Broadcast of this episode was delayed by unavoidable technical difficulties. It has, however, aged like fine wine and improved by another pass through the Editrix’s twisted mindscape of Austen meta.

The Gentlemen of His Majesty’s Armed Forces

In which there are many explosions.

There was no moon, and the stars were brilliant in the inky sky. Something moved in the darkness, like black velvet rippling; a voice, low and modulated, said, “The dove flies from Chawton.”

A second voice answered, “It is a truth universally acknowledged.”

A third voice said, “Why not seize the pleasure at once?”

A small flame flared as the leader lit a lamp. “Were you followed?” he asked.

“I was not,” said the second gentleman as he stepped into the light. “Tibby?”

“You know me better than that, Fizzer.” The third gentleman stepped into the small ring of light. Like the others, he wore a very well-tailored, close-fitting black suit.

“By the way, Tibby,” the man called Fizzer whispered, “I have not thanked you for referring me to that tailor.”

“My pleasure,” said Tibby. “My little brother is good for some things.”

“Gentlemen,” said their leader, “it is time. Let us prepare.” He pulled out a rough knitted cap and pulled it on.

The other two exchanged grins. “Did Mrs. Brandon knit that?” asked Fizzer.

“Don’t tease him, Fizzer,” said Tibby. “No doubt it was made with love, if not with skill.”

“If you ever have a wife,” said Colonel Brandon, unruffled by the teasing, “you should count yourself fortunate if she is as concerned for your comfort and safety as Mrs. Brandon is for mine.”

A rustling sound came from outside the circle of light, and they jumped to alert.

“Evening, gents,” came a voice from the dark. The three officers whirled and raised their weapons in the direction of the sound.

“Whoa, whoa,” said the newcomer. As he stepped into the light, they saw that he wore scarlet regimentals. “I’m a friend!”

Fizzer rolled his eyes and said under his breath, “Oh, no.”

“This is a soldier’s mission,” said Tibby. “We don’t need any weekend warriors, plebe.”

“Here,” said the newcomer in an aggrieved tone. “I’m in the regulars now, same as you, Tilney.”

“You can buy a commission,” said Fizzer, “but that doesn’t make you a soldier.”

“You should know, Fitzwilliam,” said the newcomer. “Your cousin paid for my commission. Well, I’m here now, and ready to go! What’s the plan, gents?”

“Nothing that includes the likes of you,” said Captain Tilney. “Seriously, regimentals? Why don’t you just hang a sign around your neck that says, ‘Eat Me’?”

“The ladies,” said Wickham with a smug smile, “love a scarlet coat.”

Captain Tilney looked as though he had more to say, but Colonel Brandon spoke first. “General Tilney ordered me to find a place for Ensign Wickham in this mission. However, Ensign, you are late for the rendezvous, and you failed to observe operational security.”

“I would have been here earlier,” said Wickham, snickering, “but Lydia wouldn’t let me go. You know how it is, Tilney,” he said, digging an elbow into Captain Tilney’s ribs.

Captain Tilney growled at him, and Wickham backed away nervously.

“Peace, gentlemen,” said Colonel Brandon. “Ensign Wickham can make himself useful by carrying a message back to our reinforcements in Meryton. Pray tell them that the operation will begin timely, and to make the rendezvous at the predetermined time.”

“That’s it?” asked Wickham. “That’s all I am to do? I came all this way, and put myself into the Lord knows how much personal danger, to carry a bloody message?”

“Be grateful it’s a message you’re carrying, and not your guts in your hat,” said Colonel Tilney, advancing menacingly.

“That will do, Captain. You have your orders, Ensign,” said Colonel Brandon, his voice quieter and more dangerous than ever.

Wickham left them, grumbling as he walked away.

“Gentlemen,” said Colonel Brandon, “the time for our operation approaches. Let us prepare.” Fitzwilliam and Tilney donned smart black berets that set off their chiseled jawlines admirably, and they all smudged their faces with charcoal. They each shouldered a bulging rucksack with a small shovel attached to it and draped thin rope across their bodies.

Colonel Brandon checked his watch and cast a cloth over the lamp that allowed it to emit only the smallest light. “Remember your orders, gentlemen,” he said. “Operate in silence and darkness. We will rendezvous here in one hour. Do not forget whom we serve: Miss Jane Austen.”

“Miss Austen,” said Fitzwilliam.

“Miss Austen,” said Tilney.

“Godspeed,” said Colonel Brandon, and they slipped silently into the darkness.

An hour later

There was movement in the darkness and the sound of shuffling feet. An eerie sound rose: voices raised, at the same time unified and disjointed, moaning a single refrain: “BRAAAAAIIIIIIINNNNNNS.”

A flame flashed forth in the darkness, then two, then three. Each traveled in a winding line along the dark ground; an explosion rent the night, then another, and another.

Half-rotted limbs flew through the air with each fiery blast. The explosions continued, timed and placed so that each explosion fired the next. The air was filled with smoke, and anyone who succeeded in crossing that hellish expanse would have stumbled upon the prone bodies of the undead.

A figure, dressed in black and with his knitted hat knocked askew, stumbled out of the smoke, holding a lamp aloft. “Where the hell are my reinforcements?” he cried. “Fitzwilliam! Tilney!”

Two more figures emerged from the smoke and into his light, one supporting the other. “I regret to report, Colonel Brandon,” said Captain Tilney, “that Fizzer has lost some of the speed he displayed in past engagements.” He spoke lightly, but his tight face showed his concern. He eased his comrade onto the ground.

“Just a scratch, Tibby,” gasped Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Calculated to make me more interesting to the ladies.”

“Our reinforcements seem to be delayed, gentlemen,” said Colonel Brandon.

“The bombs slowed them considerably,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “but did not stop them completely. I feared it would be so. The introduction of zombies into Miss Jane Austen’s novels created a pop culture zeitgeist of such proportions that it resisted traditional ordnance.”

“The Naval gentlemen were able to defeat the sea monster,” said Colonel Brandon.

“Yes, but everyone knows there is no power on earth, let alone a giant squid, that can withstand the might of the British Navy. But with the reinforcement of the Blankshire militia, we could still defeat this lot.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have trusted that cowardly git Wickham with critical intelligence,” said Captain Tilney.

“It looks as though we must handle the cleanup ourselves,” said Colonel Brandon. “Fitzwilliam, can you fight?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam struggled to his feet. “I can fight, sir.” Captain Tilney clapped him on the back.

“Good man. It is cold steel, then, gentlemen.”

They each unsheathed a cutlass and turned back to face the advancing, inexorable zombie horde. Those three gentlemen may have appeared to the casual observer to be privileged men of leisure, but they were soldiers first, and had the conviction of a just and noble cause. Together they cut a swath through the undead, whirling and slicing and hacking. The zombies fell before them like sand before a hurricane.

As the sky lightened, they stood victorious among a field of their defeated enemy.

“We have done good work tonight, gentlemen,” said Colonel Brandon, fastidiously wiping zombie gore from his cutlass. “Your duty to Miss Austen is fulfilled. I shall mention both of you very favorably in my dispatches.”

As the sun peeked over the horizon, they heard the sound of feet marching in time with a drumbeat, and a piccolo playing “The Girl I Left Behind.”

“I hate that (soldierly expletive deleted) song,” muttered Captain Tilney.

The Blankshires, led by Ensign Wickham on a white horse, marched from the shrubbery. “Halloa halloa halloa!” called Wickham gaily. “Where are the enemy? Here we are, all prepared to fight, right, Blankshires?”

Colonel Forster called a halt, and the men looked at the steaming pile of zombie parts.

“’Ere, Wickham,” said Mr. Denny, “it looks like we missed the fun. I thought you said we were going to fight zombies.”

“I said we were to rendezvous,” said Wickham. “Right-o, Colonel Brandon, it looks as though you have anticipated us and taken care of it all yourselves. Jolly good.”

“You are late again, Ensign Wickham,” said Colonel Brandon.

“We took a wrong turn,” said Wickham. “Perhaps several wrong turns. Oh, here, Colonel, dispatches for you.” He handed over a sealed package.

“I don’t know what you’re afraid of, Wickham,” said Captain Tilney. “It’s not as though you have any brains. The zombies won’t touch you.”

Wickham made an aggressive movement, which made Tilney laugh.

“Oh, just give me an excuse, plebe,” he said, rolling up his sleeves.

Colonel Brandon, having read his dispatches, interrupted them. “Gentlemen, I regret to report the enemy has not been vanquished. General Tilney writes that a prequel has been announced. I am ordered to report to headquarters to go over strategy. Colonel Fitzwilliam, I leave you in command. Remember, gentlemen, your first duty is to Miss Austen.” He whistled loudly, and a black stallion cantered out of the woods and over to him.

Wickham eyed Fitzwilliam and Tilney warily. “Er, Colonel, can’t you stay just a little while longer?”

“I dare not lose an hour.” He galloped away.

“Well!” cried Wickham. “Here we are and all that.”

Fitzwilliam and Tilney looked down upon him, their arms across their chests and smirks upon their faces. Wickham’s grin faltered.

“Tibby,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “I think while we wait for Colonel Brandon to return with new orders, we should conduct training exercises.”

“Indeed, Fizzer,” said Captain Tilney. “Up at dawn, in bed at midnight, lots of good hard physical work between.”

“Marching,” said Fitzwilliam.

“Drilling,” said Tilney.

Wickham backed away.

“Gun practice,” said Fitzwilliam.

“Hand-to-hand combat,” said Tilney, cracking his knuckles and grinning at Wickham, a martial light in his eye.

Wickham whimpered and turned away, but was blocked from retreating by several of the Blankshires’ officers.

“I hear you messed with my sister,” said Mr. Denny.

“You owe me money,” said Mr. Pratt.

“You asked me to dance when I was wearing a dress,” said Mr. Chamberlayne.

Captain Tilney growled.

Starring:

Colonel Brandon

Ensign George Wickham

The Gentlemen of the Blankshires

With Very Special Guest stars:

Dwayne Johnson as Colonel the Hon. Montgomery Fitzwilliam*

Adam Baldwin as Captain Frederick Tilney

*I’m trying to put TeresaAF in a coma, basically, though she may be too distracted by that pointy-eared fellow to care.

The fight to defend Miss Jane Austen continues, fellow Janeites, in the next episode of The League of Austen’s Extraordinary Gentlemen: The Gentlemen of the Hunt. Tune in two weeks from tonight* for more adventure!

*Next week’s episode will be pre-empted for something else very special!

So, those of you who have not already had the end of Emma broadcast, let us know what you think, unless you’re watching the Superbowl like everyone else.

Miss Dido Kent hesitated, her pen suspended over the page. All her education and almost thirty years’ experience of writing letters had not quite prepared her for this situation. As well as she could recall, the rules of etiquette said nothing about the correct way in which to convey the news that she now had to impart. However, her governess had once told her that the very best style of writing was that which gave information simply and clearly without any excess of sensibility.

She dipped her pen into the ink and continued.

There has been a woman found dead here – in the shrubbery – this evening.

She read what she had written, thought for a little while, then added:

It was the under-gardener who found her.

Her sister would wish to be reassured that it was not a member of the family, or one of their guests, who had made the horrible discovery.

Attention Janeites and fans of cozy mysteries: This is going to be good.

In 1805, Miss Dido Kent is summoned to Bellfield Hall to comfort her niece Catherine, whose fiancé has mysteriously disappeared from his own engagement party. Shortly after his disappearance, the body of a young woman is found on the grounds. Coincidence? Catherine is certain her clever aunt can reunite her with her beloved, but as Dido observes his family and their guests and uncovers gossip in the nearby village, she’s increasingly convinced that a reunion is not for the best. As Dido comes closer to the truth, her own safety may be in danger as well.

Bellfield Hall by Anna Dean is rich in period detail, transporting the reader to a different time where a visit to a draper’s shop or a walk down the portrait gallery in a manor house reveals many secrets. The relations between the different social classes are complex and through Dido’s discerning eye we travel upstairs and downstairs, inside the house and out in the village, making the necessary connections to solve the mystery.

The inhabitants and guests in Bellfield Hall are fascinating and complex; just as it’s a mistake for the wealthier guests to dismiss the “shabby little maiden aunt”, all the characters are more than they seem. Everybody, from the languid Patience-playing mistress of the house, to the blustering military houseguest, to the gambling rake and the plain but wealthy sisters he’s courting (yes, both at the same time) has secrets they are concealing. Miss Dido Kent shines as the very capable amateur detective; her elegant wit, sensitive observations, and keen intelligence make her an immediate favorite.

The plot, too, is delightfully intricate. As Dido’s governess instructed, Bellfield Hall has a clear, direct style with no excess sensibility – but as fans of Elinor Dashwood know well, a calm exterior can conceal deep feelings, so rest assured, there is plenty of emotion and tension under the surface. The suspense increases with every chapter, as Dido comes close to finding answers, only to discover more dangerous questions.

Fans of Jane Austen who are well acquainted with the details of her life as well as her novels will delight in the moments of the book which bring to mind their beloved author. But Bellfield Hall is much, much more than just a loving tribute; it’s an intelligent, suspenseful mystery, elegantly written with engaging characters. It will appeal to Jane Austen fans and historical mystery lovers alike.

This winter, be sure to accept the invitation to visit Bellfield Hall with Dido Kent as your guide, and delight in the beauty, suspense, and mystery around every corner. Better yet: as Bellfield Hall promises to be the first in a series of mysteries by Anna Dean featuring Dido Kent, I’m already looking forward to a return visit to Dido’s world.

Alert Janeite Liz M. sent in a link to the Ask a Manager blog, which invokes Jane Austen to cure a workplace ill: the annoying co-worker.

But really, the best way to handle this might be to see her behavior as amusing instead of infuriating. You have someone brushing her hair with a fork and cleaning her false teeth at her desk, for god’s sake — are you really not entertained by this?

As I’ve mentioned before, my sister always advises me, when visiting annoying relatives, to pretend to be one of the many long-suffering characters in Jane Austen novels who have to be pleasant to and patient with irritating relations. It’s remarkably effective; it reframes things in a much more amusing (and bearable) context. If you’re not a Jane Austen fan, pretend you’re on a sitcom. This advice is good for all areas of life.

We have to agree with that. What Would Jane Write (about that person)?

We were amused to have pointed out to us the cover of a new HarperCollins edition of Pride and Prejudice, which looks, er, familiar to those of another famous series of books. Guess we shouldn’t have thought they would stop at Wuthering Heights. (But seriously, “The Love That Started It All?” Seriously? Is that supposed to make us want to read the book or make us want to barf?)

Cover snark aside, we would like to congratulate Shirley and Wallis Kinney, two Young Persons whose essay comparing Twilight and P&P in JASNA News (reprinted on the JASNA website) was included as an extra in this new edition of the novel.

Review by Allison T.

The continent of AustenLand grows daily larger. At the serene heart, of course, are the six novels, the fragments, juvenilia and letters. Far across the plains towards the East are the fell Misty Mountains, wherein Vampire Darcys (and Vampire Jane!) lurk. Somewhere to the West is the London/NewYorkCity/LosAngeles simalcrum, where all the modern Retellings sip super-low-fat-no-whip-double-shot lattes in fashionable cafés and exchange witty banter. The gentle, flower-studded prairies house the Christian Retellings, while mummies and zombies lurk on the edges of the continent, pouncing on unwary travelers. And, in one far part of AustenLand, where the land blurs into water that then pours off the edge of the World, are the ShadowLands, in which ShadowDarcy and ShadowLizzie—characters that resemble the originals only by virtue of their famous names—hover and whisper.

This is where Georgia Hill’s Pursued by Love lives.

Perdita Wyndham, a gorgeous actress nursing a broken heart after her married actor lover dumps her, is cast to play Elizabeth in yet another filming of P&P. En route to the snowy Peak District, where the filming will take place, the mini-van carrying Perdita, the director, the cameraman, and the new Mr. Darcy breaks down and the travelers seek shelter in an old B&B. To keep warm, Perdita and her handsome and arrogant co-star, Nick Wainright, chastely share a bed.

The filming continues, with Nick/Darcy striding around arrogantly and handsomely, and Perdita making friends with Briony, the lovely, foul-mouthed, sleeping-around-but-warm-hearted actress who plays Jane Bennet, which I deduce is supposed to be an amusing contrast in our expectations. Things happen, the director is arrested on charges of cocaine possession, and Perdita and Nick finally get together—until Perdita, still smarting over her previous affair, pushes Nick away. He says that he loves her and vows to pursue her.

Pursued by Love should appeal to readers who enjoy spicy romances set in modern England. The author seems to have some experience in the theater, especially with Shakespeare’s plays, which are invoked more often than Austen, although she translates “Perdita”—the heroine of A Winter’s Tale—as “the lonely one”: it is really “the lost one.” Our “Purdie” is compared several times to a frigid Snow Queen, and part of her transformation is learning to love and trust.

There’s not much meat here for Janeites, however. Perdita and Nick and their friends don’t represent any characters or even (with the possible exception of Briony/Jane) anti-characters from P&P; there is no discussion of the novel or the characters or their motivations. This is not meant to be a re-telling of P&P: there is no Lydia subplot, no Mr. Collins, etc. (An apparently arrogant hero and an apparently prejudiced heroine who meet cute is not , in my opinion, sufficient to make a story that can be called P&P.)The one interesting Jane-oriented question that Perdita makes of her co-star—“Were you daunted about playing Darcy when it’s been done so recently?”—is shrugged off by Nick, who answers that he’s just a different actor from the others. Fair enough, but I wished for a more insightful response.

In summation, the underlying film/novel on which Pursued by Love is built could have been any story—and, in fact, might have more interestingly been A Winter’s Tale rather than P&P. This book is a tie-in to Austen, but in name only, which is why Pursued by Love dwells in the ShadowLands.

An unusual opportunity has arisen: some spots are available on this year’s JASNA tour of Jane Austen’s England, Seascapes and Landscapes. These popular tours are usually only available to members and sell out within a few weeks, but this year a few spots remain, and JASNA is inviting non-members who would like to joint the tour. The itinerary on this fully guided tour includes stops at locations important to both Jane Austen’s life and fiction, including Ramsgate, Lyme Regis, Sevenoaks in Kent, Bath, Stoneleigh, and Oxford among others. Participants in the tour receive special access to some of the locations and informative lectures about the locations are included. Check out the itinerary page for the details. These tours are pretty special, and this is a great opportunity. We shall be sitting at home jealous of you all.

Toronto English Country Dancers are holding a Pride and Prejudice Ball and dance workshop on February 20, 2010 at St. Barnabas Anglican Church Hall. The intermediate dance workshop begins at 11:30 a.m. and the basics workshop at 3 p.m. There also is a wardrobe and hair session at 2:30 p.m. The ball is at 8. Early bird pricing for full package tickets, including workshop, hair and wardrobe session, and ball is $45, $30 for students; walk-in pricing is $55/40. Check out the website for the deets, and have fun dancing!

Alert Janeite Virginia Claire wrote to tell us about an online discussion forum that has been set up at the Jane Austen Centre website, and she would like to invite AustenBlog’s Gentle Readers to visit. There are areas to discuss the novels, biographical information, films, paraliterature, and more. Check it out!

Nachstürm Castle by Emily C.A. Snyder is a fun romp through Gothic literature as seen through the eyes of a hero who is fond of teasing and gets teased back for once. Henry Tilney, the hero who “indulged himself a little too much with the foibles of others” arranges a Gothic getaway for his new bride, complete with a gipsy, crumbling castle, and dread secrets. But the joke is on him when the scenario becomes real.

Catherine Tilney had settled in for a quiet, respectable, distinctly non-Gothic English life in the countryside with her husband, the Reverend Henry Tilney. Unfortunately, a quiet, respectable, distinctly non-Gothic life had not settled itself for her. An original sequel to Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey, Nachtstürm Castle whisks the reader and its heroine away to the border countries in the Austrian Alps, where adventure, mistaken identities, lost heirs, and terrifying butlers lurk.

Will Catherine find her way out of the castle’s dark, hidden passages? Is the beautiful lady in the graveyard a ghost? Can the evil-looking old housekeeper be trusted? Just how good is Henry’s Indiana Jones imitation? (And is it an imitation if Henry’s heroic acrobatics take place over 100 years before Professor Jones?)

Fans of Ann Radcliffe, Eliza Parsons, and the Northanger Canon will recognize the rambling rustics who know all the answers our heroes seek (if only they would ask!), the lengthy discourses on the picturesque, the overwrought action scenes, mistaken identities, and all other elements that make Gothic novels fun (or exasperating). Our able narrator leads the merry chase through all the secret passageways and dark encounters with mysterious strangers, with occasional nudges and winks of sympathy at the lengthy bits to encourage the reader to soldier on to the next plot point. But in a Gothic novel, the journey is most of the fun, and this Gothic tale has the added pleasure of being seen through not a black but sparkling veil of Tilney wit.

But neither could compare with the gargantuan natural edifice that was the mountain upon which Nachtstürm Castle rose. It was a mountain made of the darkness between two lightning bolts. It was made less of earth than Stygian frost. Whole towns fell away as they ascended, as though the ranks of black and frowning conifers waged war against the humans below. Even the path – rather narrow and rarely straight – seemed less made by centuries of pilgrim feet and more by the trace of some careless demon’s claw.

It was, in fact, perfect.

Nachstürm Castle is available for download as an e-book from Girlebooks.