In a refreshing break from tradition, the costume drama turned 180° and focused its spotlight and cameras on the author of six of its most famous inspirations. All the traditional props were there – large country piles; sweeping lawns; lakes and fountains; bonnets and carriages – but for once it was all real. This was Jane Austen’s life: at once the same as, but completely different from, that of her heroines. And what a fabulous drama she made of it!

This production provided a delicious feast for the senses. Costumes, scenery and props were uniformly perfect, giving the whole work a wonderful texture that I would have been happy just to sit and gawp at for ninety minutes, it was so rich. Every nuance of lighting, every new grassy vista that opened up led at least one of us to murmur “oh, look at that,” or “isn’t that pretty?”

But though my visual cortex was awash with a surfeit of delight, still more enjoyment was in store for the ears. With crisp and witty dialogue borrowed heavily from the letters of Miss Austen herself by the writer Gwyneth Hughes, each new sharp comment, pithy observation, gentle reproof or heartfelt confession that fell from the lips of the master (mistress?) raised a wry smile, a chuckle or a gasp of appreciation. Hats off to Ms Hughes though – she couldn’t have found *all* the dialogue in the letters, and those parts that were hers alone blended seamlessly with the 19th century originals like a masterly work of restoration leaves a building looking even better than it did before.

I was confused at one point by the significance of Miss Austen standing in the middle of the woods holding up a travel blanket to no apparent purpose. Then it became clear that she was shielding her niece Fanny from the coachmen, while Fanny squatted to pee. Marvellous! One in the eye for all those moaning minnies who complain that costume drama doesn’t live in the real world. It was worth watching for that one scene alone.

My second and final moment of confusion occurred when Jane greeted Mr. Brittas, and pronounced it almost identically to the manic receptionist of Brittas Empire fame. It was only later I realised she was actually addressing Mr. BRIDGES, the closest she came to her own Mr. Darcy, not counting the original proposer the rather comically named Mr Harris Bigg.

For yes, as it turned out, Jane did live in the middle of her own costume drama. Proposal and rejection, success and misfortune, triumph and disaster, all came knocking at the door of her quiet Hampshire cottage at some stage. Being a genius and a woman at that time was not a happy combination, and although her legions of fans are no doubt thankful that she never married (the odds against finding a husband who would have allowed her to continue writing, or worse, seeking publication – so unseemly! – were astronomical), Jane battled constantly with the opprobrium of her family; her own sharp wit, which did not always sit well with her companions; and the often restrictive circumstances she had to endure. “Which of my important nothings shall I tell you first?” she wrote to her sister Cassandra, a question that captures the quintessential frustration of a brilliant mind trapped in a cultural straitjacket in which she was not even allowed to negotiate her own publishing deals.

Those frustrations and suppressions were beautifully brought to life by Olivia Williams as Jane; an utterly believable portrait of a woman who yearns for love and social acceptance but who is not prepared to compromise her talent to secure them. Indeed the whole ensemble cast is worthy of praise. Even the best script can be reduced to nothing by a wooden delivery, but there were no marionettes in evidence last night. Just a lot of strings being pulled. Excellent stuff.