Page 32 of Persuading Penny
He laughed. “Actually, this is my first stop. I know. I’m doing it backwards. I had hoped to start in Steventon where she was born. I’d read all about St.Nicholas Church where her father was rector...and where she was baptized.”
“And yet you’ve ended up here where she last lived,” I said. “That is until she moved to Winchester to be closer to her doctor, but that was really in her final days.”
He nodded. “Yes. That’s where my journey started. I’m that way sometimes. I can’t seem to do things as I should. I always take the wrong way.”
Without either of us saying anything about it, we simply started walking with such ease and comfort.
“Jane initially came to Southampton to go to a boarding school when she was only seven years old,” the stranger said. “And she almost died.”
“Typhus,” I said with a nod.
“That’s right.”
“It’s hard to imagine a literary world without the works of Jane Austen. Granted, we’re blessed with so many great authors like Elizabeth Bowen, Iris Murdoch and Maria Edgeworth, one of the few authors Jane enjoyed reading. But still there is something special about Jane.”
“Indeed.”
“I hear that many of the places she lived in are no longer standing,” I said as we came to a plaque that spoke of her, yet there was a very modern structure in front of us.
“Yes,” the stranger said. “It’s a shame, really. I know she once lived at 2 Castle Square, and that’s gone, as are many of the pubs, or restaurants or what have you that she frequented. We have the second world war to thank for that.”
We walked on chatting amiably, then came to a particular building, and he stopped.
“This is good news. This one is still here.”
“The Dolphin Hotel?” I looked up at the writing on the wall then at him. “She came here?”
He nodded. “It is said that she came to celebrate her eighteenth birthday right here at this hotel...She danced the night away, as it were.” He cocked a slightly naughty brow.
I laughed. Not only was he knowledgeable but amusing as well.
“You know, not far from here there is Chawton Hampshire. A quick half hour away.”
“That’s where the home her brother, Edward, lived in is.”
He nodded. “Yes. And not only can you visit Chawton House, but also the more modest home where Jane lived with her sister. This is toward the end of her life. It’s a simple house, nothing special or ostentatious, but it is truly fascinating to see.”
“You really did your research.”
He nodded. “If you want to see it, her tiny, little writing table is in that house, almost within reach. It’s a small wobbly looking thing, and when you consider that she wrote all her books by hand, it’s even more impressive. You really ought to take the time to go have a look.”
“I will try, indeed. You’ve piqued my interest.”
“Then again, this is where she fell ill and stopped writing.”
“I’m impressed. I think I’m learning more from you than from any of the plaques along the way.”
He held his hands up, as if in surrender. “Then again, I could be mistaken about some of these facts.”
“I think you’re doing very well, very informative.”
“Like I said, I’m intrigued by the woman. If you’re interested, it’s a lovely drive out to Chawton Hampshire, as well as Winchester Cathedral, where Jane is buried.”
“She died so young,” I said, reluctant to answer his invitation. “Just barely forty...in her sister’s arms...so tragic. I can’t help but wonder how many more books she would have written had she lived to a ripe old age of eighty, or ninety or more.”
In the distance I saw Keely and Abbie reading a plaque while simultaneously hearing Bridget’s unmistakable laughter coming from the opposite direction.
“My next stop should be in Bath,” the stranger went on. “Can you believe that I am twenty-seven years old, have lived in London nearly all my life and I’ve never visited Bath. I hear it’s a lovely and quaint little town.”
