Since everybody seemed to appreciate The Specter of Mr. Collins, which I posted here a couple of months ago, I thought today I’d share another of my P&P ‘missing scenes.’ Most of the ones I’ve written are included in a group publication (Pride & Prejudice: Behind the Scenes), but I hope to compile them all as part of my own short story volume eventually!
I have a hard time beginning to write something out of nothing, but if I have a question or some other jumping-off point to spark my imagination, I’m off and running, and probably having the time of my life! The following verse (Pride and Prejudice, chapter 42) inspired the scene below – Elizabeth dreads the possibility of running into Darcy when she goes to Derbyshire with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. Hope you enjoy it!
With the mention of Derbyshire, there were many ideas connected. It was impossible for her to see the word without thinking of Pemberley and its owner. “But surely,” said she, “I may enter his county with impunity, and rob it of a few petrified spars without his perceiving me.”
Elizabeth Bennet:
Derbyshire. That one word brought it all flooding back to my mind, all that I had so studiously endeavored to put from it. My heart had been set on seeing The Lakes, but my aunt’s letter two weeks ago not only put an end to that thrilling expectation, but replaced it with something like apprehension at the thought of diverting to Derbyshire instead. Even now, I am tormented by the idea.
I cannot think of Derbyshire without unhappy associations rising up in my mind. No doubt it is grand country, full of beauties that are not to be missed. But to me it can only ever mean one thing; I will be entering the county wherein resides the owner of Pemberley, a man I had fervently hoped never to meet with again in the whole course of my life. And I know he must feel the same. For proof of it, I have only to refer again to his letter.
Why I have kept it, I cannot rightly say. It is not normally in my nature to dwell on unpleasantness. But in this case, I make an exception. My culpability in the debacle with Mr. Darcy is something I dare not forget entirely, lest I should ever behave so badly again. How despicably I acted! How dreadfully I misjudged him! His written words at last taught me to properly know myself, and I have resolved to revisit them occasionally as a sort of penance.
Pulling the letter from its hiding place, I peruse its pages once more. The truth of his explanations concerning the two charges I so vehemently laid at his door, I have long since ceased to question. I need not read those sections again; I know them by heart.
Mr. Darcy’s interference with Jane and Mr. Bingley is something I continue to lament most grievously for my sister’s sake, although I can no longer bring myself to hate him for it. There was no malice in the case, only an error in judgment – a failing to which I proved similarly susceptible in the other matter. When I think what he and his sister suffered at the hands of Mr. Wickham, I believe I better understand some portion of his actions in Hertfordshire, some grounds for his distrustful reserve.
Although his careful explanations are most material in exonerating his character, it is always the beginning and the end of Mr. Darcy’s letter that cut me to the quick. That is where my conscience seeks to punish me, for that is where the man himself and how I have injured him are most clearly revealed.
Be not alarmed, Madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments, or renewal of those offers, which were last night so disgusting to you. I write without any intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes, which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten…
And then at the end…
…If your abhorrence of me should make my assertions valueless, you cannot be prevented by the same cause from confiding in my cousin; and that there may be the possibility of consulting him, I shall endeavour to find some opportunity of putting this letter in your hands in the course of the morning. I will only add, God bless you.
Fitzwilliam Darcy
Oh, how these words have tortured me! If I still believed him to be a man without feeling, I could laugh at my own blindness well enough. Yet here is evidence that he has a heart after all, one capable of caring deeply… and being just as deeply wounded. Even should he one day find the charity to forgive how I have insulted him, I shall never forgive myself. But neither can I be content to wallow forever in self recriminations. I was not formed for unhappiness.
No, the only safe solution is that I never see Mr. Darcy again. He may get on with his life, well rid of me, and I will get on with mine, a little better for having known him. So there’s an end to it. Now, if only I can tour Derbyshire without him crossing my path…
Luckily for Elizabeth, she doesn’t get her wish. As you know, she finds something much better than she expects in Derbyshire!

Christmas is coming! Notice that I didn’t say Christmas is here, because technically this is Advent – a time of waiting and preparation in anticipation of the day of Jesus’ birth.
I will leave you with an adapted version of a Christmas sentiment Miss Bingley wrote in a letter to Jane Bennet. My best wishes that you would have a wonderful Christmas (or whatever tradition you celebrate this time of year) are truly sincere, unlike Miss Bingley’s. Please fill in the blanks as you choose. (Since you may be planning to spend Christmas somewhere other than Hertfordshire, and you may be wishing for something other than numerous beaux! Or maybe not?)
This passage from Pride and Prejudice (chapter 26) talks about how Elizabeth’s relationship with Charlotte changed after Charlotte married Mr. Collins. It was the inspiration for a “missing scene” I wrote a few years ago for another blog. When I ran across it again today, it made me chuckle, so I decided to share it with you here. Hope you enjoy it!



I even had in mind that perhaps Austen herself might have crossed the same bridge on one of her visits to London. Alas, this could not be true, I learned, since the bridge wasn’t constructed until several years after her death. Still it was well worth seeing.
In any case, I’m glad we made the trip to Las Vegas and beyond, but I’m also glad to be home again.
I have always been curious about Jane Austen’s spiritual side. We know she was raised in a Christian home, the daughter of a (by all accounts) dedicated Anglican minister, as well as having a brother (and later a second) belonging to the profession. She no doubt attended church nearly every Sunday of her life. Still, that didn’t prove sincere faith then anymore than it does now.
However, I think it would be a mistake to conclude from this that Jane Austen didn’t take her faith seriously. Being a Christian doesn’t mean having no sense of humor, and not every pastor is a shining example, especially in Jane Austen’s day, when many went into the profession for the wrong reasons – as a convenient means of making a genteel living rather than in answer to a true calling from God.
Here and there in Austen’s novels, however, we do catch a glimpse of something that might be construed as a reflection of Austen’s personal faith. We notice the “God bless you” at the close of Darcy’s letter to Elizabeth, for example, and the many occasions where God’s name is invoked in crisis or in thanksgiving. But perhaps the clearest example appears in Mansfield Park. There, Austen uses Mary Crawford’s attitude toward elements of faith as one means of revealing that lady’s faulty character. Mary openly ridicules the practice of family prayers, chapel attendance, and the clerical profession as a whole. By contrast, Austen’s heroine Fanny Price is reverent, honorable, and chaste – a much better candidate for an Austen-style heroine and a better choice of partner for future clergyman Edmund.
My husband is originally from Kallispel, and his family used to own a cabin on Ashley Lake. Through a serendipitous turn of events, that very same cabin is now back in his extended family, and we’ve generously been invited to use it for our vacation destination the last two summers. The lake itself is beautiful, with some of the clearest turquoise water you’ll ever see outside of the Caribbean. Knowing the history of the cabin makes the spot that much more special for us.
When we were there last summer, someone told us about a sunken car on the far side of the lake. So we paddled our canoe over to take a look. Sure enough, there in about fifteen feet of water was the rusting hulk of a VW bug, the roof and various other parts missing.
I couldn’t help wondering what the story was. Who had owned the car and how had it ended up at the bottom of the lake? It was too far from shore to have been pushed or driven into the water, accidentally or on purpose. VWs used to be reputed pretty air-tight and therefore able to float for several minutes. Had somebody, on a dare or as a prank, rowed it out as far as they could before it sank? The other possibility seemed to be that it had been driven out on the ice in the winter. Was the ice too thin and it had broken through? Or had the car been abandonded there intentionally to sink with the spring thaw? And why?
Now don’t panic! I wouldn’t leave poor Leonard there at the bottom of the lake, fish swimming in and out. Trust me. You know I believe in happy endings!
Today, though, I want to share the first part of what I’ve written for the NA sequel, proposed title: Midnight at Northanger Abbey. [Update: final title is Murder at Northanger Abbey] Be sure to let me know what you think!
But in fact, love and adventure did find her, as she had always foreseen. It was only now, some time afterward that she had difficulty believing it. Parts of the story began to feel like an implausible dream: those early heady days exploring Bath with the inconstant Isabella Thorpe, being introduced to Henry at the assembly rooms completely by chance, her uneven acquaintance with the rest of his family, the surprising invitation to Northanger Abbey, and finally her violent expulsion from that place with Henry following, resolved on marrying her.
Three years ago, I did a post on
The Boys in the Boat, by Daniel James Brown
by Jacqueline Kelly
I’ve Got Your Number, by Sophie Kinsella
Me Before You, by Jojo Moyes
The Rosie Project, by Graeme Simsion
Phew! It was a lot of work, but The Ladies of Rosings Park is successfully launched and doing well. Thank you to those of you who have taken the time to post early reviews. When you really enjoy a book, that is the best thank-you you can give its author!
One of my long-range goals is to write at least one novel related to each of Jane Austen’s six. Obviously, I’ve got Pride and Prejudice covered, and whatever else I do is bonus material. The Persuasion of Miss Jane Austen takes care of Persuasion. I count Leap of Hope as my Mansfield Park book, even though it has elements of the others too, especially P&P. But that still leaves three to go, plus a few additional ideas I have.














