Posted on Thursday, 16 December 1999

Jane Austen sat down and wondered how she could have seriously miscalculated the popularity of Mansfield Park. The reprint should have garnished for her a comfortable sum of money. Instead it turned into a voyage of financial misfortune and left her worse off than before. She stared at the papers and the accounts spread out in front of her. The story was still the same, the reprint was a dismal failure and it would in all likelihood make her the target of social gossip. Added to these woeful thoughts was the fact that Henry's business wasn't doing so well and was in the verge of bankruptcy. Tears began to flood the tired eyes and she bent her head in despair.

"I wish I was never born!" She cried out into the empty and darkening room.

"Uh oh, did you hear that?" The Voice said.

"No." Jimmy replied firmly and hunkered down in front of the computer.

"Yes you did." The Voice admonished gently.

"I heard no such thing, leave me alone. I'm Angel, Second Class so I can't hear voices."

"Lying will demote you even further."

"Fine go ahead. What's the use of trying around here? I worked my tush off and got nailed for it."

"You set Victor Hugo on fire."

"Hey, was it my fault that idiot stepped in front of a blood-thirsty revolutionary mob?"

"No, but you did recommend he get some inspiration by watching history unfold in front him."

"All I said was that maybe, just maybe his writing block would go away if he saw what was happening in the streets of Paris."

"And he did, from the second floor of the infirmary…for three months."

"His stupid beard got singed, that's all and the big baby had to go and make a fuss out of it."

"We thought otherwise."

"No kidding and I still didn't hear any voices."

"That was Jane Austen."

Pause.

"No way, she'd never say that."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"No of course not. But you could be mistaken…"

"Unfortunately no. Still uninterested?"

"I am I am. What's wrong?"

"She just found out how badly she's off financially and unfortunately it will only get worse."

"You have my attention. What should we do?"

"You do Jimmy and if you get this right, you'll get your wings back."

"I hate those things. Weigh a bloody ton and I can't fly with them on."

"But they look good."

"On Claire Danes maybe but not on me."

"Forgot the Victoria Secrets models."

"Yes of course, how stupid of me. However none of this is going to help Miss Austen. Did she say she never wanted to be born?"

"Yes…"

"Ever read a short story called Monkey's Paw?"

"No…"

"Good, remember if she takes her wish back I get my rank again!" Jimmy cried out before disappearing.

"I am worried." Said a Bigger Voice.

"Don't be, she'll do fine." Said the Voice.

"She'd better or you're looking at some demotion."

"I thank you for your vote of confidence."

"How badly was Victor Hugo burnt?"

Jane Austen took a stroll in the darkness. It was quite improper thing for her to do but she needed a brisk stroll and the cold air to clear her confused mind. She saw a small bridge and thought it looked fanciful enough to suit her mood and made her way to it. She stood in the middle of the wooden structure until a small noise caught her interest. She leaned over the side wondering if some animal was stranded in the water. Suddenly there was a huge splash and she cried out in shock.

"What the…" A voice lashed out in the night.

"Who's there?" Jane cried out cautiously.

"Ummm…somebody who shouldn't be here." Jane leaned over further and saw a small figure sitting in the middle of the stream.

"The water is freezing!"

"Really, is that why I'm losing my circulation? You're Jane Austen right?"

"How…how could you know who I am?" The woman cried out frightened.

"Because," the figure got up with lots of splashing and trundled to the bank. "I've been sent by The Powers That Be to grant you your wish."

"The powers…what wish?" Jane asked now more intrigued than worried. The unknown person was smaller than she was and looked to be about as dangerous as a soaked kitten.

"The wish that you were never born."

"How could you know that?" She asked alarmed.

"Because The Powers That Be heard you say it and sent me along to make sure your wish comes true."

"You are mad. I am leaving."

"Ok, fine, be that way. I'll just go back and tell everyone you've taken your wish back. Hey, I'm totally down with that. Makes my life…um unlife a lot easier."

"You can make it come true." Jane Austen said her voice not even bothering to veil her disbelief.

"Yes."

"Fine, then make it come true. I worked hard or as hard as I could possibly attempt and in the end, I am poor, I am an old maid and I have to bow to a fop like the Prince Regent because one day he might be king. I'll be glad to never have been born!"

"Done. Come on, grab my hand and I'll make your life disappear." Jane did not hesitate and grasped the cold, clammy hands.

Nothing.

"Well, I see you've kept your word."

"Turn around Miss Austen." The writer did and nearly lost her footing on the ground. Behind her was a mansion that appeared from nowhere.

"How…how…it wasn't here before. I know it wasn't here before!"

"Yes you're right it wasn't there five minutes ago. Does it look familiar?"

"Only in my dreams. I imagined a place like that once and named it Pemberley but it can't be."

"Oh but it is. Come on, let's take a peek into this happily situated place and see what has happened."

The two figures, one still dripping wet, the other dressed more warmly entered the dimly lit hall of the grand house.

"Why is it so dark?"

"Take a look in the dining room." The two women quietly found their way into the massive and ornately decorated room. Around the mahogany table were guests and the feast laid out before them could only be called sumptuous. Yet there was no sparkling conversation only certain pallor, certain uncomfortable air holding the guests hostage.

"What is wrong?" Jane asked worried.

"Listen."

"I must say Darcy this is a fine meal indeed." Bingley said trying to start some conversation and beat back the savage feeling of sadness.

"Thank you Charles but the compliment must go to my wife, everyone a toast to Caroline for this…festive occasion."

Jane Austen whirled around to her escort. "What?" She nearly shrieked.

"Well you weren't born so…"

"But they're mine! How could this possibly happen, who…"

"The Muse who inspired you didn't have you so she struck someone else with Pride and Prejudice. Unfortunately the writer who got 'blessed' didn't have your wit, or at least enough of it to create Lizzy. So she did this, Darcy and Caroline marries, Caroline goes mad, he locks her up in the attic and…"

"That is morbid and…unacceptable."

"I know and since there's no Lizzy there's no Jane either. Poor Bingley, he never marries and dies a bachelor."

"That is cruel."

"Don't you know? Cruelty is fashionable nowadays, it's all the rage with the younger writers. Just take a glance at New York Times Book Review."

"I want no more of this."

"As you wish, let's leave this scene. I can't stand duck à l'orange"

"Where are we now?"

"Don't recognize this either? It's where the Brandons live or at least Colonel Brandon lives. Marianne's run off because she's bored with her husband."

"How dare…who did this to my beloved Colonel?"

"Oh you haven't met Emma Tennant have you? Oh dear, well it goes like this. The Muse whacked her instead of you so she's got most of your works as her originals. Yep, see that lone figure in there? That's Brandon, poor guy. He's spending Christmas by himself, he's too ashamed to face the public including all his friends so he's moping in here."

"I shall find this Tennant woman and thrash her soundly!"

"You and about forty thousand others. I see a light down the street, come on let's see what's going on over there, I'm freezing."

The two made their way in the moonlit night and Jane Austen was curious to see they left no footsteps in the pristine white coat. The women glided through the open door and were greeted with festive noise and loud cheers.

"Whose place is this?"

"Oh you know them, Knightley and his beloved Emma. There, the handsome couple standing near the fireplace."

"Oh yes, that is exactly how I pictured them. They are very fine husband and wife are they not?" Her companion didn't reply. Instead she crossed her arms across her chest and examined her shoes instead.

"Why are you refusing to give me an answer?" Jane Austen asked her voice escalating with fear.

"You see that woman over there in red velvet?"

"Yes, she looks…like a lively person."

"Yeah well she's nobility of sorts and um…remember what I said about Emma Tennant?"

"What did that wretched woman do?"

"Emma's bored with Knightley. He's treating her like she's still a child and Emma wants passion, love, understanding so she's gone Sappho." The mortal stood still, so perfect was her position that a gust of wind could not have ruffled one curl or made her dress flutter.

"She's become…who is this Tennant woman?!"

"Someone who took your place. You were never born Miss Austen and this is what will happen. But this isn't the saddest thing, let's go to the library. I think you need to see this."

Jane saw the heavy oak doors and there was a curious writing above the door. Derbyshire Writers' Guild she read and frowned a little, Derbyshire, why would someone want to establish a writing guild in Derbyshire? They entered the massive room and Jane Austen was astounded at the sight that greeted her. There were rows and rows of books, bound, heavy, thin, tall, and small but there were so many that they took two floors of bookshelves!

"Magnificent!" She whispered in awe.

"Isn't it? Grab one."

The woman reached out for a heavy volume titled Resurrecting Mary and opened it. Her eyes darkened. "There's nothing written here…look, the pages are empty."

"Grab another."

Jane reshelved the curious mistake and saw another titled Roses in the Snow. She discovered it too contained nothing. That book fell to the floor as the author immediately sought out another. Fairytales had a beautiful cover but it too was void of ideas or dreams. Now in full panic she grabbed a small volume with the sensational title Deathmatches – nothing.

"What is the meaning of this?" Jane demanded and grabbed a large volume titled We Shall Never Surrender. The pages were whiter than the snow twinkling on the window ledges.

"That was supposed to be mine." Jimmy said putting her hands in her pocket. "I poured my heart and soul into that one, spent hours and hours reading and researching about a very grand and tragic war. I used your characters and your plot and had a ball with them. But you were never born so that story never came to be and now I can never claim it as mine. I wish I could, oh I give almost anything but I didn't have Darcy or Captain Wentworth or Bingley or dear sweet Anne Elliot…I didn't have you Miss Austen. All these here are empty because you never wanted to be born, all these books, volumes, epics, poems, farces…they don't exist at all."

"I never thought…"

"No, nobody does but however small the stone, when you throw it into the water there will be a ripple. And you Miss Austen are not some pebble. You have a hard life I won't deny you that but what you wrote, what you created with your wit, sharp eye and humor not to mention a healthy sense of irony, well you created something eternal Miss Austen. You have a wonderful life though you can't see it and what's even better your works will always have admirers, suitors and followers aplenty, trust me on that."

The older woman didn't say a word and walked around the room while touching each book and sometimes stopping to read the titles.

"All this, because of me?"

"Oh yes, no doubt about it. And believe it or not there were people intelligent enough to see the value in your books and made some gorgeous productions out of them."

"On stage? They had my stories translated for stage?" Jimmy laughed at the wonder in the woman's voice.

"Something like that and thousands and thousands saw it and they loved it, every minute, every second. Knightley was a shining hero and a good friend. Darcy's admission of his love for Lizzy had women breathless and Frederick's letter to Anne…oh people were in tears and on pins and needles to see if Anne would accept a mere sailor in spite of her family and friend's objections. Wickham was reviled and Churchill was thought to be a lucky man in spite of being a cad. Everyone either felt sorry or hated Willoughby and Elinor and Edward did get together and lived happily ever after. The actor who played Brandon made him very worthy of Marianne and well, good times were had by all."

"And that is the most important thing, isn't it? That my readers have some enjoyment."

"Noblest cause of them all in my opinion."

"The Powers That Be, are they kind?"

"Yes, they certainly are."

"Then I may request to have my wish left unfulfilled."

"Most definitely."

"I would like to retract it then if I may."

"You most certainly can." Jimmy looked at the ceiling and gave a loud whistle. Then she stared at the window and saw it was once again snowing. "It's done."

"I am glad. I wonder could you escort me back to my room? I have so many questions that need to be answered."

"Most certainly, we have to go back to the bridge." Jane Austen turned around and walked towards the library door. She swung the heavy barriers opened and stepped right into her bedroom. Her eyes flew open in surprise and she whirled around to see a wall blocking her path. Without sparing a moment she ran to her writing desk and saw the pages of Persuasion, a story she started in August of last year still left unfinished. Jane didn't know what to make of it all and sat on her chair. After nearly thirty minutes of thinking she did the only thing she could, she picked up her quill.

Today's Jane Austen's birthday (December 16, 1775), and the above story was written so we could celebrate her birthday and appreciate all she has done in her short life. A word about that woman, I haven't read any of her sequels to the original works and don't plan to in this life or the next so the plots I've written regarding her works are from third-party sources. Last but not least the fancifulness and the silliness are all mine, they have nothing to do with the great lady so if you must lay fault please do it at my doorstep.