The Annotated Emma, Edited by David M. Shapard

I have raved about the excellence of David M. Shapard's annotated edition of Austen novels before. Though I was not yet writing when I read The Annotated Pride & Prejudice, I have often acknowledged that it was the inspiration for First Impressions: A Tale of Less Pride and Prejudice. Without his meticulous chronology, I would never have been able to write the story in the manner I did. A new revised and expanded edition comes out on November 13th (order it here), and I will certainly be purchasing it and reviewing it on this blog. Even if my first edition weren't ragged and worn, a condition testament to the adoration of its reader, I would still be buying this invaluable book. I believe it the most useful tool any writer of Pride & Prejudice fan fiction can own.

When he next released The Annotated Persuasion, followed by The Annotated Sense & Sensibility, I wrote rather extensively on how his annotations illuminate the text in manners informative to even the most devoted Janeite, using as an example his notes on Nurse Rooke in my review of Persuasion, and his translation of The Cult of Sensibility for a modern audience in my review of Sense & Sensibility. Now tackling The Annotated Emma, I wish to focus less on the value of his annotations in and of themselves, instead dwelling on the fabulous reading experience he provides. In doing so, I am treating Mr. Shapard a bit more like a fiction author in his own right, rather than just an expert. This is a little strange, I know, but I hope the end result will be its own defense.

I've read Emma countless times, but of all Jane Austen's novels, it is probably the one I turn to the least. That does not mean I do not adore it, but Miss Woodhouse and I have some personal issues. I think most would agree that a quintessential aspect of any Austen novel is a heroine confronting either a previously unknown or unacceptable part of herself, forcing her to conquer her feelings or behavior. As Mr. Shapard puts it in his note on a line in Volume III Chapter XI, "To understand, thoroughly understand her own heart, was the first endeavor.":

The need for self-knowledge is a crucial part of a Jane Austen heroine. At a critical moment, when she realizes her past errors ... Elizabeth Bennet, declares, "Till this moment, I never knew myself." In Emma's case her willingness immediately before this to acknowledge that she has deceived herself even more than others have deceived her - in other words, that she has been the principal author of her trouble - represents an important step in the direction of better self-knowledge.

As readers of Austen, we join her heroines on their journeys of self-discovery, and from each one I have learned something about how I want to conduct myself. This lesson is hardest for me with Emma, because she is the heroine I most resemble. As unpleasant as it is for Miss Woodhouse to confront her own failings, so is reading her story rather upsetting to me. It all hits too close to home, recalling miserable moments in my own life, and those regrets that plague me most persistently. Perhaps it is for this reason that I often defend Miss Woodhouse to those who revile her as meddling, conceited, and, let's face the nasty word, "a bitch", for I am defending my own character, which I maintain is mostly good in spite my flaws, just like Emma. Yet if her story pains me, it also gives me hope, as Mr. Shapard writes at the novel's climax: " ... even at this moment of supreme personal importance and happiness, Emma thinks of another person, an act that, like her encouraging Mr. Knightley to speak out of concern for him, shows her morally deserving of happiness." So you see, we're not all bad.

Yet this reading of Emma, with Mr. Shapard's observation by my side, caused me to come to a harrowing conclusion. Miss Woodhouse resembles another creature in Austen, and one who is found to be not so deserving: Miss Mary Crawford of Mansfield Park. Just as I have often defended Emma, so have I spoken out on behalf of poor Fanny Price, a creature who really does not deserve the censure she receives from so many. Countless times have I argued that the Crawfords, both Mary and Henry, are unworthy the sympathy they receive from readers. I have called them selfish, morally bankrupt, and vile, but as I read the end of Emma, the following line made me pause: "Oh! I always deserve the best treatment, because I never put up with any other". Mr. Shapard does not comment on the statement itself, and though I have often pondered this quote before (it may even be scrolling by in the sidebar right now), for some reason, my mind attuned to new notions by the careful reading his annotations demand, this time I was instantly struck by the affinity between this statement and Mary's, "Selfishness must always be forgiven, you know, because there is no hope of a cure." The two might even be paraphrases of the same notion, the essence being that bad behavior deserves some sort of reward. Oh Mr. Shapard! "Till this moment, I never knew myself," indeed!

From here a onslaught of resemblances pummeled my brain. Does not Frank Churchill occupy somewhat the same role in Emma as Henry Crawford does in Mansfield Park, and is not Emma's relationship to Mr. Churchill similar to that shared between the brother and sister? If nothing else, the indulgence and leniency Emma shows towards Mr. Churchill is certainly like Mary's to her brother, so very repugnant as it is to Edmund Bertram. Does not Mary's willingness to manipulate, as displayed when she uses subterfuge to give Fanny the necklace from Henry, echo Emma's presumption in arranging Harriet Smith's destiny? If anything, Emma is the far more privileged character, and therefore more blameworthy in having failed to imbibed the strong morality by which she is surrounded. My "mind had never been in such perturbation"!

"To youth and natural cheerfulness like Emma's, though under temporary gloom at night, the return of day will hardly fail to bring return of spirits." And so the morning brought better thoughts. Emma, and perhaps Mary, too, has many good qualities. As already established,  she is "morally deserving of happiness." Perhaps I have been too hash a critic of Miss Crawford, who though not blessed with redemption, certainly learns her lesson (Austen writes of "the better taste she had acquired at Mansfield, whose character and manners could authorise a hope of the domestic happiness she had there learned to estimate..."). What solution to my predicament is there but to resolve, as I have after previous readings of Emma, to guard against future bouts of "blunders" and "folly", to be mindful of my own arrogance, and to learn from the mistakes of the past. Are not such lessons precisely why I read Austen?

A similarity Mr. Shapard does dwell upon is that between Emma and Mrs. Elton. Uh oh! I dare not open that can of worms. Enough about me, for though this has been a rather fitting demonstration of my selfishness, I feel something must be said of the book's structure. Emma had the most drawn out ending of Austen's novels, six chapters following the climax of the story. I always find myself sort of checking out after [SPOILER ALERT] Emma and Mr. Knightley declare their love for each other. W still have to sit through an entire chapter of Frank Churchill's letter to Mrs. Weston, and yet another on Mr. Knightley's reaction to it. It is all very well done, of course, but knowing how everything concludes, I admit to finding it all a bit boring. Even Harriet's engagement to Mr. Martin, though satisfying in its tidiness, is pretty anti-climatic after the intense emotion of the proposal scene. As I read this edition, I wondered if Mr. Shapard did not agree. Though he never says anything of the sort, it is only in the last few chapters of this novel that I have ever perceived any inconsistency in his meticulousness. Suddenly there are illustrations inserted that do not really seem relevant to the text. In one image depicting "clothing from a slightly earlier period" a thing he always notes, there is no mention of the discrepancy, which struck me as odd. I may be over analyzing his analysis, but it seems confirmation of my long standing belief that the end of the novel is rather superfluous in the reread. I also wonder if Mr. Shapard did not find this book a bit harder to annotate than his others, as there are so many opportunities for spoilers. He studiously alerts the first time reader before prematurely exposing any essential detail of the plot, using the same format which I borrowed above, but the very nature of Emma as a proto-detective novel renders his task awkward.

I think it notable that The Annotated Emma, just like The Annotated Pride & Prejudice, has inspired me to write a "What-if?" retelling of the story. Again, Mr. Shapard chronology was absolutely necessary to the undertaking. In case you have not yet heard, I intend to post Emma & Elton: Something Truly Horrid on this blog. It will be in eight parts, beginning on October 24th and ending n Halloween. As you may gather from the title, my affinity for Miss Woodhouse does not preclude me from punishing her a little (actually, it may be my main impetus). Obviously, and despite any lessons in self-awareness I may have recently received, I am not above interrupting a perfectly sincere review to engage in shameless self-promotion. Enogh of my nonesens! Let me conclude by emphasizing once more how excellent a service Mr. Shapard has done the world by giving us these beautiful annotated editions. I eagerly anticipate more from him, though in regards to an annotated Mansfield Park, perhaps I should rather be feeling dread. No matter what conflicting emotions such a volume might cause me, be sure I will read and review it here.

Emma & Elton: Something Truly Horrid

So I was wanting to do something to celebrate Halloween, one of my most favorite holidays. While the creatures typically associated with this day are not really my forte, I thought I could delve into the realm of suspense for the occasion. Those who read my first book, First Impression: A Tale of Less Pride & Prejudice, will remember how thoroughly happy a tale it was, everything proceeding smoothly and devoid of angst. This is to be an exercise precisely opposite to that: how could everything go most wrong? And so I give you Emma & Elton: Something Truly Horrid. The name really says it all. Here is Emma reimagined along lines most unhappy for the heroine, exploring where her pride and interference might have led had she been made aware of Mr. Elton's affection for herself at an earlier date. I plan to post the story over eight days, beginning Wednesday, October 24th. Those who know me might wonder that I, a frequent defender of Miss Woodhouse, would treat her so shabbily, but I think it is in the spirit of the holiday to confront those notions usually confined to the realm of nightmare. Here is the product of my bad dreams. If the venture does offend anyone, please accept my apologies in advance.

Isabella Ingram-Seymour-Conway, Marchioness of Hertford

I recently found a prettily framed print at a yard sale, obviously from the Regency Era and credited to Joshua Reynolds. For $20, I readily claimed it as my own. A quick Google search confirmed my good taste. The lady is one Isabella Ingram-Seymour-Conway, Marchioness of Hertford, and one of the Prince Regent's many mistresses. One must feel for her husband, Francis Seymour-Conway, who apparently relocated his family to Ireland in order to keep his wife away from Prince George. This seems to have been to little avail. Isabella was married at age sixteen, so I cannot find her terribly to blame if her eye wandered in later years. Their relationship was a long one, spanning from 1807 to 1819. As it seems she maintained relations with her husband throughout, I suppose he reconciled himself to sharing his wife. Most interesting is the influence she used with the Prince to align him with Tory politics. 

I still need to find a place on my wall for her, but once I have it will be my delight to suppose she and her royal paramour spent quiet evenings together reading the Austen novels he so admired. If anyone can furnish me with additional informat6ion about her, I am all ears.

The Jane Austen Litmus Test

I usually do not bring up politics on this blog. Jane Austen doesn't discuss such matters in her books, and so my perspective has always been that they have no role to play here. Besides, I would hate to alienate those followers who do not agree with me. Yet ever since watching the US presidential debate last Wednesday, I have been obsessing about what Jane would have to say about it, prompting me to break my previous silence on the subject. I doubt I will ever bring it up again, so if I offend today, please forgive me. A difference of opinion today should have no bearing on our future happy relations.

My goal is not to endorse a candidate; I really have no desire to open that can of worms. But Austen provides rather precise criteria for judging character, and it is those standards that I want to apply to Obama and Romney. Over and over again in her novels, Austen emphasizes the importance of weighing what a person professes against their action to determine trustworthiness. For example, Anne Elliot's mistrust of Mr. Elliot stems from the discrepency between his past and present actions:

Though they had now been acquainted a month, she could not be satisfied that she really knew his character. That he was a sensible man, an agreeable man, that he talked well, professed good opinions, seemed to judge properly and as a man of principle, this was all clear enough. He certainly knew what was right, nor could she fix on any one article of moral duty evidently transgressed; but yet she would have been afraid to answer for his conduct. She distrusted the past, if not the present.

And when Elizabeth Bennet struggles to determine who to believe, Mr. Darcy or Mr. Wickham, it is the latter's inconsistent behavior that determines her against him:

She remembered that he had boasted of having no fear of seeing Mr. Darcy -- that Mr. Darcy might leave the country, but that he should stand his ground; yet he had avoided the Netherfield ball the very next week. She remembered also, that till the Netherfield family had quitted the country, he had told his story to no one but herself; but that after their removal, it had been every where discussed; that he had then no reserves, no scruples in sinking Mr. Darcy's character, though he had assured her that respect for the father would always prevent his exposing the son.

Over and over again, Austen distinguishes bad characters from the good by exposing their hypocrisy. When Isabella Thorpe writes to Catherine Morland, asserting all that her actions negate,  the letter's "inconsistencies, contradictions, and falsehood struck her from the very first." Catherine later says, "She must think me an idiot," a very reasonable conclusion to come to when a person expects you to have no memory of their past statements and actions. Isabella is a perfect example of this phenomenon in Austen, for she is constantly saying one thing before doing the other. Lucy Steele is another such character, always maneuvering through falsehood, as in this scene where she tries to extinguish Elinor Dashwood's interest in Edward Ferrars by saying precisely the opposite of what she feels:

"Indeed you wrong me," replied Lucy, with great solemnity; "I know nobody of whose judgment I think so highly as I do of yours; and I do really believe, that if you was to say to me, 'I advise you by all means to put an end to your engagement with Edward Ferrars, it will be more for the happiness of both of you,' I should resolve upon doing it immediately."

Elinor blushed for the insincerity of Edward's future wife, and replied, "This compliment would effectually frighten me from giving any opinion on the subject had I formed one. It raises my influence much too high; the power of dividing two people so tenderly attached is too much for an indifferent person."

"'Tis because you are an indifferent person," said Lucy, with some pique, and laying a particular stress on those words, "that your judgment might justly have such weight with me. If you could be supposed to be biased in any respect by your own feelings, your opinion would not be worth having."

So when we listen to two men debate, especially when we can so easily look back and see what they have said and done in the past, we should ask ourselves if they pass the Austen test. Are we listening to an Isabella Thorpe, so certain that we will believe anything and everything, no matter how contradictory, or is the speaker more like a Mr. Darcy? Maybe he does not always behave exactly as we would like, but he is true to himself and therefore trustworthy. I like what Emma Woodhouse says of Frank Chruchill, once his deception is revealed: "So unlike what a man should be!--None of that upright integrity, that strict adherence to truth and principle, that disdain of trick and littleness, which a man should display in every transaction of his life."

As I listened to the debate Wednesday night, I heard much to frustrate me from both candidates (they are politicians, after all), but while one emphasized pretty much the same themes and ideas espoused 4 years ago, the other denied several of the main points he has been campaigning on for two years or more. As I watched, I could see Jane Austen in my mind's eye, an amused smirk on her face as she shook her head disapprovingly. Certainly there is no love affair between the two gentlemen, but I think Mr. Obama must have felt something like Marianne Dashwood that night, when she confronts Willoughby in London: "Here is some mistake I am sure--some dreadful mistake. What can be the meaning of it?"

Image:
 http://debatenotes.pbworks.com/w/page/17078976/FrontPage

Searching for Captain Wentworth by Jane Odiwe

Despite the appearance of grey cloud, briefly overhead, the sun decided to challenge the densest vapor, evaporating all into whipped confections like floating meringues in the cobalt sky. The sisters returned. Jane's mood was bright, but if anything she was overly talkative and I wasn't completely convinced that she was as happy as she appeared. She sat down a little way in front, looking out a the view across Bath. I watched Cassandra reach inside her basket producing a pocket sketchbook, a pencil, a bottle of water and a small box of paints.

"Do not move, Jane," she called. "I shall picture you for posterity ... a portrait of unwearied contemplation."

"Just as long as you do not paint my face!" Jane called, turning her back to us, arranging her dress and striking a pose.

"I would not dare ... I know how much you dislike sitting for me. No, I shall not ask you to turn. I shall capture the folds in the back of your gown instead and paint your elegant bonnet."

With swift strokes of her pencil, Jane's figure was outlined. Dressed in turquoise blue with her bonnet strings undone, she sat upon the grass, one neat little foot poking out from under her gown, her hand resting upon her knee. Only the most tantalizing curve of her cheek was displayed so it was impossible to guess her expression or sense any emotion. After a few minutes, she protested at sitting still for so long. Ignoring her sister's request to sit for five minutes longer, she was on her feet in a second and came over to my side. Ever restless, Jane held out her hand to me.

Cassandra Austen's portrait of her sister, Jane.

I begin my review of Jane Odiwe's newest book, Searching for Captain Wentworth, with this quote from the beginning of Chapter 23 because it is the kind of stuff to make a Janeite weep. I was already entranced by this novel when I came to this scene, having stayed up way past the time I ought to have already been asleep in order to read it, but this moment overwhelmed me. To be a fly on the wall when Cassandra Austen painted her enigmatic portrait of Jane! This book is as close as one will ever get.

I've read fictionalized accounts of Jane Austen before, but usually I find such portrayals disappointing. The best I came across prior to this book was Janet Mullaney's Jane and the Damned, but as Austen is a vampire in that novel, though a very engaging one, all sense of the historical figure gets submerged by fantasy. Not so here. Ms. Odiwe has brought my favorite writer to life in a way I have seen no one else accomplish, endowing her with nervous energy, a rebellious tongue, and infinite charm. She is just as I like to imagine her, and it was an absolute joy to spend three hundred pages in her presence.

But this book isn't about Jane Austen. The main character, Sophie Elliot, is a modern woman and an aspiring writer. After a bad breakup, she seeks refuge in the house her family has owned in Bath since the 18th century. Quickly discovering how she can pass from her own time into the Regency Era, she inhabits the body of her ancestor and namesake, who just so happens to live next door to the Austen family. At first her experiences terrify her, but Sophie finds the desire to return to the past irresistible, and even when she tries to remain in one time or the next, happenstance intervenes to send her hurtling back. One of the biggest lures of the 19th century is her growing friendship with Charles Austen, who is visiting his family while on leave from the Navy, but how can she allow herself to fall in love with a man who has been dead for two hundred years?

Ms. Odiwe's version of Cassandra's portrait

As I have read other novels featuring Austen as a character, so have I read Austenesque books involving time travel. Ms. Odiwe's stab at the genre is as good as the best of these, beautifully depicting a historical time and place. My husband and I (both confirmed food geeks) have an ongoing discussion regarding the value of sauces, and so I particularly got a kick out of this passage:

I chanced to look up from the plate of food that I wasn't entirely certain about. Everything had arrived on the table at once. Arranged symmetrically on white gilded Wedgewood with a laurel motif, the mahogany table gleamed under candlelight, bearing plates of salmon with bulging, glassy eyes, jellied tongue glistening with gelatine, Florentine rabbits complete with heads and furry ears, oily mackerel that stared at me balefully from my plate. Was it my imagination or was the green gooseberry preserve that covered it doing more to disguise the fact that the fish had not seen the sea for quite some time?

Though the food be rancid, there is so much to relish in this book! Truly something for everyone, Searching for Captain Wentworth beautifully combines echoes of Persuasion with paranormal fantasy and history. Reality interposes as well. Ms. Odiwe has been championing The Rice Portrait of Jane Austen (featured on the book's cover) on her blog for some time now, and the painting itself plays a role in her plot. Her depiction of Jane Austen also seems inspired by it, as in this first description of the authoress: "The girl whose broad smile reached her twinkling eyes had round rosy cheeks like a painted doll and unruly chestnut curls dancing under the brim of her bonnet in the breeze." Ms. Odiwe's novels usually feature artwork and very appropriately, as Ms. Odiwe is the artist behind some of the most touching Austen inspired renderings I have seen. One of my favorites is her version of Cassnadra's portrait, in which she shows Jane glancing back at us. This book is like that painting, provinding a tantalizing glimpse of Jane. Paintings like Cassandra's watercolor and The Rice Portrait provide a foundation for Ms. Odiwe's story, bridging the distance between past and present.

Cassandra & Jane Austen, imagined by Ms. Odiwe

If you have not had the pleasure of reading Ms. Odiwe's books, let me recommend them to you with enthusiasm. I have loved each of her novels, from Lydia Bennet's Story (one of the first Austenesque books I ever read, which is why I never reviewed it on this blog, even though it is amongst my favorites) and Willoughby's Return (which was one of my first reviews) to Mr. Darcy's Secret. Each is an entirely different undertaking from the next, and  is a remarkable addition to an already diverse body of work. I cannot wait to find out in what manner Ms. Odiwe will delight us next! 

A Mixed Up Mashup: Finding Hunsford

Introduction / In the Rose Garden / Tea with George / The Ladies at Longbourn

 
Mr. Darcy hurried beside Bingley towards Longbourn, quite forgetting his purpose as he rushed towards where he hoped Miss Elizabeth Bennet might be found. He could feel the letter still in his breast pocket, the slight friction it created a constant reminder of his disappointment and the agony suffered in its writing. But if she were there, how would he ever be able to deliver it? It was impossible. He would have to find a way to meet her in private, which is precisely the circumstance she would be most determined to avoid. Perhaps she remained at Hunsford, wherever it might be. Regardless, he knew not why he continued to hurry towards the one familiar object in a most bizarre landscape, for he could only expect a very cool reception, assuming Elizabeth's feelings for him were indicative of her family's.

And how would they greet Bingley? What would he say upon learning of Darcy's involvement in separating him from Miss Bennet? His pace slackened, and he began to fall behind his friend. There was every possibility that Elizabeth would write to her sister regarding what she had learned.  Looking about him, he saw with guilty feelings all the houses they had passed by, the residents of each requiring interview. "One moment, Bingley!" he called out, coming to a complete stop.

"What is it Darcy? Do you not see it is Longbourn? I know you think she thought little of me, but I have been unable to forget her. I must see if Miss Bennet is home."

"For once I am as anxious to greet familiar faces as you are, but we really should not have hastened here so. It was negligent. We have a responsibility to fulfill."

"We can retrace our steps as soon as our call is complete, but I for one will begin nowhere other than Longbourn."

"Very well," Darcy conceded, loath to come between Bingley and the Bennets again, and he lengthened his strides once more. It was only a few minutes before they were at the door.

"Mr. Bingley! How excellent to see you again. And Mr. Darcy, too." He noticed how her suddenly cold tone raised the eyebrows of the three ladies on the sofa, two of which shared a significant glance. If Mrs. Bennet's lack of hospitality did not make him uneasy enough, their acute inspection solidified his discomfiture. Instinctively, his hauteur rose.

Anne perceived Mr. Darcy's response to the close scrutiny he and Mr. Bingley received, not just from those who had not previously made his acquaintance, but also from the two youngest daughters of the house, who were giggling and whispering to each other in a most conspicuous manner. She dropped her gaze and focused upon her work, supplied from Mrs. Bennet's poor basket, relieving him of at least one set of prying eyes. Her response did not go unnoticed by Mr. Darcy, who was instantly reminded of Elizabeth's recent rebukes. He forced his face into an expression he hoped was amiable.

"You find us in uproar, as I am sure you know," continued their hostess, having completed the introductions. "Do tell me, Mr. Bingley, if you returned to the neighborhood on purpose, or just happened to find yourself amongst us again?"

"The latter, I am afraid, but I always intended to return to Netherfield. It was really very convenient that I just happened to wake up there this morning. Oddly enough, I now find myself neighbor to your cousin's benefactress. Are your older daughter's at home?"

"Sadly not. As I have been saying to Mrs. Dashwood, who too has daughters in town, no one can know the agony we suffer, not knowing where our dear ones might be!"

"And I have repeatedly assured you, Mrs. Bennet," said Mary Musgrove, "that all mothers know such suffering. I have two boys of my own, gentlemen, and very find lads you will find them. You must come to Uppercross and shoot with my husband. It is not a quarter mile from here." She smiled amiably, very pleased with the appearance of these new acquaintances.

 "You forget, Mary, that the park is quite gone," reminded Anne.

"Oh dear! I quite forgot. We must hope that someone has retained their park, or else I know not what Charles will do with himself. He must have something to hunt."

"Perhaps he will begin with his own grounds."

Mr. Darcy looked eagerly towards Anne. "That must be the first object with us all. We passed several homes on our way here. In which direction is Uppercross?"

"Due North," Anne replied.

"Then we must have passed it on our way here."

"It is a Tudor building and quite conspicuous sitting in prominence on the corner. It was much more at home in its cozy grove in Somersetshire."

"I recall it well. Your description is most apt." Darcy was please to discover a sensible lady amongst the party assembled, even if she was not the one he had hoped (and feared) to find.

"My husband and I live in the Cottage, which is now just a block beyond." Mary supplied.

Mrs. Weston looked interested. "The pretty little place with the French windows? The trellis in my garden at Randalls lies directly to your left."

"It is very convenient we have met you all here," said Mr. Darcy seriously. "Several of us have banded together to search the area, discovering who it is we all find ourselves amongst, and trying to see if we cannot locate this strange woman who seems to be implicated in whatever it is that has happened."

"You mean Mrs. Adams," said Mrs. Dashwood.

"Have you seen her?" asked Mr. Darcy eagerly.

"Yes. Mrs. Weston, Mrs. Bennet, and I have all conversed with her, and we agree she seems a pleasant, if unusual, lady. She is undoubtedly the person to speak to, if your goal is to make some sense out of our predicament."

"What else could it be? We all must want to get to the bottom of this."

"I for one am very pleased to find myself amongst so many new acquaintances," declared Mrs. Bennet defiantly. "Even you, Mr. Darcy, can no longer find the society of our neighborhood limited. Only think of the dinner parties we are sure to have!"


"Forgive me, madame, but I cannot think of such things at a time like this. It is imperative that we learn what has happened to us, and in order to do so, it seems we must find this Mrs. Adams."

"I think Mr. Darcy is quite right," defended Mrs. Musgrove. "Social concerns certainly must wait until some very pressing questions have been answered. Then we may consider entertaining, and I have no doubt that Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove will be amongst the first to open their doors to our new neighbors." secretly, she worried that such behavior would force her to associate with those beneath her notice, but she wisely kept such concerns to herself.

Julia Sawalha 1995

"Perhaps Mr. Bingley will have another ball at Netherfield," giggled Lydia Bennet. "The last one was marvelous! I'm sure I danced with every one of the officers."

"Certainly there will be quite a competition to see who can be most hospitable," said Darcy dryly, "and my friend Bingley can be counted upon to enter the ranks, but to keep to the matter at hand, is your home located in the vicinity as well, Mrs. Dashwood?"

"Barton Cottage is not a block away. You can see it from the window."

He looked where she pointed, to a picturesque cottage not one hundred yards away, but his eye was caught elsewhere. Directly beside it stood the familiar rectory of Hunsford.

"Mrs. Bennet, are you aware that your cousin's home at Hunsford is also within sight?" He instantly found himself crowded out by the three Bennet girls, who all jockeyed for position at the window.

"Mr. Collins? Dear me! How disagreeable! Well, at least we will have Lizzy at home, though Jane would be much more to the point! You will excuse me, I'm sure, but I must collect her at once. There is no need for her to be keeping Charlotte company when I could very well use her assistance here. Mary, you will entertain our guests until I return."

Tessa Peake-Jones 1980

"Yes, Mama," she replied importantly. "Shall I open the pianoforte? Perhaps some of our new neighbors are musical."

"Yes, yes! Whatever you like. I must be off! Kitty, you are to accompany me."

"But I do not want to see Mr. Collins anymore than you do, Mama! Why must I be the one to go?"

"As Darcy and I are heading in that direction ourselves, we would be happy to escort you to Hunsford, Mrs. Bennet," offered Bingley.

"Thank you, Mr. Bingley! Always such a gentleman!"

Polly Maberley 1995

"Then you will have no need of my company, will you Mama?"

"No, Kitty, I have no need of you. Surely a lady of my age does not require a chaperone!' she giggled as girlishly as her daughters.

Darcy struggled to not show his contempt, bringing his thoughts back to Elizabeth and how she would react to him showing up at Hunsford in the company of her mother. It was a circumstance to be avoided at all costs."

"Is Mr. Bennet at home?" he asked hopefully. "We should really speak with him prior to our departure. Perhaps I might interview him while Mr. Bingley sees you to Hunsford?"

"No. Mrs. Adams carried him off with her. Something about a most impressive library it was imperative he see. I know not when we shall see his return."

"That is unfortunate," he conceded, knowing not how else to avoid a most uncomfortable meeting with Elizabeth. "I suppose we might as well continue southward from the Rectory, and then we can call at the homes we missed as we return to Donwell."

"Donwell Abbey!" exclaimed Mrs. Weston excitedly. "Dear Mr. Knightley's home! How good it will be to see a familiar face."

"I well know the feeling," chimed in Bingley. "It was familiarity that hastened Darcy and myself here. Are you acquainted with Miss Woodhouse as well?"

"Dear me, yes! I was her governess before I married Mr. Weston."

"Her governess!" cried Mary and Mrs. Bennet in tandem, the former raising her chin disdainfully, while the latter began to lecture Mrs. Weston regarding the vast difference between a mother's tender feelings and that of a hired caretaker.

Perceiving the discomfort of her companion, Anne was quick to advise Mrs. Weston to call on Donwell posthaste, that she might be reunited with her friends. "I will join you," she said, rising from her seat. "I am afraid my curiosity is far too engaged to tolerate sitting here and waiting for something to happen. Would you care to join us, Mary?"

Mrs. Musgrove was unsure. She was not eager for more walking, but she also had no desire to become further acquainted with Mrs. Weston.

"If you like, Mrs. Musgrove, Darcy and I could call here again to escort you either to Donwell or your own home, once we again head in that direction." It was his ardent desire that Miss Bennet would somehow materialize in her family home before they returned, in a similar way to that which Miss Elizabeth had been located.

"Thank you, Mr. Bingley. That is most attentive. I will remain here, Anne."

"Very well. I shall see you shortly. Are you ready, Mrs. Weston?"

"I certainly am. Surely learning of my dear Emma's whereabouts was precisely what Mrs. Adams intended in directing me here."

"You know, Bingley, perhaps I ought to see the ladies on to Donwell. From there I could call at the houses that remain unaccounted, meeting you somewhere in the middle. We would cover ground far more quickly in such a manner."

"Excellent notion! I will see you shortly."

So Anne, Mrs. Weston, Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Bingley all said their goodbyes to Mrs. Musgrove, Mrs. Dashwood, Margaret, who was looking on in wide eyed fascination as Lydia dictated to her older sister what pieces she ought and ought not to play, and the three Bennet daughters. Upon reaching the road, they parted ways, Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Bennet bound for Hunsford, while Darcy enjoyed the surprisingly felicitous companionship of Mrs. Weston and Miss Elliot as they made their way back up the hill. He looked behind him one last time towards Hunsford, simultaneously yearning to enter the parsonage doors and congratulating himself on his near escape.

Winner of the Extravaganza Inspired Giveaway Announced

Sadly, all good things must come to an end, and this first day of October leaves us without the joys of the Austenesque Extravaganza. It was a wonderful September, and I have only to regret that I didn't get a chance to read every post (in my defense, there were A LOT). Congratulations to the Extravaganza team for pulling off such a tremendous event, and to JEWELS1328, the winner of the copy of First Impressions that I am giving away in its honor! I will be contacting you shortly so that you may claim your prize. Thanks to everyone who entered, and to the many bloggers and writers who made last month so very special.