More Sense than Sensibility: Shades of the French Revolution

More Sense than Sensibility

Jane Austen and the French Revolution

R. J. Weinkam

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 Robert J. Weinkam

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13:978-1503322356

ISBN-10:1503322351

Smashwords Edition published 2015

Smashwords Edition, License

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More Sense than Sensibility

Miss Jane Austen was nineteen when she began writing her novels. The first of these was never completed, but three others, after the passage of time and extensive revision, were published and are among the world’s best-loved works. Their continued popularity, two hundred years after being written, is extraordinary. It is undoubtedly related to her timeless topics of love and personal relationships, but other authors wrote about these things and they are now considered dated and unreadable. When compared to these, it is clear that much of Jane’s continued readability comes from what she, with unerring instinct, left out. She has none of the moralizing and prosy flourishes of the time, but one omission is notable. She does not comment on current events. This is remarkable considering the times she lived in. Born at the beginning of the American Revolution, her teenage years were during the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars raged for the next ten. Why was this so? She certainly knew about them.

Perhaps she knew too much. Suppose Jane traveled with her cousin Elizabeth de Feuillide in the spring of 1794. Eliza’s husband was recently guillotined in Paris, there were hints of bribery and corruption, spies may have been involved. She might meet the two sisters, newly arrived, participate in a daring rescue, learn things that could be a danger to others. Perhaps she was afraid of revealing what she knew, she may have promised never to do so.

Chapter 1 – It is 1794, Jane is eighteen

Mr Howard H. Fairwood was fortunate in a small way when he died of a sudden and brief illness. As a benefit of this rapid passing, he was not burdened for long by the sorry fate of his wife and two fine daughters. He had left them without the means to maintain the life to which they had been accustomed, and which they rightly expected to continue. Mr Fairwood had intended to make a generous provision for their future, for he loved them dearly, but he had not acted upon his intentions when he should have and through his neglect, for there is no other word for it, they were cast upon the mercy of the carefully written but uncaring laws of inheritance.

Up until the time of Mr Fairwood’s death, he and his family had lived in the grand house and amongst the beautiful grounds of Norland. ‘The fairest, if not the vastest,’ Mr Fairwood was prone to say. It was as near to a joke as he was known to venture. From this weak attempt you may suspect that he was dull-witted man, well, he may have been, but he was also kind and generous, and he wished the best for all, especially his beloved wife and treasured daughters. Mr Fairwood intended to provide his family with all the funds they would need to preserve their life at Norland, which was the only life that he or they could imagine, but it was not to be, though it could have been. Norland was a large and prosperous estate. It would have been possible him to have set aside an ample allowance for his heirs, but intending did not make it so and in the end, the legalities of his inheritance prescribed a different fate.

Mr Fairwood inherited Norland from his father, who got it from his maternal grandfather, Justin B. Featherby. Old J.B. had three daughters, much to his regret, for they were flighty, fashion-headed girls who did not give a care for his Norland and longed to be quit of the place as soon as they could get away. There was nothing exceptional about the Featherby girls, not face, figure, nor fortune, and certainly not wit, so, just as you might expect, they settled for fashionable young gentlemen of no great distinction and even less fortune. J.B.’s eldest daughter married one of the Fairwood men and she, at least, had the good sense to bear a son. That was something her sisters could not be bothered to do, so by the end of his life Old J.B. had but one heir, or so he saw it. He left his estate in its entirety to this Fairwood boy, his only male descendant, and it came with the provision that all subsequent inheritance would be strictly through the male line for he had enough of women. He did not trust them.

It had occurred to Mr Howard H. Fairwood that this might pose a problem, for he had only daughters after all, but for some considerable time he had pushed this consideration to the nether regions of his mind in the presumption that he and the estimable Mrs Fairwood would soon produce an issue of the required gender. Years passed unexamined and suddenly the youngest Fairwood, Miss Marianne, was seventeen years of age. By then it was apparent even to the Fairwoods that there would be no son. Indeed Mr Fairwood knew that steps ought to be taken to disentail the will and provide for his wife and daughters, but he conveniently managed to convince himself that it would not be necessary, under the circumstances, to undertake that tedious effort. The legal papers and the product of procreation provided that a distant relation would inherit Norland. That would be one Mr Collins, who lived in London, and whom Mr Fairwood had never met in all his life. It followed from this lack of familiarity, or so the all Fairwood’s believed, that Mr Collins would care little about Norland. ‘Out of sight, out of mind’ is a saying for some, but it was a way of life for Mr Fairwood who held some vague, but certain belief that no man, especially a ship chandler of sorts, would wish to possess a property that he had never visited - a property that should belong by right of decency and propriety to Mrs Fairwood.

It did occur to Mr Fairwood, shortly before his rapidly approaching death, that perhaps propriety might not prove sufficient. It was a chilling thought. Just how much did his dear Henrietta have? He could not remember. Was there something he could do? His solicitor, the venerable Tobias Trestle, said ‘not at this late date.’ What that distinguished gentleman thought about Mr Fairwood’s neglect, however, is not appropriate to repeat for it paid little credit to the now dead, who said as much to himself before the end.

The arrangements had all fallen to Elinor Fairwood, just recently turned twenty, and the only one of the Fairwood women to keep her wits about her. Her mother was in a whorl of sadness, regret, worry, and dreams - it was not a condition into which practical matters were allowed to intrude. Her younger sister, Marianne, was of no help at all, for she shared the same sensibilities as her beloved mamma and agreed with everything her mother said, and encouraged all that she chose to do no matter how otherworldly it was. Time cannot be slowed, so somehow they got past the funeral, but it seemed to Elinor that the correspondence would never be finished. Most of the important letters of information had been posted, but now condolences were beginning to arrive and, of course, they would need to be answered in turn.

During their time of grief and turmoil their steward, Mr Allen, had taken care of Norland and its daily demands, but he had begun to inquire about future accountability and more. Mr Fairwood having passed, so who is the rightful master, was the gist of his concern. Mr Allen was reluctant to do much more on his own account and the staff was worried about their pay.

Elinor explained, as hopefully as she could, that Mr Trestle was expected to arrive tomorrow noon to settle the will and we shall all know then, but she did not look forward to his doing so. She feared in fact. She knew about the entailment, of course, and that it had long been part of her family conviction to believe it of little consequence, but now she was not so sure. What if that Mr Collins turned out to be a grasping sort of man? How much had Father left for their living if he were? She had been through his records. Mr Fairwood’s accounts were neat and orderly, filed away just as they ought to be, but she was unable to find any provision for Marianne or herself of any amount, and there was only a small endowment for her mother. Elinor knew that sum had been part of her mother’s dowry and its presence was not of her father’s doing, so she was not assured. Marianne was convinced that she had overlooked their settlement papers, because she believed that if things should be a certain way, then they were. But Elinor had gone through it all twice more, and was beginning to fear that there was nothing to be found.

Mr Trestle, tall, thin, stiff, and angular as he was, had all the financial papers for the family and, of course, the will. He would know, but he would not say. His letter to her mother revealed only that he would be arriving shortly, and that he had sent a letter of notice to Mr Collins so that he might be aware of his prospects. Mr Collins had not yet responded to Mr Trestle’s notice, which was a relief to all, and revived their hope that he may be indifferent to this happenstance.

It did not take long, the reading of the will. It was a simple, plain document and hard enough to cause a dull ache in the stomach. The house, land and all it contained was to go to that Mr Collins. Mrs Fairwood had five thousand pounds and her daughters one thousand each, which was from their late aunt. Elinor was stunned. She had no expectation that her father’s death would affect them so. Whatever were her worries, and they were many, her mother and sister still had little care. They persisted in their belief that their Mr Collins would show no interest in the distant country house, and would be pleased to let them stay as long as they wished.

‘I do not believe that our Mr Collins will even bother to come and see the place,’ Mrs Fairwood exclaimed. ‘Why should he? He has his life in London, a single man, what would he do with Norland?’

‘Oh, Mamma, I do agree. Such a person would find the idea of country life to be unbearably dull and devoid of any interest that he might have. All of my friends long to go to town, and would remain there forever if they were allowed. Mr Collins must be just the same; he would never want to live in the country, but it would be nice if he wrote and told us so. That would be considerate of him. I shall look forward to his letter if only to relieve you of your worries Elinor,’ or so Marianne proclaimed.

Elinor could not agree. ‘He will do just what we have been doing. He will come and live here and enjoy Norland and its gentle ways.’ But Elinor was well aware that her mother and sister had already rejected this notion, and so she ventured a new concern. ‘If you are right and he does not wish to live in the country, if he were a city man through and through, he would sell the place, or at least rent it, and live off the income. He may choose either, and either way we shall be turned out.’

‘How could you?’ Marianne cried. ‘Please do not go on. It only upsets mother, you know it does, when you make those threats. I do not understand why you wish to raise her worries.’

‘I do not intend that at all, Marianne, but it is a possibility that we must consider. It is what I would do if I were Mr Collins, and we should expect that he will do so for himself.’

‘You would do it because you have deep inside a mean streak, Elinor. I have not actually seen it displayed for you have always been kind and considerate to me, but that does not mean it is not there only waiting to be exposed as you get older and older. You might now say that you do not mean it, but Mother has already been distressed by your doom and gloom. You do go prosing on, you know. Isn’t there enough sadness about the place with Papa leaving that you need to conjure up more grief?’

Elinor said no more. Neither her mother nor Marianne would deal with any form of reality at this time. It was all they could do to deflect the mere notion that their future had been in any way affected by the passing of Mr Fairwood, other than the fact that he was no longer there, of course. She hoped that they were right. Could wishful thinking make a difference? She supposed it might if it were held with true fervor. Well, they would find out soon enough, and they did.

‘What sort of letter is this? I have never seen its like. It is all apologies and condescension, and even protestations. This Mr Collins offers his most humble apologies for imposing his miserable presence into the midst of the abject and inconsolable grief that we must be suffering following the devastating and dispiriting loss that we have so recently suffered by the passing of our beloved husband and father. He expressions are overdone in my opinion, but then he goes on about Norland being his house, and how much it has always meant to him, and so on as if he had owned it forever and how we must be pleased for his good fortune. Do read it Marianne, what do you think?’

‘I do not know what to make of it, Mamma. Does anyone speak this way? Here, he fears that his status will need modification to render him acceptable to the leading families of the county. What does that mean and why should he care?’

‘I cannot tell, but some refinement would surely be needed for a man from the London docks to be accepted by the Throckmortons and Holbechs. A new suit, perhaps. Is he a clerk, I wonder, although he seems to refer to himself as having a higher post than that?

‘We shall learn soon enough,’ Elinor said. ‘Too soon it seems. It is just as I feared, Mamma. Your Mr Collins is most keen to see his inheritance. I almost suspect that he has been waiting with bags packed for father to die and that blessed event could not have come soon enough for him. He says that we should expect him to arrive by private coach tomorrow, no later than two in the afternoon. How can he be so sure, I wonder. Well, at least he did not arrived before his letter.’

Elinor’s dire fears and prognostications could no longer be denied. Indeed, Marianne came to believe the worst. Mr Collins might be a sort of ghoul; a predacious fiend lurking in London to pick over the spoils of a dead man’s leavings. The Fairwood women would be cast aside like an incomplete set of china, useful somewhere else, perhaps, but in a lower station.

Marianne had overshot the mark. Mr Collins was not a sinister presence, only a smug, silly, insecure, conceited sort of man; the type one might find in novels, but rarely in life. He was short, tending to corpulence, with a wide-eyed frightened look in his brown-gray eyes. He had been brought up with high expectations by his parents, however, and he had always expected that their expectations would be realized in the course of time, so he always saw himself as a higher type of person even if no one else ever did. Being a manager in the third largest shipping warehouse owned by Mr Nibble-Highlough was not what Mr Collins expected to be for he was destined to become more than he was.

He nevertheless revered Mr Nibble-Highlough and the affairs of the Highlough family who owned sailing ships in the Far East trade. The Highlough ships brought goods to the Highlough wharf, which were stored in the Highlough warehouse. The cargo was divided between the goods that would enter the lucrative English market and those that Mr Collins would sell to other ships as they were being fitted out for their next voyage. Mr Collins would exclaim with delight at every opportunity the genius of Mr Nibble-Highlough for arranging the sale of goods that bore few transportation costs and little delivery expense. Goods came and went without travelling more than three blocks to the Billingsgate warehouse and six blocks to any waiting ship. It allowed him to bid low, win sales, and still make a tidy profit.

What Mr Collins admired most about Mr Nibble-Highlough was neither his fine house near Grosvenor Square, nor the large fortune that he was steadily accumulating, but that Mr Nibble-Highlough had reached that august state in which he would soon retire to a country estate and become one of the landed gentry, more or less. What a glorious state that would be! Mr Collins imagined the fine house that Mr Nibble-Highlough might purchase. A fine, old one with a distinguished family history, but, he noted in a pretentious recess of his cluttered mind, it would be some other family’s history.

Mr Collins held this unflattering detail to be of high import because he knew, from his earliest days, if all things remained as they were, except for Mr Howard Fairwood being dead, that he was first in line to inherit the old family estate of Norland. HIS family’s estate, although no one that he knew had ever been there. Still, it was his family and his estate and he would, therefore, achieve a place in society even higher than Mr Nibble-Highlough. A truly satisfying concept that he considered whenever he was made to wait for Mr Nibble-Highlough in the straight-backed wooden bench outside of his office. Still, it had always been a precarious expectation for it would become true only as long as Mr Fairwood did not have a son. His father, his mother, and Mr Collins kept a close lookout for this feared development and sighed with increasing relief with the passing of every year in which it did not happen. Then the welcome news arrived. He was dead. The death was not even expected, for Mr Fairwood was not an elderly man, but it was great nonetheless.

Mr Collins received this news directly from the venerable Tobias Trestle, so it must be true. He was in the middle of his fifth reading of the joyful announcement of Mr Fairwood’s demise, when he received word that the India Star was in port and wished a fast turn around. Mr Collins was known to leave his apartment on Hart Lane and run to any ship in want of provisions at any time of day or night. He was famous for being the most eager man on the docks, so it was shocking when he told his clerk go in his place. All in the warehouse heard of this anomaly, even Mr Nibble-Highlough, and they all knew something of importance must have happened to Mr Collins.

‘A family legal matter that requires my immediate attendance,’ he told anyone who inquired.

Mr Nibble-Highlough wanted to ask what the subject of the legal matter might be, but it was clear from the fidgeting glow of Mr Collins’ countenance that he would not say.

‘I must leave for Berkshire directly and will be away for two weeks, perhaps longer.’ Mr Collins announced as though he was not much concerned about Mr Nibble-Highlough’s approval.

This was most troublesome. Mr Collins had never been anything but deferential toward Mr Nibble-Highlough, who had grown accustomed to his obsequious bows and apologetic pleas, and was rather gratified by it. One might almost think that Collins believed he had become one of Mr Nibble-Highlough’s betters, but that could not be. It was probably another one of his delusions, so Mr Nibble-Highlough laughed and bid him leave to take all the time his ‘family legal matter’ might require; expecting to see Mr Collins at his desk one day hence.

Mr Collins had long ago memorized the route from Billingsgate to Ludlow village and knew the posted times of the mail coach and the stage, but he had not yet decided if he should pay the higher cost of the mail coach, based on his anticipated wealth, or take the slower stage, that was affordable with his current earnings. Either way, he would hire a two-horse gig to drive him the final way to Norland so that he would be seen arrive in appropriate style. Mr Collins eventually decided to take the mail coach, as he was beginning to feel himself entitled, and during the long, lurching hours on the cramped, upright bench, he dwelt exclusively on his good fortune and the size and importance of the estate toward which he was traveling. By the time he arrived in Ludlow, he had already considered himself a man of property who was due the deference that his stature demanded. He was not honored as such, however. And however vigorously he insisted, no one offered to provide a suitable conveyance to take him the short distance to Norland, for everyone in Ludlow knew who he was and detested his vile purpose. He was forced to ride atop an ancient Tilbury pulled by an old trotter that kept losing its stride.

Mrs Fairwood was watching for him, for he did somehow manage to arrive at the hour specified. She dreaded his coming and hoped that a pleasant greeting might hasten his departure. Hope soon gave way to despair. Mr Collins was obviously taken with the grandeur of Norland and worse, he seemed in his mind to have taken possession of it already. His rapturous praise for all its fine vistas and aspects soon gave way to plans for improvements and renovations, most of which were distressingly directed at the very elements of the estate that Mrs Fairwood had introduced herself, and for which she was justifiably proud.

‘I fear the worst mamma. Mr Collins is determined to occupy Norland and at his earliest opportunity. We must very soon discuss our staying here, and hope that we may until we can settle on some other place to live. I fear we will be made to occupy the attic or one of the servant cottages, for Mr Collins surely means to occupy the main rooms.’

‘I am certain that we will be permitted to stay for several months if we need to,’ Mrs Fairwood replied. ‘Mr Collins is an odd sort of man to be sure, but he is very appreciative of any flattery that I offer, and can be easily maneuvered to consider our wishes. I have experience in these matters, so you may be at ease. I believe that if we must move, we should take a home near Norland so that we can continue to partake of its pleasures. Lockmere has been to let for some time. It is a drafty place, but perhaps we should look at it again. Mr Plumbly says that there is a property west of Curplunk-upon-Rea that we might consider as he seems to think that it is on par with Norland. That would not be too far away, though, not within walking distance.’

Elinor had tried to explain to her mother that they did not have sufficient funds to take so large a place as those, and that her expectations must be vastly lowered, but Mrs Fairwood had no idea of what things cost for she had never had to concern herself with paying. At least that dreadful Mr Collins seemed willing to have them stay for the present. That was a relief, though it came at the cost of his society. She would soon learn why.

Mr Collins liked what he saw of Norland, and much of what he learned of the Fairwood women. He was particularly pleased by their predicament. He was a cunning man, if limited in many other ways, and saw a chance when it presented itself. His aspirations increased in step with his acquisitions, so he decided to favor the elder Miss Fairwood and believed that he would soon have her. She was quite attractive and had some sense, even if she seemed to have a glum demeanor. Her sister, Marianne, was too flighty and impetuous for his tastes and the position to be filled. He was now a man of property and due some deference, so, pleased with his plan and confident of its acceptance, he had only to present it to Mrs Fairwood for her approval. The Fairwood women clearly wished to remain at Norland, which assured his success and their compliance.

Mr Collins had never had much to do with women. No experience of any kind, really. Not that he had not tried, but women did not seem to see his merits and always managed to withdraw from his presence. He had tried to accept what seemed to be accessible - some plain or dowdy working girl, or a stringy old widow. He had not been able to do so, however, for he felt that he deserved better, and now he saw his chance to wed a much more prominent girl than he had ever thought possible.

At breakfast the following morning, Mrs Fairwood asked Mr Collins if he would walk with her in the back garden. She wished to settle matters about their remaining at Norland and, as soon as they reached the turnips, she proposed a stay of six-months minimum, longer if difficulties were encountered. Mr Collins was surprised by her presumption and under other circumstances would have set her down, but he put aside his pique and exclaimed that their residing forevermore at Norland was his most fervid desire. He knew very well how much she loved the place and wished to abide within its fair embrace. Ms Fairwood thought that Mr Collins had read her mind, for that is exactly what she wanted, and she believed in such things.

‘I am sure that we could settle on some permanent living arrangement for Miss Marianne and yourself once Miss Fairwood and I are married,’ he continued as if that were that. ‘I hope that you will agree to set aside mourning restrictions given the urgency of your need. You, Mrs Fairwood, could continue to wear black for the remaining part of the year, except at the ceremony of course. Your daughters would retain a lesser degree, gray and white perhaps, given the joyous occasion. Would the south wing be sufficient for your needs? I see that it has not been in use for some years, but repairs could be made to make it suitable, and the roof might be stopped from leaking, do not you think?’

Mrs Fairwood was stunned and befuddled, and she did not know what to make of this improbable declaration, or to which of the several questions she should reply. She chose the last mentioned and mumbled that she supposed that might be accomplished. Mr Collins, having heard what he wished to hear, raced on to express his supreme joy in receiving her approval of the marriage. ‘How appropriate it will be to have all the Fairwoods remain at Norland, and now you have made it possible’ he exclaimed. It was his way to