Read The Missing Manuscript of Jane Austen for Free Online

that they stayed for at least one night at the house in 1802, probably longer.”
    “No one in my family has ever mentioned a relationship with the Austens. If one of my ancestors had hosted them at Greenbriar, don’t you think, after Jane became famous, he would have told someone about it?”
    “Maybe not. Jane Austen didn’t become famous until many decades after she died.”
    “Could Austen really have written an entire manuscript that went missing?”
    “It’s possible. I don’t know if it’s a full-length book or what. It could be a shorter work, or even an unfinished one. But she clearly lost
something
—and she lost it at Greenbriar.”
    He handed me back the letter, seemingly astounded. “This is beyond belief. To even think that it might be possible…Jane Austen!”
    By now, our main courses had arrived. I savored my lamb chops, which were delicious. Anthony dug into his meal, deepin thought for a long moment. Then he darted me a slightly self-conscious glance. “May I be honest about something?”
    “Please.”
    “I know the world adores her. But I’ve only read one Jane Austen novel in my life. Will you forgive me if I say that I didn’t like it?”
    “Which book did you read?”
    “I don’t remember the title. I only read it because it was forced on me in school. It was about a spoiled brat who lived in a tiny village full of dull people, who never did anything or went anywhere. As I recall, she spent the whole book trying to match up people who didn’t belong together.”
    My lips twitched with the effort to hide my smile. “
Emma.
How old were you when you read it?”
    “Maybe fifteen or sixteen.”
    “Your reaction is totally understandable. Unless presented in the right way,
Emma
might not be all that accessible to a teenage boy. In fact, it’s a truly extraordinary book. If you read it again now, you might feel differently.”
    He shrugged. “I doubt it. I’m more of a mystery novel fan myself. For the classics, I enjoy Dumas, Defoe, and Dickens…Tolstoy, Tolkien, and Twain.”
    “I see you’ve named only male authors.”
    “Have I? That was not by design.”
    “There are lots of brilliant female authors—and the best of them is Austen.”
    “Many millions of people seem to agree with you. But honestly—and forgive me again, I don’t in any way mean to denigrate what you do, or to disparage Austen’s legacy—but I’m baffled as to how she became such a phenomenon. She wrote, what, four or five novels?”
    “Six.”
    “Six romantic novels. And everyone treats her with this uncanny reverence, as if she were Shakespeare. What is it about her? What am I missing?”
    I patiently replied:
    “Austen’s works have endured because she had a superb narrative technique and a gift for creating characters who feel as real as life itself. She didn’t just write about romance. She covered subjects and social and emotional struggles that are still very relevant today. She could pull at your heartstrings, but she could also make you laugh and cry. At the end of her books, if you’re paying attention, you come away feeling a little wiser about yourself and about what’s important in life.”
    “Interesting. I’ve never heard it put quite that way before.” He smiled at me across the table. “I admit, I’m intrigued—and not just because she might have paid a visit to my family house.” We ate in silence for a while, then he added: “So what are you thinking? That if you can prove Jane Austen was at Greenbriar, however briefly, it’s the first clue to this missing manuscript?”
    “Yes.”
    “You’d want to have a look around the house, I suppose?”
    Excitement spread through me. “Yes. I thought: maybe there’s a guest registry or something stashed there, that dates back to 1802.”
    “I don’t remember my mum and dad ever mentioning anything about a guest registry.” He frowned. “If such a thing exists, I’d wager it’ll be in the library. Why don’t you stop