Just Jane by Nancy Moser

Author:Nancy Moser [Moser, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency, Becoming Jane, England, historical, Bath, Steventon, English literature, Sense and Sensibility, Fiction, Romance, authors, Pride and Prejudice, London, love-story, Jane Austen, Christian, bio-novel, Persuasion, novelist, biography, Cassandra
Publisher: Livingstone Books
Published: 2012-10-24T05:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

Know thyself.

To thine own self be true.

I thank my father for urging me to read through his library as a child. For where else would I have harvested these wise words? Whether it be the wisdom of Thales or Shakespeare, I embrace their assurance that my existence is not without merit, and my choices are not without some level of worthy insight. For who would I be if I tried to be someone besides Jane? The posers of the world try so hard to be what they are not, and yet . . . how fatigued they must be. Perhaps I’m not smart enough to be one of them. Nor strong enough in constitution.

Thank God.

And so, after returning to the prison of Bath, after rejecting a chance to break free via Manydown and marriage, I hold on to the meager strength of being . . . just Jane.

I will admit that “just Jane” seems to gain insight from hard times. I wish to ask the Almighty about this, for why do we learn more from struggles than victories?

I’m certain He has His reasons.

I don’t think of reasons. I merely try to live rightly. Yet I’ve never chosen struggles for the sake of gaining wisdom. I am not so bold.

So. I am . . . home. After nearly two years in residence I must bestow to Bath its lawful title (if not its emotional one). The rest of December slogged by—in all ways. I managed Christmas, managed the New Year, and can admit to allowing myself some pleasure in them both. Life went on. One can either go with it or let it leave you behind.

I don’t cry about the could-be’s anymore. For what good are tears but for making my already-full cheeks more pronounced with blush and swelling. That my family (yea, e’en Mother) allowed me this decision is enough to send me forward, not back. Plus, the letters I’ve received from Catherine, Elizabeth, and Alethea, assuring me that our friendship is indelibly signed by all involved, mercifully relieve that burden and imply that, all in all, my choice was the right one. Can it be that sisterhood carries more lasting fortitude than marriage?

I don’t know. Yet. But I’m willing to believe it, if need be.

One member of the family is still intent on marrying me off—to most anyone who holds a half inch of breeding. Although Aunt Leigh-Perrot knows nothing of Harris—I thank God that Mother has been able to keep the secret; surely shame is a factor—Aunt continues her matchmaking assault with all cannons blazing. She continues to find fault with me, but I’m learning to accept her discontent and disapproval of all things Jane as a matter of permanent residency.

Considering I am so lacking in any attribute she deems worthy and marketable, it astonishes that she finds any suitors willing to take me.

Yet, somehow, she does.

Today she has asked to tea a young man she and Uncle met at cards last weekend. According to my aunt, my past absences from card playing are socially suicidal.

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