#the darcys are totally refined until elizabeth walks in and then it’s like no one else exists and they just cut everyone else off

[lannisterdaddyissues]

Oh my god. Forgive me for adding on, but I just couldn’t resist:

Elizabeth not even noticing because of her own parents is hysterical and so in-character. The Darcys would be completely different from the Bennets because they’re rich, well-educated (well, Mr. Bennet is well-educated but he’s got no money and no fucks to give), and possess good judgment and sense (obviously, since they’d take one look at Elizabeth and decide That’s Her, She’s The One). But on the other hand, they’re rich and have reputation, so they wouldn’t even have to conceal their matchmaking schemes at all because they’ve got nothing to lose. In fact, they’d probably be as obvious as possible since it’s even better that Elizabeth is actively avoiding interaction with Darcy—she’s completely immune to their money, which is just what Darcy needs. Purposely embarrassing themselves to create the perfect set-up. I love it.

Darcy, on the other hand, would be 🤏 this close to disinheriting himself. Bonus if Bingley is completely aware of the scheme and always offering his own unwanted encouragement to Darcy about courting Elizabeth. Darcy will have none of it because he doesn’t need a scheming matchmaker of a brother-in-law on top of his two embarrassing parents.

The real question though is would the Darcys and Bennets get along? Or even go so far as to work together? The idea of the mothers banding together while the fathers indulge them is tempting, but there’s also the treat of snobbery running in the family and the Darcys being total hypocrites who get offended by the Bennets’ mercenary intentions, while the Bennets are just as intolerant of the Darcys’ superiority complexes. Like a Romeo & Juliet situation where the families still hate each other but they both want grandchildren and are setting up their prime offspring so both sides reap the benefits of the best outcome.

How about a P&P fanfiction where instead of Darcy’s parents being dead or disapproving they came with the party to Netherfield and try so hard to set Elizabeth and Darcy up and they embarrass him to death with their own antics. Elizabeth doesn’t even notice because she’s just grown so used to her own odd parents that she’s either oblivious or blind to it (and way too busy trying to meddle with Jane and Bingley)

[citrusityy]

Pride & Prejudice - Chapter 6 Darcy Dancing? (No.)

Catherine reads through an annotated chapter of Pride & Prejudice and shares her thoughts with the interweb every week until it’s done. Or until she gets sick of Jane Austen. Whichever comes first. This week : Chapter 6.

“There is nothing like dancing after all. - I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished societies.”

Last week, we unpacked what I hope to be the final aftermath chapter of the party. Today, the chapter opens with Bingley’s sisters returning the Bennets’ visit and beginning to form some thoughts on them.

The manners of a Ms Bennet (no idea which one) prove pleasant enough, but the sisters find Mrs Bennet intolerable and her youngest children unworthy of their attention. Jane and Elizabeth are the exceptions to this, and react to it differently. For Jane, the positive attention due to her blossoming love with Mr Bingley is welcome, but for Elizabeth, she feels his sisters are just being condescending to everyone, which is interesting considering they’re all in the upper class. Shows you can never have it all, I suppose.

Though Jane and Mr Bingley’s love has grown only in little glances and dances at parties in the last few weeks, Charlotte urges her to make her love for him obvious (good move) otherwise she “may lose the opportunity of fixing him” (hmm…) as men need a woman’s help to properly fall in love, though Eliza does counter this with the assertion that they “must be a simpleton indeed” if they can’t discover any of their own feelings without the help of a good woman.

Eliza goes on to criticise Charlotte’s theories on love for being centred purely on the pursuit of marriage, especially the pursuit of marriage to a rich man. It’s here that I question who exactly is Austen’s mouthpiece in the story. Lizzy? Jane? Certainly not Charlotte in any case. I must say I found admirable too see her deconstruct the core themes of the book - love, the pursuit of marriage and whether romance has any role in it for the upper classes. Not to mention pride and prejudice, of course.

It’s clear that these women have little else to be doing in their positions in society, as there is an in-depth analysis over the quality and quantity of time their sister Jane has spent with Bingley, and what she may have learnt from it. Including : his appetite, their mutual opinions on Vingt-un over Commerce (which I’m inferring is a kind of drink, possibly wine?) and whether she would be happier married to him on that day or after “a twelvemonth” of courting. It’s apparently “a matter of chance” and completely unrelated to the compatibility of their respective personalities and willingness to push and pull over mutual issues.

Spending all her time pouring over her sister’s love life, Lizzy fails to notice Mr Darcy’s blossoming tolerance of her; from “scarcely allowed” to be pretty, to being caught by the “easy playfulness” of her manners, showing a progression from observing the superficial to her personal qualities. As far as Lizzy is unaware (and I feel now is the perfect moment to remind you that Lizzy, or ‘Eliza’, is Elizabeth Bennet - second-oldest at around twenty years of the Bennet sisters - just in case you had lost track.), Darcy is in every way the man who rudely refused to dance with her, which is honestly still quite an accurate assessment of him. But familiarity with Lizzy is breeding intrigue for him, rather than contempt, in the back of his mind, (probably) stricken with severe social anxiety as it is. 

Will Austen follow up on this soon? Well, there’s another 60-something chapters to fill, so I wouldn’t hold my breath over her rushing what appears to be the central plot thread if I were you.

We move to a fleeting anecdote of a subsequent party, utterly wrecking my party:aftermath chapter ratio, where Darcy follows up on his matured interest in Lizzy by... standing around and listening in to her conversations with others. To the surprise of everyone (read : NO-ONE), being exposed to so much of his “satirical eye” simply makes Lizzy feel uncomfortable and like she has to be “impertinent” with him or fear him. Take notes ladies, gentlemen and all other dignified people, this man has such a good way with the ladies.

To defend her poor friend from Mr Darcy’s presumed barbs, one of the Ms Lucases (I’m assuming the 27-year-old, but I could be wrong) nudges her to displays her modest singing talent for the amusement of the party as she plays some undetermined instrument. Probably a flute. She is then swiftly overshadowed by her emphatically mediocre sister Mary, who is more than happy to “purchase” their praise. Transactional lexis here makes me draw conclusions of the nature of these balls. Very ‘something for something’ it seems.

And then everyone danced.

Except for Mr Darcy, I think. When asked by Sir William to join them as a compliment to the place (their manners have reached the point of flattering inanimate objects through the medium of mirthful movement). In any case, he does not desire to do this for any building if he can help it, so at least he’s non-discriminatory in his social withdrawal.

Unperturbed by this, William tries to turn the conversation toward the subject of his total insecurity with his social status via the medium of home ownership, to no avail. In order to keep things moving, Austen plonks Lizzy next to Darcy at the sidelines of the party and the good Sir tries to get what he presumes to be kindred spirits together. Lizzy is not interested, but Darcy demonstrates some character development by offering her a dance “with grave propriety” like the eligible bachelor he is. She refuses. For a couple of paragraphs.

When she walks back out of the chapter, Darcy confesses his blossoming interest in the girl who quite clearly dislikes him to Bingley’s unmarried sister. Not sure if she’s the best person to be confiding in, but maybe my opinion of her is just tainted by my alignment with good old Lizzy.

Nonetheless, the chapter ends (as does my backlog of chapters I’ve actually read through - ulp) with her barraging our favourite introvert with questions. You'd think she’d be used to him and his ways by now.

Thoughts

Need to get ahead on these, not finish them at midnight

Darcy goes from aloof to smitten

Still sardonic

I want to see a bit of the world outside of the ballroom, but I think I’m reading the wrong book for it

So much happened in this chapter, barely kept up

If you liked what you read : tell me, tell a friend, tell Fred down the road. Maybe grab a copy from World of Books or something. Quite a few to choose from. If you didn’t like it, let me know that too. I’m not in this for validation or anything, and want to hone my utterly rudderless critical direction. Come back next week for Chapter 7, where we take a step into the unknown together. Probably another party.

[anghraine]

I have a very, very vague memory of there being more of Subsequent Connections than show up on AO3 -- am I totally wrong? It's a delightful series that definitely shows how two very different people deal with finding a birth family -- and in their case, it wasn't something they'd sought for themselves. I was rereading it today and really enjoying it, and thought I'd ask.

Oh, thank you very much! 

It’s such a weird concept for a P&P fic—I would never have thought of it on my own, but I read a couple with the idea of Jane and Elizabeth as Fitzwilliams, and was like “well, if I wrote it, I’d do x and y to make it less painful and then z to make it MORE painful and wouldn’t it be interesting if…” Therein lies the path to hell.

I thiiiiiink the eleventh chapter of SC on AO3 is as far as that particular version of the story ever got, though I had some “missing scene” side pieces that it doesn’t look like I crossposted. I’ve been catching up on crossposting anyway, so I could move those over.

Also, there was an original (substantially different) version of the story that might be what you’re thinking of? With this one, I really wanted to focus more on exactly what you mentioned—the discovery as more than a plot device, the profound effects of Jane having memories of her birth family where Elizabeth doesn’t coupled with differences in personality/situation, the really bizarre position that Darcy ends up in, a more subtle take on the Elizabeth vs Eleanor tension, Milton’s melodramas, and so forth. It’s a lot more gradual.

Bearing in mind that I last updated in *squints* 2009, I dug up my folder for the fic (I save everything), and it looks like I actually was working on something in 2010! And… oh hey, it says Ch 12. I genuinely have no memory of working on this, so this is about as new to me as to anyone else, but … here is what I’d written:

ChapterTwelve

“Goodmorning, Miss Fitzwilliam.”

Elizabethsmiled. “Good morning. How is my grandmother?”

“Herladyship is … she will be pleased to see you, madam.”

Sheis always pleased to see me, Elizabeththought, with more than a trace of regret. Lady Ancaster, haughty,whimsical, and often disordered in her mind, was regarded withvarying degrees of trepidation by all the others.

Eleanor,usually fearless, would greet her with a white face and icy,trembling hands, and turn paler and colder until she fled. Elizabethfelt not the smallest surprise that Eleanor’s brash sort ofcourage, if courage it could be called—all good nerves and boldspirits—would desert her in such a matter as this, and disliked herall the more for it. Yet even Cecily could endure only a few minuteswithout palpable discomfort. Edward refused to come without hisbrother or sister, correcting Lady Ancaster in a flat, humourlessvoice nothing like his own, while loquacious Richard rarely spoke.

Elizabethherself neither felt nor understood any of this. She sat with LadyAncaster almost every day, and treasured thequiet hours she spent with her, away from the rest of the world—reading novels aloud or eagerly listening to her reminiscences. Itwas such a relief to escape from everything,just for a little while; the troubles and irritations of her lifeseemed to weigh much less on her mind, when she could confide them insomeone who listened evenwhen she did not understand.

It helped, too,that Lady Ancaster always loved her, whether she knew her or not. Elizabeth found it strangely easy to accustom herself to being called“Catherine” or “Laura” or even “Cassandra,” often in thecourse of a single conversation.

“Good morning,Grandmama,” she said gaily, kissing her forehead. “How are youtoday?”

“Very well.” Lady Ancaster cast her a sly look. “I heard that you danced thricewith Lord Bertie. I hope you are not thinking seriously of him.”

Elizabethhad never heard of him in her life. She laughed. “Indeed not. Idid go to an assemblylast night, however; we all did. I did not sit down once.”

“Youhave always enjoyed dancing,” Lady Ancaster remarked. Elizabethchose to believe this was true—true for her,not one of the phantoms of her ladyship’s memory.

“I expect so. Icannot remember a time when I did not—so I enjoyed the assembly. Perhaps you do not know, but it was my first since my f—since Icame to Houghton. I cannot remember all the people I met, but theywere all pleasant to me.”

Lady Ancaster casther a sharp look. “Only to you, Phylly?”

“ ‘Tis Elizabeth,not Philadelphia,” she said easily, “and of course they were not. At least—well, everybody was very deferential to my uncle,naturally, and people always seem to like Edward for some reason.”

“Charm andcharity do not always have very much to say to one another.”

Elizabeth’sbrow furrowed. “Er, quite so. Then there is Richard; he makeshimself agreeable everywhere. Eleanor, I suppose, intimidates theworld into fearful awe, but Cecily—I could not help overhearing—”

“Do you refer to the elder MissFitzwilliam?” Sir George looked incredulous. He was abaronet, Elizabeth had been reliably informed—a young, attractivebaronet of good family—four thousand a-year—and expectationsof a doting godmother, too—

“The younger is, er, dancing with,er, Mr Talbot, I believe.”

“I believe,” he saidicily, “that a man of family and refinement, such as myself, mightaim a little higherthan a witless, penniless girl with no greater claims than those shealready makes on the earl’s charity. Forgive me if my requirementsare too nice.”

Elizabeth,scarcely able to believe her ears, turned to Cecily in astonishment. She immediately wished she had not; Cecily’s bloodless face crumpled—in humiliation, misery—in everything but surprise, then wentblank.  Elizabeth was strongly reminded of a kicked puppy.  

“I know you are fond of Cecilia, and her circumstances certainlyattract an undesirable degree of attention,” Lady Ancaster said,“but Laura, dear, you must know by now that your cousin is quitecapable of managing her own concerns.”

Elizabethpressed her lips together. “Forgive me, madam, but Cecilyis nothing of the kind.”

Something flickered in her grandmother’s eyes. “Cecily?” sherepeated. “It was not Henry’s Cecilia, then? I never heard thatshe was called—oh!  'Twas little Cecilia, then?”

“Yes, Grandmama.”

“Ohdear.”

Elizabeth snatched at the moment of lucidity. “Sir George Pelham—I don’t know if you are acquainted with him, but he declined to dancewith her in very uncivil terms. No; I believe it was more than awant of consideration, but active cruelty. Poor Cecily heard everyword.”

“I detest all the race of Pelhams,” said Lady Ancaster.

“I certainly detest him.” Elizabeth sprang up, unable to remainquiescent in her chair, and paced furiously before the window. “Heasked to dance with me later. I am no handsomer than Cecily and wehave all the same connections, so I cannot think what made thedifference.”

“I trust, my dear, that you managed to refuse the compliment in thespirit it deserved.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I persuaded him that he must have mistaken mefor Eleanor.”

“Theresemblance is not thatstrong.” Lady Ancaster gave her a sharp look. “You must havebeen very persuasive, Elizabeth.”

Sheopened her eyes very wide. “Oh, but Sir George could not haveintended such a great compliment to me, a mere poor relation of LordAncaster’s. He made that perfectlyclear when he disparagedmy cousin to half the room; only the earl’s daughtercould possibly be worthy of such a discriminating taste.”

“I see,” murmured the countess.

“Naturally,” Elizabeth added, her tone sharpening, “I alwayswish to be of use to my superiors, so I explained his error to himbefore I returned to my proper place. He must have understood, forhe asked Eleanor to dance immediately afterward.”

“Did she accept?”

“Eleanor? Of course not.” And her brusque refusal had expressedall the astonishment and contempt that Elizabeth could have hopedfor. Sir George had been humiliated before everyone in earshot.

Hergrandmother laughed, then fell silent; Elizabeth remained at thewindow, staring at the dirty, melting snow. In retrospect,she supposed she should not have done it. Polite set-downs were onething; with her sharp tongue and quick temper, and even a sort ofinnocent vanity, she had certainly delivered more than one of those. But this was not an intemperate remark. Spur-of-the-momentthough it had been, she had contrived—schemed.  

Elizabeth shut hereyes. She had been so angry, the blazing fury blinding her toeverything but herself and that stupid, self-important littlepopinjay. Since her father’s death, apathy seemed to have consumedevery slice of rage she ought to have felt, until that moment. Thenall at once, she felt it all.

Mr and Mrs Bennet—and Mr and Mrs Fitzwilliam—were gone. She could hardly returnEleanor’s abrasive manners or Edward’s caustic insouciance in kind,not without descending to their level of incivility. James and Janedeserved nothing less than the gentle kindness they dispensed to all. As for Darcy, she could not say with any certainty what she thoughtof him, or felt toward him. He was clever, interesting; hehad not thought her handsome enough to dance with; he had started allof this; he was at Pemberley.

In some fashion oranother, they were all beyond the reach of her anger; but Sir George,standing before her—smiling—

“Goodmorning,” whispered Cecily, her smile bright and brittle. “How is she today?”“Well enough,”Elizabeth said. “She had a few lucid moments, atleast.”Cecily bit her lip. “I—I washoping I could steal you away, Elizabeth. The snow is nearlyall melted, and my uncle says we may walk out again.”“Oh! I should very much enjoy that—just permit me a moment to put apillow under—thank you, Theodore.” She bent to kiss LadyAncaster’s wrinkled cheek, then hurried after Cecily.“Thankyou,” she said. “You see, Sir George called; SirGeorge Pelham, who—you remember? He—Ella refused to dancewith him last night. Apparently he has some business withEdward.”Elizabeth laughed. “I did notknow anybody had business with Edward.”“Hedoesn’t.” Cecily quickened her steps. “Ofcourse he came to see Ella. Brown thinks so, at any rate; Ididn’t see him myself—did not even know he was here, until she toldme. Then I went down to Lord Ancaster’s study, and found you,and—well. I would rather not see him, and it is a niceday.”“It is a very nice day,” Elizabethagreed, uncertain whether she felt more pity at Cecily’s quandary, oramusement at Eleanor’s.“That is exactly what Ithought! And—and perhaps you would like to see Gulliver? I am sure you haven’t.”Elizabeth, though lighter andseveral inches taller than her cousin, almost ran to keep up withher. “Who is Gulliver?” she asked breathlessly,blinking when they stepped outside, into the daylight.“Mydog,” said Cecily, smiling more genuinely. “Oh, I amglad to be outside again. Are not the gardens pretty?—He’s twelve years old; Fitzwilliam gave him to me when he was justa puppy. He said it was a favour, that Gulliver was sougly that nobody else would take him, and he certainly didn’t wanthim, but I knew better. It was my birthday, and boys—youknow how they are.” “Oh, yes,” saidElizabeth.“Edward and Richard’s dogs frightened him,poor thing, so he doesn’t sleep in the house any more. EvenAunt Milton’s pug terrified him. It was ridiculous,really, to see Gulliver cowering before a little dog like that.”“Ishould like to see him very much,” Elizabeth said, rememberingJane’s account of her early quarrels with Pugsy. “I adoredogs. Where do you keep him, Cecily?”Cecilyhesitated, then grinned up at her, her usual manner entirelyrestored. “I shan’t tell you until we get there,” shesaid airily.  “It will be a surprise.—Do not worry,it isn’t far.”They talked lightly as they walked,somewhere between enjoyment and relief. Cecily spotted a bunchof chrysanthemums with a cry of delight, promptly picking them all. Elizabeth only shook her head and asked about their second cousins ontheir mothers’ side.Within a few minutes, she foundherself staring at a small, square, ridiculously picturesque house. It was built on a small eminence, backed by three stands of trees,and looked out upon all the splendour and elegance of Houghtonproper.  Snow still adorned the roof, cheerful yellow curtainshung in the windows—windows undoubtedly covered by honeysuckle inthe summer. Gilpin himself could not have improved upon it.

“Is it notpretty?”

“Very,” saidElizabeth. “Is this the parsonage?”