Becoming Jane (2007) - full transcript

BECOMING JANE (2007)

"Boundaries of..."

"propriety..."

"vigorously assaulted..."

"... propriety were... "

"The boundaries of propriety were
vigorously assaulted."

"The boundaries of propriety were
vigorously assaulted, as was only right,"

"but not quite breached,
as was also right."

"Nevertheless,"

"she was not pleased."

- What is it?
- Jane.



Oh.

Jane!

Oh, dear me.

That girl needs a husband.

And who's good enough? Nobody.

I blame you for that.

Being too much the model of perfection.

I've shared your bed for 32 years

and perfection is something
I have not encountered.

Yet.

No. Stop it. Mr. Austen, it's Sunday!
Stop, no, it's...

The utmost of a woman's character
is expressed in the duties of daughter,

sister and, eventually, wife and mother.

It is secured by soft attraction, virtuous
love and quiet in the early morning.



If a woman happens
to have a particular superiority,

for example, a profound mind,
it is best kept a profound secret.

Humour is liked more, but wit? No.

It is the most treacherous
talent of them all.

Now, George, old fellow,
you know you have to stay.

- Jenny!
- George, George.

Hurry along, Jane! We'll be late!

When Her Ladyship calls,
we must obey.

Come along, Jane.

Lady Gresham, may I introduce
my niece Comtesse De Feuillide

and Mr. Fowle, Cassandra's fiancé.

- Comtesse? Then you presume to be French?
- By marriage.

Monsieur le Comte is not here
to pay his respects?

A prior engagement, ma'am,

Monsieur le Comte was obliged to pay
his respects to Madame le Guillotine.

Oh!

I see your nephew is with us again.

Mr. Wisley.

Wisley is indispensable to my happiness.

Well, do sit down.

Mr. Fowle and Cassandra
are only recently engaged.

When shall you marry?

- Not for some time, Your Ladyship.
- Why not?

I'm also engaged to go to the West Indies

with Lord Craven's expedition
against the French, as chaplain.

- What has Craven offered you?
- I've hopes of a parish on my return.

How much is it worth?

Enough to marry on, in a modest way.

Mr. Wisley, did you know
the Basingstoke assemblies resume?

Very soon, I believe.

- Jane does enjoy a ball.
- Wisley can't abide them.

But, sir,

a ball is an indispensable blessing
to the juvenile part of the neighbourhood.

Everything agreeable in the way of talking
and sitting down together

all managed with the utmost decorum.

An amiable man could not object.

Then I find I'm converted.

Displayed like a brood mare.

- Mr. Wisley is a highly eligible young gentleman.
- Oh, Mother!

- You know our situation, Jane.
- Oh!

And he is Lady Gresham's
favourite nephew and heir.

One day, he shall inherit this.

Excellent prospects!

- His small fortune will not buy me.
- What will buy you, cousin?

More wary in the world, Mr. Lefroy.

You can pay me for that later.

- Huzzah! Huzzah!
- Come on, Mr. Lefroy.

Come on, man, hit him!

Lefroy!

- Glass of wine with you, sir?
- Madam.

- Displaying to advantage, I see, Lefroy.
- Like the sword, Austen.

How long before you have
to get back to the sticks?

A day.

So soon?

Doghouse, debts, but one must cut
some sort of a figure even in the militia.

Especially when condemned to a parsonage,
my friend.

Yes.

Still, who is this
sour-faced little virgin?

Your pardon, ma'am.

Mr. Tom Lefroy,
may I present Mr. John Warren?

Joining me in Hampshire, my father
is preparing us both for holy orders.

I understand you've
visited Hampshire, Mr. Lefroy.

Last year.

- Long visit, was it?
- Very long, Mr. Warren. Almost three hours.

Mr. Austen, you're devilishly handsome.
A kiss, a kiss.

Oops!

So, Tom, where should we go?
Vauxhall Gardens?

Been there.

Lefroy, there's a Tahitian
Love Fest on at White's.

Seen it.

- Crockford's?
- Crockford's? Done that.

Or did it do me?

Wh-wh-wh-what is a Tahitian Love Fest?

Warren!

I humbly beg your pardon, sir.

Theft of one pig is a crime, heinous
to be sure, but two pigs...

Two pigs is a violent assault on the very
sanctity of private property itself.

Excuse me.

You and your kind
are a canker on the body social.

And cankers are cut out.

Transportation for life. Next.

- Why are you here in London, sir?
- To learn the law.

Which has no other end but what?

The preservation
of the rights of property.

- Against?
- The mob.

Therefore, order is kept because we have...

- A standing army?
- Good manners, sir, and prudence.

- Do you know that word? Prudence?
- Yes.

Consider myself.

I was born rich, certainly, but I remain
rich by virtue of exceptional conduct.

I have shown restraint.

Your mother, my sister, became poor
because she did not...

She married my father
because she loved him.

Yes, and that's why you have so many
brothers and sisters back there in...

- Limerick.
- Mmm.

If you hope, I say hope...

If you aspire to inherit my property,

you must prove yourself more worthy.

But what do we find? We find dissipation

wild enough to glut the imaginings
of a Hottentot braggadocio.

Wild companions, gambling,

running around St James's like a
neck-or-nothing young blood of the fancy.

- What kind of lawyer will that make?
- Typical.

Humour?

Well, you're going to need that
because I'm teaching you a lesson.

I'm sending you to stay with
your other relations, the Lefroys.

- Uncle, they live in the country.
- Deep in the country.

- Jane?
- Mmm?

Can you?

Thank you.

I think you two
quite the prettiest sisters in England.

Mr. Fowle will be enchanted.

San Domingo is half a world away.

He'll forget me.

Impossible. Look at the memory
you're giving him tonight.

Cassie.

His heart will stop at the very sight
of you or he doesn't deserve to live.

And, yes, I'm aware of the contradiction
embodied in that sentence.

Is it?

- Jane!
- Henry!

You look wonderful.

Well, hello, John.
It's very good to see you.

- Nice to see you.
- Oh, John!

George!

Leave your brother alone.

Jane! Jane? Have you heard?
My father's nephew is staying with us.

From London.

- He is a...
- A brilliant young lawyer.

- Lucy, please.
- With a reputation.

For lateness?

Hat off, George.
Hat off, Father's ready.

- Thank you, John.
- Please.

The family is always moving
in great ways and small.

Firstly, the small.
Henry is back from Oxford with his degree,

- thank goodness.
- Well done.

And our friend John, my new student.
Then the great.

Cassandra, who is forsaking us for her
brother Edward and his family at the coast

whilst Robert voyages to the West Indies
with Lord Craven's expedition.

And then, together, they can embark on that
most great and most serious journey of life.

Miss Austen, I understand
you will be favouring us with a reading?

- Do, Jane.
- Do.

- Oh, please, Miss Jane.
- Oh, yes, Jane, do.

Please, Jane.

"Advice from a young lady on the engagement
of her beloved sister Cassandra"

"to a Fowle."

"His addresses were offered in a manner
violent enough to be flattering."

"The boundaries of propriety were
vigorously assaulted, as was only right,"

"but not quite breached,
as was also right."

"Nevertheless, she was..."

And may I introduce my young nephew
Mr. Thomas Lefroy?

Oh.

And he's more than welcome.
Join us, sir, join us.

Green velvet coat. Vastly fashionable.

You'll find this vastly amusing.

"His addresses were..."

"The boundaries of propriety
were vigorously assaulted,"

"as was only right, but not quite breached,
as was also right."

"Nevertheless, she was not pleased."

"Her taste was refined, her sentiments noble,
her person lovely, her figure elegant."

Good God, there's writing
on both sides of those pages.

Shh. Damn it, man.

"'It was only yesterday I repelled
Lord Graham and his six million,"

"'which would have lasted me
almost a twelvemonth,"

"'with economies... '"

"'... a treasure"

"'greater than all the jewels in India,
an adoring heart. '"

God!

"'And pray, madam,
what am I to expect in return? '"

"'Expect? Well, you may expect
to have me pleased from time to time. '"

Is this who I am?

"And a sweet, gentle, pleading, innocent,"

"delicate, sympathetic, loyal,
untutored, adoring female heart."

The end.

- Bravo, Jane.
- Well done, Jane.

Bravo.

Well done.

She speaks so well.

Well, excessively charming, I thought.

Well, accomplished enough, perhaps,

but a metropolitan mind may be less susceptible
to extended, juvenile self-regard.

Well, thank you.
We're both very proud.

* In airy dreams

*... absent love to see

* Dear you, oh, to think

* On thee *

Careful there, old fellow.

Fine piece, Mr. Lefroy.

Handled a gun before, have you, Tom?

- Mmm.
- Tom!

Jesus!

- Tom.
- Uncle?

Why not try a walk?

There's some very fine country round about.
Very fine.

A walk.

Miss!

Miss! Miss!

Miss! Miss, I...

Miss?

Miss?

- Miss...
- Austen.

Mr. Lefroy.

Yes, I know, but I am alone.

- Except for me.
- Exactly.

Oh, come!

What rules of conduct apply
in this rural situation?

We have been introduced, have we not?

What value is there in an introduction
when you cannot even remember my name?

Indeed, can barely stay
awake in my presence.

Madam.

These scruples must seem very provincial
to a gentleman with such elevated airs,

but I do not devise these rules.
I am merely obliged to obey them.

I have been told
there is much to see upon a walk

but all I've detected so far is a general
tendency to green above and brown below.

Yes, well, others have detected more.
It is celebrated.

- There's even a book about Selborne Wood.
- Oh.

A novel, perhaps?

Novels?

Being poor, insipid things, read by mere women,
even, God forbid, written by mere women?

I see, we're talking of your reading.

As if the writing of women did not display
the greatest powers of mind,

knowledge of human nature,
the liveliest effusions of wit and humour

and the best-chosen language imaginable?

- Was I deficient in rapture?
- In consciousness.

It was...

It was accomplished.

It was ironic.

- And you're sure I've not offended you?
- Not at all.

My lords, ladies and gentlemen,
the Grand Vizier's Flight.

- May I have the honour?
- How kind, cousin.

- Miss Austen.
- Mr. Wisley.

May I have the pleasure of this next dance?

- Oh, no, we're so late.
- Take care.

Oh, thank you, Tom.

- Hurry.
- Lucy.

Oh!

I am mortified.

I practised, but it won't stick.

What a lovely pair they make.

Ah, Sister.

- What do you make of Mr. Lefroy?
- We're honoured by his presence.

You think?

He does, with his preening, prancing,
Irish-cum-Bond-Street airs.

Jane.

Well, I call it very high indeed, refusing
to dance when there are so few gentleman.

- Henry, are all your friends so disagreeable?
- Jane.

Where exactly in Ireland
does he come from, anyway?

Limerick, Miss Austen.

I would regard it as a
mark of extreme favour

if you would stoop
to honour me with this next dance.

Being the first to dance with me, madam,
I feel it only fair to inform you

that you carry the standard
for Hampshire hospitality.

Ah, then your country reputation
depends on my report.

This, by the way, is called a country
dance, after the French, contredanse.

Not because it is exhibited
at an uncouth rural assembly

with glutinous pies,

execrable Madeira

and truly anarchic dancing.

You judge the company severely, madam.

- I was describing what you'd be thinking.
- Allow me to think for myself.

Gives me leave to do the same, sir,
and come to a different conclusion.

- Will you give so much to a woman?
- It must depend on the woman

and what she thinks of me.

But you are above being pleased.

And I think that you, miss, what was it?

- Austen. Mr...?
- Lefroy.

I think that you, Miss Austen,
consider yourself a cut above the company.

Me?

You, ma'am,

secretly.

How many times did you stand up
with that gentleman, Jane?

- Was it twice?
- Twice would have been partial.

- Thrice would have been absolutely...
- Flagrant.

Careful, Jane, Lucy is right.
Mr. Lefroy does have a reputation.

Presumably as the most disagreeable...

"... insolent, arrogant, impudent,"

"insufferable, impertinent of men. "

Too many adjectives.

What is she trying to say?

On your toes, gentlemen. No singles.

Bowler's end, bowler's end.

- Again!
- Run for more.

I never feel more French
than when I watch cricket.

- Out.
- Not out.

- No?
- No.

Is he out?

I begin to suspect
you're flirting with my brother, cousin.

Flirting is a woman's trade.
One must keep in practice.

You're gone.

Well played, Tom.

We're depending on you.

Oh, it's Mr. Warren's... turn.

Best of luck!

John Warren!

Good luck, Mr. Warren.

John never was very good, though.

Easy!

Run, Warren, run!

- Quickly, hurry!
- Run!

Jolly good show!

Watch.

- You're out.
- Yah!

- You're gone, Mr. Warren.
- Oh, dear.

Prodigious, Tom, prodigious.

Thank you, Warren. On your way.

Same again, Tom.

- Well done, Mr. Warren.
- Bad ball. It's a terrible wicket.

I hope you're not too
disappointed, Miss Austen.

Four more to win, Wisley.

- Who's next?
- Come on!

- She can't...
- Jane!

What on earth are you going to do?

- Irrepressible.
- She can.

Move in!

Go easy, Tom.

Be gentle, Lefroy!

Run, Jane, run!

- Move!
- Run!

Only four more to win.

Bowler's end! Move yourself, you lout!

- One more!
- Quickly!

Go, go, go!

Not out.

Bad luck, Lefroy.

See?

She was so good.

You've played this game before?

No choice, you see.
She was raised by brothers.

Time for a swim, I think.

Well played, Henry.

I dedicate our victory
to La Comtesse de Feuillide.

- Now, there's a decent bit of river over the hill.
- Oh, yes?

Careful!

Come on, let's go!

Wait!

- Not this time, Lefroy.
- Huh?

You think not?

Down, boy.

- Father, have you seen Tom?
- No, Lucy, I've not.

Besotted. Natural enough at 15.

Love and sense are enemies at any age.

- Mrs. Lefroy, may I explore your library?
- Of course.

Lucy would marry him tomorrow,
and what a terrible husband he would make.

I suppose you mean his reputation.
Experience can recommend a man.

- Miss Austen.
- Oh, Mr. Lefroy.

- And reading.
- Yes.

I've been looking through your book of
the wood. Mr. White's Natural History.

Oh.

- Well, how do you like it?
- I cannot get on. It is too disturbing.

- Disturbing?
- Mmm.

Take this observation.

"Swifts on a fine morning in May,
flying this way, that way,"

"sailing around at a great height
perfectly happily. Then..."

"Then one leaps onto the back of another,
grasps tightly,"

"and forgetting to fly, they both sink
down and down in a great, dying fall,"

"fathom after fathom,
until the female utters..."

Yes?

"The female utters a loud, piercing cry"

"of ecstasy."

Is this conduct commonplace
in the natural history of Hampshire?

Your ignorance is understandable
since you lack... What shall we call it?

The history?

Propriety commands me to ignorance.

Condemns you to it and your writing
to the status of female accomplishment.

If you wish to practise the art of fiction,
to be the equal of a masculine author,

experience is vital.

I see.

And what qualifies you
to offer this advice?

I know more of the world.

A great deal more, I gather.

Enough to know
that your horizons must be... widened

by an extraordinary young man.

By a very dangerous young man,

one who has, no doubt,
infected the hearts of many a young...

- Young woman with the soft corruption...
- Read this

and you will understand.

"When the philosopher heard that the
fortress of virtue had already been subdued,

"he began to give a
large scope to his desires.

"His appetite was not of that squeamish
kind which cannot feed on a dainty

- "because another..."
- "Another has tasted it. "

- He's not tasting this dainty.
- What, dear?

"... Nor had her face
much appearance of beauty."

"But her clothes being torn
from all the upper part of her body... "

"... her breasts, which were well formed
and extremely white,"

"attracted the eyes of her deliverer, and
for a few moments they stood silent... "

"... and gazing at each other. "

I have read your book.

- I have read your book and disapprove.
- Of course you do.

But of what? The scenes?
Characters? The prose?

No, all good.

- The morality?
- Flawed.

Well, of course, it is. But why?

Vice leads to difficulty, virtue to reward.
Bad characters come to bad ends.

Exactly. But in life, bad characters
often thrive. Take yourself.

And a novel must show
how the world truly is,

how characters genuinely think,
how events actually occur.

A novel should somehow reveal
the true source of our actions.

What of my hero's feelings?

Well, it seems to me, sir,
that your hero's very vigorous feelings

caused him and everyone connected with him
a great deal of trouble.

Ah, well, if the book has troubled you...

- Oh, but an orphan must know trouble.
- What sort of trouble?

All sorts of trouble.

Laverton Fair. Vastly entertaining.
Monstrous good idea, Jane.

Yes, Miss Austen, not exactly
your usual society, I'd say.

Show a little imagination, Mr. Lefroy.

Trouble here enough.

And freedom, the freedom of men.

Do not you envy it?

But I have the intense pleasure
of observing it so closely.

Ah.

Now, there's a fool,
to go to it with a professional.

- You know about this, of course.
- Of course.

Yes, a vastly fashionable
pastime in London.

Beating a man to a pulp.
What are you doing?

Mr. Lefroy, stop!

Make way!

- Stop!
- Let us see how you fare against me, sir.

Coming through.

Five shillings on the gent. Who will
take it? You, sir? That's the ticket.

Have that.

Thank you.

Go on, hit him!

Come on, Lefroy, hit him, man!

Tom, you must stop.

Come on, Lefroy!

Up, sir.

Tom!

Lucy.

- That's twice he's done that to me.
- You spend money like water.

I'm afraid it's damn low water with me.

- I'm afraid I'm short, sir.
- Take it.

How embarrassing.

Yeh!

Mr. Lefroy? Mr. Lefroy? Mr. Lefroy?

Was I deficient in propriety?

Why did you do that?

Couldn't waste
all those expensive boxing lessons.

Forgive me if I suspect
in you a sense of justice.

I am a lawyer.
Justice plays no part in the law.

Is that what you believe?

I believe it. I must.

I beg your leave.

- Her heart is stirred.
- It's a summer squall.

Mr. Lefroy will soon be gone. And
Mr. Wisley will still be waiting, I hope.

- The man's a booby.
- Oh, he will grow out of that.

And she could fix him
with very little trouble.

You could persuade her.

To sacrifice her happiness?

Jane should have not the man who offers
the best price, but the man she wants.

Oh, Mr. Austen.

Must we have this conversation
day in and day out?

We'll end up in the gutter
if we carry on like this.

Jenny! Mr. Austen!

Where are you?

So kind of you to return the call.

- Will you take a dish of tea, ma'am?
- Green tea?

- Brown, Your Ladyship.
- Then no.

Where is your youngest daughter?

She's visiting the poor, ma'am.

Jane? Jane!

At last. Lady Gresham and Mr. Wisley
have come to call. Where have you been?

Ma'am. Sir.

Well, perhaps... Perhaps the young people
would like to take a walk?

I see there's a pretty little wilderness
at the side of the house.

Excuse me.

Jane?

- What is she doing?
- Writing.

Can anything be done about it?

Miss Austen, you may know

that I have known you

for some considerable time
during my visits to Steventon.

The garden is so affecting in this season.

Indeed.

The impression you have given me...

- has always...
- The flowers particularly.

What I'm trying to say is that I...

I have a respectable
property of 2,000 a year

in addition to even greater expectations
as Lady Gresham's heir,

- to which it may be indelicate to refer.
- Oh, indelicate, yes.

It's yours. If we marry, all of it, yours.

Mr. Wisley...

Your offer is most sincere, I can see, and
gentlemanlike, and it honours me, truly.

But for all you are, and
all you offer, I...

Yes.

Sometimes affection is a shy flower
that takes time to blossom.

Lying to tradesmen,
mending, scratching, scraping.

Endlessly, endlessly making do!

I understand that our circumstances
are difficult, ma'am.

- There is no money for you.
- Surely something could be done.

What we can put by must go to your brothers.
You will have nothing, unless you marry.

Well, then, I will have nothing. For I will
not marry without affection, like my mother!

And now I have to dig my own damn potatoes!

Would you rather be a poor old maid?
Ridiculous, despised, the butt of jokes?

The legitimate sport of any village lout
with a stone and an impudent tongue?

Affection is desirable.

Money is absolutely indispensable.

I could live by my...

Your what?

- I could live by my...
- Pen?

Let's knock that notion on the head
once and for all.

What's this?

Trouble amongst my women?

Come,

take hands and there's an end.

- Where are you going? Miss!
- To feed the pigs, ma'am.

He could give you a splendid home.

- A comfortable life.
- Father.

Consider.

This is likely to be your best offer.

Wisley?

It is true, so far he has not impressed...

- A booby.
- He should grow out of that.

Nothing destroys spirit

like poverty.

I saw Queen Marie Antoinette
wear something the same at a ball once.

Am I making a show? I am, I know.

What trouble we take to make them like us
when we like them.

Henry?

- Eliza, my brother is much younger than you.
- And poorer.

He knows that I care for him sincerely.

I know that he is handsome...

And the handsome young men must have
something to live on as well as the plain.

You encourage him to take you for money?

- Men do.
- That does not make it honourable.

Well, I'm a sensible woman.

I thank God I am not, by your description.

If you were, you might have ascertained that
your Irish friend has no money, not a penny

and could not be expected
to marry without it.

Consider that at the ball tonight.

In any event, he'll be gone tomorrow back to
Bond Street where he can do no more harm.

Good evening, Miss Austen.

Yes, yes.

Miss Jane Austen.

Pleasure.

We're very honoured
to be here at your aunt's ball.

You dance with passion.

No sensible woman would demonstrate passion
if the purpose were to attract a husband.

- As opposed to a lover?
- Hmm.

Rest easy, Mr. Lefroy.

- I have no expectation on either account.
- I did not mean to offend or hurt...

Oh, no, no, of course not.
Excuse me, I'm just over warm.

Pardon me.

- Ah, Miss Austen.
- Excuse me.

This is unbearable. My father is
pressing for an early ordination,

while my own inclination is to the scarlet
of a captaincy in His Majesty's regulars.

But I do not have the
money to purchase one.

I do.

Well, that, of course is impossible.

Oh, Henry, do not disguise yourself,
not to me.

The scarlet will suit you very well.

Miss Austen? There you are.

Miss Austen, I cannot believe I am obliged
to have this conversation.

Your Ladyship?

Mr. Wisley's mother,
my own dear sister, died young.

I have no children of my own.

I hope you never come to understand
the pain of that condition.

Let us simply say my nephew's wishes
are close to my heart,

however extraordinary they may be.

Well,

your health seems robust.

You have the usual accomplishments.

Your person is agreeable.

But when a young woman such as yourself
receives the addresses

from a gentleman such as my nephew,
it is her duty to accept at once.

But what do we find?

- Independent thought?
- Exactly.

My nephew, Miss Austen,
condescends far indeed

in offering to the daughter of an obscure
and impecunious clergyman.

Impecunious? Your Ladyship is mistaken.

I am never mistaken.

Your father is in grave
financial difficulties.

But all is not lost.

He has a daughter
upon whom fortune has smiled.

Mr. Wisley is a good opportunity for Jane.

She should accept him at once.

Do not you think?

- Lucy, let us take some refreshments.
- What? Mother.

I have learned of Mr. Wisley's
marriage proposal.

My congratulations.

Is there an alternative for a well-educated
young woman of small fortune?

How can you have him?

Even with his thousands and his houses,

how can you, of all people,
dispose of yourself without affection?

How can I dispose of myself with it?

You are leaving tomorrow.

- Did I do that well?
- Very, very well.

I wanted, just once, to do it well.

I have no money, no property,

I am entirely dependent
upon that bizarre old lunatic, my uncle.

I cannot yet offer marriage.
But you must know what I feel.

Jane, I'm yours.

Gah, I'm yours. I'm yours, heart and soul.

Much good that is.

Let me decide that.

What will we do?

What we must.

"My dearest Cassandra,
my heart has wings."

"Doubts and deliberations are ended."

"Soon I shall escape the attentions of that
great lady and her scintillating nephew."

"Eliza, Henry and I will
join you at the coast,"

"but we are obliged
to break our journey in London."

"Tom has cleverly secured an invitation
to stay with his uncle, the judge."

"Let us hope
we can convince him of my eligibility."

"Please destroy this disgraceful letter"

"the moment you have recovered
from your astonishment."

"Yours affectionately,
and in haste, Jane. "

Tom! Our guests have arrived.

Decorum.

Countess.

Sir.

- Welcome...
- Madame le Comtesse.

Madame le Comtesse. Seldom, too seldom,
my house receives the presence of nobility.

And, of course, its friends. Please.

Your stay is short.
There's not a moment to lose.

My nephew has devised a plan
of metropolitan amusement.

Pleasure is, as you would say,
Madame, his forte.

Ah, is it?

Which battle was it, Tom?

Villers-en-Cauchies.

Very good. Thousands slain.
Served those Frenchies out.

Oh. Saving your presence, ma'am.

Be not afraid of abusing
the Jacobins on my account, Judge.

- They guillotined my husband.
- Oh, savages. Beasts.

- And his property?
- Confiscated.

A disaster.

Of course, by then,
much of my wealth was portable, so...

Yes, portable property
is happiness in a pocketbook.

Do I detect you in irony?

It is my considered opinion
that irony is insult with a smiling face.

Indeed.

No.

No?

No, irony is the bringing together
of contradictory truths

to make out of the contradiction a
new truth with a laugh or a smile,

and I confess that a truth
must come with one or the other,

or I account it as false and a denial
of the very nature of humanity itself.

My cousin is a writer.

- Of what?
- Jane?

Novels.

A young woman of family?

Yes, uncle, and tomorrow
we go and visit another, Mrs. Radcliffe.

She keeps herself to herself, almost a recluse,
but I know her husband through the law.

- Who?
- The authoress, Mrs. Radcliffe.

- As writing is her profession.
- Her what?

Ł500, uncle, for the last novel,
The Mysteries of Udolpho.

- And Ł800, I believe, for her next.
- The Italian.

Above Ł1,000?

The times, the times.

You live so quietly.

And yet your novels are filled
with romance, danger, terror.

Everything my life is not.

Apparently.

Of what do you wish to write?

Of the heart.

Do you know it?

Not all of it.

In time, you will.

But even if that fails,
that's what the imagination is for.

Your imagination has
brought you independence.

At a cost to myself and to my husband.

Poor William.

To have a wife who has a mind
is considered not quite proper.

To have a wife with a literary reputation
nothing short of scandalous.

But it must be possible?

- To live as both wife and author?
- Oh.

I think so.

Though never easy.

Could I really have this?

What, precisely?

You.

Me, how?

- This life with you.
- Yes.

Lefroy.

- Hush. The judge.
- The man's like a rampant dog.

He will be generous. I'm sure of it.

- You'll speak with him?
- Tomorrow, I promise.

I really must say good night.

- Good night.
- Good night.

- Miss Austen?
- Yes?

Good night.

You know, I think my mother is right.
A husband, and the sooner, the better.

Five girls of little fortune.

"... Sensibly and as warmly as a man
violently in love can be supposed to do."

"Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards
whom almost every female eye was turned."

"... partial, prejudiced, absurd."

"Watch for the first appearance
of Pemberley Woods."

"The happiness which
this reply produced..."

"It will not do. My feelings
will not be repressed. "

- Good morning, sir.
- Good morning?

- Has the world turned topsy?
- Sir?

I trust the countess is enjoying her visit?

- I gather she is, sir. I...
- Fine woman, very fine woman.

Indeed.

- I'd hoped to discuss a certain matter.
- Your allowance is beyond negotiation.

Now that you have had the opportunity to
become acquainted with Miss Austen yourself,

I am sure you will find, as I do,
that she is a remarkable young woman.

- This is an outrage!
- If you will allow me to speak, sir.

There is no need.
This letter makes it absolutely clear.

Letter?

Now I know what you
were at down in Hampshire.

- It is from Steventon.
- Is it true

that you have practiced
upon me with this chit?

I wished you to know the young lady.

I wished to introduce her
to your affections discreetly.

Aye! Blind me with the rich widow and then
insinuate that penniless little husband-hunter!

- Moderation, sir, I beg you!
- That ironical little authoress.

I wished you to know her for yourself.

I was certain her merit
would speak for her.

- Consider, sir, my happiness is in your hands.
- Happiness?

Damn it, nephew,

I had rather you were a whore-mongering
blackguard with a chance of reform

than a love-sick whelp
sunk in a bad marriage.

My uncle has refused to give his consent.

- The letter has done its work.
- Who sent it?

Lady Gresham?

Or her nephew.

They think that they can do what they like
with us, but I will not accept this.

We have no choice.

Of course we do.

I...

I depend entirely upon...

Upon your uncle.

Mmm.

And I depend on you.

So what will you do?

What I must.

I have a duty to my family, Jane.
I must think of them as well as...

Tom...

Is that... Is that all
you have to say to me?

Goodbye, Mr. Lefroy.

The sentence of this court is that you
be taken to the place whence you came

and thence to a place of execution,

and that you be there hanged by the neck
until you are dead.

May the Lord have mercy on your soul.

Next.

He has behaved so ill to you, Jane.

Perhaps soon we can
return home to Steventon.

Is there any news of Robert?

He has arrived in San Domingo at last.

Good.

Good.

Glass of wine with you, sir?

Yes.

Yes, a toast from one member
of the profession to another.

I'm sorry to have been
so disobliging in the past.

Mr. Wisley?

So, the infamous Mrs. Radcliffe.

Was she really as gothic as her novels?

Not in externals,

but her inner landscape is
quite picturesque, I suspect.

True of us all.

There's a message
for Reverend Austen.

- Message for Reverend Austen.
- Thank you.

Uncle?

What is it?

It seemed he died very soon
after landing in San Domingo.

My God, he was hardly there.

What was the disease?

Yellow fever. Lord Craven, he wrote.

He said that if he had known
he was engaged to be married,

he would never have taken him.

Jane, there's something else.

Mr. Lefroy, Tom.

What?

I would keep this from you if I could.

He's here visiting Mrs. Lefroy and I...

He is engaged.

So soon?

A letter?

No.

It's something I began in London.

It is the tale of a young woman.

Two young women.

Better than their circumstances.

So many are.

And two young gentlemen who receive

much better than their deserts
as so very many do.

Mmm.

How does the story begin?

- Badly.
- And then?

It gets worse.

With, I hope, some humour.

How does it end?

They both make triumphant, happy endings.

Brilliant marriages?

Incandescent marriages

to very rich men.

You asked me a question.

I am ready to give you an answer.
But there is one matter to be settled.

I cannot make you out, Mr. Wisley.

At times, you are

the most gentlemanlike man I know
and yet you would...

"Yet". What a sad word.

And yet, you write yourself
most tellingly to great effect.

- I'm speaking, of course, of your letter.
- What letter?

Was your aunt the
correspondent on your behalf?

What matter?

One way or another,
passion makes fools of us all.

I hope, in time,
passion may regain your better opinion.

The emotion is absurd.

When you consider
the sex to whom it is often directed,

indistinguishable from folly.

I thank you for the honour of your
proposal. I accept. Good day.

George, George.

Mr. Wisley is... He's an honourable man.

You'll always have a place with me.

Miss Austen.

Mr. Lefroy.

Sir.

I believe I must
congratulate you, Mr. Lefroy.

And you've come to visit an old friend
at such a time. How considerate.

I have come

to offer an explanation, belatedly,

for my conduct.
I cannot think how to describe it.

Tell me about your lady, Mr. Lefroy.

From where does she come?

She's from County Wexford.

Your own country. Excellent.

What was it that won her?
Your manner, smiles and pleasing address?

No, no, not at all.

No, had I really experienced that emotion, I
should, at present, detest the very sight of him.

And you are mistaken.

I'm even impartial towards
the gloriously endowed Miss Wexford...

I cannot do this.

And so you would marry Wisley?

Please?

If there is a shred of truth
or justice inside of you,

- you cannot marry him.
- Oh no, Mr. Lefroy.

Justice, by your own admission,
you know little of, truth even less.

Jane, I have tried.
I have tried and I cannot live this lie.

Can you?

Jane, can you?

What value will there be in life
if we are not together?

Run away with me.

An elopement?

That is exactly what I propose.

We'll post to London,
by Friday be in Scotland, and man and wife.

- Leave everything?
- Everything.

It is the only way we can be together.

You'll lose everything.

Family, place. For what?

A lifetime of drudgery on a pittance?

A child every year
and no means to lighten the load?

- How will you write, Jane?
- I do not know.

But happiness is within my grasp
and I cannot help myself.

There is no sense in this.

If you could have your
Robert back, even like this,

would you do it?

Please conceal my departure
as long as possible.

Wait.

Here.

Take these. Now go, quickly.

Come. If we hurry,
we can still make the morning coach.

You are sure?

Be careful.

- Is it coming?
- Not yet.

Take my hand. All right?

Hurry. I can hear it approaching.

Here it is.

Whoa.

Two to London. We'll settle at first rest.

- Yes?
- Right you are, sir.

Hampshire, your home county.

It was.

Stuck. Everybody out,
ladies and gentlemen, please.

- We need to lighten the load.
- No, let me, let me.

I shall require you gentlemen to give me
a hand, put your shoulders into it.

Now, sir, if you can push on the coach
itself. Excuse me, sir. Young gentleman?

- Yes, yes.
- You on the other side, sir, thank you.

- Young gentleman, please come along.
- All right.

Mind helping us? Thank you.

Right, all together now then, sirs, please?

One, two,

and a three and push!

Come on.

"Dear Tom."

"How timely was the arrival
of the money you sent. "

One, two and three!

"It was so very much appreciated
by your father and I."

"You're so kind to share
your uncle's allowance."

"Indeed, I do not dare think
how we would survive without it. "

Well done. Thank you, sirs.

All right, ladies and gentlemen, back on
the coach as soon as you can, thank you.

We are ready.

- Worried?
- No.

- Is it the loss of your reputation?
- No.

The loss of yours.

- I do not...
- Please, sir, come along,

the coach is departing.

Come.

Changing horses.
Twenty minutes only.

House of office at the back of the inn.
All down, quick as you like.

How many brothers and sisters
do you have in Limerick, Tom?

Enough. Why?

What are the names of your
brothers and sisters?

They...

On whom do they depend?

Your reputation is destroyed.

Your profligacy is a beautiful sham.

- I can earn money.
- It will not be enough.

I will rise.

With a High Court Judge as your enemy?
And a penniless wife?

God knows how many mouths depending on you?

My sweet, sweet friend, you will
sink, and we will all sink with you.

- I will...
- Hampshire Flyer.

Hampshire Flyer's leaving in five minutes.

No! No, Jane.

I will never give you up.

- Tom...
- Don't speak or think.

Just love me. Do you love me?

Yes.

But if our love destroys your family,
it will destroy itself.

- No.
- Yes.

In a long, slow degradation
of guilt and regret and blame.

That is nonsense.

Truth.

Made from contradiction.

But it must come with a smile.

Or else I shall count it as false
and we shall have had no love at all.

Please.

Goodbye.

Typical bloody runaway. "Will I, won't I?"

Miss. Miss.

All right, off you go.

Hello?

- Where is everyone?
- Looking for you, Miss. Looking everywhere.

- Thank you, Jenny.
- Mr. Warren.

Your family tried to keep the matter
from the servants, but...

Where is that blackguard Lefroy?
My God, if Henry finds him, he'll kill him.

He won't find him.

If he does, he won't kill him.

There's no need.

What happened?

Nothing happened.

I see. I see.

Jane,

I may have less personal charm than Lefroy.

Superficial charm to some eyes.
To others, it is mere affectation, but I...

- I have no hopes.
- Hopes?

You cannot begin to imagine.

Thank you for the
great honour of your offer,

but are there no other women in Hampshire?

It was you who wrote the judge.

You must consider
how much I have always loved you.

Well?

You came back to us.

Leave it.

Mr. Austen, I must inform you
that I shall not attend service today.

- Not in the presence of this young woman.
- Indeed...

- If I must speak plainly...
- Aunt.

I believe your youngest daughter
has been on a journey.

- Her Ladyship considers travel a crime?
- Unsanctioned travel.

Furthermore, be aware that my nephew
has withdrawn his addresses

to someone without family,
fortune, importance

and fatally tainted by suspicion.

- Oh, she has family, madam.
- Indeed she has.

Importance may depend upon other matters
than Your Ladyship can conceive.

As to fortune, a young woman
might depend upon herself.

An interesting notion, Miss Austen.

Oblige me a walk along the river
to enlarge upon the topic.

Wisley?

I am sorry if my conduct
has disappointed you, Mr. Wisley.

It seems you cannot bring yourself
to marry without affection.

Or even with it.

I respect you for that
and share your opinion. Neither can I.

I'd always hoped to win your love in time,

but I am vain enough to want to be loved
for myself rather than my money.

Do we part as friends?

We do.

- So, you will live...
- By my pen. Yes.

Will all your stories have happy endings?

My characters will have,

after a little bit of trouble,

all that they desire.

The good do not always come to good ends.

It is a truth universally acknowledged.

"... That a single man
in possession of a good fortune"

"must be in want of a wife. "

"However little known the feelings
or views of such a man may be"

"on his first entering a neighbourhood,"

"this truth is so well fixed
in the minds of the surrounding families,"

"that he is considered as the rightful property
of some one or other of their daughters."

"'My dear Mr. Bennet, '
said his lady to him, one day,"

"'Have you heard
that Netherfield Park is let at last? '"

"Mr. Bennet replied that he had not."

"'But it is, ' returned she... "

Is it Miss Austen? The Miss Austen?

No, Madam. That courtesy,
according to the customs of precedence,

belongs to my elder sister.

Miss Jane Austen,
the authoress of Pride and Prejudice?

My sister wishes to remain anonymous,
but your kind regard is much appreciated.

- Thank you.
- Thank you.

Please, come through.

I shall never forgive Henry for this.

Yes, you will.
We always forgive him for everything.

Jane, an old friend.

Late as ever.

Madame le Comtesse, Miss Austen.

Mr. Lefroy.

Please allow me to introduce to you

your most avid of admirers,
my daughter, Miss Lefroy.

Miss Austen, what a pleasure to meet you.

Will you read for us this evening?

Ah, well, you see, my sister never reads.

Otherwise, how else is she
supposed to remain anonymous?

- But...
- Jane.

I will make an exception

if my new friend wishes it.

Come, sit by me.

She is lovely, Tom.

"She began now to comprehend"

"that he was exactly the man who,
in disposition and talents,"

"would most suit her."

"His understanding and temper,
though unlike her own,"

"would have answered all her wishes."

"It was an union that must have been
to the advantage of both."

"By her ease and liveliness,"

"his mind might have been softened,
his manners improved,"

"and from his judgment,
information and knowledge of the world,"

"she must have received benefit
of greater importance."

"But no such happy marriage
could now teach the admiring multitude"

"what connubial felicity really was."