Delia in Austen Wonderland

Story so far

DELIA is a young woman in her early twenties who has fallen asleep in her room and woken up in Jane Austen’s world. At first DELIA is delighted, Austen is her favorite author and it seems like a dream come true to live in her world. But things aren’t quite what DELIA expected. First, she is not a wealthy heroine, nor is she even living with wealthy relatives. DELIA is, in fact, a poor young woman from a poor family. Second, she is forced to work for her bread as a washerwoman. While working, she slips on the wet rocks and sprains her ankle. It is a light sprain, nothing she hasn’t had before and that will go away with proper medical care. But Delia is about to find out that “proper medical care” means something very different in this world.

(DELIA in a bedroom, forced into bed by her mother MRS. LANE and her AUNT MOIRA.)

DELIA: I’m really alright. I just need to elevate it and—

MRS. LANE: Elevate? No, no that will make the blood run out of the leg. You must keep it level.

DELIA: The blood won’t run out—

AUNT MOIRA: Be quiet now, what could a child like you know about this? Sister, we should take her clothes off, allow her skin to breath, otherwise she may develop a fever.

MRS. LANE: Don’t be stupid, she needs more clothes, and blankets. The heat will make the swelling go down.

AUNT MOIRA: Then I should begin rubbing it between my palms. The friction will help.

DELIA: No! Moving it about like that will make it worse. Please don’t—ow!

AUNT MOIRA: See? It’s gotten worse, we should have rubbed it right away. Sit still child.

MRS. LANE: I’ll fetch the blankets. And perhaps a pot of hot water?

AUNT MOIRA: Oh yes, I should say so.

Delia: (In obvious pain, trying to pull away from her aunt) What’s that for?

AUNT MOIRA: Why, for tea of course. Here, girl, where do you think you’re going?

(DELIA manages to escape from her aunt and limps quickly out of the room. Right outside the door she runs into four older women. They’re all carrying various parcels and bowls in their hands. MRS LANE is with them, leading them to the bedroom.)

MRS. LANE: What do you think you’re doing? Get off that leg this instant. Look, these nice women learned about your injury and have come to offer their recipes.

(They push her back to the bed, all talking.)

WOMAN 1: I brought my poultice, made with mud straight from Bath. My niece brought it back when she visited ten years ago.

WOMAN 2: And I brought my famous potion, it cures everything from sprains to headaches to bad luck. One sip of it will make you right as rain.

DELIA: (Gags) What’s that smell?

WOMAN 2: Oh, I had a bit of leftover fish from supper, so I put it in.

WOMAN 3: I supped with you today, and we didn’t have fish.

WOMAN 2: Oh, I mean supper from last week.

WOMAN 1: Your skin is all flushed, child and your forehead is hot. You’re with fever now. Let me put the mud on your forehead, too.

WOMAN 4: You’re suffering from infection, surely. You should have a pull of my potion, it has lots of vinegar and salt, guaranteed to knock that infection right out.

DELIA: No, really, I don’t need that. All I need is—

MRS. LANE: Hush, child, we know what you need.

DELIA: (murmurs) Suddenly I also have a headache. . .

AUNT MOIRA: A headache? Well, a few pulled teeth will fix that right up. Sister, fetch my—

DELIA: No! Don’t fetch anything!

MRS. LANE: Don’t be rude to your aunt, she’s only trying to help after you’ve gone and made yourself so ill. (To the other women) She never used to speak this way, the pain from her broken ankle must have driven her to hysterics.

DELIA: It’s not broken, and I’m not hysterical. I just need to—

WOMAN 3: Oh, you didn’t say it was broken before. If it’s broken, we should really call the surgeon. He’ll know how to set it.

WOMAN 2: Yes, the surgeon, I agree. I’ll go call on him, shall I?

MRS. LANE: If you would be so good. I’m afraid if I leave, she will only become more hysterical from the agony.

DELIA: The only agony is having no one listen to a word I say!

WOMAN 3: My neighbor’s sister-in-law’s niece’s friend used to talk the same way. It turned out to be a blood infection. I’ll tell the surgeon to bring the leeches. (She leaves.)

DELIA: There’ll be no need for leeches! Look, I’m okay now, I swear. I was in pain but I’m—

AUNT MOIRA: She’s all turned around and talking nonsense. Have some fish potion.

DELIA: You bring that to my face old woman, and I swear to god I will—

WOMAN 1: Oh!

WOMAN 2: Such language!

WOMAN 3: Wicked girl!

AUNT MOIRA: Talking the lord’s name! The infection has certainly spread to her spirit and turned it black.

MRS. LANE: I shall fetch the minister!

DELIA: Oh for the love of—

(DELIA struggles out of their grasp and runs out of the room and the house into the street. It’s afternoon, and she hurries up the street. She turns the corner around a house and collides with someone, falling to the ground. Looking up, her eyes widen as she sees MARTIN, a tall young man in black, with fair skin, dark hair, and light eyes.)

MARTIN: Oh, do forgive me. I did not see you. (Reaches out a hand.)

DELIA: (Accepts the hand and is helped to her feet) Oh no, I’m the one that wasn’t looking where I was going. (To herself) Now we’re talking.

MARTIN: And where is such a charming young woman like yourself going in such a hurry?

DELIA: Not so much going towards a place, as leaving somewhere else.

MARTIN: Then we are opposites because I am going towards someplace. If I weren’t, I would surely offer to accompany you on your errand. A girl like you shouldn’t be wondering about alone.

DELIA: Perhaps I can accompany you, as where I end up doesn’t matter if I’m away from my place of origin.

MARTIN: I say, you are a lovely creature, with a charming way about you. I shall accept your company. (Offers her his arm.) What’s the matter with your leg? Are you hurt?

DELIA: As a matter of fact, I am. I sprained my ankle and was on my way, uh, home.

MARTIN: What an extraordinary coincidence, I am on my way to treat a young woman with a sprained ankle. Might that be you?

DELIA: It might.

MARTIN: Then let us hurry to my theater so that I may examine you more closely.

DELIA: (To herself) Oh, I’m going to let you examine me all you want.

(They walk to his theater, a small cottage at the edge of the village. Inside is one big room divided by curtains, with a large table in the center. The walls are lined with shelves of books, less than shinning instruments, and jars of leeches, pickled specimens and various leather and metal apparatuses. DELIA balks at the door, but he pulls her in.)

MARTIN: Now, now, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m going to make sure you’re quite all right. Just have a seat now, right on the table. There you go.

(MARTIN helps her to sit. They make eye contact and have a moment.)

MARTIN: You really are so lovely. You must already be promised to another.

DELIA: I’m free as a bird.

MARTIN: Then I beg you, attach yourself to me.

DELIA: You mean marry you? We’ve only just met.

MARTIN: I know all I need to. Say yes, and we can be married as soon as tomorrow.

DELIA: Um, you know what? My leg feels so much better, so I’m just going to—

(The door opens and MRS. LANE, AUNT MOIRA and the four WOMEN enter.)

MRS. LANE: Heavens child, you mustn’t run off like that on your hobbled foot.

AUNT MOIRA: It’s all right, she ran right into the surgeon. (To MARTIN) How does it look?

WOMAN 4: It’s broken you know.

WOMAN 1: And terribly infected.

WOMAN 3: She’s feverish and hysterical.

WOMAN 2: With a headache as well. Can you help her? I brought my fish potion in case you needed it.

MARTIN: Dear me, all that? Well, no wife of mine will be made to suffer so. I shall be back. I must prepare. (Goes behind curtain)

MRS. LANE: Wife? Has he proposed to you, child?

DELIA: Well—

AUNT MOIRA: Of course, he has, how could he not? She may be dull but she’s very pretty.

DELIA: Hey, I’m not—

WOMAN 4: When’s the wedding?

DELIA: There’s no wedding, I’m not going to marry him, I just met him!

WOMAN 1: Goodness, not marry him? You must. You need a husband to take care of and to take care of you.

WOMAN 3: Think of your responsibility to your family. Think of your poor mother, who must support all your siblings and you.

MRS. LANE: Yes, think of me.

AUNT MOIRA: Yes, how can you turn down such a proposal without consulting with your mother and me? It’s unlike you to be so self-willed, obstinate, selfish, and ungrateful.

DELIA: I don’t care. I’m leaving.

MARTIN: (from behind the curtain) Oh, you mustn’t leave. I haven’t taken care of your leg.

DELIA: I’m all good, thanks. I’ll just head out.

MARTIN: You really mustn’t. Your ankle will only get worse.

MRS. LANE: Listen to your future husband and sit still.

(The four WOMEN, MRS. LANE, and AUNT MOIRA grab her and push her back onto the table, their hands acting like five-point restraints at her ankles, arms, and head.)

DELIA: Let go of me! What the hell are you doing?

(MARTIN comes back to this side of the curtain. DELIA looks at him, her eyes wide with horror. He’s wearing a brown leather apron, cloth over his mouth and nose, and holding a jagged bone saw.)

MARTIN: We must take the infected foot off. It’s the only way to help her. Don’t worry, darling, you’ll still be able to come to the wedding tomorrow. Hold her very still now.

(MARTIN walks towards her, DELIA struggles harder. She’s screaming, screaming, screaming. . . and she wakes up, safe in her bed. Around her is her familiar room, the string of soft yellow lights strung along the headboard, the bookcase filled with Jane Austen’s cannon, the walls covered with posters from every movie made from an Austen book. She sits up and Emma falls from her stomach onto the bed. She’s breathing hard, wide-eyed. She looks at the book like it will attack her.)

DELIA: Maybe I should read more Harry Potter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here we have Delia, a big fan of Jane Austen, suddenly thrust into the era she adores, but she’s not a typical Austen heroine. Instead of Emma Woodhouse, Delia is more like Fanny Price, but without the rich relatives. The play is modeled after Northanger Abbey in that it is a parody of the times. It is mainly focused on the ridiculous medical practices of the time, with a little bit of marriage plot mixed in. This is  to really show Delia’s position not just as a female, but a poor female, and the responsibilities of marrying well to support her family, just like what Fanny’s uncle lectured her on when she turned down Henry Crawford’s marriage proposal (Mansfield Park, 324).

Instead of having Delia as a typical wealthy heroine, I decided to make her poor, not just for the comedic aspects, but to show the other side of society. Poverty was a real problem, and people had very little choice to survive. It’s touched upon in “Sanditon” by the conversation between Diana Parker and her brother Mr. Parker, when she talks about all the different charity cases she’s collecting for (Jane Austen Manuscript Works, 382). Back then, it was really left to the whimsy of the rich whether they would help needy families or not, there were no support structures in place like we have now.

Delia’s job as a washerwoman not only shows how poor she is, but also how uneducated. Young women with more education could hold positions such as governess and schoolteacher, but Delia as a manual laborer shows that she had no access to such education. I don’t believe any of Jane Austen’s heroines we’ve read this semester had to work. It’s worth noting, too, that in most romances the women are “rescued” from low positions by wealthy men, like Jane Fairfield is by Frank Churchill in Emma. Something like that is happening with Delia; Martin isn’t exactly wealthy, but he would have a higher income and slightly more status.

The main issue portrayed is the lack of medical know-how at the time. There were no real studies happening, no schooling, things were left up to apothecaries who knew herb lore, and surgeons who didn’t need a license to cut someone open. Delia is bombarded by odd remedies because what we call “old wives’ tales” was the normal practice then, when housewives would come up with their own solutions on how to treat family members. I’m sure we all have our own little remedies that we swear by. Vinegar and salt played a heavy role in these concoctions, and of course the remedies put forth by Diana Parker in “Sanditon”, with the application of leeches for things thought to be blood related (345), and also the horrible practice of pulling teeth for headaches (345).

Besides the medical practices, Delia is often cut off from speaking, and I did this to show how often women were silenced, even by other, higher ranking women. Delia is supposed to give way to the voices of the older, more experienced women, no matter if she knows best. This oppressiveness is seen very obviously by them holding her down at the end to endure something she knows is wrong and harmful, but she has no control over herself or her environment. A woman giving way to the experience of others is an issue we’ve talked about before with regards to Maria and Richard Lovell Edgeworths “Prudence and Economy” (Mansfield Park, Appendix F: Women’s Education, 501). Just as Fanny Price is lectured about responsibility, Delia is similarly lectured when she refuses to marry the surgeon she just met—no matter how cute he is. By marrying she would secure a stable financial future, and help her poor family, which was the responsibility of women in this time.

Lastly, I wanted to examine and show the interconnectivity of all these issues. Delia is poor, so she has to work, that leads to an injury, which leads to dodgy medical treatment, which leads to her meeting a guy, who falls for her and proposes, which leads to her being pressured into a marriage by the women in her life. I don’t mean to say wealthy women aren’t ever pressured into marriages, they are in the same position of marrying to better their station, but wealthy women have more choice, they can afford to be more discerning, whereas a poor woman, with no wealth of her own, must marry to survive. There is also the added pressure of being the eldest daughter, and one among many. Marrying was a way to lessen the burden on your family, and a woman might even take a sibling with her when she leaves to live with her husband.

This could have easily been quite dark, and underneath it is, just like most Austen works. Many people, perhaps most, tend to see Austen’s works as pure romances, just like Delia. She was swept up in the romantic aspects of the novel, with wealthy and upper-class society, with damsels in distress dashing men to the rescue, and that was the world she wished to enter. But there are other, very important issues in Austen, such as what it means to be poverty stricken, what happens when you’re even slightly injured and everyone is making it up as they go along, the role of women and the limited choices they had. At the beginning of the semester I only knew Jane Austen as being a romance writer. But now, like Delia, I’ve learned my lesson—in a far less painful way—and come to know her writing as so much more.