"Good-bye, Sweetheart!" by Rhoda Broughton (1872)

If Broughton is to be repromoted, the inescapable likening would need to be Austen I think. This is not to say that they are in any way identical, but their novels live at the same magnification, there is something in the size of the scene, the centrality of the small number of female characters, usually sisters, and the underlying wit or lifeworn humour. Broughton is late nineteenth century in her embracing of more tragedy, and she is less of an obvious wit than her predecessor, preferring instead a species of what I have hitherto called cheekiness - it might better be typified as a kind of amused small-scale daring. This fourth instalment in the bibliography is again about a pair of sisters, Jemima and Lenore Herrick, with the later intrusion of their settled superficial elder sibling, Sylvia. Jemima is 28 and quite plain and sensible, has never had an admirer. Lenore is 19, and is the beautiful indulged baby of the family. She has always been able, since an early illness as a little one, to command everything she wants and not brook any interruption or opposition. On holiday in Brittany, they encounter two young Englishmen - Paul Le Mesurier is not terribly handsome, not terribly impressed with any woman, and has a cold, commanding manner; Charlie Scrope is big, blond, handsome and very easily led. Lenore is shocked by Paul's indifference - he's the first man who appears completely unmoved by her beauty, and she immediately conceives a fascination with him and the challenge he holds out. Charlie is very taken with Lenore, a circumstance which many other women might be delighted with, but his pretty amiability bores her. We follow as Paul and Lenore circle one another and gradually begin to get over their initial antagonism - which has involved them in some amusing contretemps. They fall in love, but their relationship is fraught with argument and friction as their primary natures rub and scrape at one another. Paul leaves for England, among other things in order to prepare his conservative family for the advent of Lenore. In the remainder of their holiday, a bored Lenore flirts quite strongly with Charlie to keep herself occupied. Back in Wales, at Sylvia's comfortable home in the country, Lenore and Paul prepare for marriage, but Paul's now savagely jealous nature has detected that there just might be something Lenore is hiding about what occurred after he left France. On the day of the wedding, all finally explodes as Lenore's flirting is exposed, as is her unwillingness to edit herself for genteel respectability. Paul leaves permanently. Lenore travels quickly from rage to a kind of nervous prostration. On the rebound, and pining desperately for Paul, she agrees to marry Charlie who has been unable to keep himself away. That move is quickly exposed as impossible; Lenore is not able to care for Charlie as she does for Paul. Trapped by her own pride and wilfulness, her health begins to suffer, but the family think she'll get over it if they head to warmer, clearer climes. In Switzerland, out on a solitary walk, Lenore, to her amazement, meets Paul coming in the opposite direction. As he speaks of his forthcoming marriage, all her hopes of reconciliation are dashed. There is also an embarrassing meeting with the Scropes who are staying in the same hotel. Charlie renews his courting, but Lenore will have none of it, keeping his devotedness hanging on a string as usual. Then she begins to look feebler, thinning out even more than beforehand, and it slowly becomes clear that consumption has caught up with her weakened state. The Herricks are trapped at the Swiss hotel for many weeks, unable to move Lenore. In a last desperate attempt, Charlie is sent off to fetch Paul, so that Lenore can see him one more time - but he returns alone; he has arrived on Paul's wedding day, meaning that there is no conceivable way Paul can accompany him back. This is the end for Lenore. And the novel ends there, which is not the most upbeat of endings, despite I guess being a very artistically sound one. That's not Austen - would it disturb her enthusiasts? Probably.