Jane Actually

1889. The full title is
Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog)
.

Chawton
Civility must be our guide
    M ary nervously peeked through an opening in the marquee to see hundreds of seated Janeites waiting to see her—or rather Jane.
    “Let me see, Mary,” Jane commanded. Mary pulled her head back and allowed her employer to view the crowd, although it then occurred to her why Jane hadn’t observed the crowd surreptitiously on her own, which question she posed.
    “I hadn’t thought about that. I suppose I am nervous.”
    “Oh great if you’re nervous, where does that leave me?” Mary asked.
    “Oh you’ll do fine. I have the utmost faith in you. I think by this point you ‘do’ me in your sleep.”
    “I do hope you’re not planning on going anywhere. That crowd looks …” She stuck her head back through the flap. “They look kind of grumpy to me.”
    “They’re English; they always look kind of grumpy,” Jane said as a joke, knowing it not to be true. Several hundred Janeites meeting on a pleasant summer day should be in festive mood. She also peeked through the opening again and had to admit they did look unsettled. She began to doubt her choice of excerpt, but it was too late to pick another.
    Mary closed the opening and stepped back just as Melody joined them.
    “Are you two excited? This is a great turnout! Well, of course it would be with you here and it’s not like they ever not have a capacity crowd, but still, it’s great!” Melody said.
    Although Mary’s terminal stripped Melody’s tone of its false bravado, it was still clear to Jane her agent was doing her best to buck their spirits.
    “It is very exciting indeed, Melody. And it is thanks to your efforts that I am here. I have never been so conscious of the thanks I owe you,” Jane said.
    That praise took Melody aback slightly, which effect Jane had intended, for she hoped to dampen her friend’s enthusiasm so that it might not increase Mary’s concern.
    “Oh, well thank you Jane,” she said, turning her head away, and saying, “But I owe you more for all the pleasure I’ve had from reading you.”
    Because she had turned her head away and the fact that emotion choked her voice, the terminal was unable to translate her words, but Jane did not need the translation. The look on Melody’s face when she turned back made it obvious what she’d said.
    Melody rubbed at her eyes and quickly became businesslike.
    “Let’s get away from the tent a little bit. I don’t want anyone spotting you just yet.”
    Melody led them to a nearby tree, the shade of which offered Mary some relief from the sun. She still wore a raincoat to conceal her identity; something she thought would stand out on such a nice July day. But several people either actually wore light raincoats or had them about their person or carried umbrellas in anticipation of a downpour, and so her imposture was effective. The raincoat concealed her summer dress, which, while not a true Regency muslin, certainly was evocative of the period with its Empire waist. It would not stand out at most summer parties, although hopefully it would help identify her as Jane’s avatar.
    Their difficulty lay in the fact that unlike the North American Jane Austen society, few of the attendees wore Regency costume and so Mary must attempt to blend in.
    Shortly another lady, a Mrs Enderby, joined them.
    “Ms Kramer please, you must keep Miss Austen from the tent. Several people have seen her looking into the marquee. She will ruin the effect. And there’s a delay while we try to find a way to increase the seating.”
    “Tell her I’m standing right here,” Jane said, annoyed at the woman’s reluctance to address her—or Mary—directly.
    “A thousand apologies, Mrs Enderby. I confess I’m nervous and wanted to assess the mood of the crowd. I have never addressed such an august gathering before.”
    Mrs Enderby turned to look at Mary, although she couldn’t quite meet her eyes. The organizer’s peremptory attitude melted and Mary recognized her awe of meeting Jane.
    “Oh, of course, I hadn’t thought … yes, it must be … but you will do well …” The elderly woman had almost addressed Jane Austen as “my dear,” reacting to the avatar’s age, until she remembered to whom she was talking. It was all rather confusing.
    “You will do well, Miss Austen,” Mrs Enderby concluded.
    “Thank you. I am sure of it, for you and the other members have already shown me such