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Rebecca Bond

~ Classic Re-Tellings Of Modern Tales.

Rebecca Bond

Category Archives: Perilously Unable To Find Our Bearings

Perilously Unable To Find Our Bearings (the end)

13 Wednesday Jul 2011

Posted by Stuff And Nonsense in Perilously Unable To Find Our Bearings

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24 parody, jane Austen, Jane austen parody, letters, Lost, Lost parody, Regency, regency letters, regency parody, Regency period, Regency Wedding, Shipwreck, short stories

We stood immobile for a moment that was in, all honesty, indecently short given the nature of our discovery. Before us lay a sea town to rival both Portsmouth and Southampton, and yet it also seemed it was as well appointed as Brighton for sea bathing.
“C’est incroyable!” Said he.
“Dearest, you are the very essence of correctness in your estimation. We have accidentally located the very thing we have longed for all this time! A port! Civilisation, ships, people! Oh happy port full of sea fairing vessels and ill bred sailors who are entirely sans genteel manners!” I was so overcome with joy that I displayed superiorly elegant lightness of foot in dancing a celebratory cotillion.
We did not defer our departure from that place for even an instant. We ran back to our party as fast as convention would permit without my risking my standing amongst society. However we held our encampment within our sights we were greeted with the unhappy noise of revolution. Amongst the wretched sound of unmitigated chaos, that seemed to consume all those we had left behind, the hum of a pleasing overture being played on the piano was also discernable. Though the execution of the music was the very essence of perfection, for Lady Winifred does everything well, the sound was peculiarly troubling it was not long before we were faced with the full and overwhelming truth of the matter; the peasants were revolting!

Violence had now been enthusiastically embraced by all, for the churls would suffer their inferiority no longer. They had found pitchforks from I know not where, and were attempting, with the strongest means at their disposal, to overthrow the genteel classes. Just as we arrived upon the edge of the hostilities the perilous nature of the rustics wrath was made as clear as the beauteous stone upon my engagement ring by one of the unfortunately clad fellows grasping Admiral Inkpen and throwing him through the air so that the poor man landed merely inches behind me.
I silently concluded that it was fortunate indeed that my husband and I had found the port when we had, for goodness knows where the churls’ revolutionary inclinations would have led had we not been able to interrupt it with felicitous news.
“Arretez , Arretez ce bordel la. Vous fous et idiots!” Was my husbands entreaty, his words did not, however, have the desired effect.
“My husband is correct, we have indeed found a port! A port I tell you! It right there! It has been there all this time, it would seem that it was mere complacency and a disinclination to venture forth that prevented its discovery!” I soon realised that my words had not had the pacifying result I had been desirous of. They chose only to hear the word ‘complacency’ and took it in excessively bad part. I am afraid to say that they suddenly fell prey to the notion that My husband Monsieur De Toulouse and I were solely to blame. They directed their vengeful hatred at him with redoubled determination and looked as though they were quite ready to launch themselves upon us in a manner much more suited to inebriated officers who wish to settle a debt.

Despite being French it would seem that my husband lacked any revolutionary tendencies, in fact it would seem he was utterly determined to avoid the conflict, thus at the first sign of attack my husband reached for my white veil from atop my head and waved it in an admirable gesture above our heads. Surrender is not always a sign of cowardice but of integrity of principle.
Unfortunately this action was perceived in some way to be a particularly crude French insult and had the effect of provoking the rabble further. It took but an instant for Toulouse to comprehend this, and placing me once more upon his shoulder, he turned in a flurry of excellent coat tails and ran as fast as his graceful and pensive gait would allow!
From my position upon my husband’s shoulder I was, this time, provided with a most advantageous view of the vengeful churls following him, and behind the rest of our small society pursuing them. Toulouse did not stop running until we reached the port; therefore I witnessed their visages as they saw the port and the full consequences of finding such a place were appreciated.

The day was not yet out before we had found an English captain who was all chivalrous gallantry in arranging safe and immediate passage home for all, save for the rustics who had displayed the most disruptive and aggressive inclination. Those unlucky fellows were to be dispatched to the Americas for their treacherous conduct toward their superiors, which had not only disrupted our own society but had grossly insulted all those polite conventions we hold in such high esteem.

My husband and I watched our companions and servants make their way toward the aptly named HMS Salvation, and for those bound for the Americas the HMS Atonement, we felt a surprising mix of sentiments that I would much more usually associate with a young girl on the night before her wedding; for they included the same remorseful sensibilities felt when she realises that she shall no longer enjoy every pleasure of a ball or begin each season in the anticipation of being the delight of all the young beau. And although she greatly longs to be married and form a respectable establishment of her own, she cannot help but mourn her folly filled youth. These delicate sensibilities mean that it is incumbent upon me, dear Harriet to tell you that despite our acute desperation to escape this cursed isle, now such a prospect is before us we do not wish to depart.
Thus I am writing this account of all that has passed to you so that you might share it with my family and our acquaintance in the hope that my poor mamma shall no longer concern herself with my marriage prospects, though I fear she will have a seizure when she learns I am now of the French nationality, you know how patriotic she is. I have entrusted my letter to Admiral Inkpen who is nigh on overcome with that feminine feeling he is so prone to. Indeed I can hear him this very moment dancing his way toward the vessel crying in delighted joy. He is all exultant raptures about the size and elegance of the HMS Salvation.

My husband and I have not yet settled upon a time for our return home, though pray do not dread an extended absence for you know I would not miss the opening of the London season, for there is nought in the world to rival it.

For now my dearest friend Adieu,

Yours Madame Charlotte De Toulouse.

Perilously Unable To Find Our Bearings (part8)

13 Wednesday Jul 2011

Posted by Stuff And Nonsense in Perilously Unable To Find Our Bearings

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jane Austen, Jane austen parody, letters, Lost, Lost parody, Regency, regency letters, regency parodies, regency parody, Regency period, short stories

My dearest Harriet,
I beg that you forgive the tones of utter despair that concluded my previous correspondence. I am quite certain they will have given you the most acute pangs of nervous fever! For being the cause of such sufferings I am truly sorry. However I found that writing to you was entirely necessary to alleviate my own feelings of distress, which were becoming prodigiously devastating!
Following the incident of the passing ship and our inability to make our presence known, all among our society were cast into the lowest despondency. Indeed our resident apothecary became fearful that perhaps we might be prey to some dreadful tropical disorder. Though we all knew him to be a rather over zealous chap with a tendency to believe the worst, and who could blame him for he had been cursed with a nose of such magnificent proportions that one could not help but pity him. However we knew his conclusion to be incorrect and our malady was in fact the infliction of hopelessness, and an over indulgent inclination to enjoy the captain‘s wine cellar. Our feelings of dreadful misery as we stood amongst all the returned exotic birds, who still clasped our handwritten messages to them as firmly as a young girl keeps hold of her first dance card when it has been marked by some preferred beau. We were not a happy party as we returned to the wedding breakfast, which had been laid upon Monsieur De Toulouse’s fine lawn. Not one among us spoke for above two hours. As we ate our repast, that for my taste at least consisted of rather too much fish, our supply of finer foods was gravely depleted as we had of late been so very confident of our imminent rescue that we had given into to glutinous tendencies and over indulged our appetites (However I blamed the churls).

Whence the meal was concluded it became quite evident that the festivities of a ball planned for later would not come to fruition for no one was of a celebratory humour, indeed all present seemed inclined to disputatious melancholy. None more so than the peasants from Cheapside, whom we had taken into our employ to wait at table for the evening. These vagabonds who were all of agitated gouty constitutions seemed to be thoroughly discontented with their station in life, and could on frequent occasion be heard discussing reversing the natural order of polite society. They seemed to claim, dear Harriet, that they were equal to those above them. I am acutely aware of how ridiculous such a proposal sounds, unfortunately, however, for all those present, today was one such instance where the churls sensibilities could not be soothed by mere platitudes, and thus all about us were the sounds of dissent and disagreement. Being as lately married as I was, I found I was disinclined to sympathise with the rabble. Foreseeing, as I could, that there was little hope of a dance I suggested to my husband that perhaps some air and exercise would be refreshing.
“Oui Madame, en effet je trouve aussi les lamentations des paysans d’être intolérable. Une promenade serait une diversion agréable d’folie tels.” Was his reply. Hearing the word “oui” I needed no further confirmation nor Lady Foot’s translation which I know would have revealed the true meaning of his words to be ; “Why dearest Charlotte I can think of nothing more excellently calculated to bring me incandescent joy than escaping such formal conventions as we have had to endure thus far, and to be solely in your company.”

We took our leave of the assembly largely unnoticed, for now many were heartily engaged in trying to remind the churls, in the most animated language, of their true position in the social order. We promenaded along the shore, I confess I find my husband’s society to be greatly superior to anyone of my acquaintance. He listens with such intensity of feeling in a silence so deep and reflective that one cannot help but be in some considerable admiration of his intelligence.

We had walked for above three and forty minutes when I noticed Toulouse’s countenance become so suddenly dreadfully altered that I feared him to be in the grip of some terrible seizure.
“Bonjour, au revoir, je m’appelle… fromage?!” Said I desperately enquiring what the matter was. I was making all haste to summon the apothecary to tend to my poor possessed husband when I noted the direction of his maniacal gaze. Harriet, it was sea bound. I turned to follow it and saw, with a combination of sentiments that I do not feel are within my power to convey, another ship! A moments study confirmed that it was twice the size of the vessel that had so rudely slighted us hours earlier!
It was with a further flurry of abundant delight that I realised the ship was flying English colours. Hastening forwards we began to wave in a fashion more commonly associated with a wife being reunited with a husband in the militia whose absence has acutely suffered through. However it was not long before my own dear husband and I became aware that we were in all likelihood entirely imperceptible to the crew upon the ship. Confess, dear Harriet, that the re-occurrence of our best efforts passing entirely unnoticed by our sole hope of rescue was more than was within my power to endure, and I allowed myself, indeed I eagerly and decidedly abandoned myself to nervous hysteria and was quite inconsolable. My husband was not so prone to girlish folly as I, and seizing me with little or no pretence at propriety he placed me over his shoulder and pursued the ship along the shore in a manner indicative of one quite determined not to allow their quarry to leave his sight. I was grateful indeed that there was no one to witness so undignified a display for I should have lost all standing in society if anyone of rank or circumstance had seen me carried in a manner that undoubtedly likened me to a sack of flour.

As he ran I found that I had the pleasing diversion of an excellent vista of the ocean and the sky. The hue of which was identical to Monsieur De Toulouse’s eyes. Thus occupied in delighted raptures of the beauty of nature I was unaware of how long my husband had been running , until he came to so unexpected a stop that before he had handed me to the ground his altered gait conveyed to me that he, upon rounding a corner, had discovered a naval port! My dear Harriet, we had found a port.
To Be Continued …

Perilously Unable To Find Our Bearings. (Part 7)

01 Friday Jul 2011

Posted by Stuff And Nonsense in Perilously Unable To Find Our Bearings

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jane Austen, Jane austen parody, letters, Lost, Lost parody, Regency, regency letters, regency parodies, regency parody, Regency period, Regency Wedding, Shipwreck, short stories

My dearest Harriet,
As you will no doubt have noticed by glancing at the close of this letter, for I know you are in the habit of hastening to the end (though I feel this ruins the suspense of what one is reading) I write to you no longer as Miss Charlotte Philips but as Madame Charlotte De Toulouse (Confess. I am rather partial to the double barrelling)! Monsieur De Toulouse, or Charles Antoine, for that is his Christian name, and myself are lately married. We saw no reason to delay so happy an occasion, particularly as we had the good fortune of having a member of the clergy among our number. We were wed on Saturday, we deduced it to be a Saturday because of the manner in which Mrs Sheridan wore her hair at cards the previous evening.

Yet, despite my recent Union to such a fine Frenchman I find myself in such an intolerable state of despair that it has nigh on robbed me of every happy sentiment that I once possessed. I had hoped to compose for you, my dearest friend, a full and eloquently worded account of my marriage. For I know how you enjoy such tales and how you crave every detail including the style in which the bride wore her hair. In this instance I had an elegant coiffure which was ornamented with both pearls and some magnificent shells. My gown was made up in the French style in honour of my husband, though perhaps a little unpatriotic, I was quite in raptures over it, for it had been fashioned from the Captain’s own fine table cloth. It was ornamented further by with a sash that Lady Winifred Foot had embroidered with a design of colliding ships. In short, my dear friend, my whole toilette was exactly calculated to show my figure off to it’s best advantage.
However, dear Harriet, I must defer my account of my sentiments as I walked down the aisle toward my dear Charles Antoine, accompanied as I was by Admiral Inkpen who had consented to escort me in the absence of a sufficient paternal figure, for I am no humour to describe them to you. Nor how well Monsieur De Toulouse looked in his blue coat, which was so very elegant a hue as to be perfectly calculated to draw attention to his handsome brow. Nor am I able to express to you the acute feelings of joy as we spoke our marriage vows before a congregation formed of those we felt to be of adequate rank or elegance to add a certain refinement to the proceedings.
But, Nay, Harriet I am in too intolerable a state of nervous agitation to have sufficient descriptive flair at my disposal to do the proceedings justice. We were almost at the close of the ceremony, Monsieur De Toulouse standing opposite me before the altar (I feel it is incumbent upon me to mention that the wretched churls had not yet completed the church, thus we stood in a buildings which was in possession of walls barely 2′ tall, and while this afforded us a magnificent view of the ocean it made attending church in inclement weather a most unpleasant affair, especially as our parson showed little inclination for brevity in his sermons.) When the gentlemen who held my affections quite suddenly became the very essence of agitation. He began to dance a jig, the steps of which were unfamiliar to me as they certainly did not belong to the cotillion. or the quadrille. Whilst he displayed this remarkable lightness of foot he began to speak in a manner so expressive of ardent love that, despite his rapidity of tongue that meant that neither I nor the parson could comprehend him, it was not long before I understood it to be a French romantic custom where the bride groom serenades his new bride. I was all astonishment and surprise by so outward a display of affection I smiled and blushed in a manner suited to such an instant. My dear Monsieur De Toulouse continued to motion wildly with his arms, as he cried,
“Ooh la la! Regarde, il ya un bateau! Un bateau, nous sommes sauvés il ya un navire à l’horizon! Hâtez-vous il ya un bateau, un bateau!”
Monsieur De Toulouse’s remarkable display lasted for upwards of one and twenty minutes during which time more than one member of the congregation had attempted to provide him with musical accompaniment. Indeed there was talk of summoning the churls to play the fiddle. When the bewildering French display was suddenly interrupted by that elegant and amiable Lady Winifred, she had naturally been invited to the festivities, thus her tardy arrival was quite unaccountable.
“Forgive my tardy arrival, it is unaccountable of me.” Said she as she curtseyed in a manner that expressed a delicate remorse. She was about to continue with what I am certain would have been a magnificent speech when her attention was drawn to my new husband who had recommenced his exquisite performance.
“Why Monsieur De Toulouse!” Lady Winifred was all aghast.
“I am not surprised that you are quite in awe of it. He has been serenading me these past twenty minutes.” Said I full of pride and contented sentiments.
“Nay, that is no happy serenade!” was Lady Winifred’s reply, ” He says he has seen a boat, he says there is a ship upon the horizon!” Concluded she.
Upon her words we all turned toward the ocean and saw that my dear husband was indeed correct for there was a ship passing our island, it was close enough to the shore that if we were all to signal it would, to be sure, glimpse us by and by.
“A ship! We must make haste, we must make them see us and know what peril we have been in!” Said I as we stood looking over the church wall. I had hardly uttered my speech when there was such an undignified crush of people all quite determined to take their leave first that they forgot to behave in a manner appropriate to their station. I ran as fast as decorum would permit directly to the shore with my husband by my side. Upon reaching the water’s edge we called and waved to the sailors, hoping fervently that they might see us. I confess Harriet that despite my best efforts to retain some pretence at dignity, in those few moments of disagreeable panic I abandoned polite convention and raised my voice, not only that but I waved my arms as though quite determined to fly. The entire party stood upon the shore in this fashion, tirelessly waving whatever was to hand, including a small churl who had the misfortune of weighing little more than a feather. To our utter despair it soon became apparent that the ship and it’s crew were quite unaware of our presence. Indeed they were in all probability celebrating and benefiting from the sudden gust of easterly wind that that enabled them to evanesce from our sights with almost impertinent speed.

AS the vessel vanished many of the ladies present showed not the least reservations in abandoning themselves to hysteria and nervous fits, I was nearly among them however I was so lately married that I had enough hope of a comfortable living to sustain both my mind and constitution. However, dear Harriet, it would seem that the fates were entirely resolved to prevent my marriage day from being the happy occasion we had all longed for, for at that moment the entire company on the coastline were soon overwhelmed by tropical birds. The creatures seemed to be raining down upon us. Almost instantaneously I knew them to be the birds that my husband and I had dispatched in attempt to call for aide. They each still held their message of distress, not one of which had been read.
“Oh Merde, zut alors et merde, merde, merde!” Said Monsieur De Toulouse as he recognised the birds.
“Indeed, my dear, you are quite correct in your estimation. The birds have acted as homing pigeons would, I had not foreseen such a possibility as this, we ought have trained them better!” was my unhappy answer.
Though the birds’ sudden arrival did add a certain beauteous exoticism to the day, rather reminiscent of when petals are thrown at a newly wed couple to wish them joy I found that their presence filled me with hopeless anguish of the acutest kind!
Dearest Harriet I am near to resigning myself to our being incarcerated upon this cursed isle for all eternity.

Yours in the midst of nervous apoplexy rendered tolerable only by the presence of my new husband,
Charlotte De Toulouse.

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