Jane Austen Stole My Boyfriend (2 page)

It’s good for me to get angry. It makes me feel that I can change things.

All I have to do to feel furious is think of what happened between Thomas and my stupid brother, Edward-John, and his wife, Augusta, who has hated me from the moment that my mama died and she
had to ‘welcome’ me into their house.

I must try to write down everything that was said, and not said . . .

Mr Austen, my very kind uncle, had suffered a heavy cold while staying with his eldest son, James, in Oxford and was still not very well, I think, when he arrived off the early-morning coach on
Tuesday morning. He looked pale and tired, and when Thomas asked him for the favour of an interview in his study he seemed more resigned than curious. I saw my aunt, Mrs Austen, look up with an air
of sharp interest, and now I wish so much that she had joined her husband from the start. If she had, perhaps Edward-John would not have been involved so quickly.

But she didn’t, and Jane and I were left gripping hands under the table until Mrs Austen said abruptly, ‘Come on, Jane; help your sister to clear off the breakfast things. Jenny, you
look in a dream – a bit of housework will bring you down to earth, won’t it, Cassandra?’ But Mrs Austen did not look annoyed. She flashed an amused look at her eldest daughter to
invite her to join in the joke and then patted me reassuringly on the arm when I went to take her plate.

At that moment Mr Austen’s head popped around the door, looking flustered.

‘Edward-John,’ he said in his hesitant manner, ‘perhaps you should come into my study and have a word with Captain Williams.’

‘Certainly.’ Edward-John got to his feet in a stately manner and Augusta immediately followed him from the room. Mr Austen shut the door firmly behind them without glancing at his
wife, who compressed her lips angrily and then tried to smile reassuringly at me.

‘Papa won’t allow Edward-John to say no,’ whispered Jane to me, but I said nothing in reply. I was very fond of Mr Austen, but if Edward-John and Augusta, especially Augusta,
were against this marriage, I feared there was not much chance of Mr Austen changing their minds.

The three of us had finished clearing the table. Jane was vigorously sweeping the oak-boarded floor, while Mrs Austen, instead of going off to the dairy as usual, set about rubbing the copper
kettle to a high shine. Mr Austen’s pupils had been sent to the schoolroom to start on their lessons by themselves and I had begun, nervously, to polish the sideboard when Thomas came to the
doorway.

‘Jenny, could you come here for a minute?’ he said. His voice was tight with anger. I went towards him, putting my hand in his. Suddenly I felt cold. Behind me I heard Mrs Austen get
to her feet, dropping the copper kettle with a thud back on to the hob by the fireplace. She said nothing but followed us both, and Jane squeezed in beside her.

Mr Austen’s study was a small one. He was seated behind the desk, with Edward-John standing beside him, and Augusta had arranged her lace flounces across the only other chair in the room.
Mrs Austen did not give her a glance as she placed herself on the window seat. Jane perched on her father’s library steps, and Thomas, still keeping hold of my hand, drew my arm through his
own and faced my uncle and brother across the desk.

‘I don’t see what this has to do with Jenny and Jane,’ began Augusta. Even she did not have the courage to say it had nothing to do with Mrs Austen.

‘I disagree with you, ma’am,’ said Thomas. I had never heard his voice so hard. ‘I think Jenny’s future is very much her business.’

‘Miss Cooper,’ said Augusta, trying to make her reproof of his familiarity with my name sound jolly, but Thomas did not reply. He did not even look at her. He pressed my arm close to
his ribs and turned to Edward-John.

‘Perhaps, sir, you would be good enough to explain to your sister why you have refused my offer of marriage,’ he said, and he sounded as though he spoke through gritted teeth.

Edward-John gulped a bit. He wasn’t used to dealing with naval officers like Thomas, who had a note of authority in every word that he spoke.

‘My sister,’ he said with an attempt at bluster, ‘doesn’t need any explanation of an action that I, as her sole guardian, take for her good.’

‘Jenny knows,’ said Augusta sweetly, ‘we just want the best for her.’

Thomas squeezed my arm again and this gave me courage to speak up for myself.

‘The best thing for me,’ I said boldly, ‘is to be allowed to marry Captain Williams. That is what I want to do and that is what will make me happy.’

I saw with some compassion the slightly ashamed look that Mr Austen gave me. I understood and was sorry for him.

‘Oh, Jenny dear . . .’ Augusta affected a tone that I supposed was meant to be motherly, but still sounded spiteful. ‘Believe me, we just want the best for you. You are so
young, just sixteen years old!’

‘She’s seventeen tomorrow,’ said Jane. ‘And then she’ll be in her eighteenth year,’ she added, earning herself an angry glance from Augusta.

I took a deep breath. It was ridiculous, but I was so afraid of Edward-John and Augusta. I think that, between them both, they had broken my spirit after my mother died. While I lived in their
house in Bristol, I had been like a little mouse, just whispering replies and silently agreeing to everything that was proposed. It was only when I had become best friends with Jane – when I
had learned from her to be independent and to think for myself – that I had begun to question whether Edward-John and his wife Augusta really were devoted to my interests. Augusta hates me; I
know that. She hates me and she doesn’t want anything good to happen to me.

Suddenly I was angry.

‘I want to marry Thomas.’ It all came out in a bit of a rush, but I made sure that my voice sounded clear and strong. Thomas pressed my arm again. I almost felt as though we were one
person, standing up there in front of the hostile presence of Edward-John and Augusta.

‘Come now, let us be reasonable. What are Captain Williams’s prospects?’ Mrs Austen sounded unusually conciliatory. Usually she gave her opinion in a very forthright manner.
She was my mother’s only sister, and if she could not change Edward-John’s mind, then no one could. However, in her usual alert fashion, she had sized up Augusta and there was a note of
caution in her voice.

Thomas turned to her gratefully. ‘My prospects are good, ma’am,’ he said respectfully. ‘As you know, I am a captain in the Royal Navy; my yearly salary is five hundred
pounds. In addition I have been privileged by being entrusted with various commissions from the East India Trading Company, and these have proved very lucrative indeed to me.’

Even Augusta looked a little impressed at that. The Austens had remote connections with Warren Hastings, the director of the East India Company, and everyone knew that Warren Hastings was almost
as rich as the King of England himself.

‘And,’ continued Thomas, pressing home his advantage, ‘since I understand that Jenny’s mother left her fifty pounds a year until she turns twenty-one, this money can be
invested for her in diamond mines in the East Indies and I can guarantee to double and treble its value within a few years.’

And that, as Jane said afterwards, was his mistake. He should never have mentioned the fifty pounds. Augusta hates me, but she quite likes having that extra fifty pounds a year – very
little of which is spent on me!

‘I could see those boiled-gooseberry eyes of hers pop out even further than usual,’ said Jane when we were talking about it in our bedroom. ‘It was obvious that she was
thinking about how much she would lose if you were married. Edward-John would have to hand over your property to your husband then. That’s the law.’ Jane as usual knew everything about
marriage.

‘It will, of course, be put into a trust for Jenny, or for her children, if that is what she wants,’ continued Thomas, a little puzzled by the silence in the room. ‘And there
will no doubt be another war with France any moment now . . .’ He stopped.

Mrs Austen immediately chipped in. ‘Of course, you have already won so many rich prizes in the last war, haven’t you? My son Frank told me all about it. And I understand that you
have a good property in the Isle of Wight, which has been handsomely furnished.’

I looked around the room. Edward-John was standing there, his mouth slightly open and a frown knitting his black eyebrows. I knew the expression on his face: it was envy. He didn’t like to
hear of another man being richer than he was. Augusta had pursed her lips and was doing her best to look like a concerned mother. Mr Austen looked uncomfortable, but Mrs Austen just sat there
beaming, a broad smile of approval lighting up her weather-beaten face.

Thomas noticed this as soon as I did and he immediately addressed himself to her. ‘What do you think, ma’am?’ he enquired. ‘Do you think that your late sister,
Jenny’s mother, would have approved of this match for her daughter?’

‘I’m certain that she would.’ Mrs Austen’s voice rose to its highest pitch to drown out something that Augusta was saying. ‘My sister Jane would always want the
best thing for her daughter’s happiness.’

‘My dear,’ said Mr Austen tentatively, ‘I don’t feel that we can interfere. Edward-John––’

‘Stuff and nonsense!’ Mrs Austen interrupted, the light of battle in her faded blue eyes. ‘As if I should not have the liberty of giving my opinion on this important matter for
my only niece! Edward-John, I’m sure, will be guided by the experience of his aunt – as indeed his poor mother would have wished.’

‘After all, there can be no reason for him to want to retain Jenny since she no longer lives with them . . .’ put in Jane with an innocent air.

‘Jane!’ exclaimed Mrs Austen automatically, but not being a woman to disdain any weapon, she hastily added, ‘Not that there isn’t sense in what she says. You were happy
to leave Jenny with us for the next few years, so why do you now wish to prevent her making this very advantageous marriage, Edward-John? It wouldn’t be anything to do with retaining her
legacy for your own use for another four years, would it?’

Edward-John flushed an unpleasant blotchy shade of red, but Augusta was made of sterner stuff. She rose to her feet, her flounced gown sweeping around her.

‘After that insult, I fear that we must leave this house immediately,’ she said in her loud, bullying tone of voice. ‘Pray, sir,’ she addressed herself to Mr Austen,
‘send a boy to summon a post-chaise; we will take the midday stagecoach back to Bristol.’

‘Not so fast!’ Thomas leaned across the desk, his face coming close to Edward-John who flinched, drew back and gave a sideways look at his wife. ‘You haven’t given me any
sensible reason for turning down my suit. You haven’t made any enquiry into my character or my prospects. You didn’t even want to bother asking Jenny whether she would be happy with me.
I cannot take this rejection. What if we waited another six months before announcing any engagement? Would that change your opinion?’

‘Captain Williams,’ said Augusta sweetly, ‘I’m sure that you naval gentlemen are used to having your own way, but I must assure you that my husband and I are quite
certain about this matter and nothing you can say will make any difference to us. Jenny is far too young to get engaged and certainly too young to get married. I don’t feel that any girl of
less than twenty-one should be married, and I will not countenance a long engagement which would spoil her prospects for a better match. The answer is no, Captain Williams.’

She sounded quite certain as she said that final ‘no’. My heart sank. Of course, Augusta herself was in her middle twenties when she married Edward-John, and since everything Augusta
does is always perfect, then of course no other girls should be married earlier than that. A feeling of panic rose inside me and I turned back to Thomas, who had made an impatient movement.

‘I wasn’t speaking to you, ma’am.’ Thomas dropped my hand and strode across the room to stand behind the desk, deliberately interposing his broad back between Augusta and
her husband. Bending down a little, he gazed intently into Edward-John’s eyes. His own, I could see, were black with anger, and I wasn’t surprised when Edward-John, never the bravest of
men, looked away. Thomas persisted though.

‘Mr Cooper, please listen to me for a moment.’ His voice had a note of heavy formality in it, and despite himself Edward-John looked back at him. ‘I have asked you for the
honour of your sister’s hand. I am a man of good character, of a reasonable fortune and with good prospects. You can ask anyone. Ask the Earl of Portsmouth. Ask my uncle, Admiral Williams.
I’m not demanding an immediate answer, though I would have hoped to get one this morning. What I am asking now is that you will consider the matter and let me know what you think as soon as
possible. I would like to have this matter settled before I embark on my next voyage to the East Indies.’

I’m not sure whether Edward-John really was considering the matter, or whether he was too afraid of Thomas to give a direct refusal, but he definitely looked ill at ease, trying to avoid
everyone’s eye and saying nothing.

Augusta, however, was not to be defeated. Now she boldly pushed her way past Mr Austen and took her husband’s arm.

‘Come, Edward-John,’ she said coldly. ‘I’m sure you feel that we have been insulted enough in this house. We will wait outside until the post-chaise is summoned. Pray, Mr
Austen, ask a servant to fetch it and to bring down our travelling bags.’

She turned on Thomas.

‘Believe me, Captain Williams, we are acting for the best for all concerned here. Jenny, poor girl, has problems and would not make a suitable wife for you. I speak only for your own good,
Jenny, but I must say that you have no grace of manner, no true politeness, no accomplishments worth having – these perhaps could have been compensated for by good looks, if you possessed
them, but alas!’

And then she escorted her husband from the room and left everyone staring at each other. Mrs Austen was looking furious and Mr Austen distressed, but Jane burst into a loud infectious laugh and
Thomas joined in. I laughed too and a broad grin creased Mrs Austen’s face. Somehow at that moment I left the last vestige of my fear of Augusta behind and saw her for what she was: a
concentrated ball of spite and malice.