If you have read Georgette Heyer's Regency romance, chances are that you would have come across the name Jennifer Kloester. The definitive guide to the Regency world (Georgette Heyer Regency World) and two biographies of the popular author are both written by her. Jennifer recently branch out into penning Austen-inspired stories with the upcoming launch of Jane Austen's Ghost scheduled to be released tomorrow. It is my honour to present to you an exclusive excerpt from her debut novel along with an e-book edition to give away to one lucky participant. Details are at the bottom of this post.
'Miss.'
'Sorry?'
'Miss Jane Austen.' She stared down her elegant nose at me. 'For I am certain we have never been introduced.'
I gazed at her in disbelief. Was I really awake and being given a lesson in manners by a woman who'd been dead for over two hundred years? It seemed far more likely that I'd finally lost my grip on reality. Given my traumatic bust-up with Julian and everything that had happened since coming to Queen's Solar, it didn't seem an unreasonable conclusion.
'I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage,' continued the apparition.
'What?' Confusion pummelled my brain.
'You have the advantage of knowing my name, whereas I do not know yours.'
'Oh. It... it's Cassie — Cassandra.'
She stared at me. 'Cassandra?' she repeated in an odd voice.
'Yes. Cassandra Austin.'
The strange substance of which she was made suddenly flared into bright incandescent silver light. 'Cassandra Austen?' she cried. 'My own dear Cassandra! Here at last. Can it be true?' She whooshed eagerly across the room and gazed down at me. The silver light faded. 'But, no. You are not my beloved sister. Your eyes are blue and your hair is red and your chin is too small...' She hesitated. 'Are you perhaps a cousin I do not know? Or the scion of a more distant branch of the family?' She looked at me critically, 'But you do not have the Austen nose.' She touched a translucent fingertip to her own fine, straight nose. 'Are you indeed an Austen?'
'Me? No. At least, not that kind of Austen —' I looked at her apologetically. 'It's Austin with an "i". I'm Cassandra Austin, not Austen. I'm awfully sorry.'
But she wasn't listening. 'Not my dear Cassandra!' The silvery substance flared again. 'It is too cruel.' She sped towards the door, but it blazed violently red as soon as she drew near and she pulled back in alarm, muttering, 'I have waited and waited and still they do not come.'
'Who? Who doesn't come?'
'My family. I do not wish them untimely deaths, but surely Cassandra and my dear mother must soon join me. And what of my brothers? It is not so very long ago that Henry was unwell —'
'Henry Austen? But Henry's d — ' I stopped. This was now officially way too weird for me. Was I really about to tell Jane Austen's ghost that her brother was dead? This had to be a nightmare. Which meant there was only one thing to do.
Go back to sleep.
I was about to pull the duvet over my head and hide from this impossible reality when she shot back across the room, all bright light and eagerness. 'You know my brother!' she exclaimed. 'Oh, pray, do tell me, is he well? I think of him — indeed, I think of them all so often. How do they go on? What news of Chawton? Are mother and Cassandra and Martha Lloyd still at the cottage? Is Cassandra in health? And my brothers? What of dear Edward at Godmersham Park? By now I expect my niece Fanny is married and quite grown up.' The words tumbled out, her voice eager and light and so full of love I could hardly bear it.
'Okay, that's it. This is freaking me out. I'm going back to sleep.'
'But you have not told me about my family —'
But the question was too big. Too hard. 'Please God,' I begged, 'let this be over. Let this be a dream or a rum-punch-inspired hallucination.' I snapped out the light, dragged the duvet over my head and shut my eyes.
There was a brief silence before she said testily, 'You are very much mistaken if you think I am the consequence of an hallucination or an excess of spirits, Miss Austin. I am neither a dream nor an invention of your imagination and, unless you aid me in my return to the cathedral, I am very much afraid that I shall still be here tomorrow.'
'It's already tomorrow,' I grumbled. It's my birthday! A pang of longing hit me. Aunty B and I had been going to celebrate. Instead, I was here with a... ghost! I pushed the duvet off my face to find her floating by my bed.
She stared down at me, her brow creasing in confusion. 'Pray, will you tell me — what year is it?'
'Twenty-nineteen,' I said without thinking.
'Twenty-nineteen?' She looked puzzled. 'What do you mean?'
I sat up. How did she not know what year it was? I said gently, 'I mean it's the year two thousand and nineteen.'
She stared at me, her colour fading until she was almost completely transparent. 'I do not believe you. I cannot have been in the cathedral for... for...'
'Over two hundred years.' I nodded.
Her eyes widened in shock. 'Two hundred years. Then they are...' She stopped and I knew she'd just realised that her family were long dead. Something small and silvery rolled down her cheek, hovered like a tiny puff of incandescent mist, and vanished.
'I’m sorry.' The words were inadequate, but I meant them. I knew what it was like to feel utterly lost and alone. It must have been awful to suddenly discover your entire family was gone.
Miss Austen's ghost lifted her chin. 'It is quite all right. Indeed, I am glad to know I need wait for them no longer.' She glided across the room. 'As I now have no reason to linger, I shall return to the cathedral and inform St Swithun that I wish to pass on to the Celestial Realm.'
'Good plan.' I was relieved she'd found a solution to an impossible situation. The truth was, I still couldn't believe she was real. I mean, if this really was Jane Austen's ghost, then what was she doing in my bedroom? After two hundred years stuck inside Winchester Cathedral, why would she be here when there must be hundreds of better places for her go? It made no sense at all.'
'Thank you for your help, Miss Austin. Goodbye.' She glided forward, but the moment she touched the doorframe it flared again with that angry red light. She pulled back and the light instantly faded.
She spun round, her face anguished. 'Oh, pray, can not you assist me? I must get out.'
I climbed out of bed and hurried across the room. 'Follow me.' I stepped towards the door but as soon as I drew near red streaks of blazing light like bars on a prison cell shot across the doorway, and a strange malicious heat prickled my skin. It reminded me of the huge fireball in the cathedral. I shrank back in alarm and stared at my ghostly companion. 'It won't let me out either. We're trapped.
A masterpiece of wit, ingenuity and impeccable style, Regency maven Jennifer Kloester brings the great Jane Austen into the modern world in this enchanting, exhilarating adventure of love, literature and life everlasting...
With her life a mess, Cassandra Austin seeks refuge in Winchester with her eccentric great-aunt — but Aunty B has problems of her own.
Ghost problems.
Cassie doesn't believe in ghosts but she'll do anything to help the only person who's ever loved her. Besides, a simple spell in the cathedral crypt couldn't do any harm, could it? Well, except for the two-hundred-year-old curse on Jane Austen, that is.
Overnight, life is suddenly a whole lot weirder and it's up to Cassie to save the day with the help of a dour Bishop, two literary geniuses, a couple of wise-cracking geriatrics and the enigmatic Oliver Carling.
Magic and mystery abound in this genre-bending contemporary-historical paranormal romance with a Regency twist.
Jennifer Kloester first read Georgette Heyer's novels while living in the jungle in Papua New Guinea and re-read them while living in the desert in Bahrain. In 2004, she completed a Doctorate on Georgette Heyer and her Regency Novels. Since then she has written extensively about Heyer and the Regency and has given writing workshops and public presentations in the UK, USA, Australia and New Zealand. She is the author of Georgette Heyer's Regency World and Georgette Heyer: Biography of a Bestseller. Jennifer also writes fiction; her novel Jane Austen's Ghost is out October 29, 2019.
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Excerpt
'JANE AUSTEN.' I breathed the name and tried to absorb the impossible.'Miss.'
'Sorry?'
'Miss Jane Austen.' She stared down her elegant nose at me. 'For I am certain we have never been introduced.'
I gazed at her in disbelief. Was I really awake and being given a lesson in manners by a woman who'd been dead for over two hundred years? It seemed far more likely that I'd finally lost my grip on reality. Given my traumatic bust-up with Julian and everything that had happened since coming to Queen's Solar, it didn't seem an unreasonable conclusion.
'I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage,' continued the apparition.
'What?' Confusion pummelled my brain.
'You have the advantage of knowing my name, whereas I do not know yours.'
'Oh. It... it's Cassie — Cassandra.'
She stared at me. 'Cassandra?' she repeated in an odd voice.
'Yes. Cassandra Austin.'
The strange substance of which she was made suddenly flared into bright incandescent silver light. 'Cassandra Austen?' she cried. 'My own dear Cassandra! Here at last. Can it be true?' She whooshed eagerly across the room and gazed down at me. The silver light faded. 'But, no. You are not my beloved sister. Your eyes are blue and your hair is red and your chin is too small...' She hesitated. 'Are you perhaps a cousin I do not know? Or the scion of a more distant branch of the family?' She looked at me critically, 'But you do not have the Austen nose.' She touched a translucent fingertip to her own fine, straight nose. 'Are you indeed an Austen?'
'Me? No. At least, not that kind of Austen —' I looked at her apologetically. 'It's Austin with an "i". I'm Cassandra Austin, not Austen. I'm awfully sorry.'
But she wasn't listening. 'Not my dear Cassandra!' The silvery substance flared again. 'It is too cruel.' She sped towards the door, but it blazed violently red as soon as she drew near and she pulled back in alarm, muttering, 'I have waited and waited and still they do not come.'
'Who? Who doesn't come?'
'My family. I do not wish them untimely deaths, but surely Cassandra and my dear mother must soon join me. And what of my brothers? It is not so very long ago that Henry was unwell —'
'Henry Austen? But Henry's d — ' I stopped. This was now officially way too weird for me. Was I really about to tell Jane Austen's ghost that her brother was dead? This had to be a nightmare. Which meant there was only one thing to do.
Go back to sleep.
I was about to pull the duvet over my head and hide from this impossible reality when she shot back across the room, all bright light and eagerness. 'You know my brother!' she exclaimed. 'Oh, pray, do tell me, is he well? I think of him — indeed, I think of them all so often. How do they go on? What news of Chawton? Are mother and Cassandra and Martha Lloyd still at the cottage? Is Cassandra in health? And my brothers? What of dear Edward at Godmersham Park? By now I expect my niece Fanny is married and quite grown up.' The words tumbled out, her voice eager and light and so full of love I could hardly bear it.
'Okay, that's it. This is freaking me out. I'm going back to sleep.'
'But you have not told me about my family —'
But the question was too big. Too hard. 'Please God,' I begged, 'let this be over. Let this be a dream or a rum-punch-inspired hallucination.' I snapped out the light, dragged the duvet over my head and shut my eyes.
There was a brief silence before she said testily, 'You are very much mistaken if you think I am the consequence of an hallucination or an excess of spirits, Miss Austin. I am neither a dream nor an invention of your imagination and, unless you aid me in my return to the cathedral, I am very much afraid that I shall still be here tomorrow.'
'It's already tomorrow,' I grumbled. It's my birthday! A pang of longing hit me. Aunty B and I had been going to celebrate. Instead, I was here with a... ghost! I pushed the duvet off my face to find her floating by my bed.
She stared down at me, her brow creasing in confusion. 'Pray, will you tell me — what year is it?'
'Twenty-nineteen,' I said without thinking.
'Twenty-nineteen?' She looked puzzled. 'What do you mean?'
I sat up. How did she not know what year it was? I said gently, 'I mean it's the year two thousand and nineteen.'
She stared at me, her colour fading until she was almost completely transparent. 'I do not believe you. I cannot have been in the cathedral for... for...'
'Over two hundred years.' I nodded.
Her eyes widened in shock. 'Two hundred years. Then they are...' She stopped and I knew she'd just realised that her family were long dead. Something small and silvery rolled down her cheek, hovered like a tiny puff of incandescent mist, and vanished.
'I’m sorry.' The words were inadequate, but I meant them. I knew what it was like to feel utterly lost and alone. It must have been awful to suddenly discover your entire family was gone.
Miss Austen's ghost lifted her chin. 'It is quite all right. Indeed, I am glad to know I need wait for them no longer.' She glided across the room. 'As I now have no reason to linger, I shall return to the cathedral and inform St Swithun that I wish to pass on to the Celestial Realm.'
'Good plan.' I was relieved she'd found a solution to an impossible situation. The truth was, I still couldn't believe she was real. I mean, if this really was Jane Austen's ghost, then what was she doing in my bedroom? After two hundred years stuck inside Winchester Cathedral, why would she be here when there must be hundreds of better places for her go? It made no sense at all.'
'Thank you for your help, Miss Austin. Goodbye.' She glided forward, but the moment she touched the doorframe it flared again with that angry red light. She pulled back and the light instantly faded.
She spun round, her face anguished. 'Oh, pray, can not you assist me? I must get out.'
I climbed out of bed and hurried across the room. 'Follow me.' I stepped towards the door but as soon as I drew near red streaks of blazing light like bars on a prison cell shot across the doorway, and a strange malicious heat prickled my skin. It reminded me of the huge fireball in the cathedral. I shrank back in alarm and stared at my ghostly companion. 'It won't let me out either. We're trapped.
Book Blurb
With her life a mess, Cassandra Austin seeks refuge in Winchester with her eccentric great-aunt — but Aunty B has problems of her own.
Ghost problems.
Cassie doesn't believe in ghosts but she'll do anything to help the only person who's ever loved her. Besides, a simple spell in the cathedral crypt couldn't do any harm, could it? Well, except for the two-hundred-year-old curse on Jane Austen, that is.
Overnight, life is suddenly a whole lot weirder and it's up to Cassie to save the day with the help of a dour Bishop, two literary geniuses, a couple of wise-cracking geriatrics and the enigmatic Oliver Carling.
Magic and mystery abound in this genre-bending contemporary-historical paranormal romance with a Regency twist.
Author Bio
Giveaway
Oh, no. The ghostly apparition of Jane Austen trapped in a room together with a modern girl from our world? How will they get out? What do you think, dear readers? Does the excerpt entice you to give this novel a chance it deserves to be on your bookshelf? If yes, do you want to win a digital copy? The kind publishers at Overload Publishing is offering an e-book of Jane Austen's Ghost. Thus leave a comment by Sunday, 3 November 2019 to be counted.For your information, comment moderation is turned on so please be patient if your comment doesn't appear yet. You can contact me if you encounter a problem in posting your comments. And please do not leave any sensitive details such as email address.
I think if that happened to me I would just stay under the blankets singing to myself until Jane Austen left
ReplyDeleteWonderful excerpt. I am intrigued. Thank you for the giveaway.
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed the excerpt. Cassandra is so lucky to be meeting Jane Austen.
ReplyDelete