And Who Can Be In Doubt Of What Followed Read online

  The following stories were first composed and published serially on my blog under the title Janeicillin. Working from those hurried final chapters, I extended the endings of five of Austen’s novels, imagining Lady Catherine and Mr. Wickham’s reactions to Darcy and Elizabeth’s engagement, Marianne Dashwood’s progress towards love of Colonel Brandon, and Mr. Woodhouse’s fear of pilfered chickens. I’m quite pleased with the resulting tales, which I have tidied up for your perusal, except that I never was able to write anything satisfactory for Mansfield Park. The reasons for this failure aside, I have included instead Henry & Maria, a short story I originally wrote for the Jane Austen Made Me Do It Short Story Contest. Like the other tales compiled here, it attempts to draw out that at which Austen only hinted, and my only reservation in including it here is that it is a rather miserable tale. I humbly recommend that readers use their best discretion regarding whether two such unfortunate creatures as Maria Rushworth and Henry Crawford deserve 6,000 words worth of time.

  Special thanks to those followers of my blog who not only read Janeicillin, but also commented. Without your encouragement, this book could not have happened.

  Alexa Adams

  alexaadams.blogspot.com

  Sense & Sensibility

  After a proper resistance on the part of Mrs. Ferrars, just so violent and so steady as to preserve her from that reproach which she always seemed fearful of incurring, the reproach of being too amiable, Edward was admitted to her presence. She sat in state, ensconced in her grandest, highest-backed armchair, the closest approximation to a throne the house contained. The effect was magnified by the elaborate urns flanking her position, filled with lavish bouquets that scented the air with a heady perfume. It was not her custom to be accommodating, but the scowl with which she greeted her eldest son betokened nothing so much as ill will. A man unfamiliar with this formidable lady's behavior might falter under the scrutiny of such a daunting countenance, but Edward, gifted with the familiarity of kinship, knew that his very admission was already something of a victory. Certainly his mother would demand of him a display of humility, but the end result was preordained: he was again her acknowledged son.

  "Hello Mother. How do you do?"

  "I am in excellent health, though my children seem bent on destroying it."

  "I am pleased to know you are well," he replied, ignoring her jab.

  "You heard of your brother's abominable behavior, I dare say. Is this what brings you here?"

  "As his action had rather a profound effect on myself, I could not long remain in ignorance."

  "He has preserved you from a most disastrous union. So much can be said for him."

  "Yes. I believe we can agree on that point. Robert might indeed be called my savior."

  "I see you have come to regard the matter just as you ought. That horrid girl, whose name I cannot bear to pronounce, has wrecked an unimaginable degree of havoc upon our family. You, at least, are well rid of her."

  "I cannot regret her loss."

  "Very well. I suppose it behooves me to once again call you my son, though after such ingratitude and disobedience as you so recently indulged, I might be thought inordinately lenient to do so."

  Edward bit his tongue rather than respond.

  "Well, Edward? Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

  "Only that to cause you pain is one of the great regrets of my life."

  "As it should be. That being said, other than the loss of your brother to that conniving hussy, no great harm has been wrought. Miss Morton is still available and will surely accept your offer just as well as Robert’s, after you exert some effort to win her favor. A few weeks of earnest courtship should suffice."

  "I am afraid, Madame, that I cannot proceed as you suggest. It pains me to go against your wishes, but my hand is already the property of another."

  "Surely you do not so mourn the loss of that woman, she who has made a fool of all the men in this family? Why, you just told me yourself that you do not regret her!"

  "It is not my brother's wife to whom I refer, but another lady of infinitely greater worth, for love of whom my engagement with the former Miss Steele had become a source of pain long before it caused my estrangement from you, my dear Mother."

  Mrs. Ferrars rose to her feet in rancor. "And of whom do you speak?"

  He steadied himself. "Miss Elinor Dashwood, Ma'am."

  "Miss Dashwood, indeed! I guessed as much! A lady of little fortune and no prospects! At least she is of respectable family, unlike your last infatuation, but any connection with the Dashwoods is rendered redundant through Fanny's marriage. She offers nothing of merit to our family. It is a nonsensical attachment."

  "Pardon me, Ma'am, if I disagree so soon upon our reconciliation, but Miss Dashwood is a lady of education and grace. She offers not only perfect gentility to our union, but also the promise of great happiness to myself."

  "That is not why people marry."

  "It is why I wish to marry."

  "And if I forbid you to ask for her hand?"

  "I am sorry to inform you, Madame, but her hand I have already secured. I ask only for your blessing."

  "What can you mean by this, Edward? Do you come to my house, seeking forgiveness for one clandestine engagement, only to thrust yet another in my face?"

  With the knowledge of Elinor's love bolstering his courage, Edward declared, "Again I beg your pardon, Mother, but your facts are not quite correct. I have not asked your forgiveness. I should not have contracted an engagement in secret, this I readily own, but to have broken my promise to Lucy would have made me a scoundrel, and not even for the lady I love most in this world was I willing to debase myself so. Furthermore, there is nothing clandestine in my betrothal to Elinor Dashwood. I have her mother's blessings, and at the time of my engagement, no acknowledged parent of my own to consult."

  Mrs. Ferrars seethed. "You would reject Miss Morton, heiress to thirty thousand pounds and offspring of Lord Morton, for the daughter of a country gentleman of little connection and a mere three?"

  "Without hesitation."

  Mrs. Ferrars looked much like a serpent about to attack, but then something seemed to check her instinctive response. With a forced coolness she said, "Do not think I will supplement your income should you proceed with such foolishness. You will have this living you have somehow secured – yes, I do know that much of your recent actions – and the funds due to you upon your marriage, but no more than what Fanny received shall you enjoy!"

  "You will give me 10,000 pounds upon my marriage?" Edward asked in disbelief.

  "Yes, and how you will survive upon a daughter's share will be entirely your own concern. I wash my hands of the matter."

  "But I have your blessing?"

  "Certainly not! How you can contemplate such a union when Miss Morton is available and agreeable is unfathomable! Consider your position carefully, young man, and you will surely come to realize the folly of continuing your engagement. Come see me in two days, and we will see how that matter stands."

  To her great astonishment, Edward stepped forward with a joyful expression and grasped her hand warmly. "Thank you, Mother. I will see you in two days time." And with a kiss and a rather ecstatic adieu, Edward took himself off to his lodgings, leaving behind him an utterly befuddled Mrs. Ferrars.

  **********

  John Dashwood was at his brother's door the next morning, eager to acknowledged the restored relations between Edward and his family, and to put forth those arguments, so unimpeachable in the minds of himself, his wife, and his mother, that were to persuade the younger gentleman of the error of his ways. In Mr. Dashwood's defense, so rarely taken up, the tas
k before him required an enormous amount of verbal dexterity, as he could not be reasonably expected to deprecate his own sister on behalf of Miss Morton, no matter how great her fortune. It was, therefore, his lot to praise the latter lady without sacrificing the virtues of the former, an undertaking that might have been rendered easier had Miss Morton anything but status of which to boast. Nevertheless, Mr. Dashwood entered upon his mission quite convinced of his success. What man, after all, would behave in a manner so detrimental to his own best interest? Such confidence, when his brother’s behavior had never before reconciled itself to John’s own notions of propriety, might surprise those of deep thought. It was, of course, entirely misplaced. All his best efforts to elevate Miss Morton in Edward's esteem were for naught, and Mr. Dashwood returned home to share his befuddlement with those who could best sympathize.

  When Edward again presented himself before his austere mother, though he remained stubborn in his intentions towards Miss Dashwood, he was nevertheless again embraced, however frigidly, as a son. After enduring such uncommon fluctuations in the state of her family, having for many years been in possession of two sons, then robbed of first one, and then both, Mrs. Ferrars felt the good of resuscitating at least the eldest.

  Letters of triumph to first Elinor and then Colonel Brandon were posted that very day. The inquisitive will like to know that the contents of the first were just what one supposes, and those of the second had all to do with sanctioning the suggested improvements to Delaford Parsonage, that the workers might commence at once. There was nothing else but the banns for which the engaged couple’s union need wait. Be assured that the recipients of these missives were just as exultant in reluctant blessings and a grudging 10,000 pounds as they were baffling to the giver and her coterie.

  When Edward followed his letter to Barton Cottage, he was greeted with a warmth that melted away his own family’s distance. In Mrs. Dashwood, he discovered all the maternal affection Mrs. Ferrars lacked; in Marianne and Margaret, he felt all the camaraderie absent between himself, Fanny, and Robert; and in Elinor, formerly so guarded in her feelings, he discovered the perfection of his heart’s delight. His liberation was indubitable, and in its embrace he flourished.

  “Where would I be without you, my dear Elinor?” he mused one morning as they walked along the downs, enjoying the summer verdure.

  She smiled, “Certainly not at Barton, though you already formed an affinity for Devonshire without my influence, so perhaps we might at least depend on the vicinity.”

  “It is cruel of you to tease me on this point,” he responded, though the charge was belied by a relaxed grin that encompassed his eyes, “for you know I don’t mean physically. What kind of man would I be in the process of becoming without your influence? What sort of clergyman? I’m sure I might commence well enough, but time and despondency, I fear, must take their tolls. I might have deteriorated into the saddest of figures, consumed by bitter regrets, yet now my future is secure. I have every good ambition of diligently guiding my flock towards righteousness, but if I should stumble myself, I can count on you to set me right.”

  “What a thing to say of yourself, dear Edward! Even so, who is to say that our union will prove a happy one? One never quite knows how such things will unfold in a marriage. I always thought Lucy was well prepared for the challenges of running a rectory. She would have been a far better economizer than I shall ever prove.”

  “Must we speak of her?” Edward sighed wearily.

  “Unfortunately, I think courtesy demands it. When we consider how much she, in all likelihood, is discussing us, it is only right that we return the consideration.” They shared an amused glance, and she continued in a more serious tone, “No one is more pleased with the outcome of our predicament than I, but had Lucy not been so accommodating as to elope with your brother, and your marriage had proceeded as planned, you would be no less the master of your own destiny. You can always choose to succumb to the kind of hopelessness you describe, or you can make the best of your situation, finding new forms of fulfillment.”

  “You only prove my point by always knowing just how one should behave, and I insist that with you at my side, I shall prove a far better man than I ever could manage to be without you. Do accept the compliment.”

  She smiled, but shook her head negatively. “What you now perceive as my worth may very well be precisely what you someday regard as a plague. A fine companion I would make if forced to constantly harass you into goodness! What kind of man would require it? If my judgment is so infallible, you must concede yourself more honorable than you think, else how could I love you so?”

  “I do concede the point, but only because to argue it would be a serious breach of gallantry. I think your tactics most unfair.” She laughed, and he took her hand, wrapping it securely in the crook his arm.

  While Elinor and Edward basked in the joys of newly declared love, Colonel Brandon called regularly to discuss the progress at the parsonage, often loitering with Marianne over her books once his official business was complete. Even if Mrs. Dashwood had not been rather forthcoming about her hopes for this pairing, it would not have taken Edward long to perceive Colonel Brandon’s intentions, yet somehow Marianne remained oblivious. Fortunate for the Colonel then that the completion of construction, like every project of the kind, was subject to repeated delays. After three months of setback, a thousand disappointments, and an unaccountable dilatoriness on the part of the workmen, Elinor declared herself unwilling to wait any longer. The wedding was to be held forthwith, and Colonel Brandon, ever accommodating, offered the newlyweds the hospitality of his house as they oversaw the remaining work. It would not be the most romantic wedding trip, but Elinor and Edward, pragmatic and complacent, were appropriately grateful. The Colonel, for his part, entertained some hope that Marianne would act as companion to her sister, an idea enthusiastically suggested by Mrs. Dashwood, but in spite of her own wish to bring the two together, Elinor refused to further impose upon her host, much to his disappointment.

  Edward’s relations, upon receiving news of the upcoming event, put aside their great incomprehension of their son and brother and began to make travel plans. It was of great assistance in this effort that Sir John, long before a date was set, had already invited the entire family to stay at Barton Park “ ... for as long as it suits you. There’s sure to be some game in season and many an outing and dancing in the evening for the ladies.” Lady Middleton, once the wedding plans were set, provided a more formal invitation. All Mrs. Ferrars and the Dashwoods need do was invade Barton at their leisure.

  It was the reading of the banns that brought first wind of their brother’s impending marriage to Mr. and Mrs. Robert Ferrars. Lucy learned of it from her newly hired lady’s maid, who proved her value in useful gossip. No woman can like to know her affections supplanted, and Elinor’s formal ascendance in Edward’s heart must cause some chagrin, but the image of the young couple struggling along and economizing on a parson’s salary quickly restored her humor. Quick to see the approaching marriage as opportunity for her husband to reassert himself into his mother’s good graces and lucrative pockets, Lucy set about trying to convince him to attend the wedding. His reluctance to present himself was understandable, for not only did it mean confronting a hostile family, but also enduring Edward’s wedding, which he asserted could be nothing but a dead bore. Nevertheless, with careful flattery and calculated cajolery, Lucy at last gained her point. Let credit go where it is due, for she managed the accomplishment while convincing her malleable husband that it was his good notion in the first place.

  In what Robert was inclined to condemn as a poor show, people of taste and sense saw all that was most important. Pomp may have been lacking in the marriage of Elinor and Edward, the bride bedecked in a useful gown that would serve many a purpose other than that of mere wedding finery, but the love shared by our couple was abundantly apparent. Marianne joyfully accompanied her sister, while Colonel Brandon stood beside his new rector
and friend. All those who wished them well were in attendance, no matter how reluctant the sensation. John, Fanny, and Mrs. Ferrars never dared speak to Robert even once, but they all agreed that he cut a fine figure. His elegance stood in stark contrast to the groom, dressed in a manner befitting his clerical pretensions, and such considerations proved paramount in amending the familial breech. Thus it was remembered as a day of abounding happiness for all.

  **********

  The first month of marriage saw Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars everyday at the parsonage, directing progress and spurring on the workers. They chose papers, planned shrubberies, and invented a sweep, all which went far in elevating the humble abode to gentility. Their host would have happily kept the couple for a far longer time, but even dilatory workmen will, eventually, complete their assigned tasks, and soon our newlyweds were finally sleeping beneath their very own roof, which no longer suffered from the slightest propensity to leak. All that was left to wish for, as long as their privacy lasted, was rather better pasturage for their cows.

  The limits of such domestic tranquility were not tested for long, for just a week following their move to the parsonage, Mrs. Jennings arrived to ward off any fear of solitude. As far as the good lady was concerned, the happy couple enjoyed her two week stay as much as she did and could only regret that it did not last longer. Mrs. Jennings, a lover of company herself, was not to be burdened by any thought of being intrusive, and if the loss of newfound privacy was resented, neither Edward nor Elinor did anything to reveal it. However, upon the young Palmer child coming down with its first cold, and the matron's presence being deemed essential at Cleveland, the Ferrars secretly, and guiltily, felt the good of such a well-timed ailment. Promising Mrs. Jennings that she was welcome at anytime, they saw her off with few regrets, sincere in both their expressed sentiments and their shared desire that "anytime" might not come too soon.

  Mrs. Jennings was merely the first of several guests, so anxious were their connections to grace the parsonage with their presence. Mrs. Ferrars arrived not long there after, direct from Barton Park, intent on inspecting the happiness that she was almost ashamed of having authorized. What were Elinor's feelings upon welcoming the woman who had once gone to such excessive lengths to offend her, and whom she now called mother? Let’s just say it took strict adherence to her policy of general civility to weather the ordeal. Fortunately, the grand lady did not stay long, for while she felt her own consequence increase within walls too small to retain such magnificence, she also felt enough concern for her son's welfare not to wish them to buckle under the burden of such unaccustomed pressure. Having done her maternal duty, she quickly made her way back to the more commodious dimensions of her London home.