The Jane Austen Paradox
A teacher changes one life, with surprising consequences
Whatever Sarah had been expecting that morning, this was definitely not it.
She had been finishing her annual reading of Jane Austen’s six complete novels, a treat she reserved for herself during the Christmas holidays.
Only six, what a shame she didn’t live to write more.
This term her year ten students would be studying ‘Persuasion’, Sarah’s favourite. She was looking forward to seeing which of them would be inspired by it and who would be bored. There was always a chance she could change the minds of the bored ones and that was the challenge she loved.
She spotted a man weaving his way through the crowd towards her.
“Sorry to disturb you,” he smiled, “but I’ve been wanting to talk to you for some time”.
The impatient sigh died on her lips as she took in the bright blue eyes, raven hair and designer stubble. He was certainly attractive, but she didn’t welcome the idea of being chatted up in a coffee bar when trying to read.
The chinking of coffee cups and the whoosh of the machines faded into the background as the man began to speak.
“My name is Hermes and I’m one of the universe’s little helpers. I have a favour to ask of you and I think it’s something you might find interesting.”
A slight frown creasing her brow, Sarah replied, “I think you may have mistaken me for someone else. I don’t know what you’re talking about, and you don’t know who I am.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I know all about your love of Jane Austen and when you understand what this is about you will be intrigued, I promise.”
Sarah was annoyed to find herself fascinated by this strange young man. Of course, he could be barking mad or just someone with a very original chat- up line.
“Ok,” she said, “Let’s have it. What’s the big idea? I’m warning you now, if you’re trying to sell something or just pick me up, you’ll be wasting your time.”
“I want you to try something,” he said, “then we’ll see if you’re interested in the main task.
“Think of a time when you wish you could go back and act differently, maybe give a witty comeback instead of standing there with your mouth open. Got anything?”
Rolling her eyes she said, “Only about a hundred occasions off the top of my head.”
“Ok, when you get home tonight and you’re nice and relaxed sit and think about the time you have chosen and let yourself drift back. Remember, this time you can plan to do things differently. Treat it like a meditation.”
“See you here tomorrow,” he grinned as he rose and loped out of the bar.
After consideration of this encounter, she decided that, as long as she kept her wits about her, no harm could come from trying what he suggested. Always one to encourage her students to keep an open mind, she decided to give it a go.
Sitting cross-legged on the sofa just before her usual bedtime, Sarah allowed her mind to go back to school, at the end of the day’s lessons. She was 17 years old, shy and anxious. Jennifer Murray and her cronies were marching towards her taking up the full width of the corridor as usual, barging other students out of the way.
“Well, look who we have here,” crowed Jennifer, “On her own as usual. Got a boyfriend yet you loser?”
This was Sarah’s chance. She had planned what to say to put Jennifer in her place, politely, coldly and with great sophistication. However, what came out of her mouth was, “At least I haven’t got a boyfriend like yours who’s sleeping with half the class and more besides.”
Jennifer turned white-faced to look at her friends, but they didn’t meet her eyes.
“Sarah, come back now.” Hermes’s soft voice seemed a long way away, but it brought her back with a jolt.
She looked around in bewilderment. That had felt so real. She could still remember the past as it had been, when she had stood in that corridor and almost cried. Now the new version where she had…. what exactly? She had been a complete bitch, as bad as Jennifer herself. That wasn’t the person she wanted to be.
Arriving at the coffee shop the next day she scanned the room for Hermes. He wasn’t there so she found an empty table and dumped down her laptop. So much for meditation. What good had that done her?
Hermes appeared opposite out of nowhere.
“How did it go?” he asked.
Sarah sighed.
“I probably ruined a girl’s life and although she deserved it, I don’t feel good about myself.”
“Come with me,” he said. There was no question of not obeying him. Sarah felt herself being pulled along by an invisible force.
He led her into a nearby supermarket and pointed to a young woman with two children, deep in conversation about what to have for dinner.
“That’s your bully,” said Hermes. “She dumped the lousy boyfriend, settled down to her studies and went to university. She met her husband there and is now living very happily with her little family. None of that would have happened without you.”
“So why do I remember both versions of what happened?” asked Sarah.
“You remember both because you were present at both. You controlled the second encounter. No-one else remembers the original scene because it never happened”.
“Except you,” Sarah remarked with eyebrows raised.
“Someone has to keep a grip on what’s happening,” he grinned.
They walked back to the coffee shop in silence. Sarah knew Hermes was giving her time to think about it.
She plonked her handbag on the only empty table and sat down heavily on the plastic chair.
“Ok, what’s the big plan then?” I can’t believe I’m taking this seriously, she thought. Well, I’m not, I’m just humouring him. No harm in that.
“You need to suspend your disbelief, Sarah,” Hermes advised, as if he were reading her mind.
Sarah sat up straight and flexed her shoulder muscles. Better get this over with.
“You have a great love of Jane Austen’s work,” said Hermes. “You regret that she died before she could complete more than six novels.”
Sarah nodded, thinking that you could probably guess that about anyone who taught English Lit.
“You have the chance to change what happened to her so that she survives to write more,” he continued.
“That’s impossible. You must be crazy.”
“Jane died of a form of cancer that we can now cure. We need to create a bit of a paradox to achieve this, but you can do it. As a result, many things in Jane’s life will change for the better. The universe needs this to happen.”
“If that’s the case,” Sarah snapped, “why didn’t it just happen? Why didn’t she recover on her own without my help?”
Ignoring her agitation in his maddeningly calm way, Hermes replied, “She died because she could not control the paradox that you are going to create.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small packet.
“All you need to do is put this into her tea. You will be given a letter introducing yourself as the granddaughter of her late father’s friend. She has never met the granddaughter and that lady is currently on her honeymoon in Italy, so you won’t get caught out. They don’t move in the finest circles but are genteel folk from Yorkshire so any announcement of the marriage will have gone unnoticed by the Austen family.”
“I can’t do a Yorkshire accent,” Sarah remarked, convinced she had found the flaw in his plan.
“Not to worry,” he soothed, “a general, not too posh voice like your own will be fine. Remember that the universe is on your side with this. Nothing will go wrong.”
Sarah sat back and drawled, “If this is possible why don’t I just go back and kill Hitler?”
“It’s not our job to go around killing people. The universe does not want that to happen, so you won’t be able to do it.”
Two days later Sarah was again sitting cross-legged on her sofa with a nagging voice in her head saying, “I can’t believe you’re actually going to do this.”
It was 1816. Sarah was in the village of Chawton where Jane was living with her mother and sister Cassandra in a modest but comfortable cottage. She was standing outside the church in a muslin morning dress and a pelisse, a large reticule in her gloved hand. Wearing a straw bonnet felt odd, but she told herself that it was perfectly normal, and she would stand out if she did not have the unfamiliar headgear.
It was a chilly, misty morning, probably April she thought. Despite her brief training, she was not yet expert at ‘landing’ in the exact time and place she chose. The intense quiet was disturbed only by a blackbird’s tentative beginning of a morning chorus. It was strange to think that in 200 years the same crystal melodies would still lift the human heart with the joy of greeting a new day.
When the church clock began to strike Sarah realised it was only 6 am, far too soon to go visiting Jane Austen.
She settled herself on a bench outside the church door and wondered what to do next. Her ‘morning call’ as it was termed could not correctly be made until at least 1 pm.
She thought about what she knew of the ladies she was to meet. They were the only daughters in a family of 8 children so the close bond between Jane and Cassandra was not surprising. Jane was also especially fond of her elder brother Henry, which may have explained the great love Fanny in Mansfield Park had for her brother.
Cassandra and Jane had been to boarding school and were well educated, despite the family’s modest means. They had clearly been brought up by forward thinking and considerate parents who saw more in their future than just being wives and mothers.
Sarah felt sure that Jane’s personality must be reflected in some of her outspoken heroines. Elizabeth Bennet was witty and sharp and Anne Elliot was capable and loyal. Jane herself had said that no-one but her would like Emma, the independent young lady who made so many mistakes but was in the end redeemable.
There was one thing Sarah could be certain about. Jane did not suffer fools gladly and hated hypocrisy and heartless vanity. With that in mind, she would have to be careful not to show any of those traits, or her visit would be a very short one!
After a wander around the pretty village and a study of the gravestones in the churchyard, Sarah sat down in the church porch. She pulled a copy of ‘Sense and Sensibility’ out of her reticule. It was in good condition. It had to be because the original had only been published 3 years earlier.
Deeply engrossed in the emotional turmoil of Elinor and Marianne, she did not notice the approaching footsteps crunching on the gravel.
“Good morning,” said the young curate, beaming down at her.
She jumped slightly and stood up, dropping the volume in her haste. He bent to pick it up for her, examining the title before passing it to her.
“I see you are reading the work of our own Miss Austen.” His jowls wobbled as he chuckled to himself. “Not everyone is aware of the identity of the author, but those of us who are fortunate enough to number amongst her most intimate acquaintance are well aware of her prodigious talent for little romances, so much admired by the ladies I believe.”
Sarah wondered two things. Was she supposed to talk to a man she had not been introduced to, and how could she politely escape? She should know the answer to the first, but when it was a cleric surely that made a difference? Anyway, it was up to him to observe social etiquette as well as her.
“It is a chilly morning to be sitting outside. Perhaps I could show you around our lovely church. I take it you are a visitor. I am Charles Langtry, the curate here. May I know your name, Miss….?”
Sarah remembered to give her false name, feeling slightly guilty.
“Eliza Wetherell. I am the granddaughter of a family friend of the Misses Austen. I am hoping to pay a morning call, but I have arrived too early, and they are not expecting me.”
He studied her with obvious delight in his beady little eyes, before removing his glasses to polish them.
“Well, as you have time to spare, perhaps I might take you to visit my housekeeper, Mrs Dawson. She will be happy to make your acquaintance, as any friend of Miss Austen will always be made welcome here.”
Having nothing else to do, Sarah did, to her surprise, spend a pleasant morning visiting the church and then the housekeeper. This was despite frequent interruptions from the curate pointing out the various advantages of his most comfortable accommodation. After concluding he was probably the inspiration for Mr Collins, the tiresome parson in Pride and Prejudice, she suspected the devoted friendship with Jane was almost entirely one sided.
At one o’clock Sarah tried to take her leave, exasperated to find that Charles Langtry felt it was his duty to make formal introductions to the Misses Austen. He therefore guided her to Chawton Cottage and rapped on the door on her behalf. The servant answering the door admitted him without comment. Sarah clutched her fake calling card wondering whether to present it or to let Mr Langtry do the talking. It was so much more awkward than she had anticipated. She had read widely about etiquette and customs, but things were not happening quite as she had expected.
“Miss Wetherell and Mr Langtry,” announced the maid.
“My dear Miss Jane,” gushed Mr Langtry as he strode over to take the hand of the slender lady who had been seated by the window. “May I present Miss Wetherell, who I understand to be a friend of your family…”
On and on he went, and Sarah’s attention was starting to wander. Eventually there was a lull. Something was expected of her. She smiled and gave her practised curtsy as Jane did the same. They then seated themselves on the comfortable upright chairs.
Jane was much prettier than the one portrait Sarah had seen. However, she had dark smudges under her eyes and looked pale.
“I’ve brought a letter from my grandfather,” Sarah blurted out, trying desperately to keep things on track.
Ignoring her Mr Langtry enquired, “Are we to have the pleasure of Miss Austen’s company this afternoon, or that of your most esteemed parent?”
“I regret that my sister is otherwise engaged, and my mother is away at present, but you find me completely at my leisure,” replied Jane.
Sarah got the impression that Cassandra Austen had caught sight of the curate and had made her escape from the house.
The maid brought in the tea things and Jane asked, “Will you be joining us Mr Langtry, or must you rush off to finish your sermon?”
The hint missed its mark and he replied that he had his sermon well in hand and had time to spend with such fair ladies as honoured him with their company at this moment.
Was it Sarah’s imagination or did Jane just roll her eyes? Either way, she now had to avoid two people noticing her slip medicine into Jane’s tea.
There was little opportunity to make real conversation with Jane while Mr Langtry wittered on with his patronising compliments and dull anecdotes. Eventually, however, he drew breath and Sarah jumped up with a cry and pointed out of the window. As the others turned to look, she fished in her bag, but could not lay her hand on the little packet Hermes had given her.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she said, “I quite thought I saw a…a..an eagle!”
“An eagle in Chawton,” smiled Jane, “How unusual that would have been. Tell me, Miss Wetherell, are you a keen birdwatcher?”
Sensing that the attention would no longer be focussed on him, Mr Langtry decided, finally, to take his leave. With many unctuous pronouncements of good wishes for the senior Miss Austen’s health, he allowed himself to be shown out by the maid.
Barely two minutes later, the object of his kind wishes returned to the house and greeted her sister and Sarah in a warm and friendly manner.
“I am delighted you have had the benefit of our curate’s wisdom this afternoon Miss Wetherell,” smiled Cassandra.
These two were as bad as each other, Sarah thought, smiling to herself.
Just as Sarah was wondering how to reply, the maid bustled in with apologies for interrupting, but Cook was in a quandary and would they mind having a word with her.
Both ladies left the room with promises to return without delay and Sarah took her opportunity this time to sprinkle the little sachet of powder into Jane’s tea. She could only hope that Jane would not decide to pour it into the slop bowl in favour of a fresh cup.
The peaceful silence of her nineteenth century surroundings made Sarah feel as if a noisy background hum had been switched off. It was a relief to hear only the gentle ticking of the hall clock, like the heartbeat of the house. A pale sunbeam slanted through the window making the dust motes dance and sparkle, showing up the slightly faded curtain fabric. Not affluent, thought Sarah, but comfortable.
As Hermes had promised, the universe was on her side. The ladies soon returned, and the tea was safely consumed.
The conversation, without the benefit of Mr Langtry’s contribution, was warm and amusing. Sarah remembered her cover story well and the sisters did not seem to suspect anything. She was only half attending as she waited for Hermes’s voice to recall her. An hour later she was still waiting and still chatting away with the Austens.
“I remember your grandfather quite well,” said Jane, “He used to visit our father often, with Hermes always at his side.”
“Hermes?” croaked Sara, trying to imagine this unlikely partnership.
“His little dog,” replied Jane with her kind smile, “You would have been too young to remember him.”
“Yes,” Sarah replied. “This is such a pretty cottage.”
Cassandra explained, “We have been very fortunate. Our brother, who was adopted by a family member of some means, was kind enough to let us live here. I rather think he imagined I would be looking after my dear sister, but I assure you that it is quite otherwise.”
“Nonsense,” Jane laughed, but her fond gaze at her most beloved sister told a different story. “I have been rather unwell of late, and Cassandra has pampered me in a shameless fashion. I shall become quite the lady of leisure if I am not careful.”
“No, my dear,” said Cassandra, “Our revered Prince Regent himself is a great admirer of your work and you must continue if only to please him.”
“Pleasing him,” said Jane emphatically, “is of no interest to me I can assure you. He is a self-indulgent oaf, vain and despicable. Oh dear, now it seems I must dismount from my high horse, as is always the case when he is mentioned.”
“I hear he has good literary taste however,” remarked Sarah, and both ladies laughed in agreement.
“My dear,” said Cassandra, “May we prevail upon you to take dinner with us and spend the night? We keep country hours here you know, so will be dining before too long.”
Sarah supposed that because she was a sort of relative, they had not felt inclined to hint her away after the usual twenty-minute visit. Either way, she was thoroughly enjoying herself and did not know what else to do until she was recalled, so she agreed.
Dinner was simple and delicious. She was relieved that the sisters did not change out of their day clothes and dress formally for dinner. She had had to explain away her lack of luggage by saying that she had expected to catch the mail coach for the first stage towards home whereafter she would have stayed with her aunt in Reading. Her luggage had been left there on the way down from Yorkshire.
Sarah retired to bed at 11 pm armed with a borrowed nightgown and such accessories as were deemed essential to a young lady’s comfort. Her bed was a little on the lumpy side and the room was cold so she snuggled in as best she could. She was wakened the next morning by the maid making a fire in the grate. She seemed to do all the work of the household except cooking. She placed a cup of hot chocolate beside the bed and wished Sarah a good morning.
Why am I still here? Sarah thought. Did the cure not work? Did I do something wrong?
The maid helped her to dress. I could do with this every day, Sarah thought.
Entering the cosy dining room for breakfast Sarah was pleased to see that Jane’s cheeks looked a little rosier and there was a decided twinkle in her eye.
“How are you this morning?” Sarah enquired.
“I feel better than I have done for some considerable time,” Jane replied, “You must visit us more often!”
After breakfast they spent much of the morning conversing about literature, Sarah having to be very careful not to mention anyone who was not yet born. The three ladies were enjoying a midday cup of tea when there was a loud rap on the door. Mr Langtry was shown into the room, bowing and smirking in a very conscious fashion.
“My dear ladies,” he began, “I am most sorry for the intrusion at such an inconvenient hour, but my business is of a pressing nature, indeed, some would say urgent.”
Sarah thought he didn’t look the least bit sorry but given that she appeared to be stuck here for the time being she admitted to some curiosity as to what he was up to.
“I must beg for the honour of a private audience with Miss Wetherell.”
Jane raised a sardonic eyebrow and gave a meaningful look at Cassandra whose mouth had frozen into an ‘O’ of surprise. However, Sarah realised that this man must surely be her means of returning to the 21st century. He must be one of Hermes’s mates and they could hardly converse in front of the sisters.
Feeling annoyed that Hermes had sent a complete idiot to rescue her, Sarah nevertheless smiled graciously and waited until Jane and Cassandra had left the room.
“What’s the plan?” she asked eagerly.
“You cannot have mistaken the pronounced attention I paid you yesterday,” stated Mr Langtry. “I feel emboldened to make my feelings known to you and believe that they are not unreciprocated.”
What on earth was he on about? she thought. Then the penny dropped from a great height. This scene suddenly felt horribly familiar. What the f…?
“Firstly, let me express my reasons for marrying, namely…”
“Wait!” Sarah interrupted, “If you are about to propose marriage Mr Langtry, I feel you have mistaken my friendliness for something more serious.”
How she got through that speech without an expletive Sarah would never know. Where the hell was Hermes? Was she going to be stuck here forever? A trickle of sweat ran down the back of her neck and her cheeks felt hot.
Mistaking her flush for maidenly modesty he continued, “I believe it is the fashion for young ladies initially to refuse an offer that they really mean to accept. I shall therefore return tomorrow to hear your answer and I am confident of calling myself the happiest of men. I bid you good day Miss Wetherell.” With a knowing smirk, he left.
Sarah was gaping in horror at his departing back when she noticed the two ladies’ heads peeping around the door. When they deemed it safe to enter, they sat her down, fetched a small glass of hartshorn and patted her hand as if she were an invalid. Sarah was a little concerned to see that Jane was biting her lip. Then her shoulders began to shake. Cassandra broke down first giving a most unladylike guffaw. The laughter, when it overcame them, was uncontrollable.
By the time Sarah had given them a detailed account of the interview, as if they hadn’t been listening at the door, Jane was crying with mirth. Wiping her eyes, she remarked, “I am most certainly going to include a parson in my new book.”
At that moment Sarah heard the distant voice of Hermes.
“Sarah, take your leave, it is time to come back.”
Sarah found herself back in the coffee shop. What is it with Hermes and this place she wondered. He never ordered anything. Perhaps the very public place made it harder for her to ask awkward questions. We’ll see about that, she thought.
He appeared at the table as if out of nowhere. How did he do that? Why was he so annoyingly cheerful when she wanted to be cross with him?
Leaning close to avoid shouting she hissed, “What the hell was that about? You were supposed to bring me back when I had given Jane the cure. Instead, I got stuck with that obnoxious creep and was totally humiliated.”
“You seemed to be having a good laugh to me.”
“That’s not the point,” she spluttered, “I was scared I wouldn’t get home and had no idea how I was going to survive.”
“Well, you could have married Mr Langtry I suppose,” he mused, ducking as a slap narrowly missed his ear. “Look, the reason you had to entertain Mr Langtry is that it prevented him from proposing to a local squire’s daughter who was too poor to refuse him. She went on to happily marry a neighbouring farmer, thanks to you. Sorry I didn’t warn you. I just thought while you were in the area….”
“Did I really go through all that for a few more books by Jane Austen? I mean, that’s lovely for me but it can’t be that important in the overall scheme of things!”
Hermes clicked his fingers and the volume on a nearby television was turned up.
“Breaking news. Scientists from the British Cancer Research Centre have announced that a cure for almost all types and stages of the disease has been discovered. The cure, which consists of a single dose of medication, has been tested for ten years in the utmost secrecy and is now ready to be prescribed once approved by the NHS. The drug will initially be available only via the NHS, but of course the development will be shared with the rest of the world as soon as possible.”
There were gasps from around the room and a clamour of excited conversation broke out.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Hermes, “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
They stepped out of the coffee shop and Sarah found herself looking up at a grey building standing in a pretty park. The sign over the door read “British Cancer Research Centre.”
She no longer questioned matters such as how Hermes got around with no apparent means of transport. The events of the last few days had made her suspend all disbelief.
Hermes led her through a series of corridors until they reached a door marked “Professor Gillian Jones.”
He strode in without knocking. Rude, thought Sarah, until she realised that none of the occupants in deep discussion were even aware of their presence.
“Are we invisible?” she asked, rather taken with the idea.
“We’re still in the coffee shop,” Hermes shrugged. “Now, do you see that blonde lady over there leading the meeting? That’s the scientist who discovered the cure for cancer. She is also Jane Austen’s great great however many times granddaughter.”
“But — Oh yes, I’m starting to remember the new version now!”
“Jane was 41 when you left her, and she was in the best of health. To everyone’s surprise, her own included, she married shortly after meeting you to a man she had loved and lost in her youth. They had one child, and this is the eventual result.”
“Wow,” said Sarah, not quite taking it all in. “But what was the paradox thingy we had to create? You mentioned it earlier.”
“The drug that cured Jane was the one developed by Professor Jones. You may want to think about that. You might also want to get reading the 11 further books that Jane wrote which are waiting on your bookshelf at home. After all, you are the only English teacher in the world who has not read them.”
With a gasp, Sarah jumped up from her seat in the coffee bar, grabbed her bag and left at a brisk trot.
Hermes smiled to himself. Humans had a strange list of priorities sometimes, but, once she got over the initial confusion, she should get her life back to normal. I think I’ll send her an interesting boyfriend, he decided. She could do with a bit of excitement.
