Imagining 1814

I love living in Alton because, with a little imagination I can return to, for example, the year 1814 and witness events such as the following:

 

The slight figure matched her quick, firm step to that of the man walking beside her.  She lacked but 5 inches of his 6 foot in height and other physical resemblances proclaimed them to be related. Their cheerful amiability indicated the pleasure they found in each others' company.They were deep in conversation as they made their way from her home village of Chawton to Alton High Street. Henry was to visit his bank while his sister called at the draper's to enquire whether Mr Coleby had received the grey woollen cloak he had undertaken to order for her.

 

'You know perfectly well that it has never been my intention to reveal my identity, but you will tell everyone that you are the brother of a novelist!' 

 

 'Of course! and I will continue to do so.  You are no ordinary novelist. You are a writer of genius and I intend making sure you obtain the fame you deserve!' replied Henry with his customary spirit.

 

'You are impossible!  I know our brother Frank will keep my secret. We sometimes joke about it and I tell him that I have come to recognise the superiority of making money over that of creating mystery. Now that my third novel is about to be published I may not even attempt to lie about its authorship!' 

 

'You may joke if you please, but I intend making sure that the day will come when people will visit Alton simply because you lived nearby.'  

 

She threw back her head and laughed her melodious, infectious laugh - a sound which her brother recalled with great sadness as, three years later, he penned the words of dedication which were to preface the posthumous publication of some of her work:  'No accumulation of fame would have induced her, had she lived, to affix her name to any productions of her pen.'  With pride he revealed to the reading public that the 'lady' who had penned  'Sense and Sensibility' and subsequent novels was his own, dear sister, Jane Austen.

 

Olive Drakes