A Preview of Jayne Bamber's latest novel, Five Daughters Out at Once
I'm excited to welcome Austenesque author Jayne Bamber back to the blog to preview her new novel, Five Daughters Out at Once. A couple of months ago, the Jane Austen State of Mind blog featured Jayne's last novel, NorthFanger, which is a mash-up of Northanger Abbey and Pride and Prejudice. Jayne is known for her unique takes on and mash-ups of our favorite Austen novels. The premise behind Five Daughters Out at Once is also original. So, without further ado, I'll pass the reigns to Jayne.
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Available on Kindle, April 7
The title is taken from a quote of Lady Catherine, who is a central figure in the novel – when the Bennet sisters are orphaned, and Lady Catherine suffers the loss of her daughter, she takes the five sisters under her wing, renting the nearby estate of Netherfield. The reactions of her Fitzwilliam relations are predictable enough: Darcy is set against the scheme, the Colonel is delighted both by the prospect of meeting pretty ladies and of vexing his cousin, and Georgiana is just eager to make some new friends. From there, however, the story takes many unexpected twists and turns, as Lady Catherine hosts a house party and welcomes characters from across the world of Austen into her new home.
Richard Fitzwilliam was the ideal gentleman: sensible, good-humored, and lively – Elizabeth had never seen such happy manners, and when he smiled she might almost call him handsome, which a gentleman ought to be if he possibly could. But his finest quality was, by a vast degree, his inclination to vex Mr. Darcy.
In time, Elizabeth became comfortable enough to take the liberty of joining him in this occupation. They began innocuously enough by discussing books. When Elizabeth perceived the piercing gaze of Mr. Darcy upon her, she whispered to Mr. Fitzwilliam, “What does Mr. Darcy mean by listening to our conversation?”
Mr. Fitzwilliam inclined his head and whispered back with mock solemnity, “That is a question which only my cousin can answer.”
Elizabeth grinned at her companion, but flicked her gaze to Mr. Darcy so that he might know he was being spoken of. “If he does it any more, I shall certainly let him know that I see what he is about. He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of him.”
Her companion laughed. “I doubt that very much.”
Mr. Darcy continued to observe them, though without seeming to have any intention of speaking; Elizabeth smiled at the odious man. “Did you not think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was speaking to your cousin of poetry?”
“With great energy,” he drawled, seeming a little surprised at being addressed so directly. “But it is a subject which always makes a lady energetic.”
From a man more generally disposed to be affable, this might be a fine jest, but Elizabeth apprehended only censure. “Particularly those ladies determined to be contrary. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love.”
“I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love,” Mr. Darcy replied.
“Everything nourishes what is strong already,” she said with an arch look. “If it is only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.”
Mr. Fitzwilliam guffawed; his cousin looked rather affronted. “As you say, some ladies are determined to be contrary,” Mr. Darcy said with some discomfort. “Perhaps some even take delight in professing opinions which are not their own.”
Elizabeth could not resist a hearty laugh at this picture of herself, though one saucy comment was not enough to satisfy her that Mr. Darcy could be completely amiable – she began her next attack directly. “Your cousin will teach you not to believe a word I say,” she told Mr. Fitzwilliam. “How very unfortunate, for I had hoped to pass myself off with some credit, in making your acquaintance.”
“Shocking indeed,” Mr. Fitzwilliam cried. “Impolitic, too, for it provokes me to retaliate. How shall we punish him, Miss Elizabeth, for such a speech?”
“I can think of nothing so easy – tease him, laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done.”
Mary was seated near them; she had been attending Jane’s conversation with the dowager, but she turned now to Elizabeth with some little dismay. “Laugh at Mr. Darcy? Oh Lizzy, I wish you would not!”
Elizabeth was sorry to cause her sister any alarm, but she could not resist the chance to needle Mr. Darcy a little more. “Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at! Well! That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances. I dearly love a laugh.”
Mr. Darcy’s lip twitched just a little. “The wisest and the best of men may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke.”
“Certainly,” replied Elizabeth, “there are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise and good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without.”
“That is not possible for anyone, but it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule,” Mr. Darcy said. Mary looked on approvingly, while Mr. Fitzwilliam was obliged to devise some means of covering his laughter.
“Such as vanity and pride,” Elizabeth mused.
“Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride – where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will always be under good regulation.”
Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile, and Mr. Fitzwilliam drew a little closer once more to conspire with her. “Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume,” said he. “Pray what is the result?”
Knowing the man himself to be listening still, Elizabeth said, “I am perfectly convinced that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise.”
“No,” said Mr. Darcy. “I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.”
“That is a failing indeed!” cried Elizabeth. “Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot laugh at it. You are safe from me.”
He regarded her evenly, and she could see that he was now taking her measure. “There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil – a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.”
Elizabeth held her chin up defiantly, knowing he had already judged her thoroughly the day they met at Longbourn. “And your defect is to hate everybody.”
“And yours,” he replied with a smile, “is to willfully misunderstand them.”
Elizabeth might have said more, but Lady Catherine was looking on now, cheerfully demanding her share in the conversation. Mr. Fitzwilliam was ready for her, and declared that they were speaking of music. “Miss Elizabeth has offered to play for us after our meal.”
“You are a very strange creature by way of a friend,” she hissed at him, but this only provoked Mr. Fitzwilliam to more mischief.
“She says that she will sing, too,” he informed his aunt, who seemed to think – for now – that this was a most desirable outcome.
Once Elizabeth had fulfilled his promise for entertainment, she sought Mr. Fitzwilliam out again, and he owned himself to be delighted by her abilities, but Elizabeth demurred. “It was pleasing, I hope, but by no means capital – you shall agree with me once you have heard Mary accompany Jane.”
Mary indeed assumed the instrument next, and Jane stood at her side as she sang an Irish air that was always well-received. Elizabeth could see that Mr. Fitzwilliam instantly recognized their superiority, and she was glad of it. “It is amazing to me,” he observed, “how young ladies can have the patience to be so very accomplished as they all are.”
Lady Catherine was seated nearby – she turned her face from rapt attention to the music, and looked astonished. “All young ladies accomplished! My dear nephew, what do you mean?”
“Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time without being informed that she was accomplished.”
They had now approached an opportunity for censure; Mr. Darcy was moved to speak at last. “Your list of the common extent of accomplishments has too much truth. I cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished.”
“Nor I, I am sure,” Elizabeth whispered to Mr. Fitzwilliam, thinking of her sisters and her dear Charlotte. To Mr. Darcy she replied, with a look of challenge, “You must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Oh, certainly,” cried Lady Catherine. “No one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half-deserved.”
“All this she must possess,” Mr. Darcy agreed. “And she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.”
Elizabeth smiled, delighted by what she knew must provoke him. “I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any.”
Mr. Fitzwilliam laughed; his aunt gasped. “Are you so severe upon your own sex as to doubt the possibility of all this? My dear girl, I would not have you afraid of me – I mean to provide for you and all your sisters. You must take this chance to improve yourselves – had I such an opportunity at your age, I should have been a great proficient.”
Mr. Fitzwilliam grinned at Elizabeth. “You contradict yourself, aunt – you have already informed me that the Bennet sisters are quite perfect.”
As Lady Catherine swatted at her livelier nephew, Mr. Darcy moved closer, seeming to wish some further part in the conversation. “I perceived a great many books in the library at Longbourn, Miss Elizabeth.”
“This must have been quite shocking,” she replied evenly.
Mr. Fitzwilliam laughed and nudged Elizabeth. “There is no need to be coy, Miss Elizabeth. This is as close as my cousin may come to paying you the compliment of calling you a great reader – you must go the rest of the way yourself if you wish to get there, for he has already praised you once tonight.”
Elizabeth had no wish to receive any compliments from Mr. Darcy. Determined to avoid giving the appearance of desiring his good opinion, she turned the subject to her youngest sister. “I have lately ceded the honor of greatest reader in the family to Lydia. She is gripped with novel-mania, but I suppose it is an accomplishment.”
Lydia had been speaking with tremendous animation to Miss Darcy near the back of the room, but she looked over at the sound of her name. “What are you talking of, Lizzy?”
“Novels, dearest.”
“But so are we,” Lydia cried merrily. “Georgiana is a vast deal more informed than me, and so we have resolved to compose a list of novels to read together. La! There is no enjoyment like reading!”
“Oh, yes,” Miss Darcy agreed. “How much sooner one tires of anything than a book!” This was all the attention that the two young ladies could spare their companions before returning to one another’s counsel; they were near in age if not in disposition, and had been engrossed in one another since that morning.
Mr. Darcy did not appear best pleased by Lydia’s informality and influence on his sister, and Elizabeth was obliged to remind him of his own opinion. “My sister and yours shall improve one another’s minds, it seems. How accomplished they shall grow.”
Jayne, I loved seeing how you took familiar lines from Pride and Prejudice and gave them slightly different shades of meaning by having different characters speak them! Very creative. Thanks for sharing this excerpt, Jayne and Paige!
ReplyDeleteThis variation is more and more intriguing..Amazing original P & P lines tailore and spoken by different characters, Lydia professing that "There is no enjoyment like reading!” and Mary interacting with the group ( I was already surprise about Lady C). Enjoying the tour and the excerpts . thank you
ReplyDeleteAgreed! Bamber has the uncanny ability to manipulate and merge Austen's stories in delightful ways!
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