Chawton, 1817

“I BEGIN TO DESPAIR of recovery,” said Jane as her brother Henry entered her bedchamber in Chawton. “And I have some instructions for you regarding my works.”

“I wish you would not speak so,” said Henry Austen. “Cassandra tells me you distress her with your talk.”

“Nonetheless,” said Jane, “I fear it is true. Else why would James be speaking of removing me to Winchester?”

“Only so that you might receive the best care for your recovery,” said Henry.

It had been more than a year since Jane had first begun to feel ill. Now, in May 1817, she was confined to her bed and had not been able to write for the past two months. While her current project, The Brothers, remained unfinished, she wished to speak with her brother about two books that were complete, though unpublished. Catherine was the current title of what had begun life as Susan, the satire on gothic novels suggested by Mr. Mansfield. It had been Jane’s intention to change the title to the one he had suggested only when she found a publisher, but the journey of the novel to publication had been rocky and was, as yet, incomplete. In 1803 the book had been sold to a London publisher who decided against its publication, but not until recently had Jane’s brother Henry, who now served her as a sort of literary agent, been able to recover the rights to it. Her other finished work was Persuasion, which she had completed the previous year.

“It is kind of you to speak of recovery, brother,” said Jane. “But I sent for you to discuss more practical matters. As you know, Catherine and Persuasion are of similar length—long enough to be novels, but shorter than those others which you have helped toward publication.”

“So I have been told, though I have not read Persuasion.”

“I have neglected you, dear brother, in not passing to you the manuscript, but I shall do so now. Cassandra will give it to you. I envision the two novels published together, perhaps in a set of four volumes.”

“I can certainly begin to look for a publisher who may undertake such a commission.”

“Do not begin your search yet, brother, for I believe my fame, though anonymous, may be enough that the publication may be more easily secured when you can present them as the final works of the author of Pride and Prejudice, to be published posthumously.”

“Sister, I do wish you would not use that word.”

“You are a man of God, brother, and I am one who loves him more than anything else in this world. I do not fear to make the journey to a further shore. Let us not deny the truth when the truth is a thing of such beauty.”

“Scolded by my own sister to the last,” said Henry, leaning to kiss her forehead. “I shall delay until the autumn my search for a publisher. By then God may have blessed us with your recovery, or he may have taken you to himself.”

“Do your best to rejoice, whichever it may be,” said Jane, smiling at her brother.

As she felt sleep beginning to overtake her, she realized she had heard those very words before, on the day when she and Mr. Mansfield had first discussed expanding her story of First Impressions into a novel.

“I do hope,” said Mr. Mansfield, “that I shall live to see your work completed.”

“Do not say such things, Mr. Mansfield,” said Jane. “You are in good health and I do not think the work will take more than a year. No doubt by next autumn we will be sitting here reading of Eliza’s encounter with Mr. Darcy at Pemberley.”

“This time next year either I shall sit here reading with you, or I shall have been called home by the God I love,” said Mr. Mansfield. “Do your best to rejoice, whichever it may be.”

“There is one more thing, brother,” said Jane as Henry turned to leave the room.

“Yes, sister?”

“Catherine is no more a title than Susan was. Let it be called Northanger Abbey.”