So I’ve put it in here. I’ll have lots of Jane’s written works before this journal is finished.
‘Lovely and fair one,’ said the noble youth, ‘not withstanding your forbidding squint, your greasy curls and your swelling back, which are more frightful than imagination can paint or pen describe: I cannot refrain from expressing my raptures and asking you to marry me.’
Alas for the passionate young man, Cassandra’s mama did not approve of the match on account of the tender years of the young couple, Cassandra being but 36 and the noble youth little more than 63. It was agreed that they should wait a little while till they were a good deal older before embarking on matrimony.
Wednesday, 23 March 1791
Mrs Austen is still in a bad mood today. She was very cross with Jane this morning. She says that she has no accomplishments except piano playing.
‘You can’t sketch, you have no interest in cooking or managing a house; you just spend all of your time making up jokes and scribbling silly stories,’ scolded Mrs Austen.
‘Well, I don’t care,’ said Jane. ‘I won’t want to get married to a man who would want me to be a housekeeper. I shall marry a man with a good fortune.’
‘Jane …’ said Mrs Austen. She said the words slowly and solemnly. ‘Don’t be silly. It won’t be up to you to choose a husband. A man will choose you, and no man of fortune will choose a silly girl without any accomplishments who spends all her time making jokes and allowing boys to slide her down the stairs on a rug. I know you are not yet sixteen, but you must think of the future. Your father cannot afford to give you a dowry. If you wish to marry well, you must be willing to make yourself attractive to a young man of fortune. Why can’t you be more like your cousin? Look how polite she is and how beautifully she draws. I’ll tell you this, Jane: she’s the sort of girl that men like. You’re just a silly tomboy. The Lord forgive me, but I have no patience and no time to deal with this child!’
And then she slammed the door and went out.
‘I don’t care,’ repeated Jane, opening the door again. And then, very loudly, she shouted after her mother, ‘I don’t care; so don’t bother talking to me. I shall make my living by writing novels, and thousands of people will buy them, and that’s that.’ She slammed the door shut and scowled at me for a minute and I felt terrible. I wished that Mrs Austen hadn’t said that about me.
However, Jane being Jane, after a minute she began to grin and she scribbled a few words on a piece of paper, which she crammed into her pocket. Then she jumped up and said cheerfully, ‘Come on, Jenny, let’s go out.’
When we had put on our bonnets and were coming down the stairs we saw Cassandra go into Mr Austen’s study.
‘Tom Fowle is in there, and my mother also,’ whispered Jane. We looked at each other.
‘I hope they don’t send poor Tom away,’ said Jane as we went down the avenue towards the gate. ‘I like Tom.’
‘And he and Cassandra are very much in love,’ I said. I felt very, very sorry for them.
Mr Austen had brought an orange home for everyone. Jane had decided that she would be the one to give the orange to George as he was her brother, and I said that in that case I would share mine with her.
George was glad to see us. He was getting used to all the strange things that we did, and I noticed that his eyes always went to the basket when we arrived.
Today I took out the picture of the orange first. I was really proud of it as I had copied it from the real fruit and blended the paints very carefully until I got the exact colour. As I had guessed, he didn’t take too much interest, but I formed my fingers and thumb into a round shape and kept saying ‘orange’, while pointing to the letter O, and he made an attempt at making the sign after me.
But when Jane peeled the orange and popped a slice in his mouth, he was amazed by the taste. I don’t think he had ever eaten anything so strange. For a moment he stood very still and I thought he was going to spit it out, but then he chewed and swallowed and opened his mouth for more. After every few slices we made him point to the letter and make the sign with his own fingers and thumb. By the end of the time we were sure that he knew the sign for the letter O, and we tested him on a few more. He remembered A for apple, E for egg and C for cake, but that was all.
‘Still,’ I said to Jane as we walked home, ‘now he knows four letters of the alphabet and a month ago he didn’t know any; perhaps by Christmas he will know them all.’
Mrs Austen was in a much better mood at dinner time, and what was even more surprising was that Cassandra was looking very well. She was smiling to herself and being very helpful to her mother.
‘I’ll help Mary with the clearing up, Mama,’ she said when everyone had finished. ‘You go and have a rest.’
‘We’ll help too,’ said Jane virtuously. She carefully closed the door after the last of the boys had gone out and came back over to the table and started to pile the dirty dishes on the tray.
‘Come on, Cassandra, tell us what is happening,’ she coaxed.
For a minute Cassandra hesitated. I felt awkward because I thought she would tell Jane to mind her own business, but I think she was so happy that she wanted to tell someone about it.
‘You mustn’t say a word,’ she said warningly.
‘Your secret is safe with me, young maiden,’ hissed Jane. I thought this would annoy Cassandra, but it didn’t. She just laughed.
‘Well, Papa talked to Mama last night and then he talked to Tom again this morning and then we all talked together. Papa was very nice.’ Cassandra’s eyes filled, though her lips curved in a smile; she was halfway between laughter and tears. She looked very pretty, I thought.
‘Go on,’ said Jane. She didn’t normally hug her sister, but she did so now. And Cassandra hugged her back.
‘We’ve promised to wait,’ she said. ‘We’re going to be engaged, but not married. Tom told Papa that he does have some prospects. He has a distant cousin who is a lord — Lord Craven.’
‘He never spoke of that before!’ Jane sounded impressed. Her stories were full of lords.
‘Tom’s not like that.’ Cassandra smiled gently and blushed a little. ‘He never boasts. He only mentioned it to Papa today. He said that Lord Craven has promised to get him a place as a chaplain on one of his ships going to the West Indies. When he comes back Lord Craven will do his best to get him a parish.’
Jane asked her when they would be able to get married, and Cassandra told her that it would probably not be for five or six years yet. She still looked very happy about it, but when Cassandra carried out the tray to the kitchen, Jane and I agreed that the time was far too long.
‘Perhaps Lord Craven will die and leave Tom ten thousand pounds,’ said Jane cheerfully.
‘Shh!’ I said, energetically dusting the crumbs from the tablecloth. I could hear Cassandra coming back.
‘You sit by the fire and we’ll do the work,’ said Jane solicitously, taking the copper kettle from her sister. ‘People need to rest after an emotional shock, and being proposed to is probably the greatest shock that any girl can have.’
‘I must find out what he said,’ she muttered to me as we carried out the kettle and teapot to the kitchen. ‘How can I write romantic novels unless I know what they say on such occasions?’
I said that it was probably private, but Jane didn’t look as though she were listening.
‘Cassandra,’ she said when the tablecloth had been folded and put away in the drawer, the fireplace swept and new wood put on the fire.
‘Yes, Jane.’ Cassandra was in a happy dream, staring at the flames.
‘What did Tom say when he proposed?’ asked Jane pleadingly.
For a moment I thought Cassandra would tell her to mind her own business. On a normal day she certainly would, but she didn’t. ‘He said, “How many hens will you and I have when we are married?” ’
I could see Jane opening her mouth to exclaim: What! So I frowned at her and said very quickly, ‘And what did y
ou say, Cassandra?’
‘I said, “Oh, Tom!” ’ And Cassandra smiled even more at the memory.
As soon as the room was tidy we left Cassandra to her happy dreams and went upstairs to our bedroom.
‘Well,’ said Jane as soon as the door was closed. ‘I must say that I can write a better proposal than that.’ She went across to her writing desk, took out a half-sheet of paper and picked up her quill. ‘I’ll tell you one thing, Jenny,’ she said over her shoulder, ‘I’m going to make sure that all my heroines fall in love with a man who can propose properly.’
‘And who are in possession of a good fortune, of course,’ I said quickly. This ‘possessing a good fortune’ was by now quite a joke between Jane and myself.
‘What do you think of this for a proposal?’ Jane tossed over her piece of scrap paper when she had finished and I stuck it into my journal.
‘And now, my adorable Laura,’ said the amiable young man, taking my hand tenderly, ‘when may I hope to aspire to receive that reward for all the painfull sufferings I have undergone in the course of my Attachment to you, to which I have ever aspired? Oh! When will you reward me with Yourself?’
‘This instant, Dear and Amiable Edward,’ I replied.
We were immediately united by my father who, though he wasn’t a clergyman, had always intended entering the church.
I’m not sure what Mr Austen might think of the idea that he wasn’t really a clergyman, but at least this time she had written Laura instead of Cassandra.
Thursday, 24 March 1791
Frank was a bit shy and embarrassed when we met in the stables this morning. Sometimes he’s quite brotherly, but at other times he seems uneasy with me when I am by myself. We had a good lesson though. Frank was very encouraging about my progress as a rider. He wanted me to come with him to Deane Gate Inn for the letters, but I didn’t feel confident to ride my donkey on the road.
When I went indoors, after he had gone, Jane was still practising the piano so I found Charles and suggested that he give his framed picture of the horse to his mother.
Mrs Austen was very pleased with Charles’s drawing. She praised it and immediately got John Warren to knock a nail into the wall in the breakfast parlour so that it could be hung up where everyone could admire it. She’s a funny woman; she can be so cold, but also so warm and friendly. She tried to kiss Charles, but he didn’t want her to in case the other boys laughed at him, so she kissed me instead and told me what a good girl I was and what a comfort it was to have me. I wish she would act like that to Jane, and then Jane wouldn’t be so prickly with her.
But then a minute later, when Henry came down to breakfast and jokingly kissed my hand and told me how pretty I was looking, I saw Mrs Austen look at me with quite a different expression.
The parlourmaid was just bringing in the dish of eggs when Frank arrived back. There was one letter for Henry. He took it reluctantly from Frank’s outstretched hand, made a face over it and stuck it into his pocket immediately. There was also one for Mrs Austen. She left hers lying on the table while she was making the tea and then opened it while she was munching through the dry toast that was all she ever ate for breakfast.
‘Who’s your letter from, my dear?’ Mr Austen was always very obliging. He knew that his wife loved to gossip about her letters.
‘From Mrs Portal.’ Mrs Austen was very thoughtful. The letter was a short one, but she read it through again. I was opposite her at the table and I thought it was probably the third time that she had reread it.
‘John’s mother?’ Henry looked up. ‘Perhaps she thinks that I didn’t give enough money for his horse. He’s her darling only son, you know.’
‘No, it’s nothing about a horse at all,’ said Mrs Austen. She scrutinized Henry from his glossy hair to his well-brushed coat.
‘Who is your letter from, Henry?’ teased Frank, and Henry gave him an angry look. Jane had told me that Henry was living at home for a while as he had got into debt and owed money to lots of tradesmen and a lodging-house keeper in Oxford. I saw Mr Austen look at Henry in a worried way and then at his wife. She, however, was taking no notice of anyone, but had gone back to staring at her own letter as if she was planning something. When she spoke, it was still in that thoughtful manner.
‘I was thinking that we would ask the Portals to drink a dish of tea with us tomorrow evening. Henry, I wish you would ride over there and take a note from me, inviting them. The young people could have a dance with all of you afterwards.’
‘What young people?’ asked Frank. ‘There’s only one — just John.’
‘They have a visitor.’ While Mrs Austen spoke, her eyes rested on Henry, tall and handsome, his morning coat spotless as always, his white silk stock neatly knotted around his neck, his leather boots polished (by Charles) to a high shine. When she spoke again it was directly at him and her voice was low, impressive and full of meaning. ‘A Miss King.’
Jane looked at me and I looked at her. Jane’s lips formed the words ‘possessed of a good fortune’.
I gave her a smile, but I felt a little hurt at the way Henry so quickly got to his feet, checked himself in the looking glass at the top of the room and then waited attentively while his mother rapidly wrote the note, sealed it and handed it to him.
‘Take it over to Laverstoke House yourself,’ she said. ‘Make sure that you give Miss King my compliments and say that I am looking forward to meeting her.’
Friday, 25 March 1791
The Portals didn’t come to drink a dish of tea with us today. Henry brought back a polite note saying that Miss King was tired after her journey and wanted to reserve her energies for the ball at the Assembly Rooms in Basingstoke. Mrs Portal hoped that Mrs Austen and her charming family would be present. Henry had not met Miss King, as she had been upstairs when he called. Apparently Mrs Portal had spent some time trying to persuade her to come downstairs, but Miss King had not appeared, although Henry had spent half an hour there making polite conversation in the drawing room.
At lunchtime Mrs Austen seemed to be turning matters over in her mind.
‘How did you like William Chute, Jenny?’ she enquired casually.
I replied carefully that I thought him very pleasant, but I could feel my cheeks getting red.
‘He danced with you, didn’t he? Usually he’s keener on playing cards than dancing. His mother despairs of him. He’s thirty years old and no sign of a wife. And there he is, the master of such a fine property.’
‘He danced with all three of the Bigg sisters too,’ said Jane promptly. ‘Do you think that he will make an offer for every one of them as well as for Jenny?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Jane,’ said Mrs Austen automatically.
‘They’re going to the Assembly Rooms ball tomorrow night, you know,’ said Jane warningly. ‘And their little brother, Harris, is going too. That’s probably a plan. They think that William Chute will be fond of children and Catherine will lead Harris by the hand up to William Chute and then cast down her eyelashes, and William Chute will immediately think what a beautiful mother she will make for his children, so he will propose.’
‘Harris Bigg is a confounded nuisance,’ said Henry. ‘He almost lamed my mare the last time I had her out. He managed to fall off his pony just in front of me. He’s the clumsiest child I have ever known. I think he might be a bit simple.’
I wondered what Henry thought about his own brother, George. Jane had said that she was the only one that cared. It seemed strange to me. I had only known George a few weeks, but I was fond of him and I worried about him.
‘Harris Bigg! He’s younger than me!’ Charles stopped eating for a moment, but then carried on again. He still looked indignant, but he liked his food.
‘So?’ Henry was in a sour mood this morning.
‘Well, why can’t I go?’ Charles swallowed his mouthful.
‘You’d have to wear white gloves,’ said Mr Austen warningly.
‘And no one would dance with y
ou,’ said Frank.
‘I’ll dance with Charles,’ I said boldly. Mrs Austen smiled at me affectionately and Charles stuck his tongue out at Frank.
‘Save me a dance, Jenny, also,’ said Henry. His voice sounded very affectionate and I could feel the warm colour rushing to my cheeks. I looked down at the table and then looked up again. He was still watching me with a smile on his face. I wondered if he thought that I was pretty. I wished that it was just the two of us there in the parlour by ourselves. We had never been alone since that night after the Chutes’ dinner party. What did he feel when Mrs Austen talked of William Chute dancing with me? Perhaps he was jealous and that was why he asked me to save him a dance at Basingstoke. If only he knew! William Chute would be nothing to me if only Henry cared for me. But did he? I made myself remember how he flirted with Eliza and forgot me when she was around, but I couldn’t help my heart beating very quickly and I hope that nobody noticed that my breaths were short.
‘You’ll be wearing your new gown, will you?’ asked Henry softly. His head was quite close to mine and he seemed to be trying to catch my eye.
‘We’re hiring a carriage, and Henry and Frank can go on the back. I suppose that Charles could fit in there with them,’ said Mrs Austen.
‘I don’t want to go on the back; Henry and I will ride,’ grumbled Frank, to my relief, as my aunt had begun to eye me in an irritable way with Henry still smiling at me, and my cheeks were hot with embarrassment. Now she turned her annoyance on Frank.
‘You will do no such thing,’ she said decisively. ‘We don’t want you arriving with mud-splashed breeches. And what about your shoes? You would have to carry them with you. You can’t dance at the Assembly Rooms in riding boots.’ She wasn’t looking at Frank now but at Henry.
‘Would you powder your hair, Henry?’ she enquired, tilting her head as she surveyed him carefully. ‘It would look very good.’
I Was Jane Austen's Best Friend Page 13
