Chapter
Seven
By
the time they’d walked back to the castle along winding lanes with the smell of
the sea on the soft summer air, it was time for the dressing bell. Jane almost
ran up the stairs to her room knowing she had two whole hours to indulge in a
little writing. Seeing her last manuscript in published form had been most
inspiring, and she couldn’t wait to read it and start writing again. It
wouldn’t take her long to get ready, she only had one dress to choose from, and
she could hardly mount the stairs for her growing excitement. Even if she could
only manage two hours a day, it would be enough to write several pages, and at
least she’d make a start.
Throwing
back the bedroom door she was not prepared for such a change of scene, and her
mouth formed a little ‘Oh’ in surprise. Someone had been into her room and
arranged all the purchases from the afternoon. The bed looked sumptuous with
its starched pillows and colourful eiderdown, and the pretty rug before it was
placed just where her feet would find it. The little clock sat on her bedside
table, and there were candelabra studded with fresh candles scattered round the
room, on the mantelpiece, on the bookshelf, and on her desk. Above the
mantelpiece a beautiful painting of a seascape had been hung, and below it on
the shelf was a fragrant arrangement of roses in a cloisonné vase. A fire
flickered in the grate, an indulgent luxury, for though the day was cooler as
the sun lowered in the sky Jane knew she’d not be there for long to enjoy it.
There was only one person who could be responsible for this heavenly space, and
her name was Alice, Jane thought.
The
fashion paper dispatched, it was easy to find Alice’s room, next to the statue
she’d mentioned, but when she got there Jane hesitated. Was she being
presumptuous? It was only a moment before she decided to take the risk, and
knocked on the door, but when she heard Alice’s friendly voice telling her to
go in she was sure she’d done the right thing.
‘I
just wanted to come and say how wonderful my room looks and to thank you for
all your kindnesses to me,’ said Jane standing just inside the door.
Alice
was sitting in a pretty chintz covered chair by the window in a room where time
stood still. Pale pink satin and ruffled lace were draped over the bed and at
the windows in ruches and flounces, with a profusion of over-blown flowers in
paintings and in vases that filled the room. Sunlight filtered through ornate
lace panels dotting the Aubusson rug, highlighting the swags of tea roses and
sage green garlands.
‘Come
and sit down, Miss Austen. I am so glad you like your room, but I’m also sorry
it did not give you the same welcome when you arrived. It’s a work in progress,
and we can make it finer yet.’
‘I
only seem to suffer from them when I cannot face life. It’s as if I allow
myself to become ill when I could just as easily run away given the chance.’
‘I
think we all do that to a greater or lesser degree. Sore throats are my
weakness, and nobody ever suffered as much or had such bad ones.’
Alice
laughed. ‘It is easier to be ill than to deal with one’s emotions, I find, and
if I tell the world to go away and lie in bed for a day or two it passes for a
while.’
There
was a silence and Jane could see Alice was deep in thought. She didn’t want to
press her to talk, thinking that she when she did, she’d be ready to confide in
her.
‘We were engaged briefly,’ she said at
last. ‘Frankie came home horribly injured in the last year of the war.
Manberley Castle became a hospital and I helped nurse him back to life. We fell
in love during the spring, and in the summer when he was almost fully recovered
we spent whatever time we could together. He’d always had ambitions to become
an actor, I knew that from the start, and wished him well. When he asked me to
marry him I didn’t hesitate, though I knew the news might not be received with
enthusiasm from my father.’
‘Did
your father consider his profession unworthy of you?’
‘Yes,
you might say that,’ Alice said. ‘Frankie and his brother, who is the vicar
at Moorford, were genteel enough but poor, and though my father welcomed the
brothers to Manberley at Christmas and on special occasions, they were never
mentioned in the same breath when prospective husbands were discussed. Frankie
had no money then, of course, but I knew he’d be successful, whatever he chose
to do with his life. He was ambitious, and hardworking, and determined to be
the best actor that ever lived. I admired his drive and purpose, but my father
couldn’t see it. I suppose in hindsight I understand he was worried for me. He thought
I’d live a life of poverty, but I was very young, and I couldn’t understand.
Suddenly, it seemed to me that my father was sitting in judgement on the Wallis
brothers. They were two young men who’d sacrificed so much, willing to give
their lives so that we might live our useless existence. But still the old
snobbery survived, and Lord Milton wasn’t going to allow a daughter of his to
marry a bohemian.’
‘I
understand how hard that must have been. You could see qualities in Mr Wallis
that your father failed to acknowledge.’
‘Quite
… and I felt his objections misplaced. Who were we to set ourselves above our
neighbours, a dear clergyman and his brother? The Miltons were frittering away
a dwindling fortune squandered by my father and his new wife, contributing
nothing except providing a building for the wounded whilst we carried on our
idle lives.’
‘But,
yours was evidently a very useful one if you were caring for the wounded.
Nursing is hard work, I have had a little experience of it myself.’
‘Did
you nurse in the war, Miss Austen?’
‘No,
Miss Milton, but once my brother Henry was dangerously ill, and I stayed with
him in London until he was right again. But, that was nothing to the suffering
you must have seen.’
‘I
hope never to see the like again. Frankie was injured but he made a remarkable
recovery, and though we were surrounded by death and pain every day, just being
with him and talking to him was wonderful. We were so close at one time, I knew
his every thought, and he mine.’
‘What
happened then?’
My
father refused permission for us to marry, and Frankie wanted me to leave with
him … elope together, but I couldn’t leave Mae, and I realise now I was too
much of a coward to go and face an uncertain future. How I have regretted it
since, but it felt the right thing to do at the time, and I dread to think what
might have happened if I’d gone. Mae is a complicated character at the best of
times, even with all the love we try to lavish on her.’
‘I
think you did the right thing,’ said Jane. ‘You acted as your conscience
dictated, and put your sister first. If you’d run away your father and Mae
would have both been distraught. You did what you thought was best and no one
could blame you for that.’
‘But,
if I’d followed my heart and married Frankie, we might have been able to
persuade my father to change his mind.’
‘You
might have, but Frankie might never have been so resolved on proving himself.
You let him go, gave him the freedom to pursue his dreams, which was a great
gift. If you’d married, life may have been difficult especially if children had
come along.’
‘I
suppose so, though there will always be a part of me that will wonder how it
might have turned out.’
‘In
any case,’ said Jane, ‘he is not married, and he has come back.’
‘And
all hope is lost,’ said Alice before Jane could say any more. ‘There is no
longer any spark between us, or any feeling … our meeting confirmed that. He
might as well be married, and I think if my sister Emily has her way that might
be a possibility before the end of the summer.’
‘Have
you no feelings left for him?’
‘I
don’t think I will ever recover from the love I had for Frankie, Miss Austen.
But, neither of us are the same, and we are as changed as if our love affair
never happened. Besides, I do not think I could marry anyone now. Like so many
of the women of my generation, I fear it is too late.’
Jane
reached out and placed her warm fingers over those of her companion. ‘It’s
never too late, Miss Milton, please don’t give up hope so easily. Believe me,
though it has its compensations the life of a spinster is a dreary one.’
‘You are
young, Miss Austen, I should not put myself on the shelf if I were you. I am
twenty-eight next birthday, and cannot fool myself any longer that I am of
marriageable age. I have plans to leave, perhaps get some employment in London
and lead an independent life. If I could just see Mae settled. All she needs is
someone to love her.’
‘Promise me
you won’t do anything hastily,’ said Jane feeling comfortable enough to offer
advice. ‘London is not a place where many survive, and it can be the loneliest
place in the world. Forgive me for speaking out, but I spent quite some time in
the capital and nothing would ever induce me to live there for all its fine
attractions.’
‘There is
nothing like staying at home for real comfort,’ said Jane, ‘though if being
completely independent would mean moving away, it must be seriously considered.
I have seen the advertisements for typewriters, but I have never seen one used.
I must admit I would love to own one.’
‘Do you have
ambitions to be an author like your namesake?’ asked Alice. ‘I’ve written a
little poetry myself, but couldn’t possibly attempt to write a novel.’
‘I confess I
do, though it is a great secret and must not be shared. I have written one or
two things in the past, and it is my dream to write something new and see it
published. But, I am not sure your stepmother would be pleased to learn of my
spending time scribbling away when I should be supervising your sisters.’
‘Oh, I’m sure
Flora would not mind what you do in your spare time, Jane. I hope you don’t
mind the informality, but I feel we are becoming such friends.’
‘Not at all,
Alice, we are friends, indeed. I’ve always said friendship is certainly
the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love. How wonderful
to discover you are a poet, I should love to read some of your poems.’
‘And my
confession is that I too have nurtured an idea to see them published. What fun
it is to find someone with such similar tastes.’
‘I shall
enjoy having you to discuss writing and books,’ added Jane. ‘We seem to have so
much in common. Tell me, do you enjoy dancing?’
‘That seems
such a pity. Dancing always seems to take me out of myself. I enjoy it so much,
though like you, I have not had the opportunity to dance in recent years or
learn the new dances I heard Emily talking about today.’
‘But, you
will have the chance to do just that this evening,’ said Alice. ‘The Wallis
parties are usually very good, and there is always music and dancing.’
‘And you’ll
be able to dance too,’ said Jane watching Alice’s face. ‘You are coming, aren’t
you?’
‘I do not
think I can face it. There are too many memories, too many emotions that might
come spilling out, and I do wish everybody else to have a wonderful time.’
‘I understand
perfectly,’ said her new friend, ‘though you will be sorely missed.’
‘If I could
just persuade Mae to rest her injuries I should have an excellent excuse, but I
have a feeling that seeing Julius Weatherfield again will be high on her list
of priorities.’
‘Even if she
can’t dance.’
‘I am certain
my sister will be more than happy to sit out every one for a chance to get to
know Mr Weatherfield better, though I feel sure Captain Bartlett will get his
nose put out of joint.’
‘Is Captain
Bartlett in love with your sister?’
‘He has not
declared himself, but it is very obvious that he likes her. He is in his thirties,
and a very sweet man though Mae thinks he’s as old as the hills.’
‘Oh dear, I
pity the poor captain. At least if she cannot dance then she won’t be able to
disappoint either of them.’
‘Oh, Miss
Austen, if only that were true.’
Alice didn’t
make an appearance at dinner as Jane suspected might happen, but all the other
Miltons were in attendance along with Lady Milton’s friend King Zoot. Despite
the mutton stew, which was tough and thin in equal parts, everyone was already
in a party mood, except for Lord Milton who complained that he had better
things to do than frolic at functions.
‘I see quite
enough of the local village vicars on Sundays,’ he said, ‘without having to
socialise with them.’
‘Albert, you
are such a spoilsport,’ said Lady Milton. ‘I am longing to meet Eddie’s brother
again, he’s quite a celebrity in Hollywood now, and filthy rich, I’ve heard.’
‘I don’t hold
with the stage, as well you know.’
‘Well, it
didn’t stop you from courting me, did it, dear? You weren’t so fussy when you
used to come calling at the Gaiety in the old days, or at the KitKat club.’
‘Ha, hardly
the same thing, and everyone loves a bit of harmless hoofing. You were a
wonderful Gaiety girl, my dear, and I was the envy of every aristo in the land.
No, my objection to the theatre and those ridiculous silent films is that they
are crammed with so-called actors, and aesthetes from objectionable backgrounds
who set themselves up as stars and such-like. And then they expect their
audiences to fawn on them as if they were royalty … well, I’ll not be a party
to it, if you’ll forgive the pun.’
‘Just as you
please,’ said Lady Milton. ‘Zoot will be happy to take me and dance all night
if he doesn’t thrill the crowd with a performance. The boys are coming, aren’t
they?’
King Zoot’s brown
eyes twinkled as he let out a baritone laugh which seemed to bubble up from the
depths of his very being and shake his large frame like one of Mrs Wickens’s
jellied confections.
‘They haven’t
let me down yet, and with the added attractions of a few free nights at the
Tolleywicks Inn in the village I’m assured if charabancs and high spirits
combine to play their part, we’ll see them yet.’
Zoot’s news
was rewarded with loud cheers from Emily and Cora who couldn’t have been more
pleased and excited. From across the table Jane discovered Will was staring at
her once again, and from the way he winked at her and gave a little laugh, she
was sure he’d been able to read her every thought.
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six
Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
This is a thoroughly delightful read. Jane Austen re-awakens in the 1920s, 110 years after her death, and faces the new industrial world with her usual aplomb. Trains and motorised cars, along with shorter skirts, must be accepted. In reduced circumstances, she has to work as a governess. Noting the changes in environment, manners and appearance, but never succumbing to depression or undue anxiety, Miss Austen deals with the same daily social tasks and complications that her characters did. She has young women to encourage and chasten into suitable romances – while not remaining immune herself. The author has convincingly captured Jane Austen’s tone and personality. The 1920s come to life in the way that they affected a rural, once rich, family. The characters are true to Austen’s own novels and I am sure, were she defrosted into life for real, she would be amused and pleased to read this novel. Historical Novel Society
So
begins Jane Odiwe’s ‘fairy story for grown-ups’, in which Austen is
brought back from the dead - scientifically, rather than miraculously -
and transported to the west of England in 1925. Penniless (her royalties
don’t go far in the Jazz Age) and - naturally - alone, she takes the
traditional route for single women of no fortune and becomes governess
to a clutch of sparky girls in a romantically crumbling castle by the
sea.
She
finds the bohemian Milton family quite enchanting, and is sure that she
can bring some old-fashioned order to their somewhat chaotic existence -
but to her initial dismay finds herself falling for the dark-eyed,
curly-haired, and handsome son of the house. What follows is pure
romance, but with the twists of humour and intrigue that Odiwe’s readers
have come to expect. This is such an enjoyable tale - Odiwe handles the
1920s setting with the same assurance that she has brought to her
Regency-set novels, and her rendering of a 20th century Jane is a
delight. Jane Austen's Regency World Magazine
With Jane Austen being alive in the 1920’s and earning her keep as a governess, Jane Austen Lives Again sometimes felt like Downton Abbey meets Mary Poppins/Sound of Music (which are some of my favorite things!). It
was a wonderful blend of history, fiction, and fairy tale! Absorbing,
ingenious, and immensely satisfying – you definitely don’t want to miss Jane Austen Lives Again!
Meredith Esparza - Austenesque Reviews
Meredith Esparza - Austenesque Reviews
Imagine a world where Jane Austen and her favorite characters exist in a Downton Abbey atmosphere—Impossible, you say, and yet, apart from the passage of years, they are all gentlemen and gentlemen’s daughters, as Elizabeth Bennet so succinctly puts it. In Jane Odiwe’s latest novel, Jane Austen Lives Again, our favorite author does not die at 42 in Winchester, but is kept, somehow in stasis, until Dr. Lyford can not only cure her last lingering illness, but revive her again in the prime of her life. The scientific details are not spelled out, and honestly, it doesn’t matter, as Ms. Odiwe’s book will captivate you from the first. Finally we are able to see Jane “live again” sans vampires and magic, and enjoy her introduction to modern life in the 1920’s.
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