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No.

- No! - All is well.

- No. - You must rest now.

- You mu-- - The letters.

Isabella, you must... you must...

There are no letters, my dear.

Rest now.

No... no, no, not you.

Cassandra, this is Dinah, cooling your brow.

No. Not you. Isabella, you...

- you must hide the letters. - She's delirious.

She doesn't know what she's saying.

Where are they? You must... you must keep them hidden.

There are no letters, my dear.

Rest now.

Jane. I promised Jane.

You must... You must hide the letters...

- Shh. - You must be still.

Keep them hidden. Keep them hidden.

There is nothing to worry about.

You are safe.

- No! - Cassandra...

- No. - Cassandra.

I've got to... No.

Well, she's getting worse, Miss Isabella.

She's gonna peg on us, God forbid.

I can run and fetch Mr Lidderdale, ma'am.

No. Her fever will break soon.

Besides, I am sure Mr Lidderdale and my sister

are far too busy to be disturbed.

Go up to the big house and beg for ice.

They'll have plenty this time of year.

Dinah?

Is something the matter?

- Aah... - Cassandra...

- She's fetching water. - No!

- No! No! - Cassandra.

You must help.

We are helping you.

We are helping you.

It's all right.

It's cold.

It's cold.

It's cold. Help me.

- Help me, Isabella. - We are helping you.

I know she's ill, and I am sorry to say it,

but she's brought it on herself,

going to see Miss Beth and stirring the pot.

That's enough, Dinah.

I will hear no more.

The laudanum now.

We are here.

Cassandra, we are here.

Dinah?

No.

Mmm. Mmm.

Look at this one...

Your niece seems to have found

even more marvellous shells for her collection, Miss Austen.

Or maybe this one...

So it appears, Mr Hobday.

I'm bewildered as to how we'll transport

these multitudes back home.

Forgive me if this seems intrusive.

She is a charming child.

But I do detect

an air of melancholy,

unusual in one so young.

She lost her mother

when she was very small.

She is, I fear, still scarred by it.

Yes, the loss of a parent is a heavy burden to bear,

especially at such a young age.

Your mother told us of your own bereavement,

of which I am very sorry.

Yes, my father was an excellent man.

My mother found it exceedingly hard

to stay in the family home afterwards.

Hence our peripatetic existence.

But I do hope to return there soon.

- Where is home? - Derbyshire.

The thought of Derbyshire amuses you?

No, not at all.

My sister declares it to be a place of some perfection,

alongside Hampshire, of course, though never Shropshire.

I'm enjoying your "Susan".

I must say, dear sister,

your Mr Thorpe is the devil of a bounder.

If he is an Oxford man,

I'm grateful not to have gone there.

I dare him to come onto my ship.

We'd run him up the yardarm at once.

He'd never be on your ship.

Mr John Thorpe has neither the heart nor the head for it.

You sailors are the best of men.

And yet not once has any of your heroines

ever been blessed with a dashing sailor brother.

Oh, Frank! If the heroine was fortunate enough

to have a dashing sailor brother,

she's spoiled for any hero I could create.

No man could match him.

So this is why my sisters are still unmarried.

No man can match me.

I fear Cassy is about to betray you, brother,

with her new suitor.

Suitor? Pray tell.

Jane...

Sorry, I appear to have spoken in error.

Cassy has no suitor,

especially no suitor by the name of Henry or Hobday.

Or Henry Hobday.

Papa, please.

Or any suitor with those names, who just so happens

to be the heir to an estate in Derbyshire.

- An estate? In Derbyshire? - Papa, I beg you.

Come now, you are making your sister uncomfortable.

Besides, I have seen no evidence of any such romance.

That's because it's a deep secret

known only to the whole of Sidmouth.

Enough.

Jane's love of fiction appears to have spread

from the page into our lives.

I'm sad to report she now routinely spouts nonsense.

We can no longer believe a single word

that comes out of her mouth.

Cass?

Did you really mind Mr Hobday accompanying us today?

Very much.

It was all Frank's doing.

Of which you played no part.

None whatsoever.

Very well, I admit it.

But you cannot deny Mr Hobday is deeply enamoured of you.

As he should be.

It proves he is a man of excellent taste.

In fact, he appears to be the model of perfection,

which, if I may say, is most infuriating.

For you know, as a woman of many faults,

I abhor faultlessness in others.

You are faultless in my eyes.

You just bear me better than anyone else.

It is you who is faultless.

Which is why you deserve something better

than this wretched future of ours.

Jane, why must you always make such a drama out of nothing?

Our future is not wretched.

We still have our parents.

We have good brothers who will never neglect us.

And most importantly of all, we have each other.

Unless you find someone good enough,

and, well, even then I shall not starve.

Is that your ambition?

Not to starve?

"Here lies Cassandra Austen. She did not starve."

I have no crystal ball, Cass,

but one thing I know for certain,

we will be poor,

and we will become objects of pity.

Or worse, still... derision.

This must be my fate.

It does not have to be yours.

I love you above all,

but we do not have to live as one.

We are two... different women.

I beg you, if you are offered any means of escape,

do not refuse it.

- Isabella. - Hmm?

I want to die in my own... my own bed.

You are not dying, Cassandra.

I will not countenance it.

The letters...

Mr Lidderdale. May I help you?

Forgive me for intruding, Miss Fowle,

but I just saw your maid,

and the urgency of her demeanour

gave me cause for some concern.

There was no need.

She was merely on an errand

and I instructed her to be quick.

There is nothing more to it.

Then she was carrying out your instructions to the letter.

I am delighted to hear it.

- I understand-- - I do hope--

Please, after you.

It was only to enquire if there is still

a deal of sickness in the village.

Some, but thankfully it is on the wane now.

Good.

For I am sure my sister will be eager to return to her pupils.

I believe Beth has been assisting you, has she not?

Indeed she has.

Her presence has been most beneficial.

That does not surprise me.

She is a woman of great competence.

Indeed she is.

If you'll excuse me, I must--

Of course. But, erm...

first, may I enquire after Miss Austen?

I trust she has not suffered any ill effects

after her visit to the village?

No, none.

But I will inform her of your kind concern.

Good day.

Good day.

"Captain Wentworth

"was more obviously struck and confused by the sight of her

"than she had ever observed before.

"For the first time since their renewed acquaintance,

"she felt she was betraying

"the least sensibility of the two."

- Mr Hobday. - Miss Austen.

A beautiful day, is it not?

Yes, quite beautiful.

Forgive me if I am intruding.

- You will not forgive me? - No, you are not intruding.

Then I wonder if you might consider walking out with me?

Mmm.

I'd be delighted.

Perhaps we should sit for a moment.

- Mr Hobday. - Please, I...

I must speak, for I am unable to say a single word.

Miss Austen...

Cassy.

May I call you that?

It's true that we've only known each other for a short time,

but it has been long enough to know

that you are a woman of quite remarkable character.

Exceptional, even.

The truth is, Cassy Austen,

I have loved you since the moment

that our hands first touched.

Of your beauty

there is no doubt,

but it is your intelligence,

and your spirit, and your grace, that have done for me.

I am yours,

if you will have me.

I know I am not the most eloquent of men.

There are things I must say to you before I leave.

In case I do not return.

No.

You will come back.

- Let us not discuss this. - Cassy, we must.

If you cannot marry me,

you must feel free to marry another.

I promise you, Tom,

faithfully, here before God,

that I will never marry any other man but you.

So, did he speak?

Well?

What was your answer?

I refused him.

- Refused him? - Shh!

Mama will hear.

She cannot know of this, Jane. It is done.

Cassy, why? I... I do not understand you.

What fault could you find with Henry Hobday?

What more could you ask for?

A match like this at your time of life

is a story beyond fiction.

Please,

my dearest one,

help me understand.

I... I cannot marry him.

- I cannot marry anyone. - Why?

Because I promised Tom.

- Tom dared ask that of you? - No.

No, he begged me not to feel beholden.

Oh, then you must not feel...

I cannot go back on my word, Jane.

Miss Austen? Miss Austen?

Oh, Cassandra! Oh, thank heavens.

What on earth are you doing in here?

Let's get this on, ma'am, shall we?

- You're shivering. - No.

No, I am perfectly fine.

Look at me, back in the land of the living.

I owe you my life.

Nonsense.

You owe it only to yourself.

It would take more than a fever to undo Cassandra Austen.

Oh, Isabella, you were born to tend to the sick.

I hoped once that I might be able to do so,

but... that time has passed.

Come.

How is she today?

She is still in her room.

Are you quite sure it's safe to visit?

Quite sure, Aunt Mary. She is much improved now.

My dear...

I've been worried sick.

You have... you have no idea

of the... the torment that you have put me through.

You must feel quite awful.

Not so. I am...

I am certainly on the mend.

No, I mean for causing so much inconvenience,

at a time when the house was already at sixes and sevens.

It is a maxim of mine

that one should never fall ill while visiting.

I am proud to say that

I have never once had the misfortune to break it.

Mmm.

Of course, there was that one time in London

when I was brought down by the face-ache.

Well, I shall now take my leave of you.

You seem quite worn out from resting.

And Mrs Bunbury and I appear to have reconciled,

so she's expecting me.

Oh, one more thing.

Eliza's letters...

Am I to understand

you already have knowledge of their whereabouts?

Me? No.

But why ever would you think that?

Something you said when you were delirious.

It seemed you already had some in your possession.

No, certainly not.

If I had I would have told you.

As you say, I... I was delirious.

Hmm.

My dear Eliza,

you begged to be informed of the next stage in the saga,

so it is with a heavy heart I comply.

Once again we are left to be disappointed.

Mr Hobday himself was not the agent of this,

indeed, the reverse.

He proved himself as good as a man

as those who love Cassy could ever hope for.

Their attraction was mutual.

They were in love, Eliza, I am sure of it.

Yet Cassy refused him.

The sheer madness of it drives me to distraction.

I am no advocate of marriage for the sake of it,

but I am all for a good match,

and this could have been a splendid one.

Cassy had the offer of a comfortable future,

wealth, stability, love and respect,

but she chose insecurity.

I struggle to comprehend it.

It is beyond me.

How could you think this?

How could you write it?

Bereaved fiance, dutiful daughter, caring aunt,

these are the roles Cassy embraces.

Esteemed object of a worthy gentleman's heart?

No, that she would rather reject.

If my sister has one fault, it is a wanton appetite

to deny herself the pleasures of life.

Did you not know?

Could you not tell?

I did it, I did it for you, too?

I implore you, Eliza,

help me release Cassy

from this unspeakable vow to Tom.

Cassy, what are you doing with my letters?

Please. I've left everything just so.

Forgive me. I was only trying to help.

I'm sorry.

I've been unbearable these past few days.

Even my work does not sooth me.

It is the prospect of Mary Austen's impending visit.

Oh my dear, I implore you,

let us both escape to Kintbury at once.

Eliza will be happy to welcome us.

No, Jane. I fear I have imposed on the Fowles enough.

Then I will write to Catherine

and Alethea Bigg-Wither at Manydown.

- Must you? - Yes, I must,

or I'll not be responsible for my outrageous behaviour

towards our dear sister-in-law.

Oh, the joy of living here in Hampshire, Cassy.

It is the very king of counties.

Thank you, my dearest.

For what?

For insisting that we take this trip.

If it had been left to me we'd still be at home.

Have you ever considered the possibility

you do not always know

what's best for you, Cassandra Austen?

Do you have any notion of your privilege, my dear friends?

To have all this at your disposal is quite wondrous.

Oh, we do, Jane, we do.

We count our blessings every day

because we know it will not always be so.

We cannot forget

that one day our brother may bring a wife here,

and she's unlikely to want his sisters lurking about

getting crosser and crosser.

Catherine, you and Alethea are the least cross women I know.

But who could be cross here?

Even I seem to have lost the knack.

If I were the future Mrs Harris Bigg-Wither,

I should make room for as many sisters as possible,

and then take to the streets and petition for more.

Behold the stuff of life,

a place for proper contentment.

Oh, is that all that you require?

A mere 150-acre slice of your own rolling country?

I am a simple soul, modest in my ambitions.

This place will do me very well.

But what about our brother?

Would he suit you very well, too?

So, ladies, how are your parents faring these days?

I have not seen them out and about much.

We have just returned

from our adventures in Sidmouth with them.

- Have we not, Cass? - Yes, indeed.

Are you an admirer of the seaside, Mr Bigg-Wither?

The seaside?

Good grief, no.

That's the beauty of our neck of Hampshire.

We cannot even see it.

They say the sea is of great benefit to one's health.

Ha! Kill you as soon as look at you, Catherine.

Thankfully our parents are still quite well, thank you.

In spite of the sea.

Our mother complains constantly of several ailments,

though suffers from none.

Thankfully our father--

Has the patience of a saint.

I have often thought the rector

of a small country parish to be an enviable existence,

without the onerous responsibilities

of having too much of one's own land.

But imagine having no land to call your own, sir.

What if you lived in a city, like Bath or London,

full of smoke and noise and people?

I wager you'd be dreaming of such onerous

- responsibilities then. - Jane.

I hardly agree, madam.

Many a time my dear late lady wife

would drag me to London,

but I only ever wanted to be at home.

That is exactly how I feel about Steventon.

I wish to be nowhere else.

Yes, Miss Austen.

I am a great admirer of the seaside.

Is this place not heaven?

It is.

And you may have had a little too much wine.

You can't blame me when the wine is so good.

Besides, I may require Dutch courage

before the night is out.

What a fine instrument.

It's wasted on Catherine and me.

Play for us, Jane.

I fear I am no longer the pianist I once was.

You may regret asking me.

Nonsense. Play the Prelude.

I did warn you.

Miss Jane.

Do excuse me, but I come bearing a message.

If you'd be so kind, my son is requesting

you join him back in the dining room.

I'd be delighted.

Father, sisters, Miss Austen.

Miss Austen has consented to be my wife.

Jane Bigg-Withers!

What have you done?

Should you not be congratulating me

on the splendour of my match?

I will bless you joyfully once you have told me

that you are in love with Mr Bigg-Wither

and that you admire him above and beyond all others.

I cannot do that, nor could he with me.

But when manna falls from heaven,

it would be foolish to squander it.

Oh. That goes against all that you believe in.

It makes a mockery of everything you've ever said,

or written about love. Love, Jane, love.

It does not. I have always maintained

that love is impossible without money,

so there must be some hope that with it love can grow.

Do you truly believe that you could one day love this man?

I cannot predict, though I admit it, unlikely.

But someone has to do something to secure our futures.

He's from a good family.

Alethea and Catherine can remain here,

and we will be safe and together,

and you, my best girl, are free to marry your beloved Hobday.

I can tell you now that whatever you do

you will not make me marry Hobday.

I have refused him. It is over.

Will I be happy here, do you think?

Well, you love Manydown.

But you are to be its mistress now,

with all the duty that requires.

I'm sure

Catherine and Alethea will help to shoulder that burden,

but you will be his wife, Jane,

and there will be children, of course.

There are a lot of rooms to fill.

I shall be in-pig for the rest of my years.

You love children. You have a gift with them.

With other people's.

I will have no time to myself, for thinking, for writing.

I shall not write more than a letter again.

I shall have a husband,

a master, an overbearing master.

Harris Bigg-Wither is hardly overbearing.

More like under-bearing.

I cannot do it.

My darling, you have done it. It is already done.

No, it was a mistake, the most hideous error.

I did not know what I was thinking.

I shall tell him in the morning.

Jane!

You are quite sure you cannot go through with it?

We'll leave tomorrow.

To quote a philosopher of my acquaintance,

"I shall not starve."

I hold you in extreme regard,

but I would not be your wife.

Always... Sir Walter Scott.

I shall be lucky not to relapse here.

Why are they here again?

I do not know.

Mary, how nice to see you.

And where is Anna?

With some sharp-featured governess, no doubt.

It is most unsatisfactory.

I should run straight there

and insist they listen to my latest outpourings,

for as soon as I begin

Mary Austen will check the weather

and announce they must go.

I must confess, I do have some sympathy with her.

- Cassy! - You do not appreciate

how clever you are with words

and how easily you can make people laugh.

It is a gift, Jane.

She's been visiting us for years.

I've never noticed her discomfort.

Perhaps she...

She feels the need to shine in front of her husband.

Marriage, always an excuse for failures of character.

It is the root cause of poor behaviour.

Though you would have been the exception to that.

My own fear is the thrill of being Mrs James Austen

has quite gone to Mary Austen's head.

She has become a little bumptious with it.

Ha! Happiness in a married woman

is irksome to witness,

and yet the single lady spreads universal delight.

See?

Even Father has need of some respite.

Come, we must greet them.

So, Father, I am...

we are... keen to advance.

We most certainly are.

The fact is, Father, as I enter my 36th year,

I am keen to assume greater responsibility

and perform to the full my role as man of the church.

I hope you will agree that

my talents are more than equal to the task ahead.

Oh, my dear boy, I have no need to assure you of that.

You will make an exemplary rector to the parish.

Exemplary.

The house, Austen, remember the house.

Ah, yes, the house.

- I... that is, we... - Mmm.

...with our growing family...

We do have a child now.

You have two children.

Let us not forget Anna.

No, no, I meant to say as we now have a son.

It... it occurs to us...

to me, rather, that the house

may be growing a little too much for you both.

Less tiring, slightly smaller accommodation

might be more appropriate

to the diminishing needs of your household...

now that you only have my sisters.

That you will take over the parish

has long been the intention.

Though, the question of timing is another matter.

Perhaps I have caused some confusion

by living too long and too well.

Oh, George, my dear, please!

Thank you for raising this, James.

I have no desire to stand in your path.

That cannot be God's will.

But I must discuss this in private with your mother,

that I may be led swiftly to a judgement

that may benefit us all.

Tea, Mrs Austen?

Yes, of course. Now then...

It is done.

It is perfect.

You must send it to the publisher at once.

It is ready, Jane.

And now... we wait.

Follow me.

Put this up here.

That's it.

Just leave that at the side of the wheel, thank you.

No, that will travel with me. It is my writing.

Sir, leave that! You cannot take that.

Sorry.

We will survive this, Jane.

Promise.

There, there, my dear.

Think of this as a new chapter, as if Jane had written it.

Her stories always end well, don't they?

Walk on.

Say goodbye, Anna.

Wave.

I do not understand why Isabella keeps that girl Dinah.

She is quite simply the worst servant

I have ever had the misfortune to encounter.

Ring it again, Anna,

this time with more force, if you please.

Longer, longer, longer.

Ah.

My dear, they've even got you answering the door now.

Where is that infernal girl?

Anna! What a surprise!

- A pleasant one, I hope. - Oh! Most pleasant!

Should I just stand here, then,

waiting for you to greet me, Cassandra?

Er, forgive me, Mary,

I have not seen Anna for some time.

I am quite overwhelmed.

Yes, I suppose we can be grateful

that her last romantic interlude came to nothing,

and we are once again blessed with her presence.

Isabella will be equally as delighted to see you.

And I her.

I trust she has looked after you well, Aunt Cass.

Ah, she has been most attentive.

Anna? I'll get started upstairs.

Can I leave you with the drawing room?

Yes, Mama.

We're here to work, so I'm told.

Letters, letters...

Ah, Anna, you have made splendid progress today.

The new vicar and his wife will be most impressed

- by your labours. - Your labours, you mean.

Isabella says you've been a Godsend.

Apart from when she was at death's door.

And how is your leg today, my dear?

It does seem to give you a great deal of inconvenience.

Erm, it's strange. I mean I've always been unusually lucky

in the leg department, unlike Mrs Bunbury.

And to think I woke this morning in pleasant anticipation

of a hard day's labour.

Must we endure another reading, Isabella?

What would you rather do, Aunt Mary?

Well, perhaps we could converse.

It is not often we are all together.

May never happen again,

once Cassandra returns to Chawton.

Very well.

On what subject would you like to converse?

Cassandra's patchwork is most impressive,

do you not think?

Yes, you're so clever, Aunt Cass.

Yes, all the Austens are clever.

My husband had a formidable intellect.

My son, James Edward, has inherited it.

Yes, and let us not forget Jane.

For what is cleverness when set beside brilliance?

We are all in the shade of those who shine brightest.

My father often said

"Genius comes with a difficult temperament."

Was this true of your Jane?

Jane was a perfectionist.

She was so very demanding of herself and her work,

- but to others she was-- - Not always kind.

At least not to me.

Well, she was the very best of aunts to me.

I lived for my visits to Aunt Jane.

I would show her my own stories,

and she would take them so seriously,

as if I were a proper writer.

She was the very opposite of difficult.

Was she not, Aunt Cass?

She was indeed.

If I recall she was not so cheerful

in the years after you left Steventon.

We have arrived in Bath, Eliza.

Mary Austen's keen delight

to get her feet through the door,

propel ours out of it and rob us of all our worldly possessions,

was quite the sight to behold.

Well, I think these rooms will do us...

quite splendidly.

Yes, husband...

I believe they shall.

It is of some comfort that leaving our home

has not caused our beloved Cassy any particular distress.

Place no longer matters to Cassy,

not as it does to me.

Jane, my darling, please.

You cannot lie here like this all day every day.

You must try to bear it.

Cassy's determination that I should enjoy the delights

of the metropolis is admirable,

and the famous Bath stone does its best to glow.

But I fear I cannot be much company.

Cassy tells me I must give it time, and I will,

not least because I have no choice in the matter.

You must remember, my dear Mary,

that we all suffered a great deal

after we left Steventon,

not just Jane.

That is why it is so imperative

that Isabella finds one place that she can call home.

- Miss Austen. - Thank you.

Jane!

Jane...

Mr Crosby of London, who is the best of men,

even though we have never met him,

promises publication of your novel "Susan"

with immediate effect for the princely sum of £10.

-£10! - I am to be in print!

You are to be a published authoress.

And we are the proudest Austens who ever lived.

I shall make a start on a new novel at once.

I am determined. I will.

I am to be published!

Let us thank the Good Lord.

Oh my...

Papa?

Papa?

Papa?

My dearest daughter,

your sister, she's...

you must take the greatest care of her.

George?

Papa, I will.

George.

There are some numbers written down here.

- Yes, Miss. - Mmm-hmm.

This is excellent.

- Well done. - Beth, my dear.

Miss Austen!

I'm delighted to see you've recovered from your cold.

Children, we have a visitor.

Now we must remember our manners.

What do we say when people are kind enough to call on us?

Good day to you!

And to you.

Carry on.

So, this is where you spend your time.

Yes. I'm hardly ever at home. My days are so busy here.

My charges arrive from five in the morning.

Their mothers work at the mill and do such long days.

By the time they've all left,

I have no energy to do more than crawl through there to bed.

Oh, so you often just sleep here?

I do.

Hush, shh, shh.

Beth, as you well know, the date of Isabella's departure

from the vicarage is almost upon her.

So I am here once more to ask

for your assistance regarding her future.

Did Isabella ask you to come?

No. No, she did not,

but I cannot stand by and watch

while she suffers the insecurity of her current position.

I do not wish to appear rude, Cassandra,

but why should it concern you?

Because... since I have been here,

I have become exceedingly fond of her,

and I am mindful of the toll

the same upheaval had on my dear sister

when we had to leave our own beloved home.

And I promised your dying father that I would ensure

she came to live with either you or Mary Jane.

My father.

Even from the grave.

Poor Isabella, I...

I fear she is never to be able to make her own decisions

about her future, as I have done.

Beth, I am aware your future is settled

and I am delighted it is so.

However, I am also hopeful

that if you and Mr Lidderdale do decide to marry

that he might be generous enough to allow her to live with you.

Married?

Myself and Mr Lidderdale?

Yes.

Wherever did you get such a ridiculous notion?

I... I saw you together...

And so you concocted a story for yourself.

Oh, Cassandra,

you have the wrong sister.