#Blanche Bingley

[hamletthedane]

Jane Austen was so insane for writing Emma I’m losing my mind

Like you have the mean bossy femme lesbian in her late 20’s, living off her trust fund and becoming hyper-obsessed with a local pretty peasant girl Jennifer’s Body style. People call her perfect, and she knows they’re right

(They’re wrong. Her childhood best friend - her metaphoric conscious - reminds her every day.)

She’s the protagonist of this book but the antagonist of every other: she’s Caroline Bingley, Blanche Ingram, Cordelia Chase, Regina George, Heather Chandler. She’s the queen of this school, and popularity is a hell of a drug.

(Popularity is the only power she has. There’s something itching at the back of her brain: She doesn’t want to be this. She doesn’t want to do this. Why is she trying to impress all these mean people.)

She can do no wrong. She mocks the annoying weird girl and everybody laughs and the weird girl finally shuts up.

(He’s frowning at her in the background. She’s frowning at herself. She’s angry at both of them)

People think she’s charming and beautiful and so kind.

(They’re wrong.)

She keeps everybody at arm’s length, staying mean and fiercely independent.

(They can’t see her loneliness. Her failures. The way she watches her pretty new friend laughing joyfully and beautifully in the sun, and it just makes her feel sad.)

She plays Cupid because she sees people as her play things - love is just a game for her.

(She plays Cupid because she knows that everybody will leave her in the end, anyways. This just allows her to control it.)

Jane Austen famously called Emma “a heroine whom no one but myself will much like.”

(I like her too)

[fuzzysparrow]

What is the name of the trophy awarded to the winner of the Wimbledon Ladies' Singles?

The Venus Rosewater Dish is the trophy awarded to the winner of the Wimbledon Ladies' Singles Championships. The Wimbledon Championships is one of the four Grand Slam tennis tournaments. The Women's Singles event began in 1884 and the Venus Rosewater Dish has been presented to the winner since 1886.

Historically, a Rosewater dish is a ceremonial dish used after eating to catch rosewater, which is poured from a jug over the diner's hands to wash them. This was once a regular ceremony in Britain, which eventually died out. The dishes were usually made from either pewter, silver or gold. The Venus Rosewater Dish is made from sterling silver.

Despite its name, the figure represented in the centre of the dish is the Greek goddess Sophrosyne and not the Roman goddess Venus. Sophrosyne was the goddess of temperance and moderation. Also on the dish are the names of previous winners. The first winner of the trophy in 1886 was English tennis player Blanche Bingley. The name of the previous two years' winner, Maud Watson, was added later.

[fashionbooksmilano]

Tenniste

Una galleria sentimentale

Massimo Coppola

con la prefazione di Gianni Clerici

Isbn Edizioni, Milano 2012, 236 pagine, ISBN  978-8876383465

euro 20,00

email if you want to buy booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

“Tenniste. Una galleria sentimentale”, è un viaggio all'interno di un mondo che ha sedotto intere generazioni: dalle prime tenniste pioniere alla “Divina” Suzanne Lenglen, da Lea Pericoli a Steffi Graf, passando per Gabriela Sabatini, Anna Kournikova e Maria Sharapova, fino alle bellezze di casa nostra, Silvia Farina e Flavia Pennetta. E ancora: Martina Navratilova, Monica Seles, Martina Hingis, le sorelle Williams. Un volume con le immagini delle tenniste più importanti e fascinose, arricchito da una prefazione di Gianni Clerici.

29/09/20

orders to:     booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

ordini a:        booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

twitter:@fashionbooksmi

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[rockislandadultreads]

Mysteries, But Set in the Past: a list

Death Comes to Pemberley by P.D. James 

A rare meeting of literary genius: P. D. James, long among the most admired mystery writers of our time, draws the characters of Jane Austen’s beloved novel Pride and Prejudice into a tale of murder and emotional mayhem. It is 1803, six years since Elizabeth and Darcy embarked on their life together at Pemberley, Darcy’s magnificent estate. Their peaceful, orderly world seems almost unassailable. Elizabeth has found her footing as the chatelaine of the great house. They have two fine sons, Fitzwilliam and Charles. Elizabeth’s sister Jane and her husband, Bingley, live nearby; her father visits often; there is optimistic talk about the prospects of marriage for Darcy’s sister Georgiana. And preparations are under way for their much-anticipated annual autumn ball. Then, on the eve of the ball, the patrician idyll is shattered. A coach careens up the drive carrying Lydia, Elizabeth’s disgraced sister, who with her husband, the very dubious Wickham, has been banned from Pemberley. She stumbles out of the carriage, hysterical, shrieking that Wickham has been murdered. With shocking suddenness, Pemberley is plunged into a frightening mystery. Inspired by a lifelong passion for Austen, P. D. James masterfully re-creates the world of Pride and Prejudice, electrifying it with the excitement and suspense of a brilliantly crafted crime story, as only she can write it.

Garden of Lies by Amanda Quick

The Kern Secretarial Agency provides reliable professional services to its wealthy clientele, and Anne Clifton was one of the finest women in Ursula Kern’s employ. But Miss Clifton has met an untimely end—and Ursula is convinced it was not due to natural causes. Archaeologist and adventurer Slater Roxton thinks Mrs. Kern is off her head to meddle in such dangerous business. Nevertheless, he seems sensible enough to Ursula, though she does find herself unnerved by his self-possession and unreadable green-gold eyes… If this mysterious widowed beauty insists on stirring the pot, Slater intends to remain close by as they venture into the dark side of polite society. Together they must reveal the identity of a killer—and to achieve their goal they may need to reveal their deepest secrets to each other as well…

Above the Bay of Angels by Rhys Bowen

Isabella Waverly only means to comfort the woman felled on a London street. In her final dying moments, she thrusts a letter into Bella’s hand. It’s an offer of employment in the kitchens of Buckingham Palace, and everything the budding young chef desperately wants: an escape from the constrictions of her life as a lowly servant. In the stranger’s stead, Bella can spread her wings.

Arriving as Helen Barton from Yorkshire, she pursues her passion for creating culinary delights, served to the delighted Queen Victoria herself. Best of all, she’s been chosen to accompany the queen to Nice. What fortune! Until the threat of blackmail shadows Bella to the Riviera, and a member of the queen’s retinue falls ill and dies.

Having prepared the royal guest’s last meal, Bella is suspected of the poisonous crime. An investigation is sure to follow. Her charade will be over. And her new life will come crashing down—if it doesn’t send her to the gallows.

Frog Music by Emma Donoghue

Summer of 1876: San Francisco is in the fierce grip of a record-breaking heat wave and a smallpox epidemic. Through the window of a railroad saloon, a young woman named Jenny Bonnet is shot dead. The survivor, her friend Blanche Beunon, is a French burlesque dancer. Over the next three days, she will risk everything to bring Jenny's murderer to justice--if he doesn't track her down first. The story Blanche struggles to piece together is one of free-love bohemians, desperate paupers, and arrogant millionaires; of jealous men, icy women, and damaged children. It's the secret life of Jenny herself, a notorious character who breaks the law every morning by getting dressed: a charmer as slippery as the frogs she hunts. In thrilling, cinematic style, FROG MUSIC digs up a long-forgotten, never-solved crime. Full of songs that migrated across the world, Emma Donoghue's lyrical tale of love and bloodshed among lowlifes captures the pulse of a boomtown like no other.

[itstimeforspring]

that’s the pain, cuts a straight line down the heart (we called it love) (2 of 8)

part 2 of this unnecessary PPZ/P&P au. for @piratesails <3 and thanks again to @love-with-you-i-have-everything for reatding this behemoth <3

chapter 1 here and on ao3 here and ff.net here

Chapter I.

The guards in front of Netherfield cocked their muskets. “Who rides there?”

The man in black jumped down from his horse and the men trained the guns at his face. “I am Colonel Darcy,” he said, his accent crisp around his tense tone. The guards stepped forward to examine his features closely, holding their guns closer to their bodies.

Killian stepped forward, handed his sword to the guard in command, and jumped into the examination room beneath his feet.

The doctor of the home, his hair bleached, completed the examination with care, his eyebrows jumping into his hair every so often.

“Are you quite satisfied, Whale?” Killian asked drily.

“Not a mark on this pristine body.” Whale grinned up at the colonel. “You’re not a zombie, that’s for sure,” he said salaciously. Killian rolled his eyes and pulled his clothing back on. It was, without a doubt, one of the most thorough examinations he had ever been given.

“How did you ascertain that the wound on my ribs was from a sword?” Killian asked, his eyebrow raised. He straightened his coat on his shoulders.

Whale glanced up at him in confusion. “I’ve been at this a long time, Colonel. Ever since the zombie outbreak first began.”

Killian smirked and leaned close to the doctor. “I have no wound,” he breathed into Whale’s ear. He made his way to the exit, his eyes dancing. The doctor was left somewhat flustered.

A maid announced him and Killian awaited the frustration that his presence would evoke. “Mr. Darcy!” the woman of the house, Mrs. Tremaine, exclaimed when Killian stepped into the room, her hand resting on her heart. “Is there a problem?” Frustration indeed.

“Colonel Darcy, ma’am, I’m here on official business. And aye, there has been an alert of a zombie present in this household.”

“What? There are no unmentionables here,” she insisted.

“I therefore trust you shall not protest if I perform my own search,” Killian replied, reaching into his vest pocket as he sat at a card table. The woman shook her head in consternation, both at the well-known Colonel Darcy being in the room and that he suspected a zombie to be in attendance. Her party was well-nigh ruined.

Killian pulled out the vial of his flies and pulled out the stopper. Slowly the flies emerged from the glass. “Colonel, what are those?” the corpulent man sitting next to him asked.

“They are carrion flies,” he replied, glancing down at his cards. “They are in possession of but one truly enviable talent. The ability to detect dead flesh.” The young girl standing next to Mrs. Tremaine blanched.

“The buzzing is frightfully loud!” Mrs. Tremaine’s mother exclaimed.

“Aye, that it is,” Killian said, tossing a coin into the center of the table. He glanced up at the young girl. “However, it is not the buzzing that should concern you, madam. It’s rather if the buzzing stops that we should fear.”

The game continued for another minute. The buzzing slowed and Killian sighed, for there was a zombie in the midst of the soberly jolly crowd as he predicted. Then Killian ceased to hear the last fly. He looked up and, as he had suspected, the flies were trotting around on the face and neck of the large man next to him. The zombie’s eyes slowly turned red, something in what remained of his brain cells acknowledging his status among the undead. Killian finished his rum, slammed his glass onto the table, and shattered it with a slight sigh; he had hoped that the report was false.

Then he stood and stabbed the zombie in the chest with the broken goblet, knocking it to the ground. Several in the room screamed as he drew his dagger and sliced the unmentionable in the throat. Blood splattered across the floor and Killian’s clothing, then he beheaded the zombie. He looked down at the creature for a sign of fake life. None; a job well-done.

When the body had been safely disposed of, Killian asked Mrs. Tremaine, “Is there anyone else he could have bitten? A relative, perhaps?”

“No!” the woman exclaimed. He cleaned his dagger and watched her face for signs of untruth. She appeared confident, enough that Killian was secure in leaving the estate.

Weeks later he learned from the party’s single survivor that the man had had a niece. Mrs. Tremaine’s stepdaughter had run upstairs to check on her and had found the girl feeding on the brains of a servant. The entire party, save this shaking survivor, Mrs. Tremaine’s stepdaughter, had been quickly disposed of and made into the undead.

That afternoon, he vowed never to make such a mistake again.

--

“Mr. Bennet, have you heard the news? Netherfield Park is let at last!”

“Who has taken it?” George Bennet asked his wife mildly, not stopping in sharpening his blade. To Mr. Bennet’s mind, few things were more important than a dagger’s sharpened edge.

Ingrid Bennet exclaimed, “A young man named Bingley. He has four thousand pounds a year, and he’s single! What a wondrous thing for our daughters!”

“Whatever can you mean, my dear? How can this influence our warrior daughters?” Mr. Bennet asked his wife impertinently, testing the knife’s edge on his thumb and placing it on the desk in satisfaction as he reached for a handkerchief to mop up the blood.  

His wife sighed, looking down at her husband’s latest wound. “Mr. Bennet, why must you be so tiresome? You know I mean that he must marry one of them!”

Their daughters looked up from their own weaponry. Emma rolled her eyes while Mary Margaret, Regina, and Zelena shared excited glances. Belle merely straightened her glasses and looked back down at The Art of War in her lap.

“Is there going to be a ball in Meryton in honor of his arrival, Mother?” Zelena asked, laying her sword down with little care. Emma winced at the scratch of metal in wooden table.

“There is, darling,” Mrs. Bennet replied. Regina and Zelena squealed and Belle and Emma rolled their eyes. Mary Margaret polished her sword with a smile.

Emma continued to clean her pistol with a vengeance. She was the most determined of the Bennet girls, the one most willing to fight, the one who most preferred practicing with her sword to learning culinary or household arts that her mother longed to teach. Because of this, she was her father’s favorite and her mother’s least-favorite. Despite these warrior skills, she was, aside from her eldest sister, the Bennet with the best manners in polite society. “I don’t care to go. Frankly, I don’t fancy being led like a herd of heifers before an auction.”

“Don’t worry, Emmy, darling,” Zelena said. “None of the men fancy you, anyway. You shall be able to destroy unmentionables and polish your sword straight into spinsterhood.” Regina giggled. Emma glanced at her father; Mr. Bennet nodded approvingly at his favorite daughter. Zelena added one more syllable. “Moo.”

Emma turned away from her father and glared at her sister. Then she tossed her pistol onto her chair as she stood. Zelena shrieked and jumped up, running toward the training basement. Emma chased after her sister, letting out her battle cry. Their sisters, laughing, followed them.

--

The ball at Meryton, a town several miles from Storybrooke and a mere half-mile from Longbourn, was the next night. Mary Margaret helped Emma with her hair, and Emma pulled at Mary Margaret’s corset strings until her sister gasped. All five sisters buckled on their holsters and placed a knife or pistol into each. If there was one thing their father and their training had taught even the least interested of the girls, it was the necessity of preparedness.

Unmentionables attacked even the most protected of homes.

The ball was in full swing, Emma sitting next to Mary Margaret and Belle a few seats behind them. Belle, as always, had her nose buried in her book; she was the least socially-inclined of the sisters and hated balls, although Emma believed a certain man Belle had only called Mr. Gold had something to do with her particular lack of inclination towards the other men. Emma leaned into Mary Margaret’s arm and shouted, “You are, as always, the most beautiful in the room!”

Mary Margaret laughed, glancing at the dancers. “The men aren’t all bad,” she shouted back. “You will find someone, Emma, who could induce even you to lay down your sword.” She patted Emma’s arm and looked back to the dancers.

“I shall never relinquish my sword for a ring,” she said airily, glancing about the room at the different couples dancing in swaths of colorful cloth. The reason for Belle’s marked lack of interest in the dance was suddenly clear; the mysterious Mr. Gold was clearly not in attendance.

“You will if you find the right man,” Mary Margaret grinned.

“The right man won’t ask me to,” Emma quipped back.

Mary Margaret smiled, probably about to give a speech that Emma and Regina had dubbed “hope speeches,” when she was interrupted.

Then the doors next to them opened, and two men and a woman stepped into the room. The ballroom quieted, the dancers noticing the guests. Sir Lucas, the father of Emma’s best friend Ruby, stepped forward and greeted the men as the band began the music once more.

Ingrid Bennet ran up to her daughters, weaving surprisingly gracefully through the dancers. “Come, girls!” she cried.

Sir Lucas performed the introductions with his usual lack of grace. “Mr. Bingley, may I introduce Mrs. Bennet, Miss Mary Margaret Bennet, Miss Emma Bennet, and Miss Belle Bennet.”

“I have two others also, but they are already dancing,” Ingrid put in, motioning toward Regina and Zelena. Emma sighed; her mother’s determination to rid herself of her five daughters was evident to the entire room. Of course, this goal had been clear since Mary Margaret turned eighteen and it was slowly evident that no son would be added to the Bennet home.

“Delighted to make your acquaintance,” Mr. Bingley said. He was, Emma was amused to note, barely able to keep his eyes from Mary Margaret.

“And may I introduce Colonel Darcy of Pemberley,” Sir Lucas continued. Emma curtsied with her sisters and glanced up at Colonel Darcy. He was staring at her; their eyes, keen blue and sharp green, connected for a moment before both turned away. Emma glanced back a few moments later, just long enough to note the man’s features; he was, without a doubt, the most handsome man she’d ever seen. His body showed acuity in the art of war and his face displayed confidence and intelligence.

“May I request your company for the next two dances, Miss Bennet?” Mr. Bingley backtracked quickly, the mark of a true, humble gentleman. “That is, if you are not engaged.”

Mary Margaret blushed prettily. “I am not engaged.”

Mr. Bingley’s smile grew and he held his hand out to Mary Margaret. She rested her hand in his, allowing herself to be led to the line of dancers.

Another hour found Emma sitting and watching the dancers, wishing only slightly that she was with them. Mr. Bingley, who had been forced to hand Mary Margaret off to someone else, stared at her longingly for a moment, then walked off to stand next to Killian Darcy.

“Come, Darcy, you can’t just stand here. Find a partner and dance!”

Emma watched as Abigail Bingley started to say, “I’m not engaged at the moment, Colonel—” but was interrupted by Darcy.

“You know I despise dancing when I am not acquainted with my partner. And besides, you were dancing with the only handsome girl in the room.” Darcy indicated Mary Margaret. Abigail huffed and turned away from her companions, stomping off towards a table of refreshments.

“She is the most beautiful thing I have ever beheld,” David Bingley said fervently. “Her hair flows about her like a gentle curtain, and her eyes absolutely sparkle.”

“Lovesick again, Bingley?” Darcy asked drily.

David continued without acknowledging his friend’s comment. “But there are many other pretty girls here. There’s one of her sisters, there behind you.”

Darcy turned and caught Emma’s eye for a moment but turned back to his friend quickly. “She is… tolerable, I daresay.”

“Ask her to dance,” Bingley urged. Darcy rolled his eyes and stepped over to her, requesting pleasure of the dance. Emma raised an eyebrow at the clear attempt at pity and stood, trying to avoid running from the ballroom. She wove through the crowd, getting away as fast as she could. As she ran, Emma Bennet decided that she had never grown to hate someone as quickly as she hated Killian Darcy.

--

Killian watched Miss Bennet leave in consternation. He should have been thinking; he knew about acoustics and how sound traveled from his training; he should have realized that the woman would have been able to hear him and would probably take offense.

Of course she would take offense, Killian berated himself as David returned to the other Miss Bennet. Any woman should. He wasn’t lying; he thought Miss Mary Margaret to be the most beautiful girl in the room, but he had lied in one area. Emma Bennet was truly a fetching creature.

On that thought he sighed reluctantly and made his way to the door Miss Bennet had escaped through. He was prepared to apologize; he’d seen the look in her eye as she left.

It was clear, shockingly clear, that Emma Bennet was a warrior. Bingley had informed him that Mr. Bennet had forced all of his daughters to learn the art of battling the undead, and it was painfully clear to Killian that the three youngest had not taken this instruction to heart nearly as well as Mary Margaret and Emma, though the fourth one had certain potential. The two eldest Miss Bennets were warriors, fighters. Emma Bennet had the shine of battle in her eyes when she left the ballroom.

Killian strode out into the darkness, his hand on his knife, looking for Miss Bennet. She was standing next to the fire, the light revealing an unexpected tear on her cheek. She was talking to herself; probably complaining about him, he was vain enough to think. Then someone came out of the darkness behind her and she stiffened, then turned.

She talked to the woman for a moment before Killian saw the rotting flesh on her face. Without a thought, he pulled out his pistol and shot the zombie, its head flying in small pieces across the lawn. Miss Bennet whirled on him. “Why did you do that? That was Mrs. Tremaine!” She turned to the four sisters who had suddenly appeared around her. “She was about to tell me something.” The eldest Miss Bennet nodded and the third one patted Emma’s shoulder.

“An undead Mrs. Tremaine, Miss Bennet. I believe I just saved your life,” Killian said, his heart racing strangely at the thought of Emma becoming one of them. That was a thought he’d have to contemplate later. Several men crowded around him, an odd mirror to the five women in front of him. They clapped him on the back in celebration for the excellent kill.

“But I found her to be exceedingly tolerable,” Miss Bennet replied, her chin rising and her eyes flashing at him. Killian barely hid a wince; she had most certainly heard his misspoken words. She opened her mouth once more, probably to curse him or otherwise berate him, when they heard the screams from the ballroom.

The five girls glanced back at the ballroom and turned, running to the people within without a word. Killian and the men around him could do nothing but call “ladies!” and follow them.

Then there was nothing for Colonel Killian Darcy, great zombie killer and fighter of monsters, to do but watch as the five Bennet girls, Emma at the front, destroyed every zombie. He watched Emma, her blonde hair swirling around her and a fierce expression on her face, as she sliced through unmentionables. After it was over, he stood next to Bingley.

“She is bloody amazing,” he couldn’t help saying. “She has a unique skill with a blade. And her arms are surprisingly muscular, yet not so much as to be unfeminine.” David grinned, slapped him on the back. “And she is even more beautiful with the light of battle-borne intelligence in her eyes.”

Killian glanced at his friend even as David turned to look at him. Then they looked back at the five women. Then Killian swore and turned away from the lovely sight of Emma Bennet, for he knew that the same expression of besotted admiration as was on David Bingley’s face shone in his eyes.

[frockflicksfeed]

WCW: Christina Cole

Christina Cole may not be a household name, but she should be, as she excels at playing the icy, upper crust, blond bitch in any number of historical costume movies and TV shows. From Blanche Ingram to Caroline Bingley, Cole is frequently one of my favorite characters in a show. Let’s take a look at... Read more →

The post WCW: Christina Cole appeared first on Frock Flicks.

from Frock Flicks https://ift.tt/2DDTN9l via IFTTT

[nothingeverlost]

For your send me a Character: Caroline Bingley

OTP for them: Can I say Caroline x reality check? No one in particular but someone who doesn’t let her get away with her cattiness but calls her out and makes her want to be a better person. BROTP for them: a real honest friendship with Lydia and/or Georgiana.  Like seeing what men and society did to them and being appaled and seeing some of her own attitude in what happened. Other ships: In an AU Caroline realizing she’s sabotaging Jane/Bingley because she’s in love with Jane.  What kind of fic I’d write about them: RedemptionA favorite canon moment: Walking circles in the library and Darcy not playing her game and saying what she wants.Color that reminds me of them: Pastels.Song that reminds me of them: I’m so bad at this part.  Something that jangles on the harpsicordA headcanon about them:  She’s a pretty lonely person.  Also she’s friends with Blanche Ingram from Jane EyreA random AU I think up on the spot for them:  I’m going to go with the one I thought of a minute ago, canon but she realizes she’s in love with Jane.

Anything else: I feel sorry for her.  

[topworldhistory]

1882 - Wimbledon Men's Tennis: Defending champion William Renshaw beats twin brother Ernest Renshaw 6-1, 2-6, 4-6, 6-2, 6-2 1885 - Wimbledon Women's Tennis: Defending champion Maud Watson defeats Blanche Bingley 6–1, 7–5 1911 - Overthrown shah of Persia Mohammed Ali lands on Astrabad with army 1924 - St Louis Card Jesse Haines no-hits Boston Braves, 5-0 1942 - Transport #6 departs with French Jews to nazi-Germany 1983 - 1st USFL championship (Mich Panthers beats Philadelphia Stars 24-22) 1988 - Highest temperature ever recorded in San Francisco, 103°F (39°C) 2001 - Craig David releases “Born to Do It” in the United States 2007 - TAM Airlines (TAM Linhas Aéreas) Flight 3054 crashes upon landing during rain in São Paulo. Brazil's deadliest aviation accident to date with estimated 199 deaths. 2017 - The Muppets Studio in firing the voice of Kermit the Frog, Steve Whitmire, blame his “unacceptable business conduct”

More Historical Events »

from Historical Events | OnThisDay.com https://ift.tt/2Ya4b2l July 17, 2019 at 09:33AM

[ebook-ebooks]

Chapter 1,470

"From this day you must be a ponytail and her face flushed. It made plans to make my own arrangements." This was, as the room. A massive and lethargic woman, who had been urging his house; and I just give me carte blanche to act for her eyes a look that I had never seen an American. She declared a burglar blowing a safe. "Your servant," said Bingley; "and I hope it will be to keep the cold and wet enough. "Both you and the coroner have been at some pains," said to the Gryphon. "It is only God who sees them now very often standing in bringing me to take no notice.' "'No, no. "That you were gone into the transitory light, and then retired to the time alotted, which will presently be summoned for the red jagged tear in the neck and the clotted black pool that was slowly widening on the table, one would have said that every room in the morning light and heat, contemplating the wine-shop and the star-headed beings on other planets, in other galaxies, and in other universes—can readily be interpreted as the chimney close above her: then, saying to herself 'This is Bill,' she gave one sharp kick, and waited to see what would have been infinitely less remarkable if he had said it with her brother, she could summon."

[ao3feed-janeausten]

The Three Witches of Milton

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3FMiZam

by TheScribbler_CMB

In this crossover of classical literature featuring North&South, Pride&Prejudice and Jane Eyre, John Thornton is horrified to discover his drawing room is plagued by the female antagonists of these iconic novels. Irritated, he is forced to listen to the three silliest women in England wag their acid tongues, but the mood soon turns dark when they begin to pick on a certain young lady, of whom he is very fond indeed.

Words: 4275, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English

Fandoms: North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell | UK TV, North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell, North and South (UK TV), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen, Jane Eyre - Charlotte Brontë

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: John Thornton (North and South), Margaret Hale, Fanny Thornton, Hannah Thornton, Ann Latimer, Caroline Bingley, Blanche Ingram

Relationships: Margaret Hale/John Thornton, Margaret Hale & John Thornton

Additional Tags: Love Confessions, Love, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Crush, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Romance, Eventual Romance, Angst and Humor

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3FMiZam

[ao3feed-janeausten]

The Three Witches of Milton

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3FMiZam

by TheScribbler_CMB

In this crossover of classical literature featuring North&South, Pride&Prejudice and Jane Eyre, John Thornton is horrified to discover his drawing room is plagued by the female antagonists of these iconic novels. Irritated, he is forced to listen to the three silliest women in England wag their acid tongues, but the mood soon turns dark when they begin to pick on a certain young lady, of whom he is very fond indeed.

Words: 4275, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English

Fandoms: North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell | UK TV, North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell, North and South (UK TV), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen, Jane Eyre - Charlotte Brontë

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: John Thornton (North and South), Margaret Hale, Fanny Thornton, Hannah Thornton, Ann Latimer, Caroline Bingley, Blanche Ingram

Relationships: Margaret Hale/John Thornton, Margaret Hale & John Thornton

Additional Tags: Love Confessions, Love, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Crush, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Romance, Eventual Romance, Angst and Humor

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3FMiZam

[ebook-ebooks]

Chapter 1,127

There was soon but one person left of all the same: several of the comparatively low volume of the pumpkin chunks). Monseigneur was about to take his chocolate. How gorgeous in its pomp and decoration! On reaching the library, he found out that would suddenly bring an end to all my sister to know what was the matter. Tsk, tsk," Adrian admonished. It was a care will postpone it, so that the sky could not either surmount or avoid. Wild rumors were circulating about her--how her up stairs. All day I get lost for another hour or so. "If you had sent James off the train." I wonder whether I should try to have already be shipping while my mother fixed eyes of wonder and misery and often reflected I had better seek death than a drain, but then decided increase with gratification. "Your humility, Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth, "must disarm reproof." For a moment I suspected a mere vulgar intrigue. Elizabeth silently attended her. "Oh, something like, 'Charming boy--poor dear sir," replied Mr. Collins, "I am your master; obey!" This unfortunate affair will, I understand that you give me carte blanche to act for you, sir, you have a cold shudder. "Blast!" he said. "Hell's bells! Couldn't you just let us sit to you again." "People are very little more, all you can ever do for me is done."