The Longbourn Quarantine by Don Jacobson - Guest Post, Excerpt and Giveaway

I’m happy to be bringing you a post from Don Jacobson today. Don has visited Babblings of a Bookworm many times and his posts are always popular. Many of his visits have been to do with his Bennet Wardrobe series, but this one is a stand-alone novella, The Longbourn Quarantine. Don has brought us a guest post and an excerpt of the novella, and Meryton Press are offering an ebook giveaway of The Longbourn Quarantine on this blog post. Let’s look at the blurb and then I’ll hand over to Don.

Book Description 

“Papa handed Mama a brace of pistols. Her tears, Mr. Darcy, her tears: yet, all she did was nod when Papa looked at us and said, ‘You know what to do if they enter the icehouse.’”

Refugees flood the roads. A feared specter has escaped London’s grimy docklands and now threatens the wealthy districts. Amongst that ragged steam is a single carriage jostling its way toward Meryton. Inside are the Darcy siblings along with Charles and Caroline Bingley. They desperately seek the safety of Netherfield Park.

For all their riches, they could not evade the epidemic’s dark hand. Bingley’s leasehold had been reduced to rubble as roving bands raped, pillaged, and burned. The only sanctuary was Longbourn where, once installed, the Darcys and Bingleys were barred from leaving by a fortnight’s quarantine.

Events converge with disease in The Longbourn Quarantine. Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy abandon old prejudices to face grief and mourning. Pride is set aside as Death hovers nearby. The couple forges ahead knowing that love unexplored is love lost: that words must be said lest they remain unspoken in the time of smallpox.

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Guest Post from Don Jacobson - 220 Meter Dash or the Marathon?

Authors are strange creatures, to be sure, but we are creatures of habit. Each of us finds a lane within which we are comfortable and tends to stay there. We become used to the forms, the ways the characters grow, and the way the plotline marinates. Changing from novel to novella or short story to novel can feel like clothing that simply does not fit: the pants are too tight or the coat is too loose.

My writing journey in 2019-20 reminds me of a passenger faced with a cruise ship (when will those ever again occur?) buffet. So many tasty choices, but each with their pluses and minuses.

This past year has seen me stepping from a 151,000-word serial novel to a 12,000-word short story and then from that most concise of disciplines to a 120,000-word self-contained novel. But, wait, there is more! The keyboard had barely stopped smoking from In Plain Sight when the world tilted on its axis. As part of my drive to process what was happening, my thoughts again began shaping themselves into a story. The result was the 38,000-word Longbourn Quarantine.

The difference in length between a novella (generally seen to be anywhere between 25,000-words…where the novelette ends…and 60,000-words) and a novel is more than the Dickensian wordcount. An author is still required to build a story populated with interesting characters that move them through a plot with a beginning, a middle, and an end. However, the length restriction of a novella (I would suggest that anything over 45,000-ish words qualifies as a short novel and leaves me wondering if there was no more to say…or not enough had been said.) places a burden on the author. Should character development be sacrificed or must plot suffer? This is a difficult and very fine line for any creator of fiction.

Those who write #Austenesque novellas can lean on established character developments; Jane Austen went before us peppering the Hertfordshire landscape with compelling and rich main characters. That, though, is not the only source we have of characterizations to employ. Consider that several thousand #Austenesque variations have been published since 2009. Readers now have a very clear picture of all of Pride & Prejudice’s secondary characters. Authors can use that understanding to offer a plot-rich story based upon notions that have been emphasized for years.

While I might have picked any of the personages at Longbourn to explore here, I commend Sir William Lucas to you. I understood the knight to be a rotund man-of-the-people sort. His overly dramatic flair was seen at the Meryton Assembly in Canon. Since then, Sir William has been portrayed hundreds of times not only providing comic relief (I am a fan of that…recall Richard Fitzwilliam’s conversations with his horse Imperator in In Plain Sight) but also bedrock: never flashy, but a man to be counted upon. Who else would find a friend in the master of Longbourn?

The Longbourn Quarantine uses both sides of that image…the foppish and the firm…the jester and the magistrate. He is the voice of authority, but that power is ridiculously cloaked.  In its way, it echoes the way the country gentry viewed the disarray of the monarchy. Yet, although they may have found the Prince Regent to be repugnant, thy did not argue his right to command. Not one soul in Longbourn’s parlor that April day (once Darcy had stoppered Miss Bingley’s protests) considered defying Sir William’s edict despite his outrageous plumage. I am indebted to the authors who refined the nature of Sir William Lucas. 

Please enjoy this excerpt from The Longbourn Quarantine. I look forward to your comments.

This excerpt ©2020 by Donald P. Jacobson. Any republication or use without the expressed written consent of the author or Meryton Press, Inc. is prohibited.

Excerpt from The Longbourn Quarantine, Chapter 3

The crowd in the parlor recoiled in surprise when an apparition in a long-beaked plague mask followed Mr. Bennet into the room. Above the goggled eyes, his head was topped with an archaic broad-brimmed hat. His form was hidden beneath a long, leather greatcoat that swept the floor, obscuring his boots. The garment did little to disguise his round figure and short stature. The guests had no idea who was concealed beneath the costume. Darcy and Bingley shared wide-eyed glances. Caroline’s lips were locked into an “O” that made her look akin to one of the fishmonger’s prize offerings. The family looked at each other, trying to guess which of their neighbors would choose to descend upon them while wearing such a ridiculous outfit.

Lydia’s raucous laughter preceded her exclamation. “Oh my Lord, is that you, Sir William? What possessed you to step out looking like you had escaped from the pages of one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s fever dreams.”

“Lydia, you forget yourself,” admonished Elizabeth. “If it is Sir William—and I have no idea who is lurking beneath those layers—you should offer him your respect befitting a man of his stature”—at this, all of her sisters groaned at her unintentional pun—“and even if it is not he, this gentleman is Papa’s guest and is worthy of your compliments.

“How have you concluded that our visitor is none other than Charlotte and Maria’s papa?”

Lydia, barely chastened, snickered back. “Because Maria and I were rifling through boxes and trunks in Lucas Lodge’s attics. We were looking for costumes for our theatricals. And, when we came upon this…this…” Her reply stumbled to a halt as another giggling paroxysm disabled her.

Darcy immediately admired the firm manner with which Elizabeth had taken her youngest sister in hand. That the correction had not been sustained redounded to Mr. and Mrs. Bennet’s discredit and not Miss Elizabeth’s.

A voice, muffled by the headgear, confirmed what the girl had sputtered. “Miss Lydia is correct. It is I, Sir William, your neighbor. I came across this ensemble when I was rummaging through my home’s storage areas trying to locate something to protect me from the miasmas that spread this fell disease as I execute my duties as a magistrate.

“Lucas Lodge is an historic home, like Longbourn, in our little town,” the former mayor expounded. “Its bones go back into the last years of the Tudors. I believe that one of the earlier owners had fled town during the Great Plague and had worn this as protection. After King James was chased off, there was no more plague—something I am sure my son, Mr. Collins, would argue is the result of our country having overthrown the Papist pretenders.

“While the children had gotten into its trunk, the clothing is none the worse for wear. A liberal application of oil put paid to any stiffness,” he concluded.

He gripped the coat’s skirts and performed a credible curtsey causing the room to dissolve into laughter.

Mr. Bennet’s voice rose above the chattering. “Peace. Please! Sir William has not ventured out from the safety of Lucas Lodge to engage in the japing high jinks which are far too common in this room. Attend him now. I think you will discover the virtue in seriously contemplating the official requirements with which he will task us all.”

Sir William clasped his gauntlets in front of his belly and began speaking, testing the composure of every person in the parlor. The words he uttered caused his beak to bob up and down. Mary, who had abandoned the pianoforte, scrunched her face, bit her cheeks, and squinted her eyes to avoid dissolving into gales of laughter. The same held for every Bennet, Bingley, and Darcy until Sir William’s message sank in.

“Meryton is in a terrible situation. The disease is burning through the shantytown by Watson’s Mill. The way those people are packed in together virtually guarantees its spread. More than seventy souls have already gone home to their maker. There are probably more, but we cannot convince anyone to enter the shacks where nobody has been seen for days.

“We have been trying to move the bodies up to a grave on the parade grounds. However, every time the wagons go through with the collectors calling, ‘Bring out your dead,’ the wains are filled before they pass halfway through the warren. And, anybody who touches those afflicted, either living or dead, comes down with the illness.”

Darcy interrupted. “Have you thought of using only those who have survived an earlier epidemic or have been vaccinated using Jenner’s method?”

Sir William pointed his beak at Darcy and, if his mask could have rendered an expression, looked dolefully at the master of Pemberley before replying. “Our community has been luckier than most, sir. We have escaped the big outbreaks since the seventies. There might be some folks who took sick and survived. However, I would have the same luck chivvying them to roll a barrow down by the mill as a Methody recruiting sergeant would have trying to get farm boys to take the King’s shilling without the help of pots of ale.

“We may be only four-and-twenty miles from town, but Meryton might as well be four-and-twenty leagues. Most folks have not heard of Mr. Jenner let alone be willing to consider sensible something as radical as giving a person one disease to prevent another.”

Caroline scoffed at Sir William’s assessment of the rural community’s reluctance to experiment with medical breakthroughs.

Mr. Bennet added, “While you may find amusement in considering our follies, Miss Bingley, Hertfordshire is slow to throw off the old ways, even those of dubious efficacy. Besides, bringing Jenner across the country would be no small expense. Most of us hereabouts, even the Cambridge-educated, have decided to place ourselves in the hands of the Good Lord. He, though, apparently has decided that forty years was long enough to spare us this plague.”

Bennet now turned to his neighbor and asked, “Well, Lucas, the town is in need. We have three gentlemen. What can we do to assist?”

Sir William had begun shaking his head before Mr. Bennet had finished speaking. His response cast a pall over the entire assembly.

“I am sorry, Bennet, but Longbourn will be forced to stay in deep reserve. Your guests have only this day arrived from town. According to Jones, who has read some proceedings from the Royal Society, we shall not know whether any of them are infected for about a fortnight.”

Mrs. Bennet squeaked, “Infected? But the Bingleys and Darcys have homes in the best areas and do not associate with the rabble who inhabit the rookeries near the Thames.”

Bingley spun out of Darcy’s grasp and rounded on the woman. For once, he did not spare her by being the lighthearted gadabout. “You know not of what you speak, Mrs. Bennet. My dear sister, Mrs. Hurst, is abed even as we speak because she is in dire straits from this monster! She and Hurst live at as good an address as any.”

“Louisa?” cried Miss Bingley. “Louisa has contracted smallpox? How could you leave our sister like this? We must go back at once. She will need me to care for her.”

Darcy restrained his agitated friend and calmly answered in his stead. “Returning to London is the one thing we cannot do, Miss Bingley. If you went to Mrs. Hurst, you would likely contract the ailment as well, and then you would do her no good. Who would tend you—Hurst? Bingley says your brother survived the scourge back in ’98. But he has his hands full with his wife.

“And, you would likely be writing Bingley’s death warrant if you dragged him into the pall. He, like you, has no immunity.”

Darcy’s pronouncement had a profound effect on Jane, who blanched at the words ‘death warrant.’ Her reaction was not lost on Elizabeth.

……..

Author Bio

Don Jacobson has written professionally for forty years.  His output has ranged from news and features to advertising, television, and radio.  His work has been nominated for Emmys and other awards.  He has previously published five books, all non-fiction.  In 2016, he began publishing The Bennet Wardrobe Series. 

Jacobson is also part of the collective effort behind the publication of the North and South anthology, Falling for Mr. Thornton: Tales of North and South, released in 2019.

Other Austenesque Variations include the paired books “Of Fortune’s Reversal” (2016) and “The Maid and The Footman” (2016). Lessers and Betters (2018) offers readers the paired novellas in one volume to allow a better appreciation of the “Upstairs-Downstairs” mentality that drives the stories.

Jacobson holds an advanced degree in History with a specialty in American Foreign Relations.  As a college instructor, Don teaches United States History, World History, the History of Western Civilization, and Research Writing. He is a member of the Austen Authors Collective and JASNA. He lives in Las Vegas, NV with his wife, Pam.

Connect with Don

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Amazon Author Page

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Buy Links

The Longbourn Quarantine is available to buy now for Kindle. It's also available in Kindle Unlimited. 

• Amazon US • Amazon UK • Amazon CA • Add to Goodreads shelf

Giveaway Time!

Meryton Press is kindly offering to give away an ebook of The Longbourn Quarantine to a commenter on this post. To enter, just leave a comment on this blog post by the end of the day worldwide on Monday 31 August. 

Note about comments: Unfortunately, due to spam comments I have had to turn on comment moderation, which means that your comment won’t appear straight away. If you have any problems adding your comment please contact me and I will add your comment for you :)

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