| This blog explores social attitudes in Jane Austen's time, discusses her novels, reviews forgotten 18th century novels, and throws some occasional shade at the modern academy. The introductory post is here. My "six simple questions for academics" post is here. Lately, I've been reading and reviewing lots of old novels, for reasons I'll explain later. |
CMP#176 Elfrida, or, Paternal Ambition (1786), a novel in two volumes by a Lady
Marrying for love. Bing AI Image Elfrida, or, Paternal Ambition might be a candidate for academic analysis as a female-written story which quietly subverts the patriarchy, because while the heroine displays conventional heroine behaviour, at times she and other female characters rebel against their restrictive gender roles. We also have an interesting and nuanced (for the times) portrayal of a villain. But otherwise, this story was a disappointment. It began in a sprightly, almost comic fashion, but devolved into a weird, boring melodrama with characters moving from here and there with nothing resolved. At the end of this post, I'll share my evidence for why I think Jane Austen read or at least knew about this novel.
Elfrida starts with the courtship of Elfrida's parents. Her mother Ella Cluwyd is a lovely girl who falls for the dashing, handsome, but poor Lieutenant Overbury. The lieutenant is such a dish that Ella’s two spinster aunts, who want to thwart the match, get a crush on him, and one of them actually proposes to him. This section is comic, in its quaint way.
On the eve of Ella's father’s wedding to his second wife, Lieutenant Overbury discovers a plot hatched by his valet to rob the family and kidnap the lovely Ella for the fate worse than death. Overbury foils the plot. Even this heroism does not win him the hand of Ella, especially not when a local baronet makes an offer for her...
Elfrida starts with the courtship of Elfrida's parents. Her mother Ella Cluwyd is a lovely girl who falls for the dashing, handsome, but poor Lieutenant Overbury. The lieutenant is such a dish that Ella’s two spinster aunts, who want to thwart the match, get a crush on him, and one of them actually proposes to him. This section is comic, in its quaint way.
On the eve of Ella's father’s wedding to his second wife, Lieutenant Overbury discovers a plot hatched by his valet to rob the family and kidnap the lovely Ella for the fate worse than death. Overbury foils the plot. Even this heroism does not win him the hand of Ella, especially not when a local baronet makes an offer for her...
Schoolyard love triangle. Bing AI image Teenage Love Triangle
Ella’s evil young stepmother is not pleased but incensed at the idea of Ella's match with the baronet: “the chit she had chased from her house… to become a lady, take place of her wherever they met, and carry off the richest man in the county; forbid it malice, envy, revenge, every dire passion!” So, unexpectedly, stepmom becomes an advocate for Ella running away with the lieutenant and deceives them into thinking that Mr. Cluwyd will forgive her and support them financially. He doesn’t, so Mr. and Mrs. Overbury are condemned to a life of poverty on a lieutenant’s half-pay. They raise a lovely daughter, Elfrida. That's the prologue...
Lieutenant Overbury, who was adorable in the prologue, now becomes a tyrant. He is determined that his daughter will have a better life than he was able to give his family. When one of the spinster aunts offers to adopt Elfrida, educate her, and maker her an heiress, he hands his daughter over to her, despite the tearful objections of Ella.
Elfrida is raised on the Cluwyd estate, now re-named Arcadia, and the spinster aunt insists on a co-ed education with two neighbor boys—Frederic Ellison, who is a sadistic bully, and Edmund Wilmot, the vicar’s son, who is all perfection. “The same masters attended the three children.” They study “dancing, painting, music [and] geography” together. Of course Edmund (usually called Wilmot) and Elfrida fall in love as they grow up. But Elfrida sees the walls of propriety closing in on her: “I cannot, however, Wilmot, put on all my fetters at once; my looks, my words, my actions to be fettered, it is too much; and ah! how needless, to oblige me to conceal what passes in my poor heart.”
The aunt marries Frederic the bully's widowed father, uniting the estates, and they decree that Elfrida must marry Frederic (hereafter called Ellison). Counting on two inheritances, Lieutenant Overbury agrees to dispose of his daughter this way. Elfrida shows a bit of spirit and resists for a while. She openly declares her love to WIlmot: “I have ever loved you, and will ever love you… appearances, you know, must be attended to; I feel them, and I will not hesitate to call them so many fetters, and as such I am bound by them, but my mind is free, exteriors cannot affect that, and while I have consciousness it will be all your own.” Shades of Jane Grey!
Lieutenant Overbury pressures Wilmot to go away so Elfrida can forget him. Elfrida submits and marries a man she has no respect for. “My father and mother shall have their victim of filial obedience, they shall complete their cruel kindness, they shall see the insufficiency of wealth to support such a heart as mine; for Wilmot, the advocate of all that spoke peace to the jarring passions, Wilmot, that saved, now destroys.”
Once married, she behaves impeccably as a submissive wife and becomes a martyr to rectitude.
Ella’s evil young stepmother is not pleased but incensed at the idea of Ella's match with the baronet: “the chit she had chased from her house… to become a lady, take place of her wherever they met, and carry off the richest man in the county; forbid it malice, envy, revenge, every dire passion!” So, unexpectedly, stepmom becomes an advocate for Ella running away with the lieutenant and deceives them into thinking that Mr. Cluwyd will forgive her and support them financially. He doesn’t, so Mr. and Mrs. Overbury are condemned to a life of poverty on a lieutenant’s half-pay. They raise a lovely daughter, Elfrida. That's the prologue...
Lieutenant Overbury, who was adorable in the prologue, now becomes a tyrant. He is determined that his daughter will have a better life than he was able to give his family. When one of the spinster aunts offers to adopt Elfrida, educate her, and maker her an heiress, he hands his daughter over to her, despite the tearful objections of Ella.
Elfrida is raised on the Cluwyd estate, now re-named Arcadia, and the spinster aunt insists on a co-ed education with two neighbor boys—Frederic Ellison, who is a sadistic bully, and Edmund Wilmot, the vicar’s son, who is all perfection. “The same masters attended the three children.” They study “dancing, painting, music [and] geography” together. Of course Edmund (usually called Wilmot) and Elfrida fall in love as they grow up. But Elfrida sees the walls of propriety closing in on her: “I cannot, however, Wilmot, put on all my fetters at once; my looks, my words, my actions to be fettered, it is too much; and ah! how needless, to oblige me to conceal what passes in my poor heart.”
The aunt marries Frederic the bully's widowed father, uniting the estates, and they decree that Elfrida must marry Frederic (hereafter called Ellison). Counting on two inheritances, Lieutenant Overbury agrees to dispose of his daughter this way. Elfrida shows a bit of spirit and resists for a while. She openly declares her love to WIlmot: “I have ever loved you, and will ever love you… appearances, you know, must be attended to; I feel them, and I will not hesitate to call them so many fetters, and as such I am bound by them, but my mind is free, exteriors cannot affect that, and while I have consciousness it will be all your own.” Shades of Jane Grey!
Lieutenant Overbury pressures Wilmot to go away so Elfrida can forget him. Elfrida submits and marries a man she has no respect for. “My father and mother shall have their victim of filial obedience, they shall complete their cruel kindness, they shall see the insufficiency of wealth to support such a heart as mine; for Wilmot, the advocate of all that spoke peace to the jarring passions, Wilmot, that saved, now destroys.”
Once married, she behaves impeccably as a submissive wife and becomes a martyr to rectitude.
Woman's work A miserable marriage
Anyway, Ellison, now the heir to his parent’s estate, promptly squanders and gambles away all of his patrimony. Elfrida unhesitatingly hands over her inheritance from the spinster aunt, which he also loses. Now they are penniless and she goes to live with her parents. The loyal (and garrulous) servant Hannah insists on living with them, though they can barely afford to feed her, let alone pay her. The running comic gag with her is that it takes her forever to explain something.
Lt. Overbury is of course distraught and remorseful over the utter failure of his hopes and ambitions for his daughter. She is saintly about it, and immediately sets about earning money. “Tambour, embroidery, netting, I am perfectly mistress of; and, O, insult me not so far as to call it degrading.”
Edmund Wilmot, meanwhile, is preparing to make a return trip to the East Indies, where he has already earned a little money. “the idea of [Elfrida] working for her living, as she calmly called it, made him frantic,” but she would be dishonoured if he gave her money. He discovers that Ellison has seduced a nice girl, had two children with her, then abandoned her to die penniless. He rescues the children from being taken to the workhouse, and gives Hannah funds to take care of them.
At a coffee shop in London, WIlmot (you see how he is everything everywhere all at once) overhears Ellison arguing with another man, Lord S___. Lord S____ offers to forgive Ellison’s gaming debts if he can have his way with Elfrida. That’s the one thing Ellison won’t stand for, so they duel. Wilmot intervenes, but Lord S____ is wounded. Ellison escapes to America.
Lord S____ does not give up his designs on the virtuous Elfrida and expends a lot of time and energy in his efforts to have her. He befriends the family under a false name. He invites Elfrida and Hannah to go on a day’s pleasure cruise. He waits through five weeks of unsuitable weather, and finally, they set sail.
Once on the open waters, Lord S____ makes his intentions clear, and Elfrida contemplates whether she needs “to throw herself into the sea,” but “condemn[s] herself with the utmost severity for despairing of the protection of Heaven.” Meanwhile, Hannah manages to speak to the pilot and boatswain of their little craft and promises them a rich reward from Mr. Wilmot when he returns from India, if they assist. Turns out they know Mr. Wilmot and think he's a great guy! The pilot hails a passing ship, and Elfrida is hauled aboard, between her fainting fits. “A glass of water,” she says, [feebly, no doubt] “would be a cordial for me.”
Anyway, Ellison, now the heir to his parent’s estate, promptly squanders and gambles away all of his patrimony. Elfrida unhesitatingly hands over her inheritance from the spinster aunt, which he also loses. Now they are penniless and she goes to live with her parents. The loyal (and garrulous) servant Hannah insists on living with them, though they can barely afford to feed her, let alone pay her. The running comic gag with her is that it takes her forever to explain something.
Lt. Overbury is of course distraught and remorseful over the utter failure of his hopes and ambitions for his daughter. She is saintly about it, and immediately sets about earning money. “Tambour, embroidery, netting, I am perfectly mistress of; and, O, insult me not so far as to call it degrading.”
Edmund Wilmot, meanwhile, is preparing to make a return trip to the East Indies, where he has already earned a little money. “the idea of [Elfrida] working for her living, as she calmly called it, made him frantic,” but she would be dishonoured if he gave her money. He discovers that Ellison has seduced a nice girl, had two children with her, then abandoned her to die penniless. He rescues the children from being taken to the workhouse, and gives Hannah funds to take care of them.
At a coffee shop in London, WIlmot (you see how he is everything everywhere all at once) overhears Ellison arguing with another man, Lord S___. Lord S____ offers to forgive Ellison’s gaming debts if he can have his way with Elfrida. That’s the one thing Ellison won’t stand for, so they duel. Wilmot intervenes, but Lord S____ is wounded. Ellison escapes to America.
Lord S____ does not give up his designs on the virtuous Elfrida and expends a lot of time and energy in his efforts to have her. He befriends the family under a false name. He invites Elfrida and Hannah to go on a day’s pleasure cruise. He waits through five weeks of unsuitable weather, and finally, they set sail.
Once on the open waters, Lord S____ makes his intentions clear, and Elfrida contemplates whether she needs “to throw herself into the sea,” but “condemn[s] herself with the utmost severity for despairing of the protection of Heaven.” Meanwhile, Hannah manages to speak to the pilot and boatswain of their little craft and promises them a rich reward from Mr. Wilmot when he returns from India, if they assist. Turns out they know Mr. Wilmot and think he's a great guy! The pilot hails a passing ship, and Elfrida is hauled aboard, between her fainting fits. “A glass of water,” she says, [feebly, no doubt] “would be a cordial for me.”
Happy Ever After? Bing ai image A Blessed Release
When introductions are performed, and Captain Venables learns that Elfrida is the wife of Frederic Ellison, he tells her that her husband was recently killed by “Indians” in America. The family writes to the British Army in America to double-check and the information is confirmed. Elfrida is now a widow, but out of delicacy, she will not stand for any talk of Mr. Wilmot. The Overburys warn Hannah not to “distress our Elfrida.” “A fiddlestick of distress,” [replies the garrulous Hannah] “I say distress, indeed, to be beloved by one of the most handsomest, and the most worthiest men in the world; for my part, I think your fine-lady whims are the next thing to lunacy…”
Well, of course Edmund and Elfrida get married, after much vacillation and delicacy on her side. He has enough money to purchase the Grange, the property that Ellison gambled away. They give a home to Ellison’s two illegitimate children. Good place to finish the novel?
Oddly, no.
Eight years go by. Mrs. Overbury’s father returns to Arcadia, he apologizes for allowing his second wife to alienate him from his daughter, he re-writes his will, and has a touching reunion with the Overburys and the Wilmots and their three lovely children, his great-grandchildren. Good place to finish the novel?
Not yet.
When introductions are performed, and Captain Venables learns that Elfrida is the wife of Frederic Ellison, he tells her that her husband was recently killed by “Indians” in America. The family writes to the British Army in America to double-check and the information is confirmed. Elfrida is now a widow, but out of delicacy, she will not stand for any talk of Mr. Wilmot. The Overburys warn Hannah not to “distress our Elfrida.” “A fiddlestick of distress,” [replies the garrulous Hannah] “I say distress, indeed, to be beloved by one of the most handsomest, and the most worthiest men in the world; for my part, I think your fine-lady whims are the next thing to lunacy…”
Well, of course Edmund and Elfrida get married, after much vacillation and delicacy on her side. He has enough money to purchase the Grange, the property that Ellison gambled away. They give a home to Ellison’s two illegitimate children. Good place to finish the novel?
Oddly, no.
Eight years go by. Mrs. Overbury’s father returns to Arcadia, he apologizes for allowing his second wife to alienate him from his daughter, he re-writes his will, and has a touching reunion with the Overburys and the Wilmots and their three lovely children, his great-grandchildren. Good place to finish the novel?
Not yet.
Hannah has bad news. Bing AI image Part three
Six months later, Hannah receives a letter from -- oh no, it can’t be! Yes! Ellison is still alive! He wasn’t killed by Indians, he was abducted and he lived with them for seven years!
Several pages of hysterical lamentations follow, because this means Elfrida has been living in a state of adultery. She barely takes time to say farewell to Wilmot, the children, and her parents, before she flees to hide herself in London. Hannah grabs “a bottle of hartshorn” (yes, I think she’ll be needing it, Hannah) and offers to go with her, but she’s needed to take care of the children.
The kids, no doubt traumatized, are left with their grandparents the Overburys, while everybody else scatters. Wilmot takes his broken heart to America. Ellison also goes back to America, and then Elfrida leaves London and goes to her parents, and then Wilmot and Ellison run into each other in an officer’s mess in America, fight together, and--get this--become friends, Ellison is gravely wounded by an “Indian’s” poisoned arrow-head, and Wilmot nurses him and takes care of him as they head back again to Arcadia, where Ellison takes up residence. And then Wilmot goes to London.
The best I can say for this section of the novel is that the author does portray how a person who has done bad things always tries to justify himself. He is not a moustache-twirling villain; he regrets everything that’s happened, but he still thinks he’s been hard done by. He literally forgot that he had abandoned his two children by the girl he seduced. The children were raised by Hannah and the Overburys. Instead of showing gratitude, he is bitter at Hannah, whom he blames for poisoning his children’s minds against him.
Ellison's daughter weeps when she is told it is her filial duty to attend his sick bed. “If my behavior is sinful, he must answer for it, not me, for he has frighted all tenderness for him from my heart… [she tells Hannah], if I have no great love for him; for, if he is nothing to me, pray what am I honestly to him?” And after all, Ellison's wife, Elfrida, that is, won't come near his deathbed.
Wilmot as usual is kind and forgiving: “I, nevertheless, pity him—forgive him, and charge the contraction of his vices, and the obscurity of his virtues, upon a wrong education.” Which is not to say this is all water off a duck’s back to poor Wilmot; he goes quietly insane, but recovers himself.
Six months later, Hannah receives a letter from -- oh no, it can’t be! Yes! Ellison is still alive! He wasn’t killed by Indians, he was abducted and he lived with them for seven years!
Several pages of hysterical lamentations follow, because this means Elfrida has been living in a state of adultery. She barely takes time to say farewell to Wilmot, the children, and her parents, before she flees to hide herself in London. Hannah grabs “a bottle of hartshorn” (yes, I think she’ll be needing it, Hannah) and offers to go with her, but she’s needed to take care of the children.
The kids, no doubt traumatized, are left with their grandparents the Overburys, while everybody else scatters. Wilmot takes his broken heart to America. Ellison also goes back to America, and then Elfrida leaves London and goes to her parents, and then Wilmot and Ellison run into each other in an officer’s mess in America, fight together, and--get this--become friends, Ellison is gravely wounded by an “Indian’s” poisoned arrow-head, and Wilmot nurses him and takes care of him as they head back again to Arcadia, where Ellison takes up residence. And then Wilmot goes to London.
The best I can say for this section of the novel is that the author does portray how a person who has done bad things always tries to justify himself. He is not a moustache-twirling villain; he regrets everything that’s happened, but he still thinks he’s been hard done by. He literally forgot that he had abandoned his two children by the girl he seduced. The children were raised by Hannah and the Overburys. Instead of showing gratitude, he is bitter at Hannah, whom he blames for poisoning his children’s minds against him.
Ellison's daughter weeps when she is told it is her filial duty to attend his sick bed. “If my behavior is sinful, he must answer for it, not me, for he has frighted all tenderness for him from my heart… [she tells Hannah], if I have no great love for him; for, if he is nothing to me, pray what am I honestly to him?” And after all, Ellison's wife, Elfrida, that is, won't come near his deathbed.
Wilmot as usual is kind and forgiving: “I, nevertheless, pity him—forgive him, and charge the contraction of his vices, and the obscurity of his virtues, upon a wrong education.” Which is not to say this is all water off a duck’s back to poor Wilmot; he goes quietly insane, but recovers himself.
The Pybus Family, Nathaniel Dance-Holland This time for sure
This section of the novel closes with Ellison’s death, which leaves Elfrida a widow for sure this time. Hannah’s eulogy for him goes thusly: “because he could not be happy himself, [he] took unending delight in destroying the happiness of others, but it was very good of him (she must needs acknowledge) to come and die amongst them, to prevent all doubts and demurs hereafter.”
It occasionally happens that a writer creates a character who develops a life of her own and takes over the story. This happens with the garrulous servant Hannah Jenkins. She pushes more and more to the fore in the novel, and provides a loud, insistent counterpoint to the sentimental conventions upheld by Elfrida. Hannah is having none of Elfrida’s sanctified heroism: “wanting to teach her [that is, Hannah,] sentimentals and dickorums [decorums]—and not to be joyful when she was glad, and sorrowful when she was afflicted—or angry when she was misused—or to hate her enemies, all which was against nature, law and conscience.” I was reminded of the novel Clarentine, and the wise old widow who tells Clarentine when she is being ridiculous.
Another notable thing about this section is that Elfrida becomes more and more unsympathetic because of her "principles of rectitude," which somehow provide a justification her coming and going as she pleases and abandoning all responsibility. Why is it the height of rectitude to refuse to comfort your husband while he dies, but then, after he dies, insist on a six-month mourning period before re-marrying the man you love and resuming family life with him and your young children? (Her mother persuades her to cut it down to four.)
The author describes Elfrida’s reunion with Wilmot thusly: “whilst Elfrida, by the assistance of her smelling-bottle, preserved herself from fainting,” and you’ve got to wonder if she’s being sarcastic.
All right, Elfrida is now Elfrida Wilmot for sure this time, Mr. Ellison’s two children are a beloved part of the family, the Overburys live to see this happy day, and… the end.
This section of the novel closes with Ellison’s death, which leaves Elfrida a widow for sure this time. Hannah’s eulogy for him goes thusly: “because he could not be happy himself, [he] took unending delight in destroying the happiness of others, but it was very good of him (she must needs acknowledge) to come and die amongst them, to prevent all doubts and demurs hereafter.”
It occasionally happens that a writer creates a character who develops a life of her own and takes over the story. This happens with the garrulous servant Hannah Jenkins. She pushes more and more to the fore in the novel, and provides a loud, insistent counterpoint to the sentimental conventions upheld by Elfrida. Hannah is having none of Elfrida’s sanctified heroism: “wanting to teach her [that is, Hannah,] sentimentals and dickorums [decorums]—and not to be joyful when she was glad, and sorrowful when she was afflicted—or angry when she was misused—or to hate her enemies, all which was against nature, law and conscience.” I was reminded of the novel Clarentine, and the wise old widow who tells Clarentine when she is being ridiculous.
Another notable thing about this section is that Elfrida becomes more and more unsympathetic because of her "principles of rectitude," which somehow provide a justification her coming and going as she pleases and abandoning all responsibility. Why is it the height of rectitude to refuse to comfort your husband while he dies, but then, after he dies, insist on a six-month mourning period before re-marrying the man you love and resuming family life with him and your young children? (Her mother persuades her to cut it down to four.)
The author describes Elfrida’s reunion with Wilmot thusly: “whilst Elfrida, by the assistance of her smelling-bottle, preserved herself from fainting,” and you’ve got to wonder if she’s being sarcastic.
All right, Elfrida is now Elfrida Wilmot for sure this time, Mr. Ellison’s two children are a beloved part of the family, the Overburys live to see this happy day, and… the end.
Werther, Cult of Sensibility Items of Interest:
I did wonder why I kept ploughing through the dismal third act, but I got an unexpected reward. I was not aware that one of Jane Austen’s pieces of juvenilia is a short tale called Frederic and Elfrida. It differs in plot from the novel (and of course it’s funny), but I believe that there’s a connection between this novel and Austen’s burlesque. I think we can add this novel to the list of titles that Austen read or knew about.
Austen's Frederic and Elfrida is thought to have been written when Austen was 11 years old, and it is posted online at the Republic of Pemberley. Or you can listen to Dr. Octavia Cox reading it here while reading along with the Austen's fair copy. It was published as an illustrated book from the Juvenilia Press.
Other features:
I did wonder why I kept ploughing through the dismal third act, but I got an unexpected reward. I was not aware that one of Jane Austen’s pieces of juvenilia is a short tale called Frederic and Elfrida. It differs in plot from the novel (and of course it’s funny), but I believe that there’s a connection between this novel and Austen’s burlesque. I think we can add this novel to the list of titles that Austen read or knew about.
Austen's Frederic and Elfrida is thought to have been written when Austen was 11 years old, and it is posted online at the Republic of Pemberley. Or you can listen to Dr. Octavia Cox reading it here while reading along with the Austen's fair copy. It was published as an illustrated book from the Juvenilia Press.
Other features:
- This novel has no sub-plots to speak of, no gallery of kooky characters, no auxiliary couples except for some very minor mentions of Captain Venables and his wife. Hannah marries, then actually leaves her husband to stay loyal to the Overbury/Wilmot family and he dies alone. The narrator doesn't comment on the propriety of this.
- The author inserts a little editorial in praise of George III, the queen, and his family, and wishes that the dissipated aristocracy would imitate their family virtues.
- There is also a little editorial against reading bad novels but in favor of some good authors. I'll get back to that one day to compare it with Austen's editorial in Northanger Abbey.
- I think the author gave Ellison a bout of virulent smallpox before his marriage to Elfrida as a way of explaining why he and Elfrida have no children.
- Like most noblemen in these novels, Lord S___ faces no legal consequences for attempted abduction and assault, although his character is damaged.
- The characters discuss the influential and best-selling novel The Sorrows of Young Werther, which Wilmot praises, but criticizes for its glamorization of suicide. Werther concerns a man in love with a girl engaged to someone else.
- I know this post is already too long, but another feature of this novel is that the kids have some dialogue and their dialogue is utterly unrealistic. I've yet to come across a realistic-sounding child in one of these old novels.
- In Emma, Miss Churchill meets Captain Weston and falls in love with him though he is her social inferior and he has no wealth. Their son Frank is raised by the wealthy Churchills and becomes their heir. I'm not saying Austen got the idea for this plot development from Elfrida. I'm saying there are only so many plot points in Georgian and Regency novels and before looking for deep meaning about class or gender in one of Austen's plot points, maybe check to see if dozens of other novels don't have the same plot point.
- Elfrida's coed education with two boys might be another progressive signal from the author, but on the other hand, it is presented as having a bad outcome. Another novel with feminist undertones is Ann Ryley's Fanny Fitz-York, Heiress of Tremorne.
Elfrida is "by a Lady," no-one knows who. I found one review: The New Lady's Magazine noticed what I noticed about Ellison being more than a cardboard cutout character. “The great merit of this novel is in drawing and supporting the character of Ellison, in which envy, jealousy, and a sarcastic ill-humour, are combined with some degree of generosity, and a heart not wholly insensible to gratitude… we cannot help suspecting that this picture is drawn from real life… The novel is in general, pathetic and interesting; the story and the characters are in many respects new…”
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 In my Mansfield Trilogy, a variation on Mansfield Park, Lieutenant William Price falls in love with Julia Bertram, but in addition to the difference in their station in life, he resolves not to ask Julia to face the hardships and separations of being a naval officer's wife. She is pressured to marry elsewhere. I tell their story in the second volume of the trilogy, A Marriage of Attachment. Read more about my books here. |
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