I Was Jane Austen's Best Friend Read Online Free PDF Page A

and she made little effort to lower her voice. ‘There is nothing worse than an over-trimmed gown … all that lace and flounces — so very vulgar …’ And her expression was all innocence as she surveyed the flounces of Augusta’s lace-trimmed gown which bounced along in front of her.
    I quickly pulled up the blanket to hide my mouth and I saw Mrs Austen glance sharply at Jane, who just gave a wicked grin. Augusta, however, wasn’t listening to Jane. She was still talking over her shoulder to Mrs Austen and she was in full flow.
    ‘I said to my caro sposo — that’s what I call my dear Edward-John. It’s Italian for dear husband, ’ she said kindly, glancing across at Jane, who nodded gravely. ‘I said to him, just this very morning —
    Jenny will confirm, won’t you, Jenny — “Tell me, dear,” I said to him, “is my gown over-trimmed?” And he said to me, oh Lord, I blush to tell you what he said—’
    ‘How are you feeling this afternoon, Jenny?’ interrupted Mrs Austen. She looked as though she was getting sick of Augusta and her gowns.
    ‘Much better, thank you, ma’am.’
    ‘Of course she is well; you just lie quietly, Jenny, while we chat.’ Augusta, as usual, talked non-stop and I felt my head beginning to ache as I tried to pay attention. Jane had gone over to sit on the window seat and was busy scribbling away on a piece of paper while Augusta went on and on about how popular she is in Bristol and what people said to her and said about her. After about ten minutes of this, I felt my eyes beginning to close. Augusta didn’t seem to notice, but went on talking. A minute later, I heard Jane’s light shoes crossing the room.

    ‘She’s very weak, Mama,’ I heard her say in a solemn tone of voice. ‘I think she needs to rest now, don’t you?’ I didn’t dare look at Jane in case she made me laugh.
    ‘We’d better go.’ Mrs Austen’s chair scraped back and she was on her feet so quickly that I reckon that she had been dying to get away for the last ten minutes. She had no interest in Augusta’s tales about her social life in Bristol.
    After they had gone, I asked Jane whether she had been writing a story and she told me that she was thinking of starting a novel where Augusta would be a clergyman’s wife with a very high opinion of herself, but most of the other people in her town would dislike her immensely. Apparently she was writing down some of Augusta’s statements so that she could use them when she started the book.
    ‘Here, stick that into your journal for me and then it won’t get lost.’ Jane handed me a piece of paper. I read it through and laughed. Augusta hadn’t exactly said things quite as outrageous as that, but it definitely was in her style.
My dear old beau – he’s quite a titled person, you know – he thinks so highly of me – he even leaves the other men to their port after dinner and comes to join me – I wish you could hear all of his gallant speeches – Lord, I mustn’t tell you what he said – but I can assure you that my husband would be quite jealous – but what’s a woman to do? I can’t help it if he admires me -
    I carefully glued it into my journal. Then, when Jane had gone downstairs for her tea, I lay back on the pillow and began to think about Augusta. Why could I not just laugh at her as Jane did?
    I’m less frightened of Augusta than I used to be before I went to school and became friends with Jane, but I still have a horrible feeling that she might do me some terrible harm. It’s hard to explain it, but deep down I think that she hates me and wishes that I were not part of her husband’s family. The problem is that my mother left Edward-John the responsibility for me when she died, and Augusta is always whispering to her friends about what a terrible imposition this was on a young man. It makes me very uncomfortable, but there is nothing that I can do about it. I don’t suppose that I will get married either as I have a