Lady Jane

" Anything is to be preferred or endured rather than marrying without affection"

-Jane Austen, in a letter to her Niece.

LADY JANE

Jane, as she had been sitting by the window the entirety of the night and now, the early dawn hours of the day, watched as Harris Bigg-Whither strolled unabashed over the hill and down the path toward the house. She moved silently from the room as not to wake her sleeping sister.

As she took the stairs to meet him at the door, the complete scope of what she was to accomplish now finally set and, against her will, she trembled.

Before he had a chance to make a single, unwelcome sound, Jane pulled the door open and let him inside.

"Have you stayed up all these late hours? I could not get a single moment's sleep myself!" he smiled. She turned to look at him, the tears in her eyes stopping him from saying what he had long rehearsed since her acceptance of him. "This is a good match..." was all he could muster.

"It is a good match," she stated, knowing it to be true. "...you were kind to offer it. But I do not love you, and I will not accept a proposal for a business transaction."

"One can learn to love. We are friends are we not? It is my strong belief that future years of living in the same house, sharing secret moments, gaining new friendships through one another's families, will indeed connect us in a way we do not yet know. Is it not possible that love should, could, perhaps, one day arise from such an arrangement?"

"Maybe for you," said she. "But not for me."

"Such certainty... may I be so bold as to ask how one could possibly know the events of a theoretical future?"

"But you already know why I could never love you, or any other man."

For a moment he was truly lost, but soon found her meaning. "Tom? All this time?"

"Yes. From the day I met him and all the days since."

"But he himself has married," said he. She gave the slightest of nods. "I'm sorry. I do not mean to hurt you," he continued "But how can you hold yourself to him?"

"I have no expectations of his returning to me. I know it to be an impossibility," she said, and with a smile added "...a thing of dreams."

"Then why refuse me?"

"It is not only you I refuse now. It is all of it. It is everything that has led you to ask for my hand, and everything that made me tell you that I accept it. You are my friend, I treasure what we have and hope my answer will not tarnish what should remain. But I believe I have had my love, short as it may have been, and search for nothing more, for I know how lucky I was to have the little that I did."

He was silent after this, for a long time, Mr. Bigg-Wither looked only at the top of his shoes. Then, he spoke, saying; "I can provide for you, for your family."

"Fear of ruin and destitution is not beyond me-- though I may sometimes act that way," she smiled. "I have no means to make my own independence... none but one."

"Your writing."

"Yes."

"Is it enough?"

"A smart question indeed. But the answer is weak and I fear a great deal unsatisfactory... I don't know. All I can be sure of is this; I will never be rich, but I will remain myself. I may never be a wife but I will be a woman, a sister, a daughter and a friend. And there I am satisfied."

He nodded and at last, returned her smile. "Indeed you should be." He gave her a shallow bow, all his body was able to conjure, she returned it with a curtsy. He opened the door and quitted the house. Jane moved to the threshold and watched him go.

The quiet morning gave nothing away as to the noise and turmoil of her mind and heart. Mr. Bigg-Wither took with him the chance for a better life for her family and for herself, a chance to write without the guilt that she was not doing all she could do to help their situation.

Jane wept.

Once composure returned, she made her way upstairs in hopes of getting a little more sleep before confronting her mother and sister with the news, but when she opened the door to her and her sister's room, she found Cassandra at the window, watching Mr. Bigg-Wither making his trek away from the house.

"I'm sorry," Jane said. Her sister turned to face her. She walked across the room and took Jane's hands in her own.

"You will not be sorry, it is not allowed," said Cassandra, "I am sorry. Sorry for what you should be feeling now. Money is only money, we will make do as we have been. A lifetime with him, with anyone who does not set your heart alight is not a life fit for my sister, or myself I dare say."

"What will we tell mamma?" Jane asked, through her tears.

"We will tell her that she taught us well, too well in fact, we will tell her that Austen women make their own way as much as they can, and poverty is but the symptom of our independence."

"I fear I have doomed us!" Jane cried.

Cassandra looked Jane in the eye and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "You are my sun, is that not enough?" Jane's breath shallowed and she smiled.

The two embraced and Cassandra led her sister to her bed where they lay until Cassandra fell asleep. Jane remained awake, thinking, exploring the scenarios in her mind. But as for the money lost, it was never for her. It was for her sister and mother and cousin, but in fact, she had the love of all these women, and now, laying by Cassandra's warmth, she rejected any thought that made her doubt that this love would be lost with the refusal of her friend's proposal.

She smiled as she closed her eyes to sleep, and delighted in knowing that there was no path in which her, or Cassandra could take that would lead them into anything but the truest of destinations. And though some may call them old maids when the time was right to do so, they would never yield, for, as Jane had told her admirer, they had already known their loves.

Jane would rest well in the knowledge that she did not marry for wealth as society dictated, but in fact, she had all the wealth she desired in the love of her women. And though she did not know it yet, she was indeed destined to achieve what may be called traditional wealth and independence, not through a man, but entirely on her own.

The End.