I have been asked
many times what possessed me to take on a sequel to one
of the most beloved novels in the English language.
The true reason was that I was so swept away by the
BBC/A&E mini-series of Pride & Prejudice that I
simply could not bear to have the story end. In my
quest for more, I read and reread all of Austen's
other novels and several biographies. But it was a
book of her letters to her sister Cassandra that
really intrigued me. As I began to read other
nonfiction about the Regency era, I was struck, not
so much by what Jane Austen told us, but what she
did not. As remarkable a writer as she was, Miss
Austen wrote only of what a respectable unmarried
woman in Regency society would be privy to. Her
books end with the wedding ceremony.
For many of us, that is not the end, but the
beginning of life's story. Regrettably, in ending
P&P on the cusp of what undoubtedly would be a
marriage of unrivaled passion, she has left many of
her readers with a case of literary coitus
interruptus.
I am
not, nor do I pretend to be, a Jane Austen
expert. I began to write only to satisfy my
own longing to know what happened to Darcy &
Elizabeth. Many others have written their
own versions of the story. I wrote mine with
nothing if not a sense of fun. Readers of
the various Austen sequels seem to fall into
two categories--those who yearn to know what
Darcy might have whispered into Lizzy's ear
in their nuptial chamber and those who fall
into a swoon at the notion of such heresy.
If
you, Dear Reader, happen to fall into the
latter category, please heed this caution
before you read either of my sequels:
Hang onto your bonnet, you're
in for a bumpy ride.
