A very Jane Austen Christmas story; Part Three
A Very Jane Austen Christmas: ELECT YOUR ENTANGLEMENT
PART THREE: Willow in the Wind
At the very moment Jane decided to turn toward the farmhouse the heavens opened with wild dashes of sleet. She towed her trunk up the lane in full reason of the fact of the object was taking a terrible beating. She kept telling herself the trunk had been waterproofed with tree sap and all would be well when she finally reached the door. Before very long her pelisse was wet through. Her gloves were so wet they seemed to be shrinking and making it impossible to clutch the trunk’s handle. Although her quarry was well in sight, her boots were fast sinking into the dusting of snow, rapidly turning into a frozen swamp, and she began to wonder if she could persevere for the last quarter mile.
She made the difficult decision to open her trunk with the purpose of quickly grabbing her pattens. “One, two three… here we go,” Jane whispered flinging open the lid of the trunk. She had forgotten was a confoundable mess the contents would be after her hasty repacking. Her freezing hands, clamped with cold, sifted through the contents in search of the metal soles. All the while sleet poured into the trunk. “Aha!” she cried, literally crying in frustration and panic. She slammed the lid, sat upon it, and set about attaching the metal pattens to the heels of her boots. When she rose to continue her progress she was a couple of inches higher than the layer of slushy snow but her trunk was heavier. “God’s Teeth!” she swore under her breath, realizing the perfectly waterproofed trunk had taken on the weight of much miserable sleet and was a further burden to tow.
There was nothing for it but to leave the trunk on the side of the lane and trudge on pattens to the farmhouse. The alternative was unthinkable. Her resolution was flagging, and the creeping cold was claiming her ability to move or to reason. As she distanced herself from her trunk, she began to slow. She was unsure of the distance to London and wondered whether the road was plagued with pickpockets and coves. She wondered if she would ever be reunited with her mother… her sister… her trunk. In her current state, she would have to throw herself on the mercy of the farmhouse occupants. But supposing there was no one there? Supposing they were away visiting for the holiday? Supposing there were malicious coves inside, inclined to abuse her?
Just then a tidal wave of sleet splashed her back, soaking her beyond the skin and right into the bones. She lilted. She swayed. She saw herself walking through a beautiful wood, with flowers growing up on all sides of her. Her mother was there with Cassandra. Cassandra’s nose wasn’t red anymore… and there was her dear Father. There was Aunt Seymour and Imogene. ‘These woods are lovely’, Jane smiled to herself. ‘But oh, dear, is that a bear creeping nearer? And heavens, is that a dog or a wolf?’
That was her very last thought before everything went black.
Oh, now you’ve done it (people who voted for Jane to go to London!)
There are no choices at this juncture. Jane is completely unconscious. We will have to wait to see if any good can be salvaged from this situation!