Something Persuasion-ish

Talk of Persuasion is all the rage these days. 🙂

Whereas P&P calls to mind grand estates and balls and long walks in the prettyish wildernesses of private gardens, when I think of Persuasion, I think mostly of rugged seascapes and of Bath.

A few years ago, I wrote a duet of second-chance loves stories that are stand-alones in my Mirabelle Harbor series. That book (Coming Home) contains 2 novellas — Rocket Man & Someone Like You — and it was my gift to commenters here when my most recent novel, The Secret Life of Maggie Blake,  was released in May.  The second story in particular, Someone Like You, is my modern love letter to JA’s Persuasion, and it does, in fact, include a love letter late in the story — a play on Wentworth’s own! If you’d like to read an excerpt from that novella, it can be found in this post HERE.

I also had the pleasure of analyzing Persuasion on the Save the Cat! website in 2020 and writing out a beat sheet detailing the story’s structure. For those who are interested in storytelling techniques, the beat sheet for Persuasion is HERE and the one I wrote in 2013 for the 200th anniversary of Pride & Prejudice is HERE. Enjoy!!

Last time I was in Bath it was a decade ago… (*sigh*) I had the honor of autographing According to Jane bookplates for the Jane Austen Centre and then enjoying a scrumptious tea with my husband and son at the Pump Room. I had, of course, imagined dining there long before I actually got to do it, and I was able to give the experience to Ellie Barnett, the heroine of my first novel. For those unfamiliar with the story, Ellie has the spirit of Jane Austen talking with her in the privacy of her mind, and in this scene, the two of them are having high tea in Bath. (One of them is enjoying it. One is not, LOL.)

From According to Jane:

Just a few weeks later, on August fifteenth, we celebrated my thirty-third birthday in the city of Bath, complete with high tea at the renowned Pump Room.

Rather indulgent of me, having a feast like this at a table for one, wouldn’t you say? I said to Jane, taking in the full view of the open dining area from our little corner. Curious tourists strolled along the edges of the room and peered through the windows at the legendary bathing area below.

Jane made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort then muttered something unintelligible.

What was that? I asked her. I raised my teacup in the air to toast myself and reached for a delicate chocolate petit four filled with custard. The jars of strawberry jam and clotted cream called to me from across the tiny table, and I was tempted to rush through my first treat so as to sample another.

I despise Bath, Jane said, louder this time. It is a noisy, dismal place, where purported gentlemen and ladies visit for the exercise of gossiping and gazing at strangers. My opinion of it has not improved with the centuries.

I pointed to the pyramid of sweets in front of me. But just look at these delicious—

Ellie, she said with a sigh. Do you recall the emotions you experienced during your school dances? You described them as times when gentlemen and ladies stared at each other yet did not speak. And the feast items on the table did not appeal to you either. Do you remember why?

Yeah. They were usually dried-out, awful things we ate so we had something to do with our hands.

Perhaps the desserts in my time had more flavour, she said, but our intention in consuming them was for much the same reason as yours. We relied on something else to divert our attention from the matter at hand.

The “matter” being husband- or wife-shopping?

Indeed, she said.

Okay. So you’re saying spending time in Bath left a bad taste in your mouth. I laughed at my own joke and nibbled on another teacake.

Jane ignored my attempts at lightening up the conversation. When we were living here for five years and, later, in Southampton for three, I wished only to be someplace settled. Someplace that was home. It was dreadful being on display every day and forever in transit. A short seaside holiday was a welcome change, yes. But eight years of displacement and rooming with relatives was not. I wish to depart this room and this city, Ellie. I will leave you to enjoy your desserts in the peace of your own company and shall rejoin you at a later time.

Jane? I asked, but I received no answer. She’d left. Hidden herself in the dark unconscious of my mind, just beyond my grasp.

I popped a final pastry into my mouth and sipped on the last of my tea, mindful of my solitary state. I knew I had distant relations living in the area. Maybe I should’ve done some serious genealogy work before I came…or maybe it was better I hadn’t.

Let’s face it, people never knew what weird stuff they might uncover about their families when they began to dig. Truth was, I probably didn’t want to know. But this left me, of course, with the downside of my reticence: There was no one I could really talk to here.

It was easy not to feel the sting of loneliness when Jane’s acerbic and witty observations kept me company. In her absence, awareness of the reality flooded my mind unfiltered, and I became haunted by a homesickness I tried unsuccessfully to ignore. I, too, wanted to be back home. To be settled again in the place I belonged.

My flight back to Chicago left in three days and, whether or not I’d gained greater maturity as a result of this six-week sojourn, the time had come for me to go back.

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Hope you enjoyed that little snippet! And I’d love to know: What do YOU think of first when you think of JA’s Persuasion? The love letter? The sea? Time spent in Kellynch, Lyme, or Bath? Or something else?