spectacular view and for the charming little church there, which had another of those holy wells from the old days of belief that such water had a miraculous rather than secular curative nature.

Charlcombe’s claim to fame, of course, is that Jane Austen once walked there, which says something in and of itself:

Quote from Jane Austen’s letter, at Charlcombe.

As for me, I continued on up the hill to the Hare and Hounds pub, where I enjoyed an even better view and consumed the most-earned Sunday roast I’ve ever had in my life.

I walked more directly down the hill, down Lansdown Road, judging the grade of the hill and what it must have been like to walk all the way up it. This was further evidence – as though I needed it – of Austen’s fitness.

Evidence of our dear author’s fitness also appears in her pelisse, which was on display at the Willis Museum in Basingstoke as part of the commemoration of Austen’s death. Based on studies of the pelisse, it’s estimated that Austen was 5’7 to 5’8 tall. It’s important to note that this doesn’t necessarily make her any taller at that time among her peers than someone of that height today (I am 5’8 myself). It’s a common fallacy that people were naturally shorter at that time, perpetuated in part because of the height of the decks of naval ships, which were not low because people were short, but instead low due to the needed weight distribution of the heavy guns; tall decks would have put the center of gravity too high on a ship. There certainly were people who were shorter, due to malnutrition – there were people surviving on bread at this time. But among the middle and upper classes, being as tall as Austen would not have been out of the norm.

As I mentioned, I am 5’8 myself, so it was interesting to look at the pelisse through that lens, and Austen was decidedly thinner than myself. I’d go so far as to say she had a light and pleasing figure!

Pelisse thought to have been worn by Jane Austen.

Aside from Austen’s pelisse, the exhibit featured other fashions, themed around going to a ball.

I went a number of the Jane Austen 200 exhibits, and also made a return to the house museum in Chawton. This was perhaps not the best year to do so, for it was rather crowded. Still, that gave the place a life, particularly since they were letting folks play the pianoforte (I love it when that’s allowed in historic houses) and it’s amazing to think of just how many people are making this particular pilgrimage.

https://vr.me.sh/view/?view=360&url=https://austenauthors.net/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/36499754204_0e06b0e01f_o-1.jpg

360 view of Jane and Cassandra’s bedroom.

The walk to the great house. Mrs. Austen and Cassandra are buried in the cemetery on the right.

https://vr.me.sh/view/?view=360&url=https://austenauthors.net/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/37146688946_a1c1e4ed60_o.jpg

360 view of the dining room at Chawton House.

It’s very interesting to walk through these rooms in the house Austen visited frequently during her life in the Chawton cottage. If the cottage was the place where she had her most productive output, was the great house the source of much inspiration, both in its spaces and in the rooms themselves? What heroines might she have envisioned peering out of those mullioned windows? What drama might she have imagined within these rooms?

This, we’ll never know, and alas, I must draw this post to an end with the melancholy promise that my next post will bring us to the inevitable end, for Miss Austen. So I shall see you all next time, when we go to Winchester.

Posted in British history, Georgian England, Guest Post, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, real life tales, Regency era, Regency personalities | Tagged Bath, British history, Charlcombe, guest post, Jane Austen, Sophie Turner | Comments Off

“Very Real” Estate ~ Whitehaven, A Port City on England’s Western Coastline

Posted on April 11, 2018 by Regina Jeffers

Whitehaven is a Georgian town situated on the west coast of Cumbria. It was one of the first post-Renaissance planned towns in England. At the end of the 16th Century, Whitehaven consisted of less than a dozen thatched cottages. By the end of the 17th Century, it had a population of 3000 and was the second largest port on England’s western coastline.

Griffiths'_Guide_to_the_iron_trade_of_Great_Britain_an_elaborate_review_of_the_iron_(and)_coal_trades_for_last_year,_addresses_and_names_of_all_ironmasters,_with_a_list_of_blast_furnaces

Whitehaven 1873 via Wikipedia

The Lowther family were behind Whitehaven’s steady growth and success. The Lowthers were later the Earls of Lonsdale. It was was their vision for the village turned town turned busy port that turned Whitehaven into a port for shipbuilding and the exportation of Cumberland coal.

Built on the site of a medieval hall is the imposing country house ruin of Lowther Castle. Constructed of calciferous sandstone ashlar, the Castle was the design of the English architect Sir Robert Smirke. Lowther was built between 1806 and 1814 and designed as a majestic castle viewed from the outside and a luxurious contemporary home on the inside. https://ahistoricalhiatus.com/2015/02/06/lowther-castle/

Sir John Lowther, 2nd Baronet “(9 November 1642 – 17 January 1706) was born at Whitehaven, St Bees, Cumberland, the son of Sir Christopher Lowther, lst Baronet, and his wife, Frances Lancaster, daughter of Christopher Lancaster of Stockbridge, Westmoreland. He was educated at Ilkley, Yorkshire and Balliol College, Oxford (matriculated 1657) Lowther owned large coal estates near Whitehaven, and worked to develop the mines and the port. He spent over £11,000 in expanding Lowther holdings in the Whitehaven area, concentrating on the acquisition of coal-bearing land, of land which would allow his pits unhampered access to Whitehaven harbour, and land which would hinder the working of others’ pits. This, in turn, allowed him to improve the drainage of his pits, unworried by the thought that he was also draining his neighbours’. He secured the grant of the right to hold a market and a fair to Whitehaven, and its recognition as a separate customs ‘member-port’ (under the ‘head-port’ of Carlisle) responsible for the Solway coast from Ravenglass to Ellenfoot (later Maryport). He also secured (against a rival grant to the Earl of Carlingford), recognition of his title to the foreshore (land between low-water and high-water) of the manor of St. Bees, containing ‘houses lands staythes & salt pans at Whitehaven’ valued at £400 a year. He oversaw the rise of Whitehaven from a small fishing village (at his birth it consisted of some fifty houses and a population of about 250) to a planned town three times the size of Carlisle. At his death the ‘port of Whitehaven’ had 77 registered vessels, totaling about four thousand tons, and was exporting over 35,000 tons of coal a year.”

Sir John was inspired by Christopher Wren’s designs for the rebuilding of London after the Great Fire of 1666. Wren came up with a plan that laid out the London streets on a grid, rather than have them turn in upon themselves. He also specified the types of houses to be built so that the buildings would not feed each other as they had done in the Great Fire. Many historians believe that New York’s street system is inspired by Whitehaven’s grid system.

“On Flatt Walks, looking down Lowther Street is Sir John Lowther’s former home, known as “The Castle”since the beginning of the 18th Century. The building became Whitehaven Hospital in 1926, and is now housing. It was designed by Robert Adam, the most fashionable architect of his period.

“The port development was linked to the exploitation of rich local deposits of coal and iron ore. Some coal mines extended for several miles beneath the sea bed. The first undersea mine in England was constructed in Whitehaven in 1729. By 1931 it was the deepest undersea mine anywhere at the time.

“On 17th June 2005 a sculpture was unveiled near the Beacon, as a memorial to the town’s mining history. By Colin Telfer, it is a unique mix of coal, slate and casting resin, and features a pillar of coal with four figures – a deputy overman, representing mine management; a mines rescue man, representing safety and rescue work; a coal face worker, showing manpower; and a screenlass, to illustrate hardship and poverty.

“Whitehaven was the last place in Britain to be attacked by American naval forces. On 23rd April 1778 during the American War of Independence, John Paul Jones arrived in Britain with the intention of setting the whole merchant fleet on fire. The alarm was raised, and he retreated forthwith. Another American link is that Mildred Warner Gale, the grandmother of the American president George Washington, came from Whitehaven. She was buried in the grounds of St Nicholas’ Church, on 30th January 1700/1. Visitors may climb a narrow spiral stair in the Clock Tower, to see the workings of the clock, and to see a small display relating to the Gale family.” (Visit Cumbria)

According to Christopher Winn in I Never Knew That About the English, 1729 saw the extension of the Saltom Coal Pit, which is south of Whitehaven out beneath the sea. It was the first coal pit in the world to hold that distinction. Winn goes on to provide us other tidbits of information. For example John Paul Jones, the American privateer during the American War of Independence, had once served as an apprentice in Whitehaven (1749). The Brocklebank Shipping Lines, founded by Daniel Brocklebank in 1782, was the world’s first shipping lines in Whitehaven. 1798 saw the opening of Jefferson’s Wine Merchants on Lowther Street. The business stood for over 200 years in the same shop. Finally, Mildred Gale, who was George Washington’s paternal grandmother, is buried in the churchyard at St Nicholas. Before Mildred was married to George Gale, a sea merchant, she was married to Lawrence Washington, by whom she had three children.

Posted in American History, British history, buildings and structures, Living in the UK, real life tales | Tagged British history, Cumbria, ports, real estate, seafaring, Sir Christopher Wren, Sir John Lowther, Whitehaven | 3 Comments

Is What We Do JAFF or Something Else? a Guest Post from Don Jacobson

Posted on April 6, 2018 by Regina Jeffers

This post originally appeared on Austen Authors on 17 February 2018.

Here I am in the first week of a blog tour for the FIFTH book in a series, and I am now questioning where it can be placed upon the Jane Austen Fan Fiction spectrum. This ultimately begs the question, “what is JAFF?” And, furthermore, as the genre evolves, how might the boundaries of JAFF change the further we move away from the origins of Regency Romance and deeper into the 21^st Century?

There will be those who question if Regency Romance and its subset, Pride and Prejudice Variations, needs to seek out new means of presenting the transcendent themes inherent in the Canonical novels. After all, authors have been composing variations on the ODC stories for over a century with the last 20 years seeing a resurgent popularity rising out of the 1995 film. I cannot agree that the field must remain static and faithful to the highly readable guidelines laid down decades ago. However, I am not arguing that authors must find try to “outdo” the others with something more graphic (yes, sex) and gratuitous (yes, violence) in order to keep the required plot lines “fresh.” That, I believe, is wrong-headed thinking.

In fact, the popularity of our genre offers something else entirely. Well-read observers of the publications being released cannot help but notice that, as more individuals seek to express themselves through the writing of works based upon Austen’s originals, we are seeing what can only be described as natural growth and change. Much as the Classical music embodied in well-established Haydn and Mozart in the late 1700s was transformed by a young Beethoven after the Eroica in 1803 into something new, so, too, the field originally laid down in the 1920s by Heyer now is responding in the second decade of the 21^st Century because new voices are taking paths through wildernesses yet unexplored.

This does not make any novel or novella hewing to the traditional modalities a less worthy outing, especially if the author takes care to refresh older plot tropes and adds unique, but not unwarranted, devices that surprise the readers. On the contrary, I can easily list a cavalcade of twenty (or more) writers who consistently produce superb mainstream work that makes me whisper, “I wish I had written that.” However, like the Academy Award winner, rather than try to mention all by name and forget one or two, I will simply say that you know them when you read them.

We are in a glorious period of trial and error. New voices courageously examine different ways of interpreting Austen’s great themes for a 21^st Century Millennial audience. New, powerful books and series grapple with questions not only of love and romance, but also of slavery, the relationship between the rulers and the ruled, and the fact that wealth does not automatically confer virtue any more poverty does not suggest an infirmity of character. Likewise, authors are now accepting the challenge of turning many stereotypical side characters into fully three-dimensional heroes and villains.

I am not arguing that to be “new,” one must ignore Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam. On the contrary, I have discovered in my own work that ODC is the center around which the universe revolves. However, there are so many interesting questions to ask and, to those questions, posit answers.

As Rod Serling would say “May I offer for your examination…”

If George Wickham was of an age with Fitzwilliam Darcy, was educated in a like manner, and afforded similar pecuniary resources, why did he turn into a darker mirror image of Darcy? Would this not be contrary to John Locke’s ‘tabula rasa’ found in the ‘Treatise on Human Understanding?’ Are we left to somehow assume that because the adolescent Wickham was still ‘just’ a steward’s son, the offspring of a servant, he could never act like a gentleman?

Actually, he did. In fact, Wickham acted much like many aristocratic scions through his gambling, carousing, and running up of debt. His ultimate sin was that he welched on what he owed unlike the rich boys who got bailed out by Daddy. We are left to wonder if the genteel Austen was commenting about Wickham aping his betters or wielding a sword suggesting that the aristocracy was acting like the crass lower classes.

I attempted to provide an answer for the shaping of Wickham’s personality as it was portrayed in the Canon in this most recent book The Exile: The Countess Visits Longbourn.

I believe that we are observing a change from what has driven our genre for decades to something that can only refresh the field. T’is no longer “fan fiction” except that those who write it have immersed themselves in the universe created by Jane Austen. Likewise, the readers may be “fans” of the themes laid down by Austen, but they are also discriminating readers seeking to find literature that appeals to them in the same motion that it challenges them.

This process is opening up exciting new literary channels that can only demand that readers begin within the space created by Austen. Authors have a different task, I believe, and that is to broaden their work away from hewing so tightly to Austen into being inspired by Austen and using the memes and mores of the modern age.

Jane Austen Fan Fiction implies to a degree, I think, that the work is less serious, the creation of “fans,” when that is the furthest thing from the truth. Yes, each author is a “fan” both of the original Canon as well as the subsequent outpouring of material that carries the ideas and characters along, often to the same destination. Readers, too, are “fans” of the same. There are moments, though, when JAFF becomes a throw-away term to readers of other genres.

So, if the appellation has difficulties, what are we to do? Recall that “science fiction’s” Golden Age (1930s-mid-50s) involved a lot of work that had BEM’s (sorry, Bug-Eyed Monsters) threatening plucky men and submissive women. It had limited appeal to any but teen-aged boys grappling with their own sense of powerlessness. How did it grow past that stage into the “speculative fiction” of today? Simply, it evolved until it was something new and refreshed with offerings by a new generation of writers–women and men–who looked at the world around them and found great material with which to create new fiction. Oh, many of great authors of the Golden Age found a way to change with the times and managed to survive the 1960s and still stand astride the field into the 1980s.

For me, therefore, I find that much as we do not speak of ‘Science Fiction’ anymore, rather naming it ‘Speculative Fiction,’ calling that which we write ‘Jane Austen Fan Fiction’ is exclusionary to those not already reading the works.We, too, can do the same as the SFers, by daring our authors to take a risk and challenge us to rethink our preconceived notions of what we expect from a book growing out of Austen.

And that is why I am suggesting that (as I plan to do) we begin to move away from calling that which we do as JAFF. For instance, my new Twitter handle is “AustenesqueAuth.” I believe that we should change our brand to a term familiar to many of us, but also one that would imply less “tribute band” and more sensibility to creating a broader appeal.

Austenesque Fiction

I would cherish your thoughts on this.

&&&&&

61alaIstgwL._UX250_.jpg Please enjoy this excerpt from The Exile: The Countess Visits Longbourn.

This excerpt is ©2018 by Donald P. Jacobson. All Rights Reserved. Any reproduction of this work through either electronic or mechanical means is strictly prohibited. Published in the United States of America.

Here Wickham, accompanied by a new acquaintance, Captain Richard Sharpe, ponders the reasons he descended so far from the advantages afforded him by Old Mr. Darcy. Corporal Charlie Tomkins and Sergeant Henry Wilson are soon to be detached by Sharpe from the South Essex Regiment into the service of Wickham’s 33^rd, “Wellesley’s Own.” Some additional name references are found in Bernard Cornwell’s Richard Sharpe novels. Tomkins and Wilson are new characters who have been seen in my earlier non-Bennet Wardrobe novella, “The Maid and the Footman.”

Chapter XXII

Tomkins walked point while Wilson brought up the rear. The positions suited each well for the attention of an aggressor would be focused upon the two officers walking side-by-side thus leading him to ignore the small, wiry man out front to their certain chagrin. Anyone charging from the rear would immediately run headlong into the broad shoulders and swiveling shako of the redoubtable Sergeant Wilson.

Thus protected from the denizens of London’s alleyways, the Captain and the Lieutenant, greatcoats warmly wrapping them against the chill dampness, continued their conversation.

Sharpe mused at the many parallels between his life and that of George Wickham. Both had moved above their station in the face of resistance if not outright hostility from their betters; Sharpe much further…from the docks and workhouses of London while Wickham had had a comfortable start as the son of the man charged with the day-to-day management of one of Britain’s largest estates. Both were surprisingly well educated, although Wickham had enjoyed a university experience while Sharpe had bent his own mind toward improvement. Finally, both men had discovered some degree of purpose in a martial existence.

Sharpe had peeled back a number of the layers that made up the onion known as George Wickham. Yet, like Aristotle’s hydro-argyros,[i] Wickham proved to be mercurial, refusing to be held in place to be measured, to be weighed. Thus, Sharpe had to channel his own inner Major Hogan, to apply the techniques that worthy used in the service of Wellesley in the pursuit of the Lieutenant’s inner truth.

Much as Hogan would quiz a French captive, Sharpe laid his conclusions before Wickham. Their validity was not the central point for a compliant Wickham would correct him if he was in error, and, in so doing, would provide more information, perhaps much that he sought to conceal.

Beginning at the end was often a way to get at the beginning. Sharpe was seeking an understanding why two men of an age, raised in a similar manner, and given like opportunities would be shaped into such diametrically opposed beings.

Sharpe began his gambit by looking at the critical moment, the crux, which proved to be the point where Wickham’s life swung in a different direction.

He squeezed the sore spot, “From what I can see, your life has had a Vauxhall Gardens way about it…all froth and fizz, full of an unreal quality, but possessing little of substance that would appear worthwhile in the harsh light of day. And, like the excitement of a young girl upon her first trip to the pleasure dome, you soon discovered that all good things must come to an end.

“Thus, the death of old Mr. Darcy put paid to your seemingly endless winning streak. He had covered up your sins for you, as did his son. You discovered that your distance from Pemberley had softened the impact of your behavior upon your godfather; that it had served to allow the old man the chance to deny what he prayed was not true.

“Not so his son, for that young man often had to pick up after you. His patience lasted only as long as the father lived because the youth sought to spare his sire the disappointment of dashed hopes for your elevation from your background.

“You were forced to make your way in the world, but you quickly discovered that you were unprepared to do anything but playact as a rich man’s son.

“Sadly, you were not a pampered fop, were you?”

Each declaration struck a body blow to Wickham, already weakened by days of self-reflection. For a time, the only sound to be heard was a continual scritching as the grit beneath their feet was ground to dust between leather soles and damp cobbles. The group was passing along the boundaries of Hyde Park, following the carriageway, deserted now in the midnight blackness.

Then Wickham sighed, a deeply depressed release of air that carried the freighted feelings that had so borne upon him since he had first tried to explore his emotional motivations. He glanced up, his sight catching the guttering streetlight upon which he focused until all else vanished from his awareness. As his mind drifted away from his conversation with Sharpe, his pace slowed until he stopped, forcing the other three to begin to hold their places until they realized that the fourth member of their little tetrarchy, silently staring at the lantern, was no longer with them.

Wickham’s eyes drifted shut. His breathing became deeper and more regular the further he slid into the trancelike reverie. A sense that another had joined him became stronger. This being/part/portion had always been within, but buried by layers of emotional scar tissue laid on one offense—perceived or real—at a time. Yet, this segment of him had been growing stronger ever since that August morning in St. Clement’s when, in spite of his previous pedigree, he agreed to protect another. Time—both in reality as well as an imagined constraint—vanished as the sentience came closer. Words, communication felt, not heard, initiated the instant an image appeared in Wickham’s mind’s eye.

Posted in book excerpts, book release, British history, George Wickham, Guest Post, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, Pride and Prejudice, Vagary | Tagged Don Jacobson, George Wickham, guest post, Jane Austen Fan Fiction, Pride and Prejudice, The Exile: The Countess Visits Longbourn, variation | 2 Comments

Welcoming Jennifer Redlarczyk and Her Release of “A Very Merry Mix-up”

Posted on March 28, 2018 by Regina Jeffers

Today I welcome a dear friend of this blog and of Austen Authors. Jennifer Redlarczyk, who is releasing a novelette as a prelude to her first novel, Darcy’s Melody, which will arrive soon. Austen fans are in for a real treat.

Greetings, JAFF Lovers! And thank you, Regina, for hosting me here. Since I am a newly published author, I wanted to take this opportunity to tell you a little about myself and what inspired me to write in this genre.

By trade, I am a performer and private music teacher. For as long as I can remember, I have always loved music. While my parents were not formally trained musicians, it was a rare day that you didn’t hear one of them break out in song. As you might suspect I simply had to join in.

Growing up in Janesville, Wisconsin, my love of music followed me everywhere. In addition to voice, I studied violin and piano. When I attended college at Northwestern University, I majored in Vocal Performance. Currently, I live in Crown Point, Indiana, where I still continue to sing and have a delightful studio of young people who study with me.

I first discovered Jane Austen when I was but a teenager. My mother was a lover of old movies and introduced me and my sister to the 1940 movie version of Pride and Prejudice staring Greer Garson and Lawrence Olivier. What could be better than this old black and white film with lively music and lighthearted banter between our beloved characters, Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy?

Little did I know that this old film was just a sneak preview into the world of Jane Austen and the literary works that I would soon come to love and cherish. Following this introduction, I quickly sought out our local used book store to see if I might purchase the original. To my delight, I found a fat anthology containing not only Pride and Prejudice, but six of Jane Austen’s completed novels.

During the summer of 2011 while visiting my local Barnes and Noble Bookstore, I happened to notice a table of Jane Austen Fanfiction books. At the time, I wasn’t big into social media and never realized JAFF existed. Needless to say, I blew my budget and walked out of Barnes with an armload of books. From there I found the JAFF community on Facebook and became a moderator on DarcyandLizzy.com where I am an avid reader and have posted more than twenty short stories and one full-length novel, Darcy’s Melody.

At the time A Very Merry Mix-up was written, the forum had been offering various theme challenges to authors who wished to write short stories or flashes of inspiration. This particular story was written for All Fool’s Day. According to Wikipedia this particular day can be traced back to the days of Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales (1392). In preparation for publication of Darcy’s Melody, I decided to publish this novelette in an effort to explore more fully the realm of self-publishing. As a first time author, I was astounded to learn how much work goes into preparing one’s manuscript for publication. Consequentially, I have the greatest appreciation for authors such as Regina Jeffers, who have dedicated themselves to a career of writing and have continued to give us so many wonderful stories.

Jennifer Redlarczyk (Jen Red) ♫

Book Blurb for A Very Merry Mix-up

It all began when Fitzwilliam Darcy and his cousin Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam stopped at the posting station in Bromley on their way to Rosings Park for their annual visit. Looking for some diversion, the good colonel happened upon a local Romani woman who was selling her people’s treasured Moon Wine. Find out what happens to some of our favourite Jane Austen characters when her advice is ignored in A Very Merry Mix-up.

Moonflower

Teaser

1 April 1811, All Fool’s Day

Quickly rising, Darcy felt a little unsteady and found it necessary to hold on to the bed post while searching for his robe. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he staggered closer to the glass and groaned in disbelief. Slowly rubbing his stubby fingers across his ruddy cheeks and through his oily hair, he wondered if he had indeed gone mad. Wiping those same fingers on the front of his nightshirt, he could not help but feel his flabby chest and the protrusion of his round stomach through the cloth. Grasping the reality of his predicament, Darcy stared at himself with revulsion.

“Merciful Heaven!” he thundered, turning back to the woman. “It is me, Fitzwilliam Darcy, in the body of that idiot rector! If you are Miss Elizabeth Bennet, as you claim, I fear we have both become the victims of some cruel joke. Will you not come and look for yourself?”

Picking up Charlotte’s dressing gown and quickly wrapping it around herself, Elizabeth guardedly went to the mirror as he requested. “Mr. Darcy?” She paled, realizing what he said was true.

♫

Want to read a Longer Excerpt? Check out the one on Amazon at this LINK.

Posted in book excerpts, book release, British history, excerpt, film adaptations, Georgian England, Guest Post, historical fiction, Jane Austen, legends and myths, Living in the Regency, music, Pride and Prejudice, Regency era | Tagged A Very Merry Mix-up, book excerpt, book release, Darcy's Melody, guest post, JAFF, Jane Austen, Jennifer Redlarczyk, music | 58 Comments

A Closer Look at “Elizabeth Bennet’s Deception: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary”

Posted on March 21, 2018 by Regina Jeffers

Although I have written nearly two dozen Austen-inspired retellings, sequels, and mysteries, Elizabeth Bennet’s Deception was my first attempt at what is known as a “variation” in the JAFF (Jane Austen Fan Fiction) community. In a variation, the author changes one of the events in the original Austen story line and creates a new and intriguing twist.

In this first attempt at a vagary, I was my usual writer self: I added lots of angst and many twists and turns. The book begins with Darcy’s return to Pemberley while Elizabeth and the Gardiners are visiting, but instead of his approaching her, he skitters off to his rooms rather than to speak to her. However, the next day, when Bingley is escorting Georgiana Darcy to Pemberley, he spots Elizabeth in Lambton. That evening he calls on her and her family. During the general course of the conversation, Mrs. Gardiner “casually” tells Mr. Bingley how Jane had been in London for three months and how Bingley’s sister provided Jane a direct cut by not returning a social call. Bingley is furious. He returns to Pemberley. Darcy confesses his part in separating Bingley from Jane.

The next day, Elizabeth receives the letter from Jane that describes Lydia’s elopement with Mr. Wickham. While Mr. Gardiner rides ahead to meet up with Mr. Bennet, Elizabeth takes it on herself to call on Darcy. She asks his help in finding Wickham. He makes the natural assumption that Wickham has seduced Elizabeth, and she is with child. Saddened by the possibility, Darcy refuses, but Bingley says that if Darcy expects for Bingley to forgive him, he will assist Elizabeth. Along with Mrs. Gardiner, Darcy and Elizabeth set off for London. Obviously, I do not make their journey an easy one. I toss in the hunt for Wickham, a measle outbreak, another major misunderstanding, a secret betrothal, and Darcy’s humbling himself before Meryton’s populace before our dear couple reach their Happily Ever After (HEA). The idea is to have both Darcy and Elizabeth go through some sort of transformation, just as they did in the original tale before bringing them together.

Elizabeth Bennet’s Deception: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary

What if Fitzwilliam Darcy refused to approach Elizabeth Bennet when he spots her upon the grounds of Pemberley? What if Elizabeth permits Mr. Darcy to think her the one ruined by Mr. Wickham? What if love is not enough to bring these two souls together?

FITZWILLIAM DARCY’s pride makes the natural leap to ELIZABETH BENNET’s ruination when she appears, without notice, upon Pemberley’s threshold to plead for his assistance in locating Darcy’s long time enemy, George Wickham. Initially, Darcy refuses, but when Charles Bingley demands that Darcy act with honor, Darcy agrees. The idea of delivering Miss Elizabeth into the hands of Mr. Wickham rubs Darcy’s raw. Even so, he does his best to bring Wickham to marry Elizabeth Bennet; but it is not long before Darcy realizes Elizabeth practices a deception, one he permits to continue so he might remain at her side.

Their adventure takes more twists and turns than does the original Pride and Prejudice, but the reader will enjoy the devotion displayed by both Darcy and Elizabeth as they not only bring Wickham to toe the line in Lydia’s defense, but they work their way through new misconstructions. Darcy’s finally wooing of Elizabeth brings them both to a public declaration of their love.

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Excerpt from Chapter One

Darcy froze in his steps.

“It could not be,” he whispered to his foolish heart. He had returned to Pemberley a day early in order to make the final arrangements for the surprise he meant for his sister. He had left Georgiana in the care of his friend, Charles Bingley, and Bingley’s sisters. More than once, while he had ridden to Pemberley, he had experienced a twinge of guilt at his expecting Georgiana to contend with Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst, but Miss Bingley’s effusions had sorely worn on Darcy’s patience, and so he had made his excuses.

Arriving upon the estate grounds, he had cut across Pemberley’s parkland to come forward from the road, which led behind it to the stables. Upon his approach to the manor house, Darcy had noted an unmarked carriage before the front entrance. Recognizing the possibility of visitors in the common rooms, he remained in the shadows, meaning to enter the private quarters through the back entrance; yet, the appearance of a young woman upon the rise leading to the river had brought him to a stumbling halt. From a distance, the woman had the look of Elizabeth Bennet, but he did not approach, but his head denied the possibility that his heart screamed to be true. He had acted the fool previously and refused to be found wanting again.

Perhaps it was a month or so after his disastrous proposal to Miss Elizabeth at Hunsford Cottage, that he had spotted a young lady entering Hatchard’s Books, and without thinking, he had followed her. “Miss Elizabeth,” he said as he came up behind her, but when the woman spun around to greet him, the lady was not the woman whose existence had haunted Darcy’s thoughts for almost a year.

The girl’s forehead furrowed in confusion. “Pardon me, sir. Do we hold an acquaintance?”

Darcy bowed stiffly. “It is I, miss, who begs your pardon. From behind, I thought you a long-standing acquaintance.” He stepped back to widen the distance between them. “I apologize for the inconvenience.”

The girl’s frown line deepened. “Yet, you called me by my Christian name.” The tone of the girl’s voice spoke of her suspicions.

Darcy swallowed the blush of embarrassment rushing to his cheeks. “If you are also an ‘Elizabeth,’ it is purely a coincidence,” he insisted.

“I am.”

Darcy rushed his apologies when he spied a matron marching to the young woman’s rescue. “Then I am doubly apologetic. My actions placed you in an awkward position. Please forgive me.” He held enough experience with Society mamas to know when to make a speedy exit.

During his return to Darcy House that day, he had silently cursed his inanity for stumbling into what was another humiliating situation. Later, in his study, he had admitted to the empty room, if not to himself, that he had missed looking upon Elizabeth Bennet’s animated countenance. “If it were she,” Darcy warned his conscience, “Miss Elizabeth would have, in all probability, presented me the direct cut. The lady spoke quite elegantly upon her disdain, and you are imprudent to think your letter would have changed Miss Elizabeth’s mind. Accept the fact the woman is not for you.”

And so when Darcy noted another possessing Elizabeth’s likeness upon the streets in the warehouse district of Cheapside a fortnight later, he had turned away with the knowledge that as a gentleman’s daughter, Miss Elizabeth would not be found in Cheapside. He strove to convince himself that he would soon replace Elizabeth Bennet’s charms with that of another.

Belatedly, realizing he studied the woman standing upon the rise longer than was proper, Darcy slipped through an open patio door to escape the vision of Elizabeth Bennet at Pemberley, a thought which so often followed him about as he completed a variety of tasks upon the estate. It was deuced frustrating to look for the woman wherever his steps took him.

“Leave it be,” Darcy chastised as he crossed the drawing room only to be brought up short a second time by the appearance of his housekeeper.

Mrs. Reynolds caught at her chest in obvious surprise. “Mr. Darcy,” she gasped. “I did not realize you had returned, sir.”

Darcy caught her elbow to steady the stance of his long-time servant. Mrs. Reynolds had come to Pemberley when he was but three. She, Mr. Nathan, his butler, and Mr. Sheffield, his valet, all had known the Darcy family’s employ for over twenty years. “I noted visitors, and as I was not dressed properly, I thought to avoid the necessary greetings,” he explained.

“I have just this minute turned them over to the gardener,” Mrs. Reynolds assured.

Darcy swallowed the question rushing to his lips. He would not ask of the nature of those who called upon his house. “Very well. Then I am free to seek the privacy of my quarters.”

“Yes, sir.” Mrs. Reynolds glanced toward the entrance hall. “Should I have a footman bring up bath water, sir?”

Darcy nodded his agreement. Again, he fought the urge to ask of the estate’s visitors, choosing not to punish his pride with false hopes. Instead, he asked, “Has Miss Darcy’s gift arrived?”

“Yes, sir. As you instructed I had the instrument placed in Miss Darcy’s sitting room. It fits perfectly. Miss Georgiana will know such joy.”

He smiled with the woman’s kindness. “My sister deserves a bit of happiness. After my ablutions, I mean to view the arrangement personally.”

“Very good, sir.” Mrs. Reynolds started away to do his bidding. Yet, despite his best efforts, Darcy called out to her. “Yes, Master William. Is there something more?”

Darcy’s eyes searched the staircase where he often imagined Elizabeth Bennet standing. Such yearning swelled his chest that he experienced difficulty breathing. It is best not to know, he cautioned his wayward thoughts.

“Would you tell the footman I will require his assistance in dressing. Mr. Sheffield and my coach will arrive later this evening.”

“Certainly, sir.”

“And you and I should speak before Mr. Bingley’s family arrives. Miss Bingley did not enjoy the vista from her guest room when last the Bingleys were here.”

A scowl of disapproval crossed his housekeeper’s features. Darcy knew many of his servants prayed he would not take up with Caroline Bingley. He expected if he were to act so foolish, he would receive a large number of notices of withdrawal from his staff.
“Perhaps before supper, sir,” Mrs. Reynolds said stiffly.

Darcy nodded his approval, and the lady strode away; yet, he whispered to her retreating form. “Have no fear. Only one woman knows my approval as the Mistress of Pemberley.” Darcy chuckled in irony. “And it remains unfortunate that even Pemberley’s grandeur could not entice the lady to overlook its master’s shortcomings.”

* * *

Mr. Darcy’s housekeeper consigned Elizabeth and her aunt and uncle over to the gardener, who met them at the hall door. As they followed the man toward the river, Elizabeth turned to look upon the gentleman’s home. For very selfish reasons, she had opposed her aunt’s suggestion of the tour of Mr. Darcy’s estate, but Elizabeth was glad she had come, nevertheless. In her future daydreams, she would picture the gentleman standing upon the grand staircase.

If Elizabeth, when Mr. Darcy gave her the letter he wrote in clarification of his actions, did not expect it to contain a renewal of his offers, she formed no expectation at all of its contents. But such as they were, it might well be supposed how eagerly she went through them and what a contrariety of emotions they had excited. No one observing her progress could have given voice to her feelings. With amazement did she first understand that Mr. Darcy believed any apology to be in his power; and she steadfastly denied that he could possess an explanation, which a just sense of shame would not conceal.

With a strong prejudice against everything he might say, she had examined his account of what occurred at Netherfield. She read with an eagerness, which hardly left her power of comprehension, as well as from an impatience of knowing what the next sentence might bring, so much so she could not attend to the sense of the written lines before her eyes. Mr. Darcy’s belief of Jane’s insensibility Elizabeth instantly resolved to be false, and his account of his real objections to the match brought such anger that she could not declare his actions just. The gentleman expressed no regret for acting upon his beliefs, at least none, which had satisfied her at the time. Elizabeth declared his style lacking in penitence, instead of naming it haughty and prideful and insolence.

But Mr. Darcy’s account of his relationship with Mr. Wickham bore so alarming an affinity to Mr. Wickham’s own narration of the events that astonishment, apprehension, and even horror, oppressed her. Elizabeth had wished to discredit it, but every line had proven that the affair, which she believed beyond the pale, could name the Derbyshire gentleman entirely blameless throughout the whole.

In hindsight, Elizabeth had grown absolutely ashamed of her accusations. Of neither Mr. Darcy nor Mr. Wickham could she think without feeling she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, and absurd. “I acted the harpy,” Elizabeth whispered as she implanted the image of Pemberley upon her mind.

When her relatives had insisted upon touring the estate, Elizabeth had convinced herself that viewing Mr. Darcy’s property would prove just punishment for the pain she had caused the gentleman.

“Of all this, I might be mistress,” she reminded herself with each new discovery of how easily she and Mr. Darcy could suit. They held similar tastes in architecture and décor. “So different from his aunt’s ornate presentation at Rosings.”

And so, although Pemberley’s gallery sported many fine portraits of the Darcy family, Elizabeth had searched for the one face whose features she wished to look upon again. At last, it arrested her, and Elizabeth beheld a striking resemblance to Mr. Darcy, with such a smile upon his lips as she remembered to have sometimes seen when he looked upon her. The viewing brought her instant regret for she recognized the honor of Mr. Darcy, which led her to consider his regard for her with a deeper sentiment of gratitude than she had ever admitted, even to herself.

Elizabeth wished she could tell Mr. Darcy that she found Pemberley “delightful” and “charming,” but she quickly deduced the gentleman would have assumed her opinions mischievously construed: Mr. Darcy would think her praise of Pemberley a device to elicit a renewal of his proposal.

“Better this way,” Elizabeth whispered as she turned to follow her aunt and uncle further into the woods. “I have memories of Pemberley, and no one else is the wiser of my presence under Mr. Darcy’s roof.”

* * *

Unable to quash his curiosity any longer, after supper, Darcy sent for Mrs. Reynolds.
“Yes, sir?” The lady curtsied from her position inside the open door to his study.
Darcy motioned her forward.

“Would you see that there is a vase of yellow roses placed upon the new instrument in Miss Darcy’s quarters.”

Mrs. Reynolds’ countenance relaxed. “I asked Mr. Brownley for fresh cuttings previously, sir.”

Darcy nodded his approval. “I should not think to instruct you on providing for Georgiana’s pleasure. You have been an exemplary member of Pemberley’s staff for longer than I can remember.”

The woman blushed at Darcy’s kindness, but she kept a business-like tone. “I also aired out the green bedchamber for Miss Bingley’s use. I pray that will serve the lady’s purpose.”

Darcy understood Mrs. Reynolds’ poorly disguised question. “You may inform the staff I hold no intention of seeing Miss Bingley in the family quarters. The green chamber is close enough.”

Mrs. Reynolds closed her eyes in what appeared to be a silent prayer of thanksgiving.
“Will that be all, sir?”

Darcy’s heart raced, but he managed to pronounce the necessary words. “Did we have more than one set of visitors today? Thanks to your efficiency, I so rarely encounter the estate guests, but I would not have you beset upon. Your first duty is to the running of Pemberley.”

“No, sir. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were the only ones we accepted in well over a week. It is no bother: I am proud of Pemberley.”

“Mrs. Gardiner,” Darcy’s mind caught the name and rolled it through his body like a tidal wave striking a ship. If the lady he observed was Elizabeth, had she married? Had she thought to compare what she earned to what she lost? Darcy’s mind retreated from the possibilities, but he could not quite quash his fears. “A young couple then? Perhaps on a holiday?”

Mrs. Reynolds shook her head in denial. “Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner would be the age of your late parents. I overheard Mrs. Gardiner tell her niece a tale of the village oak. It sounded as if the lady spent part of her childhood on the London side of Lambton.”

“Her niece?” Darcy’s mind latched onto the one word in his housekeeper’s tale that rang with hope.

“Yes, sir. A fine young lady. Very kind to her aunt, offering her arm to Mrs. Gardiner’s support. I believe the lady held an acquaintance with you. She and her aunt had a private conversation when they spotted the miniature of Mr. Wickham on your father’s mantelpiece.” Mrs. Reynolds’ shoulders stiffened. “I am sorry to report, sir, I could not give Mrs. Gardiner a civil account when she asked her niece how the young lady liked it. In truth, I quickly turned the conversation to your miniature.”

“I appreciate your loyalty,” Darcy said with a wry smile.

“My respect for the girl increased when she admitted she knew you ‘a little’ and that she found you ‘very handsome,’” Mrs. Reynolds continued.

Darcy’s eyebrow rose with curiosity. He hoped perhaps Mrs. Reynolds described Elizabeth Bennet, but he could not imagine Miss Elizabeth’s declaring him handsome: The woman abhorred him.

“And how did this conversation come about?”

Mrs. Reynolds blushed, but she did not avoid his unspoken accusation, a sign of her long-standing position in his household. “Do not look to place blame, Master William. I respect the late master’s kind heart and his benevolence toward his godson, but I see no reason to display George Wickham’s image in this house. Even the late Mr. Darcy could stare down from Heaven and see Mr. Wickham has turned out very wild.”

“We will discuss the future of Mr. Wickham’s likeness upon another occasion. Speak to me of your conversation with the young lady.”

It was Mrs. Reynolds’ turn to raise an eyebrow in interest; however, she rightly swallowed her questions. “Mrs. Gardiner remarked of your fine countenance when she looked upon the miniature, and then the lady asked her niece whether it was an accurate likeness. I then inquired if the young lady held an acquaintance with you. When she admitted as such, I asked if she found you a handsome man.”

“Then, it was Mrs. Gardiner and you who placed words in the lady’s mouth,” he reasoned. Darcy felt the female likely agreed only to be rid of the conversation.

Mrs. Reynolds blustered. “The girl’s aunt and I stated the obvious,” she declared with a tone commonly found among upper servants. “But neither Mrs. Gardiner nor I instructed the young lady to search out your portrait in the gallery nor did we lead her to it again and again.”

Darcy’s heart hitched higher. “I count no one named Gardiner among my acquaintances. Did you overhear the young lady’s name?”

“Her aunt called her ‘Lizzy’ several times so I would assume it is Miss Elizabeth or Lady Elizabeth.”

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Darcy corrected. Remorse at not having met her today filled his chest. A glance to his housekeeper said Mrs. Reynolds wished an explanation. “The young lady’s parents are neighbors of Mr. Bingley’s estate in Hertfordshire. If it is truly Miss Elizabeth, we met upon several occasions. I believe I stood up with her at the Netherfield’s ball.”

“Then perhaps you might renew the acquaintance,” Mrs. Reynolds suggested. “Mrs. Gardiner was to dine with friends before the family moved on to Matlock. I am certain Mr. Bingley would wish to behold Miss Elizabeth again.”

An invisible hand squeezed Darcy’s heart. Should he risk an encounter with Elizabeth Bennet? Had his letter softened the lady’s disdain for him? “Miss Bingley took a dislike for the Bennets,” Darcy offered in explanation. “Mr. Bingley developed a regard for Miss Bennet. His leaving Netherfield was poorly done.”

“I am sad to hear it, sir, but your confidence explains the halfhearted air, which follows Mr. Bingley about.”

Darcy nodded his acceptance: His housekeeper had given voice to what Darcy’s pride denied. Darcy sorely wounded his friend by acting in partnership with Miss Bingley in separating Bingley from Miss Bennet. With a second nod, he excused his servant. For several long minutes, Darcy stared off into the emptiness, which marked his life.

“I cannot seek out Miss Elizabeth,” he told the rise of expectation climbing up his chest. “Even if the lady might offer her forgiveness, Miss Elizabeth holds no interest in renewing our acquaintance. Furthermore, I do not deserve happiness when I robbed my friend of an opportunity to know it.”

* * *

“You are very quiet this evening, Lizzy.” Her aunt’s friends had invited them to dine in the evening, but once they had returned to their let rooms, Elizabeth preferred to spend time alone with her thoughts of Mr. Darcy.

“Just a bit fatigued.” Elizabeth made herself smile at her dearest aunt.

“Then you should retire early,” her Uncle Edward declared.

Her aunt ignored her husband’s lack of intuitiveness. “Are you certain what the Pemberley housekeeper said of Mr. Wickham did not upset you? I would venture the woman’s loyalty to the Master of Pemberley colored her opinions.”

Elizabeth had expected her aunt to ask of Mr. Darcy, not of Mr. Wickham. “Not in the least,” Elizabeth assured. “While in Kent, I learned more of what actually occurred between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham, enough so to acquit the former of any ill doing.”

Aunt Gardiner’s interest piqued. “Would you care to elaborate?”

“I promised my source secrecy.” Elizabeth would like to confide in her aunt and uncle for she wished someone would give her permission to beg Mr. Darcy’s forgiveness, but she had dug the pit of regret in which she now wallowed. “As I explained in my letter before I departed for Kent, Mr. Wickham bestowed his affections upon Miss King, and I held no loyalty for the man when I arrived on Charlotte’s threshold; therefore, I was free to accept other versions of the events.” Hers was an exaggeration of what had occurred, but it held some truth. “Although I still believe handsome young men must have something to live on, I pity whoever accepts Mr. Wickham’s hand.” If only I did not previously express my opinions to the contrary,” Elizabeth thought.

“That is quite a transformation,” her uncle observed.

“I am only aggrieved that I behaved with foolish disregard for Mr. Darcy. I treated the gentleman poorly.”

Her aunt’s question came quickly. “Is this revelation the source of your reluctance in viewing Mr. Darcy’s home?”

Elizabeth swallowed the bile rushing to her throat. “I rejoiced today when Mr. Darcy’s housekeeper informed us that we missed his return to Derbyshire by a day. I would not wish to encounter the gentleman. Our last exchange of words was far from pleasant.”

“If I had known…” her uncle began.

Elizabeth shook off his regrets. “I asked the inn’s staff of Mr. Darcy’s being at Pemberley before we came to the place.”

“We should be on to Matlock the day after tomorrow,” her aunt declared. “Even with Mr. Darcy’s presence at Pemberley we are not likely to encounter him. My friends do not travel in the same circles as Mr. Darcy. We shall be gone soon, and the gentleman will know nothing of our coming into his part of the shire.”

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Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management, a Guest Post from Gianna Thomas

Posted on March 20, 2018 by Regina Jeffers

This post originally appeared on Austen Authors on October 30, 2017. Enjoy!

Bless Sharon Lathan. She did a series of blogs about servants of the 18th and 19th centuries and had a reference to Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management. I’m always looking for information about these two centuries mainly for my books: Regency romance and Pride and Prejudice variations. I love knowing a little more about the servants and how they functioned in the households of those time periods as I never know when I might like to incorporate some of that information in my writings.

I found Mrs. Beeton’s original book rather fascinating. Although the latest book contains more than her original, her first writings led the way to a more extensive book later on. As it turned out, the book is more than just a recipe book. It contains information about the servants such as the butler, housekeeper, maids, footman, coachman, groom, stable boy, valet, and lady’s maid.

But it all began with the Mistress of the household much as it does today. She was encouraged not only to set a good example for the servants but also to treat them with dignity. A number of things are mentioned in regard to the hiring and treatment of servants in order to have the household run smoothly and peacefully. In fact, it was recognized that the tone of a household began with its mistress. Whether the household activities ran smoothly, there was peace among the family members as well as the servants, and the house was well maintained all began with the lady of the house. Her duties were not a few and encompassed many aspects of household management and some activities outside the family’s domicile that also included society and social settings. The chapter on the Mistress is quite extensive.

Although Mrs. Beeton’s Book is quite lengthy, only three of the forty-four chapters are concerning the Mistress and servants. The rest of the book covers care of the kitchen and cooking utensils, the various types of food, how to cook them, dinner menus, and numerous recipes. So, there is something for researchers of historical fiction or non-fiction or for readers who just like to cook. 🙂

In fact, the book covers everything from soup, meats, fruits, vegetables, desserts and even beverages going into great detail as to the different types of foods, where they came from, and how to cook them.

I was pleased to note that the entire original book of forty-four chapters is found at Mrs. Beeton’s Book. However, it is not a single download. All the chapters are listed separately so you will have multiple downloads. What I did was open each chapter and then save each as a Word PDF. If you just want the research for the servants, simply save those three chapters. But if you want the recipes, you’ll need to save the remaining chapters.

All in all, it’s an interesting book, and I look forward to looking at its contents more closely. In the meantime, I hope you will have fun perusing the various chapters as well. Enjoy!

Sorry, if this made any of you hungry. 🙂

NOTE: Later versions of Mrs. Beeton’s book have added chapters so that they now total seventy-four.

References:

Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management

Wikipedia.org

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“Prejudice” Is Not So Predominant in Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice” as One Might Think

Posted on March 19, 2018 by Regina Jeffers

Most who have read Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice” assume that Mr. Darcy is the l character and Elizabeth is the one displaying prejudice. However, from the examples below, you will see that is not completely true.

We encounter Austen’s first use of the word “prejudice” in Chapter 18 (did you think it was before then), Elizabeth accuses Mr. Darcy of being prejudiced. So, is Elizabeth projecting her prejudice upon the gentleman? I will leave it to you to decide.

“Yes, always,” she replied, without knowing what she said, for her thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared by her suddenly exclaiming, “I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that you resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created.”

“I am,” said he, with a firm voice.

“And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?”

“I hope not.”

The word is not used again until Chapter 36, when Elizabeth reads Mr. Darcy’s letter of explanation with a bit of prejudice.

“If Elizabeth, when Mr. Darcy gave her the letter, did not expect it to contain a renewal of his offers, she had formed no expectation at all of its contents. But such as they were, it may well be supposed how eagerly she went through them, and what a contrariety of emotion they excited. Her feelings as she read were scarcely to be defined. With amazement did she first understand that he believed any apology to be in his power; and steadfastly was she persuaded, that he could have no explanation to give, which a just sense of shame would not conceal. With a strong prejudice against everything he might say, she began his account of what had happened at Netherfield.”

Also in Chapter 36, after reading Mr. Darcy’s letter multiple times, she realizes how poorly she has treated him. Her feelings are directed inward.

“She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think without feeling she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd.”

In Chapter 40, Elizabeth explains what she learned of Wickham to Jane.

“Certainly. But the misfortune of speaking with bitterness is a most natural consequence of the prejudices I had been encouraging. There is one point on which I want your advice. I want to be told whether I ought, or ought not, to make our acquaintances in general understand Wickham’s character.”

Miss Bennet paused a little, and then replied, “Surely there can be no occasion for exposing him so dreadfully. What is your opinion?”

“That it ought not to be attempted. Mr. Darcy has not authorised me to make his communication public. On the contrary, every particular relative to his sister was meant to be kept as much as possible to myself; and if I endeavour to undeceive people as to the rest of his conduct, who will believe me? The general prejudice against Mr. Darcy is so violent, that it would be the death of half the good people in Meryton to attempt to place him in an amiable light. I am not equal to it. Wickham will soon be gone; and therefore it will not signify to anyone here what he really is. Some time hence it will be all found out, and then we may laugh at their stupidity in not knowing it before. At present I will say nothing about it.”

In Chapter 43, Elizabeth wishes to learn more of Darcy from Mrs. Reynolds. In this example, Mr. Gardiner believes Mrs. Reynolds displays prejudice in her accolades of Darcy.

“Elizabeth listened, wondered, doubted, and was impatient for more. Mrs. Reynolds could interest her on no other point. She related the subjects of the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the furniture, in vain, Mr. Gardiner, highly amused by the kind of family prejudice to which he attributed her excessive commendation of her master, soon led again to the subject; and she dwelt with energy on his many merits as they proceeded together up the great staircase.”

In Chapter 55, Bingley has proposed to Jane. Again, Elizabeth admits to a bit of prejudice, this time directed at Mr. Bingley, for the man was too easily swayed in his opinions. Bingley’s initial abandonment of Jane will have Elizabeth a long time in trusting him again.

“Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he went to town last November, he really loved me, and nothing but a persuasion of my being indifferent would have prevented his coming down again!”

“He made a little mistake to be sure; but it is to the credit of his modesty.”

This naturally introduced a panegyric from Jane on his diffidence, and the little value he put on his own good qualities. Elizabeth was pleased to find that he had not betrayed the interference of his friend; for, though Jane had the most generous and forgiving heart in the world, she knew it was a circumstance which must prejudice her against him.

In Chapter 58, Darcy has proposed to Elizabeth. They reflect on all that proceeded their happiness.

“Darcy mentioned his letter. ‘Did it,’ said he, ‘did it soon make you think better of me? Did you, on reading it, give any credit to its contents?’

She explained what its effect on her had been, and how gradually all her former prejudices had been removed.”

That is it. Only 8 times is the word “prejudice” used in the entire novel. Not many examples for a book entitled “Pride and Prejudice,” is it? Especially, when we consider that “pride” and “proud” and “prideful” are used 47 times.

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Silhouettes: An Alternative Portraiture with a Dark History (pun intended), a Guest Post from Sharon Lathan

Posted on March 13, 2018 by Regina Jeffers

This post originally appeared on Austen Authors on November 28, 2017. Enjoy!

For hundreds of years, until the invention of the camera, the only way to quickly and cheaply immortalize a loved one was through a shade, also referred to as a shadow portrait. As opposed to more decorative and expensive forms of portraiture like painting or sculpture, a shade was a simple and inexpensive alternative.

Early artisans could copy a person’s profile using no more than scissors on paper and their two eyes, creating within minutes a freehand miniature in startling accuracy. Or they might paint with soot or lamp black onto plaster or glass. Casting shadows onto paper with lights was another technique utilized. The artist traced the shadow and depending on his talent and the financial offering of the client, would cut from fine materials or add elaborate details.

Being an inexpensive artistry did not halt tracing shadow profiles from becoming all the rage in early 1700’s Europe. In France, the aristocracy embraced the amusement. Featured artists would attend extravagant balls and cut out the distinguished profiles of the Lords and Ladies capturing the latest fashions and elaborate wigs. In a strange twist of irony, it was this thrifty art form taken to incredible extremes by the pre-Revolutionary French noblemen and women that would later give the tracing of shades it’s perpetual name.

While the aristocrats were having their profiles cut out and eating like kings, much of Europe was starving. In the 1760s the Finance Minister of Louis XV, Etienne de Silhouette, had crippled the French people with his merciless tax policies. Oblivious to his people’s plight, Etienne was much more interested in his hobby of cutting out paper profiles. He was so despised by the people of France that in protest, the peasants wore only black mimicking his black paper cutouts. The saying went all over France, “We are dressing a la Silhouette. We are shadows, too poor to wear color. We are Silhouettes!”

The name “silhouette” in relation to shades would not be used for another forty years, but the art of profiling in shadow would proliferate. Thankfully the negative connotation did not last. Nor did the plain, unadorned black sketches. Clients wanted novelty and artists needed to stand out from competitors. This soon led to elaborate variations on the simple cut profile. By the 1790s, many profiles were painted – on paper, ivory, plaster, or even glass. Elaborate embellishments became prominent, depicting jewelry, lace collars, and elaborate hairstyles. Bronzing, or the process of adding fine brushes of gold paint to the hair or clothing, became very popular after 1800.

Inevitably prices increased as the materials became more expensive. Yet, the simple truth is that it is the black face which allows the work to be termed a silhouette. Any extra detail on the face would have made it a portrait, not a shade!

While some shades were life-sized, or nearly so, most were very tiny. Placing the shadowy profile of a loved one onto a brooch or necklace required a skill of astounding proportions. Two of those most gifted were Englishmen John Field and John Miers. The plumed woman to the left is one of Miers’s masterpieces. Miers opened a London business in 1788, attained a high level of success and fame including the honor of painting King George III and Queen Charlotte.

The art of silhouette cutting reached its “golden age” in the 1800s. Many eighteenth-century silhouettists were, in fact, aspiring portrait artists or miniaturists. Some of them turned to creating silhouettes to tide themselves over when business was slack. Others found they developed a name for their work in this genre and quickly developed a market for it. Often unpretentious, they gave their public what they wanted without aspiring to artistic greatness, therefore reflecting with great clarity the pre-occupations and sensibilities of their time.

The most famous silhouettist of the Regency Era was Auguste Edouart. He resisted the fancier flourishes, insisting on the traditional black outline, although his lithographed backgrounds are legendary for their beauty. It was also he who first used the term “silhouette” formally, believing it had a magnificence to elevate the art form. He traveled up and down the English coast plying his artistry and became very wealthy in the process. By the end of his life, it is estimated that he amassed a collection of over 100,000 portraits! Tragically, a shipwreck off the coast of Jersey would lead to the vast bulk of his portfolio being lost at the bottom of the sea, where they presumably still remain. Edouart escaped death but was so grief-stricken at the loss that he never again cut a profile.

With the advent of the camera and the increased availability of reasonably priced paints, silhouette as a unique art form waned. By the 20th century, there were few artisans who maintained the professional attitude, and they were generally found at carnivals and seaside resorts. That is not to say, however, that the craft of silhouette died completely.

Eduart silhouette of a magic lantern show, the silhouettes positioned against a lithographed background.

Posted in Austen Authors, British history, fashion, Georgian England, Georgian Era, Guest Post, Jane Austen, research | Tagged art, guest post, lithograph, silhouette | Comments Off

Between the Lines: Sisterhood and Serendipitous Elusiveness, a Guest Post by Gabrielle Mullarkey

Posted on March 8, 2018 by Regina Jeffers

BETWEEN THE LINES

Sisterhood and serendipitous elusiveness

Jane Austen, like many great artists, reaches out to us across time as both a living presence glimpsed between the lines of her own words and as an image orchestrated and reconstructed endlessly by others – including the woman regarded traditionally as iconographer-in-chief, her elder sister, Cassandra.

Conspiracy theories abound as to the ‘true’ nature of the relationship between Jane and Cassandra. Consider this famous extract from Cassandra’s letter to niece Fanny Knight, written in the wake of Jane’s death in July, 1817:

I have lost a treasure, such a sister, such a friend as never can have been surpassed. She was the sun of my life, the gilder of every pleasure, the soother of every sorrow; I had not a thought concealed from her, and it is as if I had lost a part of myself. I loved her only too well — not better than she deserved, but I am conscious that my affection for her made me sometimes unjust to and negligent of others; and I can acknowledge, more than as a general principle, the justice of the Hand which has struck this blow.

You know me too well to be at all afraid that I should suffer materially from my feelings; I am perfectly conscious of the extent of my irreparable loss, but I am not at all overpowered and very little indisposed, nothing but what a short time, with rest and change of air, will remove. I thank God that I was enabled to attend her to the last, and amongst my many causes of self-reproach, I have not to add any wilful neglect of her comfort.

At first glance, there’s a lot of ‘I’ going on, plus a hint of arch self-regard in my affection for her made me sometimes unjust to and negligent of others; and I can acknowledge, more than as a general principle, the justice of the Hand which has struck this blow.

This seems to recast Jane’s death as a divine reproach to Cassandra’s failings. Taken with Cassandra’s incendiary disposal of so many of Jane’s letters, she’s long been ripe for reappraisal as the patient and supportive foil to her brilliant younger sister.

CASSANDRA THE CRIME QUEEN?

I’m not one for wholesale dismissal of conspiracy theories, since they intrigue and spark the imagination. For example, ‘literary sleuth’ Arnie Perlstein (@JaneAustenCode on Twitter) sees, in Cassandra’s words I loved her only too well — not better than she deserved, an echo of Othello’s when he calls himself ‘one that lov’d not wisely, but too well’ after murdering Desdemona.

The outlandish notion that Cassandra may have murdered Jane fits into a canon of speculation that Jane was poisoned by arsenic, typified by Lindsay Ashford’s 2011 novel, The Mysterious Death of Miss Austen.

As lately as 2017, an examination of Jane’s spectacles concluded that she had very poor eyesight at the time of death, a possible side-effect of medicine she might have taken for rheumatism, which may have contained arsenic.

Notwithstanding the ‘possibles,’ ‘mays’ and ‘might haves,’ amateur detectives speculate that Jane could have been offed by arsenic cloaked in a medical application, suspects ranging from Cassandra to Jane’s brother Henry and even household cook Margaret Bigeon, all after Jane’s £800 nest egg.

Who doesn’t love such intrigue? I tapped into dramatic possibilities myself to formulate dastardly crimes in my novel Four Riddles for Jane Austen and her artful maid Tilly.

But it seems to me that the more distant, elusive and reified the ‘victim’, the more such theories gain traction. We saw it as recently as 1997 in claims that Princess Diana – an image that many people projected onto rather than a person they knew – had been murdered, supported by plausibly intricate research.

Jane Austen’s elusiveness was intensified when Cassandra destroyed letters that might have enabled us to glimpse the ‘real people’ behind the screen – both herself and Jane. But should that matter?

snail detail on Jane Austen bench

SISTERLY DYNAMICS

In Lizzie and Jane Bennet, Marianne and Elinor Dashwood, it’s tempting to see hints of Jane and Cassandra, the latter reflected in the more stolid qualities of Jane or Elinor. As readers and admirers, we prefer to imagine Jane Austen as high-spirited Lizzie standing her ground, or as passionate Marianne flouting convention to pursue her heart.

But the ‘true’ nature of the Jane-Cassandra dynamic is bound to remain as elusive as the women themselves. Siblings who grow up co-dependently often become adept at hiding deep feelings from the outside world, from each other and even from themselves. As if to confirm that, in her letter to Fanny Knight, Cassandra writes selfeffacingly, You know me too well to be at all afraid that I should suffer materially from my feelings.

While Cassandra was probably reassuring Fanny that she hadn’t succumbed to physical malady brought on by grief, a gentleman’s daughter in 1817 was not at liberty to rend her garments, beat her breast or declaim loudly, ‘why did she have to die?’ Or even (to acknowledge conspiracy theorists), ‘why did I have to be the unobtrusive helpmeet to the feted writer?’

Besides, the very idea of unrestrained emotion would have struck Cassandra as self-indulgent and improper. We can muse a great deal on how 18^th and 19^th century propriety imposed restraint on self-expression, but to assume that women such as Cassandra chafed against decorum is to apply a postmodernist sense of individualism retrospectively; even Marianne Dashwood had a keen sense of propriety; compare her artless conduct to Mary Crawford’s ‘blunted delicacy and… corrupted, vitiated mind’ – Mansfield Park, Ch. XLVII). Nor should we dismiss Cassandra’s self-effacement as insincere.

Jane Austen bench, Winchester, UK

Finally, since maintaining respectability and protecting carefully fostered reputation were paramount social expectations, we shouldn’t be surprised – or censorious – that Cassandra destroyed a cache of Jane’s letters, however benign their contents might have struck modern sensibilities. Glimpses aplenty remain of Jane’s naturalism and dry wit in her surviving correspondence, eg:

I find, on looking into my affairs, that instead of being very rich I am likely to be very poor… as we are to meet in Canterbury I need not have mentioned this. It is as well, however, to prepare you for the sight of a sister sunk in poverty, that it may not overcome your spirits.

Letter to Cassandra, June 20, 1808

However, Cassandra’s actions, whatever their motivation, went beyond maintaining an image of Jane, to creating one. The very act of destroying the letters forged an abiding interest in their imagined content, feeding the mythology of ‘who’ Jane Austen ‘really’ was, and prompting the writers carrying her train to expand the possibilities exponentially. The really intriguing question is – was this done unwittingly or with a shrewd eye to wrapping Jane Austen in mystery, inside her own enigma?

BEHIND THE LINES

The author’s persona is as much a construct as the characters they create, and it is perfectly possible that both Cassandra and Jane were aware of this. As inveterate correspondents, they had an established rhythm and frame of reference, and may well have shared coded acknowledgement of who and what to omit from their letters, Cassandra exercising the privilege of confidentiality still further after her sister’s death.

In so doing, she may (that word again!) have been keenly aware of conflating author with sister and ‘real person’, generations of Janeites ever since rushing to fill the gap and supplement known facts with their own visions of the author and interpretation of her character.

But it is reading between and behind the lines that Jane Austen wrote, as well as the ones we can only imagine, that, paradoxically, bring her to life.

Every reader who encounters a great writer for the first time invents them afresh in their mind’s eye, just as every active imagination is constantly mining the gaps and seeing into the white spaces on the printed page, suddenly finding themselves looking at a wholly realised world – and themselves – in new and unexpected ways.

WRITER’S BIOGRAPHY

For the past 25 years, Gabrielle Mullarkey has worked as a journalist in the UK on everything from Cosmopolitan to women’s weeklies, while also contributing over 1.300 short stories to magazines.

Having published two novels (commercial fiction) with Simon & Schuster, her 2017 novel reimagining Jane Austen as a quick-witted sleuth was borne of her abiding passion for all things Austenite.

Since gaining her MSc in creative writing for therapeutic purposes in 2014 from Middlesex University, Gabrielle balances writing for publication with work as a creative writing tutor for adult learning and mental heath groups, and writes with and for patients at local hospices.

She lives in Oxfordshire and eats too much chocolate.

Four Riddles for Jane Austen (and her artful maid Tilly) is published by Corazon Books.

Available from:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B073WXQ796

Visit www.gabriellemullarkey.co.uk

@authorgabrielle

Photos: JA bench, Winchester & snail detail, JA bench – this carved wooden bench is opposite 8 College Street, the house where Jane died in Winchester in July 1817. The bench was created in the Regency style by local sculptor Nicola Henshaw. Nicola worked with fellow artist Eileen White to develop ideas for the design with local schoolchildren, using Jane’s words, “to sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon verdure is the most perfect refreshment,” as inspiration.

I was intrigued by the addition of snails to the bench’s natural imagery. They struck me as a possible metaphor for the Jane-Cassandra sisterhood: long, patient years of quietly mutual support. When I asked artist Nicola about the snails’ inclusion, she explained: “The position of the snails was to signify their love, tenderness and affection for each other. The reason they’re present is because I brought “verdure” from my garden into the school for a drawing and paper-cutting workshop with the children. In amongst the greenery were tiny, tiny snails, which the children loved. I felt that I had to include them in the work!”

Photo: Jane statue, Basingstoke – a life-size statue of Jane by sculptor Adam Roud was unveiled in the Hampshire town of Basingstoke in summer 2017 to mark the 200^th anniversary of her death, Jane Austen biographer Claire Tomalin commenting: “Nothing could be better than a statue of Jane Austen hurrying across Market Square to collect library books, do a little shopping or pick up her mother from Dr Lyford’s house.” Jane knew Basingstoke well and attended social gatherings at the Assembly Rooms in Market Square, often visiting family friends at The Vyne, Oakley Hall and Ashe House.

Posted in Austen Authors, British history, customs and tradiitons, family, Georgian England, Georgian Era, Guest Post, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, Pride and Prejudice, reading habits, real life tales, Regency era, Regency personalities, suspense, writing | Tagged arsenic, Austen Authors, Austen's death, Cassandra Austen, conspiracy theories, family, Gabrielle Mullarkey, guest post, Jane Austen, real-life, Regency England | Comments Off

Discovering “Pride” in Pride and Prejudice

Posted on March 7, 2018 by Regina Jeffers

The word “pride” finds its origin before the year 1000; Middle English (noun); Old English prȳde(cognate with Old Norse prȳthi bravery, pomp),derivative of prūd. In Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, we generally think of the word meaning “a high or inordinate opinion of one’s own dignity,importance, merit, or superiority, whether as cherished in the mind or as displayed in bearing,conduct, etc.” (Dictionary.com) “Pride is an inwardly directed emotion that carries two antithetical meanings. With a negative connotation pride refers to a foolishly and irrationally corrupt sense of one’s personal value, status or accomplishments, used synonymously with hubris. With a positive connotation, pride refers to a humble and content sense of attachment toward one’s own or another’s choices and actions, or toward a whole group of people, and is a product of praise, independent self-reflection, and a fulfilled feeling of belonging.” (Pride)

Let us look at where the word “pride” appears in the novel.

From Chapter 5, we find, ““I do not believe a word of it, my dear. If he had been so very agreeable, he would have talked to Mrs. Long. But I can guess how it was; everybody says that he is eat up with pride, and I dare say he had heard somehow that Mrs. Long does not keep a carriage, and had come to the ball in a hack chaise.”

Also from Chapter 5, we have, “His pride,” said Miss Lucas, “does not offend me so much as pride often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favour, should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a right to be proud.”

The conversation continues with “That is very true,” replied Elizabeth, “and I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.”

“Pride,” observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her reflections, “is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed; that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

In Chapter 8, the Bingley sisters think Elizabeth displays pride. “When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss Bingley began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; she had no conversation, no style, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst thought the same.”

In Chapter 11, after her walk about the room with Miss Bingley, Elizabeth accuses Darcy of being prideful. “Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.”
“Such as vanity and pride.”
“Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride — where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation.”

In Chapter 15, Elizabeth considers pride as one of Mr. Collins’ characteristic. “A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de Bourgh when the living of Hunsford was vacant; and the respect which he felt for her high rank, and his veneration for her as his patroness, mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a clergyman, and his right as a rector, made him altogether a mixture of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility.”

In Chapter 16, Elizabeth speaks of Darcy’s pride to Wickham. “Upon my word, I say no more here than I might say in any house in the neighbourhood, except Netherfield. He is not at all liked in Hertfordshire. Everybody is disgusted with his pride. You will not find him more favourably spoken of by anyone.”

Later in Chapter 16, Wickham spreads his lies of Darcy. “How strange!” cried Elizabeth. “How abominable! I wonder that the very pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you! If from no better motive, that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest — for dishonesty I must call it.”

“It is wonderful,” replied Wickham, “for almost all his actions may be traced to pride; and pride had often been his best friend. It has connected him nearer with virtue than with any other feeling. But we are none of us consistent, and in his behaviour to me there were stronger impulses even than pride.”

“Can such abominable pride as his have ever done him good?”

“Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, to give his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the poor. Family pride, and filial pride — for he is very proud of what his father was — have done this. Not to appear to disgrace his family, to degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. He has also brotherly pride, which, with some brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and careful guardian of his sister, and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive and best of brothers.”

Later in Chapter 16, Wickham plants doubts of Darcy’s character. “Probably not; but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he thinks it worth his while. Among those who are at all his equals in consequence, he is a very different man from what he is to the less prosperous. His pride never deserts him; but with the rich he is liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps agreeable — allowing something for fortune and figure.”

Then Wickham describes Lady Catherine to Elizabeth. “I believe her to be both in a great degree,” replied Wickham; “I have not seen her for many years, but I very well remember that I never liked her, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent. She has the reputation of being remarkably sensible and clever; but I rather believe she derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune, part from her authoritative manner, and the rest from the pride for her nephew, who chooses that everyone connected with him should have an understanding of the first class.”

In Chapter 20, Elizabeth reflects upon Mr. Collins’ feelings after she refuses his proposal. “Mr. Collins, meanwhile, was meditating in solitude on what had passed. He thought too well of himself to comprehend on what motives his cousin could refuse him; and though his pride was hurt, he suffered in no other way. His regard for her was quite imaginary; and the possibility of her deserving her mother’s reproach prevented his feeling any regret.”

In Chapter 21, both Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Collins are upset with her refusal of Collins’ proposal. “The morrow produced no abatement of Mrs. Bennet’s ill-humour or ill health. Mr. Collins was also in the same state of angry pride. Elizabeth had hoped that his resentment might shorten his visit, but his plan did not appear in the least affected by it. He was always to have gone on Saturday, and to Saturday he meant to stay.”

In Chapter 24, Elizabeth and Jane discuss the reasons Miss Bingley expresses in her letter for convincing Bingley to leave Netherfield. “Your first position is false. They may wish many things besides his happiness; they may wish his increase of wealth and consequence; they may wish him to marry a girl who has all the importance of money, great connections, and pride.”

In Chapter 33, Elizabeth is angry with Darcy after she learns from Colonel Fitzwilliam that he separated Jane from Bingley. “This was spoken jestingly; but it appeared to her so just a picture of Mr. Darcy, that she would not trust herself with an answer, and therefore, abruptly changing the conversation talked on indifferent matters until they reached the Parsonage. There, shut into her own room, as soon as their visitor left them, she could think without interruption of all that she had heard. It was not to be supposed that any other people could be meant than those with whom she was connected. There could not exist in the world two men over whom Mr. Darcy could have such boundless influence. That he had been concerned in the measures taken to separate Bingley and Jane she had never doubted; but she had always attributed to Miss Bingley the principal design and arrangement of them. If his own vanity, however, did not mislead him, he was the cause, his pride and caprice were the cause, of all that Jane had suffered, and still continued to suffer. He had ruined for a while every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart in the world; and no one could say how lasting an evil he might have inflicted.”

Later in Chapter 33, Elizabeth ruminates in her room at Hunsford Cottage. She wonders upon Mr. Darcy’s criticisms of her family. “To Jane herself,” she exclaimed, “there could be no possibility of objection; all loveliness and goodness as she is! — her understanding excellent, her mind improved, and her manners captivating. Neither could anything be urged against my father, who, though with some peculiarities, has abilities Mr. Darcy himself need not disdain, and respectability which he will probably never each. When she thought of her mother, her confidence gave way a little; but she would not allow that any objections there had material weight with Mr. Darcy, whose pride, she was convinced, would receive a deeper wound from the want of importance in his friend’s connections, than from their want of sense; and she was quite decided, at last, that he had been partly governed by this worst kind of pride, and partly by the wish of retaining Mr. Bingley for his sister.

Chapter 34 brings the reader Elizabeth’s opinion of Mr. Darcy’s proposal. “Elizabeth’s astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement; and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her, immediately followed. He spoke well; but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed; and he was not more eloquent on the subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority — of its being a degradation — of the family obstacles which had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his suit.”

In the same chapter, Darcy is angry with her refusal and claims Elizabeth of possessing too much pride. “And this,” cried Darcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room, “is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps,” added he, stopping in his walk, and turning towards her, “these offenses might have been overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I, with greater policy, concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination; by reason, by reflection, by everything. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? — to congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?”

At the end of Chapter 34, Elizabeth reflects upon what occurred between her and Darcy. “Her astonishment, as she reflected on what had passed, was increased by every review of it. That she should receive an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy! That he should have been in love with her for so many months! So much in love as to wish to marry her in spite of all the objections which had made him prevent his friend’s marrying her sister, and which must appear at least with equal force in his own case — was almost incredible! It was gratifying to have inspired unconsciously so strong an affection. But his pride, his abominable pride — his shameless avowal of what he had done with respect to Jane — his unpardonable assurance in acknowledging, though he could not justify it, and the unfeeling manner in which he had mentioned Mr. Wickham, his cruelty towards whom he had not attempted to deny, soon overcame the pity which the consideration of his attachment had for a moment excited.”

In Chapter 36, Elizabeth reads Mr. Darcy’s letter, but determines him as acting with pride. “She read with an eagerness which hardly left her power of comprehension, and from impatience of knowing what the next sentence might bring, was incapable of attending to the sense of the one before her eyes. His belief of her sister’s insensibility she instantly resolved to be false; and his account of the real, the worst objections to the match, made her too angry to have any wish of doing him justice. He expressed no regret for what he had done which satisfied her; his style was not penitent, but haughty. It was all pride and insolence.”

At the end of Chapter 36, Elizabeth realizes she has acted foolishly. “How despicably I have acted!” she cried; “I, who have prided myself on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities! who have often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified my vanity in useless or blameable mistrust! How humiliating is this discovery!”

In Chapter 41, Elizabeth again encounters Wickham. The man continues to malign Darcy. “You, who so well know my feeling towards Mr. Darcy, will readily comprehend how sincerely I must rejoice that he is wise enough to assume even the appearance of what is right. His pride, in that direction, may be of service, if not to himself, to many others, for it must only deter him from such foul misconduct as I have suffered by. I only fear that the sort of cautiousness to which you, I imagine, have been alluding, is merely adopted on his visits to his aunt, of whose good opinion and judgement he stands much in awe. His fear of her has always operated, I know, when they were together; and a good deal is to be imputed to his wish of forwarding the match with Miss de Bourgh, which I am certain he has very much at heart.”

In Chapter 43, Mrs. Reynolds takes pride in her position at Pemberley. “And is Miss Darcy as handsome as her brother?” said Mrs. Gardiner.
“Oh! yes — the handsomest young lady that ever was seen; and so accomplished! — She plays and sings all day long. In the next room is a new instrument just come down for her — a present from my master; she comes here to-morrow with him.”
Mr. Gardiner, whose manners were very easy and pleasant, encouraged her communicativeness by his questions and remarks; Mrs. Reynolds, either by pride or attachment, had evidently great pleasure in talking of her master and his sister.

In Chapter 43, Elizabeth expects Darcy’s pride to be evident when she introduces him to her aunt and uncle. “Mrs. Gardiner was standing a little behind; and on her pausing, he asked her if she would do him the honour of introducing him to her friends. This was a stroke of civility for which she was quite unprepared; and she could hardly suppress a smile at his being now seeking the acquaintance of some of those very people against whom his pride had revolted in his offer to herself. ‘What will be his surprise,’ thought she, ‘when he knows who they are? He takes them now for people of fashion.’”

In Chapter 44, the Gardiners draw their own conclusions of Mr. Darcy. “Of Mr. Darcy it was now a matter of anxiety to think well; and, as far as their acquaintance reached, there was no fault to find. They could not be untouched by his politeness; and had they drawn his character from their own feelings and his servant’s report, without any reference to any other account, the circle in Hertfordshire to which he was known would not have recognized it for Mr. Darcy. There was now an interest, however, in believing the housekeeper; and they soon became sensible that the authority of a servant who had known him since he was four years old, and whose own manners indicated respectability, was not to be hastily rejected. Neither had anything occurred in the intelligence of their Lambton friends that could materially lessen its weight. They had nothing to accuse him of but pride; pride he probably had, and if not, it would certainly be imputed by the inhabitants of a small market-town where the family did not visit. It was acknowledged, however, that he was a liberal man, and did much good among the poor.”

At the end of Chapter 44, Elizabeth knows gratitude that Darcy once loved her. “As for Elizabeth, her thoughts were at Pemberley this evening more than the last; and the evening, though as it passed it seemed long, was not long enough to determine her feelings towards one in that mansion; and she lay awake two whole hours endeavouring to make them out. She certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him, that could be so called. The respect created by the conviction of his valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for some time ceased to be repugnant to her feeling; and it was now heightened into somewhat of a friendlier nature, by the testimony so highly in his favour, and bringing forward his disposition in so amiable a light, which yesterday had produced. But above all, above respect and esteem, there was a motive within her of goodwill which could not be overlooked. It was gratitude; gratitude, not merely for having once loved her, but for loving her still well enough to forgive all the petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations accompanying her rejection. He who, she had been persuaded, would avoid her as his greatest enemy, seemed, on this accidental meeting, most eager to preserve the acquaintance, and without any indelicate display of regard, or any peculiarity of manner, where their two selves only were concerned, was soliciting the good opinion of her friends, and bent on making her known to his sister. Such a change in a man of so much pride exciting not only astonishment but gratitude — for to love, ardent love, it must be attributed; and as such its impression on her was of a sort to be encouraged, as by no means unpleasing, though it could not be exactly defined. She respected, she esteemed, she was grateful to him, she felt a real interest in his welfare; and she only wanted to know how far she wished that welfare to depend upon herself, and how far it would be for the happiness of both that she should employ the power, which her fancy told her she still possessed, of bringing on her the renewal of his addresses.”

At the end of Chapter 50, Mr. Gardiner writes of the arrangements made for Wickham and Lydia. “Mr. Bennet and his daughters saw all the advantages of Wickham’s removal from the —— shire as clearly as Mr. Gardiner could do. But Mrs. Bennet was not so well pleased with it. Lydia’s being settled in the North, just when she had expected most pleasure and pride in her company, for she had by no means given up her plan of their residing in Hertfordshire, was a severe disappointment; and, besides, it was such a pity that Lydia should be taken from a regiment where she was acquainted with everybody, and had so many favorites.”

In Chapter 52, Mrs. Gardiner writes of Darcy’s involvement in the marriage of Wickham and Lydia. ” From what I can collect, he left Derbyshire only one day after ourselves, and came to town with the resolution of hunting for them. The motive professed was his conviction of its being owing to himself that Wickham’s worthlessness had not been so well known as to make it impossible for any young woman of character to love or confide in him. He generously imputed the whole to his mistaken pride, and confessed that he had before thought it beneath him to lay his private actions open to the world. His character was to speak for itself. He called it, therefore, his duty to step forward, and endeavour to remedy an evil which had been brought on by himself.”

In Chapter 52, after reading her aunt’s letter, Elizabeth is in a flutter of spirits. “It was difficult to determine whether pleasure or pain bore the greatest share. The vague and unsettled suspicions which uncertainty had produced of what Mr. Darcy might have been doing to forward her sister’s match, which she had feared to encourage as an exertion of goodness too great to be probable, and at the same time dreaded to be just, from the pain of obligation, were proved beyond their greatest extent to be true! He had followed them purposely to town, he had taken on himself all the trouble and mortification attendant on such a research; in which supplication had been necessary to a woman whom he must abominate and despise, and where he was reduced to meet, frequently meet, reason with, persuade, and finally bribe, the man whom he always most wished to avoid, and whose very name it was punishment to him to pronounce. He had done all this for a girl whom he could neither regard nor esteem. Her heart did whisper that he had done it for her. But it was a hope shortly checked by other considerations, and she soon felt that even her vanity was insufficient, when required to depend on his affection for her — for a woman who had already refused him — as able to overcome a sentiment so natural as abhorrence against relationship with Wickham. Brother-in-law of Wickham! Every kind of pride must revolt from the connection.”

At the end of Chapter 53, Mrs. Bennet plans on keeping Bingley’s interest in Jane. “Mrs. Bennet had been strongly inclined to ask them to stay and dine there that day; but, though she always kept a very good table, she did not think anything less than two courses could be good enough for a man on whom she had such anxious designs, or satisfy the appetite and pride of one who had ten thousand a year.”

In Chapter 58, Darcy describes his upbringing. “As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father, particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own.”

In Chapter 59, Elizabeth defends Darcy to her father. “I do, I do like him,” she replied, with tears in her eyes, “I love him. Indeed he has no improper pride. He is perfectly amiable. You do not know what he really is; then pray do not pain me by speaking of him in such terms.”

In Chapter 61, Mrs. Bennet looks upon her “handiwork” with pride. “Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet got rid of her two most deserving daughters. With what delighted pride she afterwards visited Mrs. Bingley, and talked of Mrs. Darcy, may be guessed. “

Posted in book excerpts, Georgian England, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, Pride and Prejudice, Regency era, romance | Tagged book excerpts, Jane Austen, pride, Pride and Prejudice, quotes | Comments Off

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