My career in digital marketing for a Fortune 500 company provided me many opportunities to travel to London which allowed me to frequently visit my dear friend, Tamsin, who was living in the small village of Over Wallop.
Her home was directly across the road from a thatched roof dairy farm. At 9:00 each morning the farmer would open the gate and the cows would walk out onto the road and take a right turn up an intersecting road and another right into their pasture for the day. In the evenings they took the same route home. It was a picturesque little community anchored by the local pub as the main gathering place for locals.
Tamsin grew up in Reading and attended the same school that Jane Austen had 200+ years earlier. She was a great travel planner and happy to take me on road trips in the area. Knowing I was a Jane Austen fan, during one of my visits we decided to drive to Chawton to visit the home where Jane had lived with her sister and mother. From there we would drive on to Winchester to visit the cathedral where Jane was buried.
The drive was perhaps 1 ½ hours from Over Wallop and when we arrived, we stopped at the local pub across the road from Jane’s former home for lunch and a pint before arriving at our destination. We were encouraged to see activity across the way as there appeared to be an organized gathering of tourists filtering in and out of the house, side buildings, and grounds. To our great disappointment, when we arrived at the front door, we were informed that the house was closed to the public for a private tour by a large group of Americans. I’m not sure if my American accent, my forlorn face, or general pleading carried the day but after describing our long drive to get there and my flight the next day, the docent agreed to let us in just to see the house, but we were not to join the rest of the tour. Many items in the house are replicas but it was still thrilling to see the writing desk and samples of clothing and letters in a glass display before making our way up to the bedroom and imagining Jane and Cassandra sharing dreams and plans and gossip of the day.
When we made our way back downstairs, we found the small house almost empty of the other visitors. Suddenly the back door opened, and a gentleman urgently called for the few people inside to make their way to the next station of the tour, a barn like building, because the rotation of guests had left that out building devoid of visitors. What else were we to do but comply with the request and follow a few others to the next site of the tour?
When I entered the building, my heart almost stopped such was my state of awe. The docent explained that while the displays in the house were replicas, we were seeing Jane’s real, handwritten letters under a glass cabinet. Standing directly next to it, on a mannequin, unprotected, was a dress that Jane had really worn. The pattern of the dress was almost a duplicate of the replica on display inside the house. I could have reached out and touched it. It was like finding the Holy Grail and I was almost breathless at the thought of gently caressing a garment that Jane had once worn, but I resisted the urge in the interest of preserving it for posterity. I had watched enough Antiques Roadshow episodes to know I should have white gloves on before handling such precious antique fabric.
She was small of frame although I’d read that she was tall and slender, but “tall” in the 1800’s is no doubt smaller than a typical tall woman in the 21st century. Being around 5’ tall myself I felt certain Jane and I could have easily seen eye to eye and had a lively conversation indeed. I will never forget what it felt like to be in such a hallowed place standing next to items that my favorite author in all the world had touched. It was a privilege beyond anything I could have ever imagined.
Next, we were shuffled off to another building where many of the tour group were in line to purchase Jane Austen memorabilia. The line was no doubt part of the reason that some of the tour stations were empty. Of course, I waited in line and made a few purchases of my own including a lovely watercolor of Chawton House, an old-fashioned fountain pen with a glass ink
bottle in a leather pouch, sepia colored ink, and a packet of note cards. I keep them almost as a shrine never attempting to use them even though I’d taken calligraphy courses long ago.
Next, we were off to Winchester where we saw the apartment at #8 College Street where she spent her last days and her burial site in Winchester Cathedral. The writing on the marble plaque that marks her grave did nothing to capture the long reach across the centuries that allows the enduring beauty, elegance, and subtlety of her prose to continue to resonate. The plaque does, however, acknowledge “the extraordinary endowments of her mind.” How remarkable this modest woman would have found that legions of her fans continue reading and retelling her stories to this day.
Our last stop in Winchester was a bookstore where I purchased a biography about her life along with a paperback book, The Complete Novels of Jane Austen, Seven Great English Classics which I proceeded to read cover to cover. I’d read several of her books in my teens and loved any film version of her stories, but this was the first time I read the entire canon. I’ve read it many times over now and the paperback became my bible when I decided to write my first novel, a sequel that brings together characters from all six books.
It is my sincere hope that anyone who reads The Matchmaker of Pemberley, An Amorous Sequel to All Jane Austen’s Novels, recognizes my concerted effort to emulate her style and approach to writing as a tribute to this remarkable author. I join a legion of writers who make her legacy endure by keeping her characters and stories alive.
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