"Boundaries of...
"propriety...
"vigorously assaulted...
"...propriety were..."
"The boundaries of propriety were vigorously assaulted.
"The boundaries of propriety were vigorously assaulted, as was only right,
"but not quite breached, as was also right.
"Nevertheless,
"she was not pleased."
- What is it? - Jane.
Oh.
Jane!
Oh, dear me.
That girl needs a husband.
And who's good enough? Nobody.
I blame you for that.
Being too much the model of perfection.
I've shared your bed for 32 years
and perfection is something I have not encountered.
Yet.
No. Stop it. Mr Austen, it's Sunday! Stop, no, it's...
The utmost of a woman's character is expressed in the duties of daughter,
sister and, eventually, wife and mother.
It is secured by soft attraction, virtuous love and quiet in the early morning.
If a woman happens to have a particular superiority,
for example, a profound mind, it is best kept a profound secret.
Humour is liked more, but wit? No.
It is the most treacherous talent of them all.
Now, George, old fellow, you know you have to stay.
- Jenny! - George, George.
Hurry along, Jane! We'll be late!
When Her Ladyship calls, we must obey.
Come along, Jane.
Lady Gresham, may I introduce my niece Comtesse De Feuillide
and Mr Fowle, Cassandra's fianc�.
- Comtesse? Then you presume to be French? - By marriage.
Monsieur le Comte is not here to pay his respects?
A prior engagement, ma'am,
Monsieur le Comte was obliged to pay his respects to Madame le Guillotine.
Oh!
I see your nephew is with us again.
Mr Wisley.
Wisley is indispensable to my happiness.
Well, do sit down.
Mr Fowle and Cassandra are only recently engaged.
When shall you marry?
- Not for some time, Your Ladyship. - Why not?
I'm also engaged to go to the West Indies
with Lord Craven's expedition against the French, as chaplain.
- What has Craven offered you? - I've hopes of a parish on my return.
How much is it worth?
Enough to marry on, in a modest way.
Mr Wisley, did you know the Basingstoke assemblies resume?
Very soon, I believe.
- Jane does enjoy a ball. - Wisley can't abide them.
But, sir,
a ball is an indispensable blessing to the juvenile part of the neighbourhood.
Everything agreeable in the way of talking and sitting down together
all managed with the utmost decorum.
An amiable man could not object.
Then I find I'm converted.
Displayed like a brood mare.
- Mr Wisley is a highly eligible young gentleman. - Oh, Mother!
- You know our situation, Jane. - Oh!
And he is Lady Gresham's favourite nephew and heir.
One day, he shall inherit this.
Excellent prospects!
- His small fortune will not buy me. - What will buy you, cousin?
More wary in the world, Mr Lefroy.
You can pay me for that later.
- Huzzah! Huzzah! Come on, Mr Lefroy.
Come on, man, hit him!
Lefroy!
Glass of wine with you, sir? - Madam.
- Displaying to advantage, I see, Lefroy. - Like the sword, Austen.
How long before you have to get back to the sticks?
A day.
So soon?
Doghouse, debts, but one must cut some sort of a figure even in the militia.
Especially when condemned to a parsonage, my friend.
Yes.
Still, who is this sour-faced little virgin?
Your pardon, ma'am.
Mr Tom Lefroy, may I present Mr John Warren?
Joining me in Hampshire, my father is preparing us both for holy orders.
I understand you've visited Hampshire, Mr Lefroy.
Last year.
- Long visit, was it? - Very long, Mr Warren. Almost three hours.
Mr Austen, you're devilishly handsome. A kiss, a kiss.
Oops!
So, Tom, where should we go? Vauxhall Gardens?
Been there.
Lefroy, there's a Tahitian Love Fest on at White's.
Seen it.
- Crockford's? - Crockford's? Done that.
Or did it do me?
Wh-wh-wh-what is a Tahitian Love Fest?
Warren!
I humbly beg your pardon, sir.
Theft of one pig is a crime, heinous to be sure, but two pigs...
Two pigs is a violent assault on the very sanctity of private property itself.
Excuse me.
You and your kind are a canker on the body social.
And cankers are cut out.
Transportation for life. Next.
- Why are you here in London, sir? - To learn the law.
- Which has no other end but what? - The preservation of the rights of property.
- Against? - The mob.
Therefore, order is kept because we have...
- A standing army? - Good manners, sir, and prudence.
- Do you know that word? Prudence? - Yes.
Consider myself.
I was born rich, certainly, but I remain rich by virtue of exceptional conduct.
I have shown restraint.
Your mother, my sister, became poor because she did not...
She married my father because she loved him.
Yes, and that's why you have so many brothers and sisters back there in...
- Limerick. - Mmm.
If you hope, I say hope...
If you aspire to inherit my property,
you must prove yourself more worthy.
But what do we find? We find dissipation
wild enough to glut the imaginings of a Hottentot braggadocio.
Wild companions, gambling,
running around St James's like a neck-or-nothing young blood of the fancy.
- What kind of lawyer will that make? - Typical.
Humour?
Well, you're going to need that because I'm teaching you a lesson.
I'm sending you to stay with your other relations, the Lefroys.
- Uncle, they live in the country. - Deep in the country.
- Jane? - Mmm?
Can you?
Thank you.
I think you two quite the prettiest sisters in England.
Mr Fowle will be enchanted.
San Domingo is half a world away.
He'll forget me.
Impossible. Look at the memory you're giving him tonight.
Cassie.
His heart will stop at the very sight of you or he doesn't deserve to live.
And, yes, I'm aware of the contradiction embodied in that sentence.
Is it?
- Jane! - Henry!
You look wonderful.
Well, hello, John. It's very good to see you.
- Nice to see you. - Oh, John!
George!
Leave your brother alone.
Jane! Jane? Have you heard? My father's nephew is staying with us.
From London.
- He is a... - A brilliant young lawyer.
- Lucy, please. - With a reputation.
For lateness?
Hat off, George. Hat off, Father's ready.
- Thank you, John. - Please.
The family is always moving in great ways and small.
Firstly, the small. Henry is back from Oxford with his degree,
- thank goodness. - Well done.
And our friend John, my new student. Then the great.
Cassandra, who is forsaking us for her brother Edward and his family at the coast
whilst Robert voyages to the West Indies with Lord Craven's expedition.
And then, together, they can embark on that most great and most serious journey of life.
Miss Austen, I understand you will be favouring us with a reading?
- Do, Jane. Do.
Oh, please, Miss Jane. Oh, yes, Jane, do.
Please, Jane.
"Advice from a young lady on the engagement of her beloved sister Cassandra
"to a Fowle."
"His addresses were offered in a manner violent enough to be flattering.
"The boundaries of propriety were vigorously assaulted, as was only right,
"but not quite breached, as was also right.
"Nevertheless, she was..."
And may I introduce my young nephew Mr Thomas Lefroy?
Oh.
And he's more than welcome. Join us, sir, join us.
Green velvet coat. Vastly fashionable.
You'll find this vastly amusing.
"His addresses were...
"The boundaries of propriety were vigorously assaulted,
"as was only right, but not quite breached, as was also right.
"Nevertheless, she was not pleased.
"Her taste was refined, her sentiments noble, her person lovely, her figure elegant."
Good God, there's writing on both sides of those pages.
Shh. Damn it, man.
"'It was only yesterday I repelled Lord Graham and his six million,
"'which would have lasted me almost a twelvemonth,
"'with economies... '
"'... a treasure
"'greater than all the jewels in India, an adoring heart.'"
God!
"'A nd pray, madam, what am I to expect in return? '
"'Expect? Well, you may expect to have me pleased from time to time.'"
Is this who I am?
"And a sweet, gentle, pleading, innocent,
"delicate, sympathetic, loyal, untutored, adoring female heart."
The end.
- Bravo, Jane. Well done, Jane.
Bravo.
Well done.
She speaks so well.
Well, excessively charming, I thought.
Well, accomplished enough, perhaps,
but a metropolitan mind may be less susceptible to extended, juvenile self-regard.
Well, thank you. We're both very proud.
# In airy dreams
#... absent love to see
# Dear you, oh, to think
# On thee #
Careful there, old fellow.
Fine piece, Mr Lefroy.
Handled a gun before, have you, Tom?
Mmm. - Tom!
Jesus!
- Tom. - Uncle?
Why not try a walk?
There's some very fine country round about. Very fine.
A walk.
Miss!
Miss! Miss!
Miss! Miss, I...
Miss?
- Miss... - Austen.
Mr Lefroy.
Yes, I know, but I am alone.
- Except for me. - Exactly.
Oh, come!
What rules of conduct apply in this rural situation?
We have been introduced, have we not?
What value is there in an introduction when you cannot even remember my name?
Indeed, can barely stay awake in my presence.
Madam.
These scruples must seem very provincial to a gentleman with such elevated airs,
but I do not devise these rules. I am merely obliged to obey them.
I have been told there is much to see upon a walk
but all I've detected so far is a general tendency to green above and brown below.
Yes, well, others have detected more. It is celebrated.
- There's even a book about Selborne Wood. - Oh.
A novel, perhaps?
Novels?
Being poor, insipid things, read by mere women, even, God forbid, written by mere women?
I see, we're talking of your reading.
As if the writing of women did not display the greatest powers of mind,
knowledge of human nature, the liveliest effusions of wit and humour
and the best-chosen language imaginable?
- Was I deficient in rapture? - In consciousness.
It was...
It was accomplished.
It was ironic.
- And you're sure I've not offended you? - Not at all.
My lords, ladies and gentlemen, the Grand Vizier's Flight.
- May I have the honour? - How kind, cousin.
- Miss Austen. - Mr Wisley.
May I have the pleasure of this next dance?
Oh, no, we're so late. Take care.
Oh, thank you, Tom.
Hurry. Lucy.
Oh!
I am mortified.
I practised, but it won't stick.
What a lovely pair they make.
Ah, Sister.
What do you make of Mr Lefroy? We're honoured by his presence.
You think?
He does, with his preening, prancing, Irish-cum-Bond-Street airs.
Jane.
Well, I call it very high indeed, refusing to dance when there are so few gentleman.
- Henry, are all your friends so disagreeable? - Jane.
Where exactly in Ireland does he come from, anyway?
Limerick, Miss Austen.
I would regard it as a mark of extreme favour
if you would stoop to honour me with this next dance.
Being the first to dance with me, madam, I feel it only fair to inform you
that you carry the standard for Hampshire hospitality.
Ah, then your country reputation depends on my report.
This, by the way, is called a country dance, after the French, contredanse.
Not because it is exhibited at an uncouth rural assembly
with glutinous pies,
execrable Madeira
and truly anarchic dancing.
You judge the company severely, madam.
- I was describing what you'd be thinking. - Allow me to think for myself.
Gives me leave to do the same, sir, and come to a different conclusion.
- Will you give so much to a woman? - It must depend on the woman
and what she thinks of me.
But you are above being pleased.
And I think that you, miss, what was it?
- Austen. Mr...? - Lefroy.
I think that you, Miss Austen, consider yourself a cut above the company.
Me?
You, ma'am,
secretly.
How many times did you stand up with that gentleman, Jane?
Was it twice? - Twice would have been partial.
- Thrice would have been absolutely... Flagrant.
Careful, Jane, Lucy is right. Mr Lefroy does have a reputation.
Presumably as the most disagreeable...
"...insolent, arrogant, impudent,
"insufferable, impertinent of men."
Too many adjectives.
What is she trying to say?
On your toes, gentlemen. No singles.
Bowler's end, bowler's end.
Again! Run for more.
I never feel more French than when I watch cricket.
- Out. - Not out.
- No? - No.
Is he out?
I begin to suspect you're flirting with my brother, cousin.
Flirting is a woman's trade. One must keep in practice.
You're gone.
Well played, Tom.
We're depending on you.
Oh, it's Mr Warren's... turn.
Best of luck!
John Warren!
Good luck, Mr Warren.
John never was very good, though.
Easy!
Run, Warren, run!
Quickly, hurry! Run!
Jolly good show!
Watch.
You're out. - Yah!
You're gone, Mr Warren. - Oh, dear.
Prodigious, Tom, prodigious.
Thank you, Warren. On your way.
Same again, Tom.
Well done, Mr Warren. - Bad ball. It's a terrible wicket.
I hope you're not too disappointed, Miss Austen.
Four more to win, Wisley.
Who's next? Come on!
She can't... - Jane!
What on earth are you going to do?
Irrepressible. she can.
Move in!
Go easy, Tom.
Be gentle, Lefroy!
Run, Jane, run!
- Move! - Run!
Only four more to win.
Bowler's end! Move yourself, you lout!
One more! Quickly!
Go, go, go!
Not out.
Bad luck, Lefroy.
See?
She was so good.
- You've played this game before? - No choice, you see. She was raised by brothers.
Time for a swim, I think.
Well played, Henry.
I dedicate our victory to La Comtesse de Feuillide.
- Now, there's a decent bit of river over the hill. - Oh, yes?
Careful!
Come on, let's go!
Wait!
- Not this time, Lefroy. - Huh?
You think not?
Down, boy.
- Father, have you seen Tom? - No, Lucy, I've not.
Besotted. Natural enough at 15.
Love and sense are enemies at any age.
- Mrs Lefroy, may I explore your library? - Of course.
Lucy would marry him tomorrow, and what a terrible husband he would make.
I suppose you mean his reputation. Experience can recommend a man.
- Miss Austen. - Oh, Mr Lefroy.
- And reading. - Yes.
I've been looking through your book of the wood. Mr White's Natural History.
Oh.
- Well, how do you like it? - I cannot get on. It is too disturbing.
- Disturbing? - Mmm.
Take this observation.
"Swifts on a fine morning in May, flying this way, that way,
"sailing around at a great height perfectly happily. Then...
"Then one leaps onto the back of another, grasps tightly,
"and forgetting to fly, they both sink down and down in a great, dying fall,
"fathom after fathom, until the female utters..."
Yes?
"...the female utters a loud, piercing cry
"of ecstasy."
Is this conduct commonplace in the natural history of Hampshire?
Your ignorance is understandable since you lack... What shall we call it?
The history?
Propriety commands me to ignorance.
Condemns you to it and your writing to the status of female accomplishment.
If you wish to practise the art of fiction, to be the equal of a masculine author,
experience is vital.
I see.
And what qualifies you to offer this advice?
I know more of the world.
A great deal more, I gather.
Enough to know that your horizons must be... widened
by an extraordinary young man.
By a very dangerous young man,
one who has, no doubt, infected the hearts of many a young...
- Young woman with the soft corruption... - Read this
and you will understand.
"When the philosopher heard that the fortress of virtue had already been subdued,
"he began to give a large scope to his desires.
"His appetite was not of that squeamish kind which cannot feed on a dainty
- "because another..." "Another has tasted it."
- He's not tasting this dainty. - What, dear?
"...nor had her face much appearance of beauty.
"But her clothes being torn from all the upper part of her body..."
"...her breasts, which were well formed and extremely white,
"attracted the eyes of her deliverer, and for a few moments they stood silent..."
"...and gazing at each other."
I have read your book.
- I have read your book and disapprove. - Of course you do.
- But of what? The scenes? Characters? The prose? - No, all good.
- The morality? - Flawed.
Well, of course, it is. But why?
Vice leads to difficulty, virtue to reward. Bad characters come to bad ends.
Exactly. But in life, bad characters often thrive. Take yourself.
And a novel must show how the world truly is,
how characters genuinely think, how events actually occur.
A novel should somehow reveal the true source of our actions.
What of my hero's feelings?
Well, it seems to me, sir, that your hero's very vigorous feelings
caused him and everyone connected with him a great deal of trouble.
Ah, well, if the book has troubled you...
- Oh, but an orphan must know trouble. - What sort of trouble?
All sorts of trouble.
Laverton Fair. Vastly entertaining. Monstrous good idea, Jane.
Yes, Miss Austen, not exactly your usual society, I'd say.
Show a little imagination, Mr Lefroy.
Trouble here enough.
And freedom, the freedom of men.
Do not you envy it?
But I have the intense pleasure of observing it so closely.
Ah.
Now, there's a fool, to go to it with a professional.
- You know about this, of course. - Of course.
Yes, a vastly fashionable pastime in London.
Beating a man to a pulp. What are you doing?
Mr Lefroy, stop!
Make way!
- Stop! - Let us see how you fare against me, sir.
Coming through.
Five shillings on the gent. Who will take it? You, sir? That's the ticket.
Have that.
Thank you.
Go on, hit him!
Come on, Lefroy, hit him, man!
Tom, you must stop.
Come on, Lefroy!
Up, sir.
Tom!
Lucy.
- That's twice he's done that to me. - You spend money like water.
I'm afraid it's damn low water with me.
- I'm afraid I'm short, sir. - Take it.
How embarrassing.
Yeh!
Mr Lefroy? Mr Lefroy? Mr Lefroy?
Was I deficient in propriety?
Why did you do that?
Couldn't waste all those expensive boxing lessons.
Forgive me if I suspect in you a sense of justice.
I am a lawyer. Justice plays no part in the law.
Is that what you believe?
I believe it. I must.
I beg your leave.
- Her heart is stirred. - It's a summer squall.
Mr Lefroy will soon be gone. And Mr Wisley will still be waiting, I hope.
- The man's a booby. - Oh, he will grow out of that.
And she could fix him with very little trouble.
You could persuade her.
To sacrifice her happiness?
Jane should have not the man who offers the best price, but the man she wants.
Oh, Mr Austen.
Must we have this conversation day in and day out?
We'll end up in the gutter if we carry on like this.
Jenny! Mr Austen!
Where are you?
So kind of you to return the call.
- Will you take a dish of tea, ma'am? - Green tea?
- Brown, Your Ladyship. - Then no.
Where is your youngest daughter?
She's visiting the poor, ma'am.
Jane? Jane!
At last. Lady Gresham and Mr Wisley have come to call. Where have you been?
Ma'am. Sir.
Well, perhaps... Perhaps the young people would like to take a walk?
I see there's a pretty little wilderness at the side of the house.
Excuse me.
Jane?
- What is she doing? - Writing.
Can anything be done about it?
Miss Austen, you may know
that I have known you
for some considerable time during my visits to Steventon.
The garden is so affecting in this season.
Indeed.
- The impression you have given me has always... - The flowers particularly.
What I'm trying to say is that I...
I have a respectable property of 2,000 a year
in addition to even greater expectations as Lady Gresham's heir,
- to which it may be indelicate to refer. - Oh, indelicate, yes.
It's yours. If we marry, all of it, yours.
Mr Wisley...
Your offer is most sincere, I can see, and gentlemanlike, and it honours me, truly.
But for all you are, and all you offer, I...
Yes.
Sometimes affection is a shy flower that takes time to blossom.
Lying to tradesmen, mending, scratching, scraping.
Endlessly, endlessly making do!
I understand that our circumstances are difficult, ma'am.
- There is no money for you. - Surely something could be done.
What we can put by must go to your brothers. You will have nothing, unless you marry.
Well, then, I will have nothing. For I will not marry without affection, like my mother!
And now I have to dig my own damn potatoes!
Would you rather be a poor old maid? Ridiculous, despised, the butt of jokes?
The legitimate sport of any village lout with a stone and an impudent tongue?
Affection is desirable.
Money is absolutely indispensable.
I could live by my...
Your what?
- I could live by my... - Pen?
Let's knock that notion on the head once and for all.
What's this?
Trouble amongst my women?
Come,
take hands and there's an end.
- Where are you going? Miss! - To feed the pigs, ma'am.
He could give you a splendid home.
- A comfortable life. - Father.
Consider.
This is likely to be your best offer.
Wisley?
It is true, so far he has not impressed...
- A booby. - He should grow out of that.
Nothing destroys spirit
like poverty.
I saw Queen Marie Antoinette wear something the same at a ball once.
Am I making a show? I am, I know.
What trouble we take to make them like us when we like them.
Henry?
- Eliza, my brother is much younger than you. - And poorer.
He knows that I care for him sincerely.
I know that he is handsome...
And the handsome young men must have something to live on as well as the plain.
You encourage him to take you for money?
- Men do. - That does not make it honourable.
Well, I'm a sensible woman.
I thank God I am not, by your description.
If you were, you might have ascertained that your Irish friend has no money, not a penny
and could not be expected to marry without it.
Consider that at the ball tonight.
In any event, he'll be gone tomorrow back to Bond Street where he can do no more harm.