Jane Actually

diseases and its attendant risk …”
    But Jane’s attempt to describe the risk of erosive esophagitis only made Mary and Melody laugh again.
    “I’m sorry, Jane,” Melody finally said after her laughter subsided. “It’s just a little weird to hear you talking about modern medicine. I keep expecting you to suggest leeches.”
    “No, I suggest Prilosec, but knowing your inherent miserly-ness, I suspect you will opt for a generic.”
    Melody paused to belch delicately before responding. “OK, you sold me. I think I’ll go get some right now.”
    “Do you not have a very able assistant named Sarah who could run such an errand?” Jane suggested. Sarah had been hired only the week before after Melody had finally convinced her ancient receptionist Lillian to retire.
    Jane’s suggestion caught Melody by surprise.
    “Oh yeah, I do.” She made to rise to walk and ask Sarah, but then thought to pick up the phone in the conference room. She paused in doubt, however, looking at the unlabelled buttons.
    “It is the second speed dial button,” Jane said. Melody gave Jane a wry look.
    “I know, I know that.” She connected with Sarah and gave her the errand.
    “Some food might also relieve your symptoms,” Jane said.
    Melody also ordered lunch for herself and Mary.
    After she hung up, she turned to Mary.
    “I’m sorry if you got the impression I was upset with your reading. You’re actually doing a great job.”
    “Oh. I just thought … really? Sometimes I don’t think you’re paying any attention to me and then you’d make those faces.”
    “No, that’s just the sour stomach. And if my mind’s elsewhere … well, it’s just the survey numbers.”
    “What survey numbers?” Jane asked.
    “I paid a polling company to see what percentage of Janeites accept you.”
    “Oh, and the results?”
    “Unchanged. About half do and half don’t.”
    “I’m sure that will change once the book’s on sale,” Mary said.
    “Does it truly matter?” Jane asked.
    “Of course it matters,” Melody answered, accompanied by a little grimace.
    “Whatever may be the opinion of me, or even of
Sanditon
, ultimately means little.”
    “Oh, I know what this is. I’ve seen it before.”
    “Seen what before?” Mary asked.
    “She’s in that ‘what have I done lately funk’ and that ‘my best work is behind me’ blues. Seriously, Jane,
Sanditon
is your best ever, and I think for the same reason that
P&P
and
S&S
are so good. You’ve been thinking about and working at it for so long that it’s perfect.
    “And as a matter of fact, that would apply to you, Mary. You’ve got Jane down perfectly and you’re right to tell me off.”
    “Oh, OK, thanks.”
    “No, I mean it. I had my doubts, but now I can’t imagine anyone else representing Jane.”
    “I must agree,” Jane said. “I cannot speak to your ability to sound like me, but I have definitely seen your confidence increase.”
    “Thank you. I guess I have gotten … I am a lot more confident. I think for the first time, I really know what it means to inhabit a role.”
    “Perhaps we have been working a little too hard, Melody.”
    Melody had been smiling and nodding during this exchange, but Jane’s last words brought her back to reality.
    “Are you serious? Our first reading is two days away. We’re going to eat our lunch, I’ll take a proton pump what’s it and then we’re going to go through it again until it’s perfect.”
    1 For whatever reason, white soup was often served at Regency assemblies—public dances that often went into the wee hours. In
Pride and Prejudice
, Charles Bingley says: “As for the ball, it is quite a settled thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough I shall send round my cards.”

Here’s a recipe from John Farley’s
London Art of Cooking
(1783):

Put a knuckle of veal into six quarts of water, with a large fowl, and a pound of lean bacon, half a pound of rice, two anchovies, a few pepper corns, a bundle of sweet herbs, two or three onions, and three or four heads of celery cut in slices. Stew them all together, till the soup be as strong as you would have it, and then strain it through a hair sieve into a clean earthen pot. Having let it stand all night, the next day take off the scum, and pour it clean off into a tossing-pan. Put in half a pound of Jordan almonds beat fine, boil it a little, and run it through a lawn [fine cloth] sieve. Then put in a pint of cream, and the yolk of an egg, and