Jane Austen Made Me Do It

by Laurel Ann Nattress

  “Perhaps she misses her dad. He’s dead, isn’t he? I mean, Marianne’s all weepy about him at the beginning of the book but she seems to forget about him pretty quickly,” Penny said, hands in the pockets of her school blazer.

  They were discussing the book, Julie realized with a flush of pleasure.

  And, they were waiting for her, as was evident from the beaming smiles they turned on her.

  “Fab detention, miss,” Susan said with a cheeky grin.

  “Don’t you dare tell anyone,” Julie said. “I don’t want to take detention five times a week, thank you very much, not even with you lot.”

  Cathy held the door open for her. “So why couldn’t Marianne get a job, miss?”

  “She’s posh,” Penny said. “Right, miss?”

  “That’s part of it. But women couldn’t train for professions then, so she’d have the equivalent of a job in Woolworth’s, being a servant, and it would be even worse—demeaning and poorly paid with long hours. She’d probably end up becoming a prostitute, like Eliza.”

  “Which one’s Eliza?” Penny said as they walked down the drive to the gates.

  The other two turned on her. “You know, the one Colonel Brandon fights the duel over, stupid. ’Cause she’s his adopted daughter or something,” Susan said.

  “She never goes on the game!” Penny looked quite shocked. “I bet Jane Austen didn’t even know about that sort of thing.”

  “She did,” Julie said. “It’s there, if you look for it. But it’s not like Lady Chatterley’s Lover.”

  The three girls giggled.

  “So do you have a boyfriend, then, miss?”

  “Not really,” Julie said.

  “But isn’t that why you became a teacher, miss?” Susan persisted. “So you could get married and have summer holiday with your kids and go back after they’ve started school, and all?”

  “No,” Julie said. “I didn’t even think of it in those terms. I certainly don’t now.”

  “This is our bus stop, miss.” Cathy took off her school hat and stuffed it into a blazer pocket and dropped her satchel on the ground at her feet.

  Penny took a bag of sweets out of her pocket and offered one to Julie, who shook her head with a smile.

  “Bye, then, miss,” Susan said.

  Julie had only a short walk to the small terraced house she rented. But instead she turned the other way on the street, heading toward the center of the town. This had been the way the stages came into the town in Austen’s time, descending the hill to stop at the George Inn on the way to London. Austen herself might have looked out upon these same buildings, seen the original Georgian façades now marred by modern shop windows and frontages.

  She should really go home. She should repack; replace the pretty lace nightgown with a sturdy flannel one that didn’t show an inch of skin and the daring strapless black evening dress—sexy, rustling taffeta—with something more innocent and suitable for a weekend in the country. But instead she turned into the coffee bar that tried so very hard to be Italian, with small replicas of famous statues in alcoves and a mural of Vesuvius surrounded by a border of vines and grapes.

  Yet the owners were Italian, and the young man behind the counter, one of the sons of the family, certainly looked the part, with dark expressive eyes and a winning smile. He gave her an admiring look.

  Julie knew the effect would be spoiled when he spoke in the local accent, the way Penny and Susan and Cathy spoke, but she ordered a cup of espresso and a very English bun studded with raisins and went to sit at one of the tables by the window. It was steamed up from the espresso machine but she could see a phone box on the other side of the street. Her coffee arrived, blanketed by a soft foam of froth pitted by dark sprinkles of cinnamon. She took an appreciative sip. It wasn’t quite as good as coffee in Rome or in Paris, but for the moment it would have to do.

  And after she had finished her bun and coffee she would ring up Derek.

  Her experience today hadn’t been quite that of Paul—the saint, not the Beatle—on the road to Damascus, but she knew now what she would do; about Derek, about being a teacher. Not everything in her life, but a good start.

  She would invite the three girls over for tea one evening after school. She imagined showing them her books, getting them to talk about Austen, encouraging them to read more. She might even play them some records that weren’t by the Beatles.

  She looked again at the phone box, glowing red in the late afternoon sun, and wondered if she’d remember this day, long after Derek was a faint shadow in her memory. Even if it was true that in ten weeks, or months, or years, no one would remember those four cheeky young pop stars from Liverpool, Jane Austen would still be there.

  JANET MULLANY was born in England but now lives near Washington, D.C. She’s worked as an archaeologist, performing arts administrator, waitress, bookseller, and as an editor/proofreader for a small press. Her debut novel was Dedication, the only Signet Regency to have two bondage scenes, followed by The Rules of Gentility and three more Regency chicklits. Her career as a writer who does terrible things to Jane Austen began in 2010 with the publication of Jane and the Damned, a book about Jane as a vampire, and Little to Hex Her, a modern retelling of Emma, in the anthology Bespelling Jane Austen, headlined by Mary Balogh. Her most recent book is Jane Austen: Blood Persuasion, about a vampire invasion of Chawton (William Morrow, 2011). She also writes contemporary erotic romance for Harlequin Spice (Tell Me More, 2011).

  www.janetmullany.com

  @janet_mullany on Twitter

  Maria, a good-humoured girl, but … empty-headed … had nothing to say that could be worth hearing.

  —Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 27

  To Miss Lydia Bennet

  Longbourn House,

  Longbourn,

  Near Meryton,

  Hertfordshire.

  March 12th

  My Dear Lydia,

  Well, here I am at Hunsford Parsonage, after a Delightful Stay in London. We went to the Play, and saw The Rivals, in a Box! And we visited some Ware-houses, and I purchas’d a length of very pretty figured muslin, sprigg’d with forget-me-nots. ’Twill be the talk of Meryton.

  How I wish we could have staid in London! Instead I am cooped up here. I was to Write and tell you my Doings, but, alas, Doings are there none. Every Body here is Elderly, and they have but little Time for Me. I have try’d to confide in Hannah the Housemaid, the only other Young Person in this House, but when I ask’d her Opinion of Otranto she answer’d that she had never eaten any and, on my questioning her further, confess’d that she cannot read.

  We have been here for three whole Days. Mr. Collins and Charlotte are fattening a Pig—I truly feel that the Animal is more absorbing to Charlotte than poor Me. Down with Sisters—mine and yours too: your Sister Lizzy is scarce four years older than Me, but she is as bad as the Others, censorious and teazing. She and Charlotte shut themselves away in the Back Parlour to gossip, first sending me away on ridiculous Errands. I spent an Hour this morning shooing the birds off the seedling Cabbages! A Scarecrow would have done the Job better.

  Yesterday morning, a Chaise drew up, very grand with a Coat of Arms on the Door, and inside—Miss de Bourgh herself. She is not very old, but looks peeky-weaky, as far as Papa and I could see through the Parlour Window. She condescended to talk to Charlotte and Mr. Collins at the Gate for twenty-three minutes (Papa check’d on his Timepiece)! But when I asked what they had discuss’d, all Charlotte would say was “O, this and that.”

  Later

  This evening we was invited to the Great House, which is called Rosings, to dine with Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh—even me! Would you believe it? Charlotte actually try’d to prevent my accompanying them because I was too young—but Mr. Collins said that I must come, so that I can tell our Neighbours in Hertfordshire about the Splendours of the Manor (only he said fffplendours, as he is missing a Front Tooth, and speaks with the oddest Whistle).

  And it is inde
ed fffplendid! Even Papa was silenc’d, for a Change! The dining-table alone is as big as the Conservatory at Netherfield, and the Epergne is HUGE, with silver Cupids, Flowers and Fruits tumbling out. Mr. Collins says it must have cost as much as a small Houfffe! It completely hid those opposite. I thought I was out of Sight of Charlotte, but afterwards she scolded me, most unjustly, for helping myself three times to Whipt Sillabub. After Dinner the Tables were set up and we played at Cassino. Lizzy captured the most cards, whereat Miss De B became fatigued, and her Companion attended her Upstairs. Lizzy picked up a Book, and I looked at an Album of picturesque Ruins, while the married People continued their Whist. I try’d in vain to overhear her Ladyship’s Remarks, as she is a Fount of Wisdom. The Butler brought in a Magnificent Supper, but when I help’d myself to Ratafia, Charlotte privily remov’d my Glass. We dine at Rosings twice more this Week. When I grow up, I intend to wed a Titled Gentleman and live in a Great House like this one.

  Her Ladyship’s two Nephews are coming soon on a Visit—but I do not suppose that their Arrival will create much of a Diversion, as they are rather old, I believe.

  I shall give this letter to Papa to take Home with him tomorrow—’twill save you the Postage. Please write! Last year, when I went with Mamma to Town, you sent only five lines, mostly about your first pair of long Gloves—this Time, I must have News of the Officers!!

  Your affect. Friend,

  Maria Lucas

  ——

  To: The Same

  April 7th

  My dear Lydia,

  As I feared, no Answer from you—you are the worst Correspondent in the World—but I have to report a TRULY thrilling Development, which nearly concerns You: Lady C’s two Nephews have arrived to spend Easter. You may be wondering what is so particular about this, but possess yourself in Patience! One Nephew is a Colonel Fitzwilliam, and the second—none other than Mr. Darcy—yes, the very same disagreeable Gentleman who made himself so Unpopular in our District last Winter!! But that is not All. We was not expecting to see much of the Gentlemen, for Charlotte says that when her Ladyship has House Guests, she and Mr. Collins do not get invited to Rosings, unless they are needed to make up a Four at Whist. Imagine our astonishment when on the Morning after their Arrival, the two Gentlemen walked down from the Great House to present their Compliments! Mr. Collins said it was a Courtesy to Charlotte and himself, but Charlotte whisper’d that the chief Attraction was your Sister!!! Lizzy seemed unconcern’d, but Charlotte told me afterwards that Mr. Darcy was “much chang’d from the arrogant Gentleman I remember. He turn’d pale, then red, and said almost Nothing.” For my part, I did not quite dare to observe him closely. But, hark to this! Charlotte tried to go off into the usual Huddle with Lizzy to talk about the Visit (they have been used to do this since our Arrival, tho’ No Body has bothered to confide anything to Me). But shortly after Mr. Darcy and the Colonel had departed, Charlotte came to me in my Chamber, and told me that Lizzy positively refuses to discuss their Visit! “I must talk about it or burst!” said she. “I am persuaded that he is in Love with her, but she will not hear of it. I have been forbidden to mention it to Any One.” She then urged me to be equally Discreet, so you mustn’t breathe a Word to any living Soul—except for Kitty, of course.

  I narrowly observ’d Lizzy’s Face during dinner. Aware of our Scrutiny, she forc’d herself to partake of a hearty Meal. If I had but lately renewed my Tyes with my Lover, I could never have taken two Helps of Black Pudding. She is a magnificent Actress.

  Your affect. Friend,

  Maria Lucas

  ——

  To: The Same

  April 17th

  Dear Lydia,

  You must be more Careful. What you say about your Mother picking up my Letter, and you having to distract her by spilling a Basin of scalding Tea over Pug, made me almost Swoon with Horror. What will your Sister Lizzy say if she learns that her Secret is Discover’d, and by Me? Pray be more Careful in future, and Burn my Letters from this Day on!!

  The Love Affair is taking a strange course. When Mr. Darcy comes to the House, he sits looking stolid, tho’ Col. Fitzwilliam teazes him for his unusual Silence. Charlotte and I compare Notes after each visit. She says she never saw a man more Smitten, but, believe me, the true Passion is all on Lizzy’s Side. I am daring to look at him in the Face nowadays. He is handsome, dark and smouldering like my Lord Byron, but when he fixes it on your Sister, the Look in his Eye is scarcely Languishing. If she can Hook him, ’twill be a splendid Match for her—and a Feather in their Caps for your whole Family! I daresay you will be staying in their Country Seat when they are married, meeting the Local Gentry. Charlotte says Lizzy is playing a skilful Game, pretending complete Unconcern. Last Wednesday Mr. D came to call while Charlotte and I were out visiting the Parishioners. We arriv’d just as he was about to leave. Alone together for a whole Hour!! How did she contrive it? More of this, and she is like to catch him in her Toils. I said to Charlotte that for all we knew he might have begun to make Visits, on the Lurk outside ’til he saw us going out, then Sneaking in to be Alone with her. I suggested Enquiring of the Household if this was his Habit, but Charlotte positively refus’d to entertain such an Idea, and strictly forbade me to mention the Affair to any of the Servants. But I think she is too Particular, so I took no Notice. It would be too bad if a full-blown Love Affair were going on under our Noses without our Knowing. So when Hannah, the Housemaid, came up to lay the Fire in my Chamber, I took her into my Confidence. Hannah says Mr. D has never visited alone before To-Day. She has promis’d to tell me if he does it again. So he continues to resist your Sister’s Blandishments!

  Meanwhile, we have been up to the Great House twice this Week: we are needed to make up the Tables, as Lady Catherine complains that Mr. D is refusing to play. On our last Visit, both the Gentlemen stood by the Pianoforte to listen, as Lizzy played and sang, and gaz’d soulfully at Mr. D. Alas, I could not observe that Gentleman’s Expression, as he had his Back to me.

  I hope that poor Pug is not too badly burnt. Please kiss his dear little crumpled Nose from

  Your affect. Friend,

  Maria Lucas

  ——

  To: The Same

  May 3rd

  Dear Lydia,

  This MUST reach you before we meet again—it is Vital. I have held back ’til we reached yr Aunt & Uncle’s House in London, whence the Postage will be cheaper for you. Would that I could have written sooner! O, why did you have to waste your Pin-Money on rose-coloured satin Slippers?

  The latest Developments may Disturb you—yr Sister and Mr. D have had a Lovers’ Tiff!! Yes, Lizzy and her Mr. Darcy are not speaking, and the Pity of it is, the Gentlemen left the District before a Reconciliation could take place. Is not it Pitiful—these two Loving Hearts, forever sunder’d without Hope of Happiness!!

  I hope that returning to the Bosom of her Family will calm poor Lizzy. Meanwhile, when we see you next Thursday, pray PRAY breathe no word of Mr. D in her presence!!! Her Disappointment must be frightful. Perhaps there is yet Hope?

  Yr Anxious Friend,

  Maria Lucas

  PS I have scarce had the Time to reflect upon yr News. What, you came upon Mrs. Forster and Capt. Dalby alone in the Shrubbery? I am ASTOUNDED! Tête-à-tête with a junior Officer in her Husband’s own Regiment!! Mamma would call her Fast—though of course as she was looking for her Fan she can scarcely be blam’d. You are right to tell No Body but Kitty—our Parents are so old-fashion’d. And since then have you really become Mrs. F’s Favourite? If so, how fortunate you are to have a mature married Lady for a Friend—and a truly modern one too!

  I long to see you and hear All.

  ——

  To: Miss Lydia Bennet,

  Care of Colonel Forster,

  9th Warwickshire Regiment,

  Brighton

  June 20th

  Dear Lydia,

  O how I Envy you! The wholesome Sea Air—and all those Officers! I still think Fondly of
Capt. Dalby, Lieut. Tully, & Co, tho’ Alas I fear I am quite Forgot by Them. Are there Balls, Routs and Amusements every Evening? And Mrs. Forster such a close Friend to Capt. Dalby! And O, has she really Entrusted you with the Task of carrying her Letters to him?

  Here it is so DULL! Mamma STILL will not let me come Out. She says firmly that I am too young, but, after all, I am Sixteen now, and four months older than you! It is Too Bad. Worse still, yesterday afternoon I overheard her in the Parlour telling yr Aunt Philips that I was a Gadfly, but that she had no intention of bringing me Out yet. I shall be in the Schoolroom for Ever and Ever.

  I am so Excited to hear that dear Mr. Wickham is now a fully-fledg’d Officer. Do you see him often? Have you danc’d with him at any of the Balls?

  I took yr Letter out to the Bonfire to burn it, but Bart & Toby snatched it from the Flames and ran away with it, screaming “Maria’s got a Love-letter!” I had to chase after them to get it back. In future I shall offer to fetch the Letters from the Post Office myself; then I may peruse yours on the way home without fear of Discovery.

  Yr. affect. Friend,

  Maria Lucas

  ——

  To: The Same

  July 2nd

  My Dear Lydia,

  Thank you for conveying Mr. Wickham’s Compliments to me. I am Surpriz’d that he remembers me. I am Astonish’d at your Courage, you and Mrs. Forster meeting Capt. Dalby and Mr. Wickham in the Evenings, when you are suppos’d to be in the Assembly Rooms or at the Play. Of course Mrs. Forster says that there can be no Harm in it, as you can chaperone each other—but is this quite right? I am not sure.

  Then too I am Surpriz’d and rather Shocked to hear that the Lovers’ Tiff between Lizzy and Mr. Darcy is the Talk of the Officers’ Mess at Brighton. You say you have been regaling Mr. Wickham and the others with this “Tit-Bit,” but that somehow you have forgot the Details. In fact I never gave them to you. I began to tell you at your Aunt Philips’ Party, but you were so full of that News that Lieut. Tully was making Passionate Love to Serena Haultwick in a Butler’s Pantry that you never stopt to listen to what I had to say.