If I Loved You Less…

A 'Becoming Jane' story, by Icha

Rating: K

Summary: Conversing with his nephew, the retired Chief Justice Lefroy reminiscing on his past with Jane Austen. Inspired by 'Becoming Jane' the movie. Ch 3: Tom Lefroy recalled the faithful event that made him leave Jane Austen. Many grateful thanks to Rachel Kingston for her great beta. Indeed, she still managed to give an excellent beta despite her busy schedule packing to Ireland!

Disclaimer: I do not own Jane Austen and her characters, or any other characters in this story. The story takes place in several time frames, e.g. 1795-1799, 1802, 1817, 1840, and 1867, based on several facts known about Jane Austen and Tom Lefroy. Should gentle readers like to know more of the facts, please visit Becoming Jane Fansite, particularly in the 'About Tom Lefroy' section.

-xxx-

Chapter 3. Brotherly Love

What If I was an angel?
Sent from God above.

To test man of,
His brotherly love?

You will never know,
If you never give true brotherly love

Millette Addison

Leeson Street, Dublin, August 1817

The soothing afternoon breeze lessened the intensity of the scorching summer sun of Dublin. Profusely sweating, Thomas Langlois Lefroy diligently turned the soil of his vegetable garden, eager to make sure that his pumpkins and carrots would grow better for the next autumn and that his potatoes would benefit a better air circulation. The summer rain of the previous night had helped his garden, and he was more than happy to work hard to gain the best benefits of the rain.

But he could not shut his eyes to the fact that today he did not work in the garden merely as a hobby he had always enjoyed. No, today he mostly worked because he needed to clear his mind from the raging anger and despair he had felt the last few days since the letter from Henry Austen had arrived. Mary's attitude towards him had been indifferent at best, and not even the Sunday church service they had attended together could make her exchange any more than forced civil words with him. Tom longed for their usual moments of smiles and laughter, but he understood that Mary was hurt and he could not blame her for that. And when his mind strayed to England; to Winchester where Jane Austen's body lay cold and alone in her grave, he was again attacked with a pang of regret he could only share with himself. What he would give to be able to talk about it with someone… but there was nobody but himself, and God. And God seldom gave the direct answers that he sought after. Hence his gardening today, for he needed the exercise to clear his mind and to bury his regrets deep under the earth.

Stretching his back after digging the soil, Tom caught a glance of his daughter Jane Christmas a few feet from him. He was glad that Jane was his only child who currently resided in Leeson Street with him and Mary, lest he would have to explain Mary's unusual behaviours to his other children. As for Jane, she had always developed an eerie sense of understanding with her father; she did not need him to tell her that something was wrong and that it was better for her not to know the details.

Tom remembered the fine day his eldest daughter was born; fifteen years ago in the lovely summer of 1802. She was their second child and first daughter, hence his and Mary's excitement. For a time, Tom had been contemplating the name for a daughter, including names like Sarah, Elizabeth or even Maria, a variation of Mary. But when his eyes locked gaze with his daughter's dark blue eyes, he knew that all those names would not suit her. And when his sight fell upon the baby's curly hair, soft and light-coloured as the falling snow, he realised that he did not want to name her anything other than what reminded him of the best Christmas he had shared with somebody so dear to him. Jane Austen, whom he had met during a Christmas holiday in 1795. 'Jane Christmas' was the first name that emerged from the revelation, and it struck him as the most beautiful name he had ever known and would ever hear. The fact that Mary's mother was also named 'Jane' gave him a relief, for he did not want to cheat his wife by giving their eldest daughter a name from his past. And as he learned that Mary's ancestors were related to the Christmas family, Tom knew that 'Jane Christmas' was the perfect name for their eldest daughter. He did not want to deceive Mary in the name. He wanted to pay tribute to both women in his life, Jane Austen and Mary Paul, and at that time, the idea seemed an excellent one. Until now, when his wife had learned of the second nature of the name and, obviously, was extremely upset by it.

Tom sighed and wiped the sweat beads from his forehead with his hand. He clenched his jaws and ploughed the soil several times. He never wanted his wife to be angry at him; but if she did, let it be only towards him. Pray, God, spare my daughter Jane from this. Not my beloved Guardian Angel. It is not her fault to be named as such. The fault is entirely mine…

Jane Christmas herself was currently picking scattered red apples from the ground under her favourite apple tree. She was cheerfully telling her father her plan to bake a delicious apple pie for their dinner (her father just made non-committal sounds) when she heard her mother calling her. Turning around, she saw her mother walking towards them in her afternoon dress. Jane admired her mother for her loving words, gentle smile and understanding. The only thing she did not share with Mary Paul Lefroy was the enjoyment of novel reading; that was Jane's bond with her father Tom Lefroy.

'Mother, look!' exclaimed Jane happily. 'I have so many apples; I will bake a delicious apple pie for you and Father for dinner!'

'Indeed. Will you do so for tonight, my dear?' Upon her daughter's confirmation, Mary resumed, 'Then, please leave for the kitchen dear for I need a moment alone with your father.' Upon Jane's inquiring gaze, Mary touched her daughter's pink cheek and fondly added, 'We will join you for the dinner with your apple pie.'

Jane had dreaded family meals for the last few days, for her mother scarcely said anything, and if she did, it was usually directed to her or their cook, instead of her father. Yet this afternoon Jane felt that her mother's mood was changing for the better. Nodding hopefully, Jane left her parents to commence the baking of the apples.

Mary watched her daughter until her light-coloured curls disappeared behind the kitchen door before she turned to her husband. Tom had stopped his activity for a while, tentatively diverting his attention from his potatoes to his wife. Upon his solemn nod, Mary said, 'It was good that it rained last night. Good for the vegetables.'

'Yes, indeed…' Tom diverted his gaze to study his shovel. 'I expect a good harvest of potatoes later this year. November, perhaps.'

Mary made non-committal sounds. 'November. Are you not going to England in November? Or is it October?'

Tom looked at her with sadness. 'I'm not sure, Mary. I know not whether it is wise.'

'Westminster Hall called you, Thomas. Am I to understand that you are not leaving?'

He shrugged. 'I suppose I have to.'

'Do you want to?' Mary's grey eyes gazed into Tom's bright blue eyes. 'Do you want to go, Tom?'

Tom had dreaded this moment for the last few days. Before the news of Jane Austen's death had reached him, Mary had been excited about his plans to go to England to visit the Parliament House. Yet now, he knew that it would take a miracle for his wife to give him leave. Suddenly loosing his appetite for gardening, he put down his shovel and sat on the ground, facing Jane's apple tree. It was a moment or two before he replied, 'What do you think, Mary?'

'Me?' Mary approached her husband and carefully sat down on the grass, a few steps from him. She fixed her smart petticoat carefully before settling down in comfort. 'I'd like to know what you would do in England, other than attending the parliamentary meetings, that is.'

Tom said nothing. Instead, he picked a piece of leaf and started to shred it. Mary arched her fine eyebrow before prompting once more.

'Will you go to see that Jane Austen? Her grave, I mean.'

Tom stopped shredding the poor leaf. He looked at his wife and slowly nodded. 'Yes, I will.' He prepared himself for another wrath from Mary, but received none. Instead, she straightened her legs, propped herself with two arms and admitted, 'I read one of her novels last night. Whilst you were asleep.' Upon Tom's inquiring gaze, she explained, 'The one about that silly Woodhouse girl. Charming and funny, though I may not understand why anyone would like the annoying Emma Woodhouse.'

Unexpectedly, Tom chuckled. 'Emma has her own charms. She is fallible, but she is a charming soul nonetheless.'

'The way Jane Austen was herself?' Mary tilted her head and was expecting to see Tom's surprised expression. He disappointed her, though, for he showed no signs of surprise. Tom Lefroy was ready for the interrogation.

'Yes. Not unlike Jane Austen herself.'

'Was she so amiable? Jane, I mean.'

'Mary…' Tom's plea did nothing to stop her. Finally, Tom sighed. 'Yes. Very amiable.'

'Did you love her?'

Tom had dropped the pretence that Mary would not ask the question again. He studied the grass beneath his feet for a moment before nodding. 'Yes,' his voice was steady. 'I did love her.'

Mary pursed her lips and steadied herself before resuming, 'Do you love her still?'

Tom picked another leaf to shred. 'I think so,' he said after a while. 'I have often thought of her recently, but not in the way I thought of her before.'

'How so?'

'More of a kindred spirit, I guess. But –' he tilted his head to observe his wife. ' – why did you ask, Mary? Does it not hurt you?'

She nodded slowly. 'It does. But I want to know why you loved her. I want to know of your other Jane whose death has devastated you so.'

'Mary…'

'Why did you leave her, Thomas? You had the choice to be with her, I presume. Why did you leave her and chose me instead?'

How could a husband answer such a question? Tom's blue eyes locked gaze with Mary's grey eyes, but he was also the first one who diverted his attention to the grass. How could he tell her that even though he had been engaged to her in 1797, his heart was still with the late Miss Austen? How could he tell her about the beautiful city of Bath, where he visited Jane and her family in late 1797, spending a few memorable weeks strolling the streets and gardens? And then when he was contemplating whether to cancel his engagement with Mary, he received the most unexpected news.

-xxx-

Born on January 8th, 1776, Tom Lefroy was the eldest son of Anthony Lefroy and Ann Gardner. Tom was actually the sixth child of the family, for he had four older sisters born before him. As was commonly practiced, the Lefroy's family hopes rested upon Tom and his younger brother Anthony who was born on October 19th, 1777. Alas, on November 5th, 1798, the young Anthony who was barely one and twenty years old had fallen in love and married a penniless Miss Elizabeth Wilkin, who, by the standards of great uncle Benjamin Langlois, was an undesirable woman. Consequently, Anthony was cut off from the Langlois financial support and forced to be financially independent. At that time, Tom and Anthony were the only young Lefroy men who regularly supported their family. With Anthony leaving, Tom was left alone. His second younger brother, Benjamin, was only 16 years of age, a mere teenager who could not be expected to earn money for the family.

It was a heartbreaking moment for Tom when he decided to sever his connection with Jane Austen wholly and permanently. He did try to detach himself from her in 1796 but to no avail, for he could not deny that the attraction he had shared with Jane had been anything less than true love. Despite his admiration and friendship towards Mary Paul, Tom could not ignore the reality that his engagement to Mary was an attempt to please his uncle and family. Tom realised that he still could not forget Jane completely. After another meeting with Jane Austen in Bath in November 1797 and a further Christmas holiday in her company, Tom was so close to cancelling his engagement with Mary. Not even the close proximity of him and Mary (who in mid 1798 was already in North Wales, escaping the Irish Rebellion) could deter his plan to return to Jane. Yet, his plan was aborted forever when his brother Anthony eloped.

Tom still remembered the momentous day when Anthony, a young Captain of the 65th Regiment at that time, met him secretly in a shabby London tavern on a cold night on the first day of November 1798, one year after Tom's meeting with Jane in Bath. Despite the hazy smoke and the noisy atmosphere of the tavern (Tom would much prefer a library or a park), he could see plain love etched on the countenance of his young brother; he knew that Anthony's feeling towards Elizabeth were pure. After overcoming his shock to hear Anthony's rather sudden news, he tried to reason.

'Can you not at least wait, Brother? You know the nature of our great uncle. Uncle Benjamin will not let you be with her!'

'I know that!' said the stubborn Anthony, dashing as ever in his red regiment uniform. 'That's why we will elope; away from the madness and away from the pretence….. away from this wretched, snobbish society!' Anthony's eyes, also blue like Tom's, sparkled with excitement. 'He cannot refuse her once we are married, can he?'

Try, Tom said bitterly to himself. He had once tried to introduce his great uncle to the idea of his closeness to a Miss Jane Austen. Indeed, he had even taken the liberty to arrange a meeting between Jane and his uncle in London two years ago; a meeting that was not productive and resulted in him secretly resuming his relationship with Jane. And in Easter 1797, to fulfil his family's desire, he concurrently also engaged himself with the sweet Mary Paul of Wexford. What did those actions make him? A bastard, said Tom to himself as he took a gulp of beer. A nasty bastard.

Tom loosened his cravat before shaking his head. 'Anthony, please think about it. What will happen to Father, Mother and our sisters if you run away without a penny? Our family income will suffer greatly!'

'Oh, but we have you, Brother!' Gulping his own beer, Anthony tapped Tom's shoulder. 'You will marry that rich Wexford lass; you will be able to provide us with all the bread that we need!'

'I am not –' Tom clenched his jaws before he resumed. 'Anthony, I am contemplating the idea of cancelling the engagement.'

'What?!' The news struck Anthony like a bolt; he almost gagged on his own beer. In the Lefroy family, Thomas was always the diligent and silent boy; such a contrast to Anthony's mischievous actions (hence, the elder boy chose law school and the younger one chose the army). Yet Anthony loved his brother so much, the way his brother loved him. In other circumstances, Anthony would give a toast for Tom's change of heart. However, now Anthony Lefroy only went agape for a while before stuttering, 'But…but you told me –'

'That was ages ago, Anthony. I'm changing my mind.'

Anthony sat down slowly. He did not expect this turn of events for the world. 'Is it still the Hampshire lass?' Anthony knew that Tom once or twice talked of a Hampshire girl, a friend of Aunt Anne of Ashe, but he never knew that his brother's feeling was sincere. 'You… love her?' Upon Tom's slow but certain nod, Anthony frowned. 'What will you say to Father? To Uncle?'

'I don't know. I am hoping that you will help me,' Tom took another gulp of beer. 'By not running away with your lover.' His tone was apparently harsh enough, for Anthony suddenly snapped.

'Hey! Don't speak like that about her! I love Lizzy!'

Realising his mistake, Tom mumbled his apology. Anthony sighed and looked at his brother intently. 'I love my Lizzy, Tom. As you love your Hampshire girl.'

'Jane. That's her name.'

'Yes, Jane.' He tapped his fingers on the table. 'You told me she was pretty?'

Tom cast an affirmative smile; his eyes gazed at the ceiling, his mind wandered into the past. 'And very well-versed in dancing… and has the most beautiful soprano voice…and –' he chuckled unexpectedly, '– loves to shop.'

Tom closed his eyes, and in an instant his mind witnessed flashes of the most beautiful scenes of his life: he and Jane dancing together in Manydown Park and Basingstoke Assembly. He had seated himself to listen to Jane playing and singing Robin Adair, songs from Handel's oratorio Susanna, and How gentle was my Damon's air. His memory also skilfully played out the scenes where he and Jane had strolled the lanes and streets of Bath; stopping at one shop in Milsom Street to admire a bonnet, entering a patisserie full of delicious sweet breads and then resting under a thick mulberry tree.

Loud laughter from a group of men at the neighbouring table brought him back to the present. The men were not laughing at him, they were merely laughing at a dirty joke they had shared among them. Tom breathed heavily as he leaned forward on the table, fingering his messy hair in confusion. 'I love her, Anthony. I just realised I cannot live without her.'

Anthony's heart sank. 'Then…what are we to do?'

Tom looked up and drilled into Anthony's eyes. 'Listen, Anthony. Cancel your elopement. Let's face this together. We can talk it over with Uncle Benjamin if we both try.'

To his dismay, Anthony slowly shook his head. 'I cannot, Brother. Lizzy is waiting for me as we speak. I cannot abandon her.'

'You will be cut off!'

'I care not! Besides, I have you to defend me.'

'And who will defend me when I leave Mary for Jane?' Tom's bright blue eyes beseeched hopelessly and his heart sank as he realised that Anthony would not change his mind.

Anthony blinked as his shoulders slumped. 'Brother… I am sorry…' He reached for some coins in his pocket and rose as he placed the coins on the table. 'I have to go. Our elopement is this very night, and must collect Lizzy in less than thirty minutes.'

'I cannot defend you, Anthony, not like this.'

Putting on his hat carelessly, Anthony shook his head. 'You're a lawyer and my brother, Tom. If not you, who else will defend me?'

Tom tried his last, moot, attempt. 'What about Jane and I?'

Anthony blinked and leaned towards his brother. 'Take my advice, Brother. Run away with her, as Lizzy and I will do. That's the only way.' And, detecting that Tom, being the responsible eldest son, would take out the 'family' trump, Anthony shook his head. 'Our family will have to do fine without us, Tom. We have given them most of our allowance anyway. Not to be inconsiderate here, but I suppose it's time for us to think of ourselves.' He hugged his brother for the last time. 'Uncle Ben loves you, Tom. He will listen to you. Good luck to you and Jane.'

And then, just like a cheerful wind, he left. A week later, Anthony Lefroy would learn that not even his brother's brilliant plea could reduce Benjamin Langlois' anger. Judge Langlois was so furious that he immediately cut off the financial support for Anthony and his wife and stopped regarding him as family.

Anthony was ready for this consequence, but his family was not. His parents wrote to Tom Lefroy, specifically asking him not to follow Anthony's mischievous steps and to continue his plan to marry the Wexford Mary Paul. And thus, with the utmost heavy heart, Tom resumed his engagement with Mary and left Jane alone in Hampshire. He did write to Jane, explaining that he could not visit her in Hampshire anymore, for he was to return home to Ireland, 'in service of my family'. When Jane asked for more details, listlessly he admitted that he had the duty to save his family 'upon my brother's marriage to a Miss Wilkin that left them without my venerable great-uncle's support'. He could not bring himself to explain about his engagement to Mary, but he preferred Jane to hear his story than to listen to the thriving Ashe gossips. After all, nobody but Jane and he (and now Anthony) were aware of the status of their relationship.

Jane's response was expectedly bitter. She did not say bad things about him directly, but she used prickly words that would make Tom feel ashamed of his actions for years to come. What he did not know immediately was that slowly Jane came to understand Tom's impossible situation and that she often paid Tom silent homage in her novels. Not until Tom started to read Jane's novels (prompted by his daughter Jane's fondness of novel reading) did he learn of Jane's forgiveness. Emma, her last novel before her death, proved that Jane Austen had forgiven Tom, for Tom could see himself in Frank Churchill and the Irishman Mr. Dixon; both were portrayed in a much lighter sense compared to… say, John Willoughby in her first novel Sense & Sensibility (to his relief, he also caught a similarity of himself to Edward Ferrars there).

In short, surrounded by four of Jane Austen's published novels and a daughter who was so fond of reading the novels, it was hard for Tom not to think of Jane Austen frequently. However, he succeeded in becoming a good husband and a good father. At least until now; now his wife had knowledge that he still cared for Jane Austen more than he should.

-TBC-

Author's note:

As I stated in chapter 1, the info of Anthony Lefroy was already there all this time in Deirdre Le Faye's 'Jane Austen's Letters'. It was a great decision I made to buy the book (I usually used my library's Chapman) so that I learned the importance of Anthony in Tom's life… and love by the time I wanted to write this fan-fiction. And hence, I am pleased to write this chapter, a tribute to the brotherly love between Thomas Langlois Lefroy and the lesser known Anthony Lefroy. And Anthony was indeed a member of the 65th Regiment before marrying Elizabeth Wilkin. Anyone in red uniform is cute; just look at Joe Anderson's Henry Austen! Oh, and I am not sure if Anthony eloped or married properly... the elopement is my assumption.

I also looked up the Vegetable Season of Foody UK & Ireland site for reference on proper vegetables to grow in August. I hope the list does not vary much with the ones in the 19th century.

And Elwen of Lorien spotted it perfectly that I mis-wrote Tom's year of birth. It should be 1776 instead of 1796 (smiling sheepishly). Thanks a lot, Elwen!