her privacy. These sheets were then assembled in book form, and the pages hand-sewn through at the fold. It would appear she is speaking here of her unfinished work, The Watsons, which Austen scholars believe she began sometime in 1804. The manuscript paper bears an 1803 watermark. —Editors note.
2 Cassandra was engaged in 1795 to marry the Reverend Thomas Craven Fowle, son of the Austens lifelong friends, and a protege of Lord Craven, whose naval expedition to the West Indies Fowle felt obligated to join that same year. He died of yellow fever in San Domingo in February 1797, aged 29. He left Cassandra a legacy of one thousand pounds. She never married. —Editor's note.
3 This conversation with Cassandra regarding marriage must have impressed Jane, because it eventually found its way, in amended form, into The Watsons manuscript. —Editors note.
4 Only intimates of the family were accustomed to visit before noon, while acquaintances usually paid calls before dinner. —Editors note.
5 A barouche was considered quite fancy in the first part of the nineteenth century. It had two seats facing each other, and held four people comfortably; the landau top folded back in the middle, to make it an open carriage often used for country outings. It was drawn by anywhere from two to six horses. —Editor's note.
6 Captain Fielding probably refers to the relative newness of the roads. Lyme was inaccessible to wheeled traffic until 1759, when a turnpike was built leading into the town; all land transportation prior to that date was done by pack horse. —Editors note.
7 In die presence of several members of an untitled family, it was customary to address the eldest child by the tide Miss, or Mister, with younger siblings distinguished by the tide and their first names. Thus the ordering of rank was preserved; similarly, the eldest would pass in and out of the room before die next youngest child in age, and so on to the youngest. —Editor's note.
8 Surgeons were considered common village tradesmen rather than educated professionals, such as physicians» and their wives could not be presented at Court, while physicians” wives could. —Editor's note.
7 September, cont.
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THE DRIVE WAS HARDLY A LONG ONE, FOR MR. CRAWFORD'S FOSSIL site was among the cliffs below Charmouth about two miles from Lyme, and indeed, but a stone's throw from the heights of the Grange. And so, the penalty for cowardice being the loss of such a pleasure party, I bowed to Fate and allowed Mr. Sidmouth to hand me up onto the ba-rouche's box, and waited stiff-backed while he setded himself beside me, and took up the team's reins. I had never before had the occasion to watch a gendeman drive four-in-hand, and must declare myself quite fascinated; his strong, broad fingers in their leather driving gloves seemed endowed with a particular sensibility, that read the intentions of each animal's mouth almost before it was itself aware of them. As we headed east up the long coastal road, however, the team picked up speed; and the effects of wind and motion so high upon an unprotected seat almost unnerved me. I would not allow myself the indulgence of giving way—no feminine shrieks, no pitiful hands clutching at Mr. Sidmouth's arm—but rather maintained a stoic appearance as 1 swayed beside him; and if my jaw was clenched and my fingers knotted, I pray he was too intent upon the road to spare either a thought.
“How fortunate that the weather is fine,” he said, after a time, “and yet, not too fine—not so very dry that we should have a cloud of dust before and behind. One wants a little rain at night, when one embarks upon a plan of driving.”
“Mr. Crawford is very good to think of us, and to endeavour to afford so many so much pleasure,” I said.
“Crawford is always bent upon pleasing. It is his chief fault.”
“His fault! Can goodwill and generosity ever be so considered?”
“When they lead to obligation, I believe they can,” Mr. Sidmouth replied. “Cholmondeley Crawford is a wealthy man, and may have the pleasure of doing as he likes; but some of those he entertains, cannot afford to treat him in a like manner, and the mortification of it goes unnoticed by the man himself. If the distinctions of rank have any value, it would seem that they should be preserved, if only to prevent embarrassment.”
“If this is a fault, then Mr. Crawford has chosen wisely,” I cried. “I should rather be charged with doing too much,