Jane Austen Made Me Do It Read Online Free PDF Page A

two-volume novel called
Susan
was published by John Booth some six years ago. Therefore, even if I
do
recover my own manuscript, its title—and your very
name
—will necessarily have to be altered.”
    â€œOh! I would not mind that a bit,” replied Susan earnestly. “In truth, I have never much cared for my name. Please feel free to change it. Although I do hope you will not call me Milicent or Lavinia or Eunice—that would be too, too horrid!”
    â€œI promise to give you only the most delightful name.”
    â€œYou fill me with relief, Miss Austen. And now—” She lookedabout us with an expression of renewed dread and apprehension. “To that other matter of which I must speak without further delay. I am very concerned about you. You must leave Bath this instant!”
    â€œLeave Bath? Why?”
    â€œA little while ago,” confided Susan with rising agitation, “I was strolling through Sydney Gardens when I observed Mr. Wickham engaged in a heated discussion with Mr. Willoughby, William Walter Elliot, and John Thorpe. All four appeared to be very angry about something.”
    My heart leapt in sudden alarm. I had already witnessed the wrath and disdain of several of my creations whom I
thought
I had portrayed in a most becoming light. What manner of reception could I expect to receive from those characters whom I had represented in a
less
than favourable manner? Indeed, I could not deny that with the most deliberate of intentions, I had conceived a great many characters who were truly selfish, vain, vulgar, greedy, wicked, stupid, thoughtless, or senseless—or, as in the case of the four scoundrels Susan had described, a combination of most of those traits.
    â€œYou say that all four of those men are in Bath to-day?” replied I with unease.
    â€œThey are! While strolling by, I overheard some of their conversation. It was dreadful!” She moved closer. “I heard Mr. Wickham and Mr. Willoughby mention
your name
, Miss Austen, in the same sentence as the word
murder
.”
    â€œMurder? Pray, Susan, do not let your imagination run away with you. Did you learn nothing from your own story?” Despite my brave words, in truth I was growing quite afraid.
    All at once I heard the ominous sound of approaching footsteps. Appearing out of the dark fog on the rise of lawn before mecame the very four male figures Miss Morland had just named, steadily advancing with torches in hand and no kind looks on their countenances.
    I swallowed hard and stepped backward. “Miss Morland—” I began, but strangely, Miss Morland had vanished. I was alone, quite alone, except for the men who were bearing down upon me. The heavy trampling of feet began to grow into an ever-louder, thundering din. To my dismay, just behind the angry four, I saw another group of people coming at me through the fog: Mr. Collins, Mrs. Bennet, Lydia and Mary Bennet, Louisa Bingley Hurst, Caroline Bingley, and Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
    I gasped in terror. From a different direction, an additional, furious assemblage was descending: Mr. and Mrs. Elton, Sir Walter and Elizabeth Elliot, Mary Musgrove, Isabella Thorpe, and General Tilney. Behind them strode Fanny and John Dashwood, Lucy Steele, Mr. Price, Mr. Rushworth, Maria Bertram Rushworth, Lady Bertram, Mrs. Ferrars, and Robert Ferrars. Many of them carried pitchforks and flaming torches. Some had guns. All of them were staring at me. The hatred and malice in their eyes is beyond my power to describe.
    Panic surged through me. I screamed in horror, but no sound escaped my lips. I turned sharply in an attempt to flee, when I heard Lady Catherine de Bourgh call out in fury:
    â€œNot so hasty, if you please. Unfeeling, selfish girl! I am most seriously displeased!”
    Her piercing tone so paralysed me that my feet were rooted to the ground. The fuming horde drew closer and closer. They were chanting now: “Jane! Jane!