#the other bennet sister book

[silkpages]

rubbing my legs like a happy little cricket from within my bed as i listen to the last few chapters of 'the other bennet sister'

[phireads]

No way did the BBC just announce an adaptation of “The Other Bennet Sister” FOUR DAYS after I finished the book.

[kierancaz]

Nothing like watching Pride and Prejudice and Little Women back to back to make me yearn for the bond that the oldest and second oldest sister have.

[anghraine]

It's always been intriguing to me that, even when Elizabeth hates Darcy and thinks he's genuinely a monstrous, predatory human being, she does not ever perceive him as sexually predatory. In fact, literally no one in the novel suggests or believes he is sexually dangerous at any point. There's not the slightest hint of that as a factor in the rumors surrounding him, even though eighteenth-century fiction writers very often linked masculine villainy to a possibility of sexual predation in the subtext or just text*. Austen herself does this over and over when it comes to the true villains of her novels.

Even as a supposed villain, though, Darcy is broadly understood to be predatory and callous towards men who are weaker than him in status, power, and personality—with no real hint of sexual threat about it at all (certainly none towards women). Darcy's "villainy" is overwhelmingly about abusing his socioeconomic power over other men, like Wickham and Bingley. This can have secondhand effects on women's lives, but as collateral damage. Nobody thinks he's targeting women.

In addition, Elizabeth's interpretations of Darcy in the first half of the book tend to involve associating him with relatively prestigious women by contrast to the men in his life (he's seen as extremely dissimilar from his male friends and, as a villain, from his father). So Elizabeth understands Darcy-as-villain not in terms of the popular, often very sexualized images of masculine villainy at the time, but in terms of rich women she personally despises like Caroline Bingley and Lady Catherine de Bourgh (and even Georgiana Darcy; Elizabeth assumes a lot about Georgiana in service of her hatred of Darcy before ever meeting her).

The only people in Elizabeth's own community who side with Darcy at this time are, interestingly, both women, and likely the highest-status unmarried women in her community: Charlotte Lucas and Jane Bennet. Both have some temperamental affinities with Darcy, and while it's not clear if he recognizes this, he quietly approves of them without even knowing they've been sticking up for him behind the scenes.

This concept of Darcy-as-villain is not just Elizabeth's, either. Darcy is never seen by anyone as a sexual threat no matter how "bad" he's supposed to be. No one is concerned about any danger he might pose to their daughters or sisters. Kitty is afraid of him, but because she's easily intimidated rather than any sense of actual peril. Even another man, Mr Bennet, seems genuinely surprised to discover late in the novel that Darcy experiences attraction to anything other than his own ego.

I was thinking about this because of how often the concept of Darcy as an anti-hero before Elizabeth "fixes him" seems caught up in a hypermasculine, sexually dangerous, bad boy image of him that even people who actively hate him in the novel never subscribe to or remotely imply. Wickham doesn't suggest anything of the kind, Elizabeth doesn't, the various gossips of Meryton don't, Mr Bennet and the Gardiners don't, nobody does. If anything, he's perceived as cold and sexless.

Wickham in particular defines Darcy's villainy in opposition to the patriarchal ideal his father represented. Wickham's version of their history works to link Darcy to Lady Anne, Lady Catherine (primarily), and Georgiana rather than any kind of masculine sexuality. This version of Darcy is a villain who colludes with unsympathetic high-status women to harm men of less power than themselves, but villain!Darcy poses no direct threat to women of any kind.

It's always seemed to me that there's a very strong tendency among fans and academics to frame Darcy as this ultra-gendered figure with some kind of sexual menace going on, textually or subtextually. He's so often understood entirely in terms of masculinity and sexual desire, with his flaws closely tied to both (whether those flaws are his real ones, exaggerated, or entirely manufactured). Yet that doesn't seem to be his vibe to other characters in the story. There's a level at which he does not register to other characters as highly masculine in his affiliations, highly sexual, or in general as at all unsafe** to be around, even when they think he's a monster. And I kind of feel like this makes the revelations of his actual decency all along and his full-on heroism later easier to accept in the end.

------------

*The incompetently awful villain(?) in Sanditon, for instance, imagines himself another Lovelace (a reference to the famous rapist-villain of Samuel Richardson's Clarissa). Evelina's sheltered education and lack of protectors makes her vulnerable to sexual exploitation in Frances Burney's Evelina, though she ultimately manages to avoid it. There's frequently an element of sexual predation in Gothic novels even of very different kinds (e.g. Ann Radcliffe's The Mysteries of Udolpho and Matthew Lewis's The Monk both lean into this, in their wildly dissimilar styles). William Godwin's novel Caleb Williams, a book mostly about the destructive evils of class hierarchies and landowning classes specifically, depicts the mutual obsession of the genteel villain Falkland and working class hero Caleb in notoriously homoerotic terms (Godwin himself added a preface in 1832 saying, "Falkland was my Bluebeard, who had perpetrated atrocious crimes ... Caleb Williams was the wife"). This list could go on for a very long time.

**Darcy is also not usually perceived by other characters as a particularly sexual, highly masculine person in a safe way, either, even once his true character is known. Elizabeth emphasizes the resilience of Darcy's love for her more than the passionate intensity they both evidently feel; in the later book, she does sometimes makes assumptions about his true feelings or intentions based on his gender, but these assumptions are pretty much invariably shown to be wrong. In general the cast is completely oblivious to the attraction he does feel; even Charlotte, who wonders about something in that quarter, ends up doubting her own suspicions and wonders if he's just very absent-minded.

The novel emphasizes that he is physically attractive, but it goes to pains to distinguish this from Wickham's sex appeal or the charisma of a Bingley or Fitzwilliam. Mr Bennet (as mentioned above) seems to have assumed Darcy is functionally asexual, insofar as he has a concept of that. Most of the fandom-beloved moments in which Darcy is framed as highly sexual, or where he himself is sexualized for the audience, are very significantly changed in adaptation or just invented altogether for the adaptations they appear in. Darcy watching Elizabeth after his bath in the 1995 is invented for that version, him snapping at Elizabeth in their debates out of UST is a persistent change from his smiling banter with her in the book, the fencing to purge his feelings is invented, the pond swim/wet shirt is invented. In the 2005 P&P, the instant reaction to Elizabeth is invented, the hand flex of repressed passion is invented, the Netherfield Ball dance as anything but an exercise in mutual frustration is invented, the near-kiss after the proposal in invented, etc. And in those as well, he's never presented as sexually predatory, not even as a "villain."

[arcane-vagabond]

By Its Cover: Chapter Three

By Its Cover: Chapter Three

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader (Last Name: Sinclair)

Summary: The frivolity of high society has never much interested in you. You preferred to spend your time reading, something your sisters couldn't fathom as they spent their time shopping the latest dress styles. The youngest of five children and the fourth daughter, not much was expected of you. You knew you might be married one day, but you hoped beyond hope that it would be to someone that might understand your intellectual pursuits. You begin exchanging letters with a mysterious stranger, and what's more, your older brother's rakish best friend seems to find himself in your path more and more as the season goes on. What's a girl to do? (Regency!AU)

Content Warning: Historical inaccuracies probably, Promenading, Lingering looks, Stolen glances, Yearning, Gossip, Disregard for personal space, General anxiety, General self-esteem issues, Mean words. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3.4k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard

Promenading was a terribly boring affair as far as you were concerned. Or at least, it was when spending the time with your overly zealous older sister. Georgie had insisted on sticking close to Lord Seresin, relegating you to the back with your mother and brother. The two of them conversed amongst themselves, leaving you to your thoughts, your hands itching to find a shaded spot where you could continue to read.

You found the book to be quite riveting so far, admiring the Elizabeth Bennet’s wit and bravery as she traversed the unknown landscape of the upper class. You had laughed at her sly remarks to Mr. Darcy, and envied her close relationship with her older sister. You imagined that Lydia and Theodosia were much like them, the way they were always giggling between each other. You had wanted something like that with Georgie, but you were quick to understand that your feelings were not reciprocated. No, Georgie preferred her gossip and shopping to your books and painting.

You caught Lord Seresin’s eye as he glanced back at you. His eyes twinkled as his lips curled into a smile before giving you a quick wink. Your cheeks heated, eyes growing wide at his boldness. He grinned at your reaction, lips pressing into a firm line as he tried to hold back a laugh, instead choosing to make it appear that he was laughing at one of Georgie’s—positively awful—jokes. You shook your head, ridding your mind of any lingering thoughts about the man in front of you. You glanced around the park, noting several newly presented ladies already chatting with suitors. The pairings thus far weren’t very interesting or gossip worthy as far as you were concerned.

Your eyes continued to flit about the garden until they met deep brown ones. Your mood perked up immediately upon sight of Natasha, an eager smile breaking out across your face as she hurried towards you.

“Oh, thank God you’re here,” she breathed as she saddled up to you, linking your arm with hers. “I was beginning to think I would die of boredom.”

“It would appear you and I share one mind,” you laughed, squeezing her arm as the two of you fell in to step just in front of William and your mother. Natasha’s eyes flickered back towards them, a coy gleam in them as she looked at your brother.

“I saw that,” you whispered, a knowing look on your face as she blushed, shushing you quickly before promptly looking forward.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Bug,” she stated, fighting the smile that threatened to break out across her face. You hummed, not believing her in the slightest when she peered over at you with a knowing look of her own.

“Although, I have heard some interesting tidbits about you and your sister this afternoon,” she teased, smirking as your eyes shot to hers.

“What on earth could they possibly be saying about us?” You scoffed. “The season has hardly even begun.”

“Well, what a beginning it’s been then,” she said. “The word around the Island is that a certain lady has her eye on the Duke of Austin.”

“That’s hardly newsworthy,” you sniffed, looking at your sister before shifting your gaze back to Natasha. Her eyes danced with amusement as her smirk grew bigger.

“Ah, but you haven’t heard the rest of it,” she grinned. “As it would turn out, the Duke of Austin appears to have his eyes pinned on another.”

You frowned, already not liking where this was going.

“No,” she continued. “He, in fact, has his eyes set on her sister if the whispers are to be believed.”

Your stomach did a flip, your skin suddenly feeling slightly clammy.

“That’s simply just not true,” you muttered, eyes cast toward the ground. It couldn’t be true. You weren’t nearly as good a prospect as Georgie. Sure, Georgie was prideful and snobbish at times, but she was beautiful, elegant, and sure to make a most wonderful bride to some eligible bachelor. You were none of those things. You were opinionated, stubborn, and much too quick to anger. You weren’t the type to be a graceful lady of an estate. No, you knew deep down in your heart that you would grow old in age living as a spinster on your family’s estate. Although, a secret part of you always hoped for more.

“Bug,” Natasha scowled, leaning in further as she lowered her voice so only you could hear. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Looks at me how?” you muttered.

“Like you’re the most divine creature he’s ever had the privilege of beholding,” she smirked. You frown, irritated that you were even entertaining the, quite frankly, foolish notion that a man such as Lord Seresin, a duke no less, would ever feel anything but muddled curiosity for someone like you.

“This is ridiculous,” you hissed, moving to pull back, but Natasha stopped you with a hand on your arm.

“Is it?” She questioned, eyes glancing in front of the both of you before looking back at you. “Because from where I’m standing, the man has hardly been able to stop looking at you. Perhaps the notorious rake of the Island is ready to settle down.”

You glanced over just as Lord Seresin’s head whipped back forward, a twinge of pink to his ears as he smiled at something your sister just said. You felt a pang in your chest, uncertain and unable to pin the emotion that suddenly filled you. You pressed your lips firmly together as you continued your walk in silence.

“Excuse me, Miss Sinclair.”

Your little party stopped as Mr. Darnstead came up to stand in front of your sister. You saw the way Georgiana’s lips curved coyly, the glance she cast to her right as she greeted the man in front of her.

“Hello, Mr. Darnstead,” she purred. “How are you enjoying the weather this fine day?”

Natasha squeezed your arm once more to get your attention. You turned your head to see her apologetic smile as she stepped back with a sigh.

“My mama is calling for me,” she frowned, gesturing to the woman in question who stood by the pond with a young man. Natasha’s mother had a look of eagerness as she waved for her daughter, and you gave your best friend a sympathetic nod.

“Good luck,” you whispered, squeezing her hand before watching her go. You startled as William stepped up beside you, a furrow to his brow as he watched Natasha’s retreating figure.

“Is that Lord Anson?” He asked, sparing you a glance. You scrunched your nose at him before shrugging.

“I have no idea,” you answered, a sly smile curling at your lips. “Why do you wish to know?”

William turned to you with an owlish blink that had you snickering into your hand. He scowled down at you, bumping your shoulder with his as he fought the smile that threatened to spread out across his face.

“That’s enough out of you,” he admonished playfully, earning a giggle from you.

It was quieter by the fountain that stood guarded by the giant hydrangea bushes and green hedges. You were the only one to venture to this part of the park, most everyone keeping closer to the main walkway where they were sure to be seen by all of society and any potential matches.

You enjoyed the quiet, truly you did. The chirping of birds and hum of insects complimenting the steady trickle of the water in the fountain. It was a nice, little corner that offered you some semblance of privacy while still being in full view of your ever watchful mother, though she seemed more preoccupied with Georgie and her many suitors that had come flooding out of the woodwork than her youngest daughter. You were grateful for the reprieve, sneaking away quietly to try and find some time to continue reading your book. You were making steady progress, admiring Elizabeth Bennet’s refusal of Mr. Collins when accepting would have been not only beneficial, but expected.

Your mother and brother seemed determined for you to marry, but you knew it was a lost cause. No respectable man of the Island would want to marry the strange, youngest daughter of the noble Sinclair family—especially when there seemed to be constant whispers about her ineptitude as a lady.

You sat perched on the edge of the fountain, feeling the mist from the water on your skin, a shiver running up your spine at the coolness of the water. You set your book down, standing to make your way towards the last remaining blossoms of the hydrangeas. You were happy to see them given how late in the year it was. Your family’s estate had a couple of bushes in its garden, but they were kept pruned short unlike the plants before you. The bush toward over you, making you feel small by comparison.

Your hand rose to cradle one of the last group of blossoms, smiling at the bright, blue petals. The ladies of the Island seemed to favor the bright pink and noble purple blossoms more, but you had always had a fondness for the blue. You leaned forward to sniff the sweet smell, humming with a smile.

“There you are.”

You jumped, whirling around to come face to face with Lord Seresin. He put his hands up, an amused smile on his lips as he looked at you.

“Woah,” he chuckled, letting his arms fall back to his sides. “Easy. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You didn’t,” you lied, frowning and looking away.

“Right,” he said quietly, shoving a hand into his pocket. “I thought I might find you over here.”

You hummed, fingers toying with the hydrangea blossoms once more. You weren’t sure how to talk to him. He was just a boy you had once known before last night, a friend of your brothers who used to carry you around on his back across the fields of your family’s estate. A boy who always indulged you, much to the annoyance of William. He always had a smile for you or a treat of some kind. You had been sad when he stopped coming around.

Now he was a handsome, young Duke of marrying age. You were not blind to the stares he received from the ladies of the Island—and even some of the men—as he had walked through the park with your family. He had become sturdier since his youth, and the very thought had heat rising to your cheeks.

As if he could read your mind, his lips curled into a smirk, and he took several steps towards you, bridging the gap that had kept your nerves at bay.

“You always did like the flowers,” he mused, his fingers coming up to rest against the same blossoms. He was so close, you could feel his body heat radiating off of him, the smell of his cologne competing with the sweet perfume of the flowers. You took a deep breath, lips parting as you took in his scent, eyelashes fluttering as it overwhelmed you.

“You used to bring them to me all the time,” he continued, eyes softening at the memories.

“Did I?” You asked, cursing how breathy your voice sounded.

“Oh, yes,” he grinned, plucking a blossom off the bush and handing it to you. “That and whatever creature you managed to dig up.”

You took the flower from his hands, cheeks becoming hotter at his teasing and the way his fingers brushed against yours.

“Your grace,” you started, but Lord Seresin frowned.

“Jake,” he corrected.

“Jake,” you sighed, grimacing. “Perhaps we should rejoin the others.”

“Why?” he asked with a frown. You pursed your lips, eyes flickering down to the flower in your hand. Anything to escape his intense green ones.

“I think it would be wise in order to avoid scandal,” you murmured, eyes darting towards the main pathway where several of high society’s elite strolled.

“I didn’t know you were so concerned with the thoughts of high society,” he smirked, leaning closer. You leaned away, eyes wide as his breath fanned over your face.

“Why would I not be?” You challenged, brow furrowing. “I am a lady of one of the noble families. To ruin my reputation is to ruin all of theirs as well.”

“You think I’m out to ruin your reputation?” He asked, smirk faltering. You stared at him for a second, mind reeling at his proximity and unsure of how to respond.

“What are your intentions with my sister?” You blurted out. Jake balked, confusion spreading out across his face.

“What?”

“Your intentions with my sister,” you continued, meeting his eyes with faux confidence. “You have quite the reputation, Lord Seresin. I would hate to see her caught up in it.”

All traces of mirth were gone from his face by the time you finished speaking. A dark glimmer in his eyes had you hesitating, but you stubbornly stood your ground, waiting for his answer.

“And what, pray tell, is my reputation, Miss Sinclair?” He challenged, a growl in his voice that most certainly did not make you feel flustered. Your mind raced back to the words Natasha and William had both spoken to you.

“They say you’re a rake,” you declared, lifting your chin. “Rumor has it that you’d rather spend your time with a different lady every night than settle down. That you spend your nights drinking and gambling until the sun rises. If you mean to court my sister, that will have to stop.”

Hurt flashed in his eyes. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced with a cold veneer, his jaw clenching.

“I’m surprised you of all people would listen to the wretched gossip that everyone seems so fond of,” he said coolly, standing up straight and taking a step back from you as he adjusted his jacket. “Given how you yourself are the subject of some. Just a silly little girl with her head in the clouds and no understanding of the world around her. You’ll be lucky to find a match at all is what they say about you.”

The hot sting of tears prickled at the back of your eyes. Of course you weren’t a stranger to the things people whispered about you, only a fool would be. But in that moment, the image of the sweet boy who entertained you all those years ago is shattered.

You felt your lower lip wobble, and the cold look in Jake’s eyes crumbles as it’s replaced with one of regret.

“Lady Bug, I-” He started, reaching a hand out to you, but you jerked back. You gave him one last look, schooling your features as you rushed past him.

“Excuse me,” you sniffled, cursing as your voice trembled. You didn’t look back, making a beeline towards where your mother stood.

“Mama,” you called, the older woman turning to face you. Concern pulled at her brow and lips as she looked at you.

“Whatever is the matter, dearest?” She asked, cupping your face in her hands as she looked you over. You cleared your throat as you glanced to the ground.

“I’m suddenly not feeling well,” you lied. “Might I take the coach home?”

Your mother hesitated, and you could feel his eyes on you as she glanced up at him.

“I suppose that’s alright,” she said slowly, her hands coming down to rest on your shoulders. “Just have the driver come straight back once you’re home.”

You gave her a tight-lipped smile, ducking your head as you scurried away towards the entrance to the park.

You heaved a sigh as you stared out your window. You hadn’t stopped thinking about your exchange with Lord Seresin. Why had he been so upset with you? You were protecting your sister from heartbreak, warning him that the opinions of him will affect her too should he choose her as his wife. Was he angry because they had come from the lips of a woman all considered to be strange? Or perhaps it was because they were spoken aloud at all.

A knock sounded on your door, and you turned at the sound.

“Come in,” you called, thoughts still swirling inside your head. Your maid, Nora, poked her head in, a small smile directed your way.

“Good afternoon, miss,” she greeted, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. “I wanted to let you know that dinner will be served in about one hour.”

“Thank you, Nora,” you smiled, but the action seemed forced. She hesitated for a moment, flinching as you gave her a puzzled look.

“Your mother wanted me to remind you that the Duke of Austin will be joining your family this evening,” she twittered nervously.

Your heart sank, the thought of seeing him again so soon filling you with dread. Perhaps you could feign illness and stay in your room with your book-

You lurched to your feet, Nora giving a startled cry at your sudden movement. You scurried around the room, moving piles and throwing pillows in a bid to find it.

“What are you looking for, miss?” The maid asked, coming up behind you. You turned to look at her, despair coloring your features.

“My book!” You exclaimed. “The one Mr. Mitchell let me borrow! I must have left it at the park, oh no.”

“You might still have time to go back and get it,” Nora offered. “You could be back with just enough time to get ready for dinner.”

“I’d be cutting it close,” you murmured, chewing on your bottom lip. The sky was beginning to darken, and you huffed out a breath.

“We must go quickly,” you decided. Nora grabbed your cape as you hurried out of your room. She chased after you, wrapping the cape around you as you exited the house. The driver was blessedly still by the stagecoach, and you signaled to him that you were in need of his services.

“I need to get to the park,” you told him, clambering into the coach. “As quickly as you can.”

The ride was quick, but silent, the coach jostling every now and then. You thanked the driver once you had stopped, gathering your skirts and running towards the fountain. You were out of breath by the time you reached it, panting as you looked to the spot you had set it down at earlier. Your stomach did a flip as you looked, the book nowhere in sight. You did two laps around the fountain before letting out a groan.

“Blast it all,” you cursed, hiding your face in your hands. How were you going to explain this to Mr. Mitchell?

With a sigh of defeat, you trudged back to the coach, your driver giving you a sympathetic look as he helped you inside. The ride back felt slower despite using the same route as before. When the coach stopped in front of your home, you thanked the driver once more before trudging inside. You heard voices coming from the parlor, and you knew you’d have to move quickly unless you wanted to hear another lecture from your mother about minding the time of others.

The family butler, Mr. Stevens, approached you.

“Miss,” he greeted with a slight bow of his head. “A parcel was left for you earlier this evening.”

“A parcel?” You frowned, shrugging off your cape. “Whoever from?”

“I’m not sure, miss,” Mr. Stevens grimaced. “It was left at the door with a note on top of it.”

Mr. Stevens gestured toward the end table pressed up against the wall. You walked over to it, brow furrowed as you lifted the wrapped package, the note falling to the side. You tore at the paper, eyes lighting up once you saw what was underneath.

“My book!” You exclaimed, relief flooding you as you clutched it to your chest. Your eyes darted towards the note that lay on the table, your name in neat scrawl printed across the front. You set the book down, picking up the paper gingerly as you flipped it open. Your eyes darted across the writing, widening before you could fully process what you were reading.

What on earth?

A/N: A big shoutout to not only Ruthie, but @sorchathered for helping me make concrete decisions on this story! My works wouldn't be what they are without the help and ever present ears of my friends to help me through and bounce ideas off of.

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. If you would like to be notified on when I post updates, please follow my side blog (@arcanevagabond-library) and turn on post notifications! My work is cross posted on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[bethanydelleman]

To be frank, I find the introvert/extrovert discourse online insane and completely ridiculous. People will fight to the death about if a character, Elizabeth Bennet, is an introvert or an extrovert, and people: they are opposites. If I/E aren't easy to tell apart for a main character of a novel, the categories are meaningless. But then oddly, considering that no one can tell I/E apart, extroverts are also some weird totally different species from introverts.

But Elizabeth Bennet is an extrovert and checks every single extrovert box and the reasons real internet people keep giving that she isn't are bonkers:

She takes solitary walks. I have some crazy news for you, extroverts can walk. I, a certified extrovert, take solitary walks nearly every day because I have a dog, whom I adopted knowing I would take her on these walks. It's shocking I know; I don't even die of loneliness at all! Consider for a moment that Elizabeth Bennet spends all day surrounded by four sisters and a very talkative mom, not surprising she takes walks alone occasionally. You'll also notice that she does invite her sisters along most of the time.

She reads. More shocking news: extroverts can read. Some of them read a lot. You know enjoying being around other people doesn't exclude reading. In fact, in the Regency you could even read aloud as a group activity! That is something we see in the novel. And Elizabeth also puts down her book when she finds a conversation more interesting.

She processes issues internally. That is not her preference, she likes to talk it out with Jane. When she's leaving Hunsford, Elizabeth is desperate to finally talk with Jane about all the crazy stuff that has happened to her, but she is forced to conceal a good deal of it because it's about Jane. She can't discuss Darcy with the Gardiners because his proposal is a secret, but she is eager to talk about the Lydia thing and learn her uncle's opinion. Also, extroverts are fully capable of processing internally, because again, not a different species.

She has trouble talking/feels awkward after the second proposal. Who wouldn't be awkward? Do people honestly think extroverts never feel awkward??? Not even when they love a guy that they verbally destroyed a few months ago? Not even during a confession of love? We uh... do. We get awkward too. In fact, sometimes when an extrovert talks rapidly, they are trying to talk their way out of an awkward situation. I have to work myself up to making phone calls.

Anyway, it drives me totally up the wall. Elizabeth Bennet is an extrovert, she thrives around people. Both end couples, Jane & Charles and Elizabeth & Darcy, are introvert/extrovert pairings, which is fun. If you want an introverted heroine, Jane Austen wrote five of them and they are all excellent: Elinor Dashwood, Marianne Dashwood, Fanny Price, Jane Bennet, and Anne Elliot. Catherine Morland, Emma Woodhouse, and Lady Susan round out the extroverts. It's awesome that Austen had such range in heroines.

[lauramkaye]

Hot take on a 200-year-old book

At the start of Pride and Prejudice, Darcy liked Caroline Bingley, and Caroline isn't completely irrational to think that she might get him to propose eventually.

Oh, he WON'T, not with her connections in TRADE, but it isn't so very wrong of her to have hopes of him. He doesn't like meeting new people and he's used to her because she's his friend's sister, he's had her to stay at Pemberley at least once and is now staying with her family so he must not have hated it! Plus, she has fashionable manners and appearance, she's generally fairly savvy and clever, and they have a great time being bitchy to each other about people they don't like. She's funny in a mean way and SO IS HE - "She a beauty? I'd as soon call her mother a wit." For Darcy, Caroline makes a fairly amusing person to trade zingers with, roast vulgar people, and probably to use as a shield against other husband hunters that he knows less well. I suspect that Caroline's plan when they come to Netherfield is to just keep being in his orbit, showing off her society hostess and witty one-liner skills, and eventually he'll realize he has to get on with producing an heir and will decide that as far as eligible known quantities go, better Caroline than Anne De Bourgh. (Which, I mean, at least Caroline brings more pleasant in-laws and you could actually have a conversation with her.) It's not a terrible strategy for somone as antisocial as Darcy, honestly, though I think that pre-book Darcy is okay with being FRIENDS with the Bingleys but wouldn't be polluting the shades of Pemberley with them, so to speak - that's a bridge too far for his sense of what is due to his family.

(In fact when you think about it, the way that Elizabeth and Wickham enjoy dishing dirt about Darcy is kind of a mirror of the way Darcy and Caroline start out!)

I think part of why Caroline gets so very desperate and blatant is that Darcy stops playing along with their usual games as he starts to fall for Elizabeth. It's not so funny when it's about his crush, and instead of giving back another quip about how inferior these country bumpkins are, he not only shuts her down but does it in a way that is complimentary to another woman. I think the first time he does this is at Lucas Lodge with the infamous "fine eyes" comment. You can SEE Caroline getting more and more frantic to re-establish their prior rapport and Darcy just doubling down on taking every one of her attempts and turning it into a way to say something nice about Elizabeth, to the point where by the end of the Netherfield trip he is deliberately fucking with Caroline and I think is kind of enjoying it in a "hah hah, you can dish it out but you can't take it" sort of way.

If Caroline was a little smarter and more devious - a bit more like Wickham - she would have eased off and focused her comments not on Elizabeth but on her family, especially Mrs. Bennet and Lydia, who DO behave in a way counter to propriety and good manners and are genuinely embarrassing to their better-mannered sisters. That way, she could have reinforced his feelings against the match. Continuing to push him and doubling down every time he pushed back activated his Lady Catherine-Tuned Stubbornness Circuits (aka "I am the master of Pemberley and you don't get to tell me who I can or cannot marry").

Caroline and Elizabeth are both witty and fun to talk to, but Elizabeth is witty in a playful and sweet way that doesn't offend people (even when she might WANT to, see pretty much every conversation they have at Rosings). And most important, in the long run, Caroline encourages Mr. Darcy to indulge in his worst self (much like Fanny Dashwood does to John Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility) while Elizabeth challenges and inspires him to become his best self, and that's the most important difference between them.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Tangled Hearts - Fitzwilliam Darcy X Female Reader

Title: Tangled Hearts

Fitzwilliam Darcy X Female Reader

(Could be seen with either BBC Darcy or the 2005 Darcy; I personally see it as the 2005 version/settings based off the 2005 one)

Additional Characters: Reader's parents, Charles Bingley, Caroline, George Wickham (Mentioned), Jane Bennet (Mentioned), Georgiana Darcy (Mentioned), other random people (Mentioned), Albert Wright (OC), Mr. Took (OC) (Mentioned), and Duke Phillip Colston (OC) (Mentioned)

WC: 7,526

Warnings: Typical Pride and Prejudice era misogyny and so on, toxic parents, Reader is mentioned to wear dresses and heels, Reader hates balls, society sucks, Caroline, banter, gossip, arranged marriages, Darcy's in love, scandals mentioned, yelling, crying, Charles is the voice of reason, itty bit of suggestion (time period wise), angst, and fluff

Pemberley. Your home away from home. The large country estate was gorgeous, surrounded by vivid green grass, and which sat across a crystal clear lake. You loved Pemberley not only for its beauty, but because the place had become your own haven of peace and solitude. It was where you could be yourself without worrying about being judged or ostracized. 

Though, during the time, you always were forced to look so prim and proper, on days where you had no other responsibilities, you would sneak out to sit on the soft grass outside. That was the only time you really felt free.

As a child, you visited Pemberley more often than not. Your family were great friends with the Darcys and Bingleys, resulting in you spending a lot of time at the residence and within their presence. You had become close friends with Charles Bingley - his sister, Caroline, not so much - George Wickham, and Fitzwilliam Darcy. 

During your later adolescent years, you had briefly traveled to the Longbourn estate, where you had grown close to Jane and Elizabeth Bennet, despite your parent's wishes. Your mother specifically didn't want you spending time with those in the Middle Class. That didn't stop you though.

Out of the three, Charles, Caroline, and Fitzwilliam, you spent most of your time with the latter. And eventually Georgiana Darcy in the later upcoming years. Ever since you were a young child, you would travel to Pemberley with your parents, occasionally playing with the young Darcy if you were both not in lessons with your shared tutor.

You never really understood why both you and Fitzwilliam were tutored together, you never voiced your questions out loud, in fear of being scolded. But, during your many years in the company of Fitzwilliam, the two of you became very close friends, which was only natural having grown up together.

As the years went on, your parents began forcing you to attend balls, and at the age of twenty-two, you began to realize that they were actively looking for a suitable husband for you. You had a distaste for the idea, but were forced to comply, knowing that they would not end the search, no matter how many times you had voiced your own wishes.

Thankfully, Charles, Caroline, and Fitzwilliam were usually always attended. And occasionally, you'd spend time with Jane and Lizzie when they attended the same events, but otherwise, you would stand on the sidelines with Fitzwilliam as everyone else danced.

Your personality, though more reserved, wasn’t lacking. You had a great sense of humor, a sharp intellect, and an excellent memory. You enjoyed reading books and watching plays and operas; at a time wishing you could play a part in either one. You were kind, and generous to a fault; which, when you were younger, had gotten you into some trouble at times. You were very free-spirited, not afraid to speak your mind in certain situations; which your parents thought resulted in you spending too much time with Elizabeth Bennet. 

Fitzwilliam, though holding many similar interests, his demeanor was seemingly unfriendly, aloof, and unapproachable. He kept to himself, rarely engaging in social activities and never participating in conversations unless spoken to first. And while he was a bit arrogant and proud, he was actually very caring and understanding towards the ones that he held in high esteem. He still remained distant from most people, preferring to watch them from afar with a critical, often anxious - though, he was rather good at hiding it, gaze. 

You usually stood on the sidelines with Fitzwilliam at balls, only occasionally dancing with some random man your parents wanted you to dance with; in hopes some spark ignites. But, you disliked dancing, especially with strangers, and preferred to read books and relax in your room. Fitzwilliam, ever the gentleman, would start up some sort of conversation with you, albeit awkwardly. Though it happened rarely, it was always welcome; all the balls that you have ever been to have always been dreadful, but less so with Fitzwilliam there.

Balls had become associated with finding suitors and respectable husbands, rather than having fun and enjoying yourself, and you were beginning to resent that aspect of life. You knew that there was going to be a very low chance, or none at all, that you would be allowed to choose your own husband; or even have any say in the arrangement in the first place. If you did have a choice, you would choose Fitzwilliam. A few years prior, you noticed that you had developed feelings for him, feelings that were growing every single day. 

You greatly admired Fitzwilliam, his intelligence, kindness, gentleness, handsomeness, and overall good nature. But you said nothing of it. You knew you had no choice in who you were going to marry - whether you liked it or not. So you kept your head down and tried not to think of it too much. Though, it was hard to not think about him, you spent a lot of time with the man after all. But, being a very respectable and composed young woman, you didn't show most of your emotions to others.

As an Upper Class woman, you were required to follow every rule laid out by your parents and society. You also had a duty to act demure in public, especially during formal events, and to appear to be a perfectly poised young lady. This was something that you hated, not being able to express yourself freely, or to be your true self. But, you were really good at it. Being taught to hold unwanted emotions at bay, which you had learned to hold certain romantic feelings for Fitzwilliam in a tightly controlled manner.

Sitting in one of the many sitting rooms in Pemberley, you quietly sipped your tea with Fitzwilliam and Caroline. It was silent, aside from the occasional clink of a tea cup being placed upon a small saucer, the sound of Fitzwilliam's quill upon the parchment, and the sound of you turning the pages of your book as you read. Whilst your mind was elsewhere, you hardly noticed Caroline as she read some letter about a scandal some banker was in before hearing your friends, Elizabeth Bennet's presence being announced.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Shutting your book, you let a small smile grace your features as Lizzie entered, her hair down and mud on her shoes. She gave a polite smile, looking around the room as Fitzwilliam stood and gave a curt bow of the head. Setting your book on the table before you, you walked over to the young woman, greeting her with a quick hug.

After a moment of silence, Caroline quietly gasped, "Good lord, Elizabeth. Did you walk here?”

"I did..." She answered as you both pulled away from the hug.

"Lizzie, it is so good to see you. Are you well? It has been ages since we last spoke." You asked, "I hope you won't become ill. It was rather chilly out this morning."

"I am well, thank you. And yourself?" She asked softly.

Clasping your hands together before you, you nodded, "I am doing marvelously, thank you. We will have to have tea together sometime soon, I miss our riveting conversations."

Lizzie's smile widened, "Of course." After another slightly awkward moment, she continued, "I'm so sorry, how's my sister?" She brought her eyes to Fitzwilliam and Caroline.

"She's upstairs." Fitzwilliam answered and Elizabeth nodded.

"Thank you." With one last look and smile towards you, she left the room with haste. 

Letting out a small sigh, you walked back to the table, sitting back down in your seat and reopening your book. "My goodness, did you see her hem? Six inches deep in mud. She looked positively medieval." She mocked with amusement in her tone, and you rather hoped that she would finish speaking, but she wasn't done. Caroline then turned to you, and braced yourself for her words, "That was rather unlady-like, wasn't it?" She asked, as you flipped to the next page of your book.

"May I ask you to elaborate, Caroline?" You asked, barely giving the woman a glance as you continued reading. Ever since you were a young child, you and Caroline had never seen eye to eye. You weren't exactly fond of each other, and you didn't care to try getting along any better than you already did.

"Greeting her in such a manner." Caroline responded as she picked up a small finger sandwich.

You flipped to the next page, "Isn't it rather unlady-like to bring yourself into one's business, Caroline?" You asked, looking up to look at the women with a raised eyebrow. She only said nothing, letting out a small scoff as she looked away. "Oh, Caroline, dear... You have a little bit of something..." You began, lightly tapping the side of your mouth; even though she had nothing even blemishing her face.

Caroline quickly snatched a napkin from the table, dabbing the corner of her mouth. If she was embarrassed, she didn't show it, but you could tell by the way she fidgeted slightly in her seat that she was anything but pleased. Before going back to your book, you glanced over at Fitzwilliam, who had sat back down minutes ago, a very, very small smile on his face; his eyes held some amusement. Smiling lightly yourself, you went back to your book and tea.

~~~

It was a particular sunny day, birds singing in the trees, and clouds rolling through the sky. It was a beautiful afternoon, and you were enjoying it immensely. The weather was perfect for taking a stroll in the countryside, and if you were being honest, you loved being outdoors. The sun felt warm and inviting against your skin, the breeze gently blowing past you caused your dress to flutter a bit in the breeze. Carrying your book in your hand, you found a nice grassy spot to sit, not too far from Pemberley, but close enough to the lake that you felt at ease. You opened your book to where you had left off earlier and took a deep breath, trying to clear your mind of any unpleasant thoughts. 

You did not know how much time had passed before you heard footsteps, but you didn't bother looking up. When the person then took a seat beside you on the grass, you moved your gaze away from your book, looking up. There sat Fitzwilliam, his expression unreadable. "How may I be of service, Fitzwilliam?" You asked, placing your bookmark between the pages of your novel, closing it gently and setting it in your lap.

"I had been looking for you," He began, staring straight ahead, "May I accompany you for a while?" He added, and you nodded.

"As you wish." You replied, "I'd love the company, Fitz." He didn't say anything else, just giving you a short nod, a barely visible smile before looking off at the lake.

You went back to your book, opening it once more to where you had left off, but you didn't feel like continuing. It seemed that he had something on his mind, and it seemed that he wasn't in the mood to talk about it. Perhaps it would do him good to get it off his chest. But you knew better in asking him to do such, though he was pretty open with you in general, Fitzwilliam was quite reserved when it came to matters of the heart; he'd hide things behind a façade of calm and composure when talking to those around him. So you didn't say anything, didn't push him, allowing Fitzwilliam to take his time.

After a couple of minutes, he finally spoke, "What is it that you are reading?" He asked, turning his gaze to the book in your hands.

Looking up, you meet his gaze, "It's called 'Emma.' It speaks of a young woman who thinks of herself as a matchmaker." You replied softly.

"Ah. I suppose I should not be surprised that your reading has led you to romantic literature." Fitzwilliam commented.

"Well, I wouldn't say that." You countered. "I simply find them fascinating, as they give me new perspectives." You explained, tilting your head to the side slightly, "Have you read this publication?" You asked, motioning towards the book in your lap.

"No, I have not. I believe Miss Caroline had mentioned it in passing once." He admitted, and you gave a small hum in response. "Though she was not seemingly fond of it."

You lightly scoffed, turning to stare at the lake before you, "I would suspect that she finds it distasteful." Another silence washed over the two of you, and you found yourself looking at Fitzwilliam. You could sense an uneasiness in his gaze, though there was something else there, as well. You wanted to ask what was bothering him, but you decided against it, knowing better than to pry into the affairs of another person. However, you were curious, and as you watched his eyes dart across the water, you knew you needed to speak. "Are you feeling alright, Fitz?" You questioned softly.

Fitzwilliam looked over at you, staring at you before speaking, "I apologize if you feel that I am acting peculiar..."

"Do not worry. You are not behaving strangely." You assured him, smiling slightly, "I am just worried that something might be on your mind." 

Fitzwilliam pursed his lips briefly, his blue eyes locked with yours. The way you looked at him caused his stomach to flutter nervously, your overall presence made him nervous, and the overwhelming pounding of his heart was deafening. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was completely and utterly hopelessly in love with you. How could he ever resist you? He wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms, kiss you until the world disappeared, and tell you everything. But that would be highly inappropriate and perhaps even selfish, and he knew that. He had no right to ask such of you, and he knew that; he pushed those desires aside immediately and forced himself to think rationally. 

"Would it be presumptuous of me to inquire as to if you are going to be attending the ball this fortnight?" He finally asked, his voice low, his eyes flickering over your features.

Your heart skipped a beat upon hearing the question, and you could not help but swallow dryly. "Yes, I will be attending. As you know, my parents wouldn't allow me to miss the event, even though I would much rather be reading in my room." You answered, trying to keep the trepidation out of your voice.

"I must agree with you. I would much rather be alone in my room as well." He replied quietly, lowering his gaze back to his own lap. 

"Well," You sighed out, grabbing your book once more, "At least we will have each other's presence to distract us from the tedium of the events." You said in an attempt to lighten the air, but he only offered a small chuckle before he turned his gaze back to the lake. 

Silence fell over the both of you again, with the soft sound of the wind rustling through the leaves and the birds flying overhead filling the space between the two of you. The atmosphere was peaceful, as it always was whenever you were together. For you, the silence was comforting, and Fitzwilliam enjoyed the silence as well. It was rare when the both of you had the chance to have a quiet moment together, so this was always a treat for you both.

~~~ 

Standing at the edge of the room, in your best dress from the newest season, you stood beside Fitzwilliam as the ball was in full swing. Your eyes surveyed the large room, glancing from the dancing couples, people chatting amongst their family, friends, etcetera, and finally, your parents. They stood, speaking with a man, whom you couldn't quite place his name on. From where you were, you could not understand fully what they were saying, which worried you slightly.

And it seemed that Fitzwilliam had noticed your straying gaze on your parents, and how your satin-gloved hands fumbled together nervously in front of you.

"Do not mind them." He muttered to you, leaning slightly towards you so you could hear him over the music.

"It is hard not to, Fitz," You spoke, turning your gaze away from your parents and back out upon the dancing. "They've been trying to find me a husband for the past couple of months. I am hoping at some point they will give up in their search."

"By the way that you speak, it would seem that you do not wish to marry." Fitzwilliam said, and you turned your head to look up at him.

"You know me, Fitzwilliam." You sighed, shaking your head slightly, "I do not want to marry someone I am unsure of. Besides, there were many whom were willing to offer marriage to a lady like me, and many of them, if I must say so myself, were handsome in all senses of the word. But from the few who have offered me marriage, I have turned away. I know that they had only seen my wealth, status, and looks rather than my personality. And I find that I cannot fathom the idea of marrying someone so shallow, or lacking in depth and solidity for that matter."

"I admire your strength of character." He said, looking down at you.

"Thank you, Fitz." You smiled sweetly up at him. "I admire your kindness and integrity." You added, your smile becoming genuine as he returned your smile with one of his own; though hardly noticeable.

"Daughter," Your gaze swiftly moved from your long-time friend to your mother, who stood with your father, and another gentleman you have never met before. "I would like you to meet Mr. Albert Wright. He's the owner of the Wright & Co. bank here in England." She informed you, a smile on her face, but her eyes held such excitement.

This Albert fellow was certainly some character, judging by his attire. His suit had a deep black waistcoat, a dark green vest, black breeches, and black shoes. And despite his clothing being quite plain, he did make an imposing figure; he was tall and broad, with a strong jawline, and he appeared to be very well built. His hair was dark brown, curly, and cut short, and his eyes a brilliant green.

You curtsied to him, trying to be as polite as possible, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wright." You greeted, forcing a smile upon your face.

"Please, call me Albert." He spoke, his voice deeper than you expected. Surprising you further as he bows his head and then offers you his hand. "May I have the honor of asking you to dance, my lady?"

The thought of taking his hand made you nervous, yet you took it regardless; not wanting to cause a scene or to upset your mother and father. Fitzwilliam stood helplessly as he watched you being led across the room by Mr. Albert just as another song began; his frown deepened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched as you danced with Mr. Albert. 

"Lovely match, don't you think, Mr. Darcy?" Your mother asked Fitzwilliam as she watched you dance with the banker.

Fitzwilliam reluctantly spoke, "I suppose so." He responded nonchalantly, averting his gaze momentarily before looking back over at you once more. Fitzwilliam had recognized the name Albert Wright from a couple of weeks prior. Having heard what the name had done, Fitzwilliam couldn't stop himself from warning your parents about Mr. Albert Wright's past scandal. "Madam, I understand wholeheartedly that you wish only the best for your daughter, but I feel that I must inform you that Mr. Albert was a part of a scandal many years ago regarding an older woman, whose husband was a respected merchant."

Your mother's eyes widened at the news, her hand coming to be placed upon her chest in shock, "Where did you hear of this, sir?" She inquired, your father mirroring his wife's expression, but he said nothing.

"From Miss Caroline, madam." He explained, turning to face the dancing crowd, his eyes following your figure.

Her mouth parted in surprise, her eyes widening further, "This is absolutely unacceptable! Our daughter should not associate with a man like this!" She exclaimed, her tone raising to one of anger as she glared at Mr. Albert.

By the end of the dance, Albert raised your hand and pressed a kiss to your gloved hand, bowing his head as you curtsied. Finally, you had thought, saying your goodbyes and thank yous to the man before heading back to your mother, father, and Fitzwilliam.

As you got closer, your eyebrows furrowed slightly, seeing your mother and father's angry expressions as they spoke to one another. Finding your spot next to Fitzwilliam, you leaned slightly towards the man to speak. "What has gotten my parents in such a temper?" You asked him, noticing his shoulders tensing slightly.

He glanced over at you briefly and shook his head lightly, "I am afraid I don't know. Perhaps it concerns Mr. Albert." He mused softly, keeping his eyes locked onto yours.

"But why is Papa so enraged? I haven't seen him this red since Mr. Took had tried to cheat him out of some money." You commented softly, looking up towards your parents once more.

"I believe it has to do with the fact that Mr. Albert had been a part of a scandal many years back." Fitzwilliam answered, making your jaw drop slightly, your hand coming up to cover your shock.

"And where did you hear of such a thing?" You asked quickly, wanting to know more details as to what scandal that Mr. Albert had gotten involved in.

Fitzwilliam looked down at you for a moment, turning back to the dancing, "If my memory serves me correctly, Miss Caroline had read upon it in a letter."

Trying to hide the smirk on your face, you lightly cleared your throat. "Well, isn't this unexpected," You muttered, amused. "And I could only assume that you had mentioned such news to my parents?" You asked, looking up at the name, eyes glinting with amusement.

Fitzwilliam looked down at you, nodding his head slowly, thinking, "Yes, you would be correct." He confirmed, saying nothing else which only made you smile.

"Well, thank you, Fitz," You began, "Without you, I wouldn't doubt my parents would have me married off to the man." You joked before another peaceful silence engulfed you both - that is, it was peaceful for you. 

Fitzwilliam looked down at you from beneath his eyelashes, studying you carefully, almost as if he were trying to memorize every feature of your face. When he realized that he was staring, he quickly turned away, clearing his throat lightly as he gained the courage to offer his hand out. You looked over, looking up at the man, to his hand, and back.

As you raised your eyebrow in question, he finally spoke, "Would you like to dance, my lady?" He asked softly, and you couldn't help the smile that grew on your face. You had your shock well, but you were surprised that 

"That sounds lovely." You whispered, placing your hand into his gently.

~~~

The sun was shining brightly as it peeked through the clouds, causing the water to sparkle with each droplet of rain that hit the surface. You love it when the sun's shining and it's raining at the same time. You had started your day as you usually did when you stayed at your family estate; waking up in your lavish bed, before getting ready for the day. Choosing one of your favorite day dresses, you style your hair neatly, grabbing a new book before leaving your chambers. Before breakfast, you did your daily practice on the piano for a moment before sitting in one of the sitting rooms and reading your book. 

Joining your mother and father for breakfast, you ate delicious small cakes, breads, and hot coffee. Breakfast was pretty peaceful and quiet, aside from your father occasionally speaking up. After a while, the topic shifted from the conversation regarding your plans for the afternoon, which included spending the time walking about the grounds, as you had previously intended to do earlier in the morning. 

You hid your feelings well, but you wished that you were at Pemberley at the moment. You had never really felt comfortable or a part of your family's estate. You loved both your parents dearly, but they were rather strict compared to how you're used to life at Pemberley. In truth, you missed staying there; however, you were happy that you were able to stay with your family once again and you didn't want to disrupt their routine. So, you continued to smile politely through your father's comments and continued to eat your food.

You had begun to zone out at some point of your father's speech, nodding along when you thought necessary when suddenly, you heard your name being called. You snapped your head up to see your mother with a small frown on her face. "Your father had asked you a question, young lady." She informed you. You bowed your head and apologized for spacing out. Your mother sighed, placing her small fork down on her fine China plate. "Your father had asked if you desired to attend the upcoming ball at Pemberley?" Pushing your shoulders back, your mind racking at your mother's words. But before you could answer, your mother cut back in, "We know that you don't have a fondness for such events." Your mother included, which you found odd and surprisingly thoughtful, that she was aware of your dislike for socializing, and was finally letting you have a choice in the matter.

Though, you couldn't help but wonder, why now? What had happened or what had been said that would allow your parents to change their minds? Looking up, your eyes met your mother's, "If I may, mother, I had thought that you would want me to attend such gatherings. Has something happened to change your mind so?" You asked her, tilting your head slightly as you spoke.

Your mother nodded her head, her smile widening with excitement, "Precisely so, but we have splendid news for you." Glancing to your father, he then decided to speak, clearing his throat before doing so.

"Your mother and I have found you a suitor. We have met with him many times over these past few weeks and we have deemed him to be most suitable. We have decided to arrange for your engagement with him." Your father announced.

Your breath caught in your throat, unable to utter even a word. You felt as if the world had begun to crumble around you, all your efforts of being independent forgotten as your father's words sunk in. You wanted the Earth to swallow you whole, the sky to open up and spit you back out, and any other form of escape would be welcomed by you. Your heart ached as your father finished speaking, your fingers twitching slightly as you grasped your fork tightly; your knuckles turning white. 

Your lips and mouth felt extremely dry as you opened your mouth and licked your lips, a shaky breath escaping you, "Who have you arranged me with?" You asked, "... If I may inquire?" Your voice was shallow and quiet, your gaze directed downwards.

"Duke Phillip Colston, a very wealthy gentleman who lives here in England." Your father replied, watching you closely as if waiting for you to react. "I believe you'll make a very respectable wife for him, just so as long as you do not cause him too much trouble. He is an eligible bachelor after all." Your father added quietly.

Sighing inwardly, you lifted your head to look at your parents, swallowing heavily, "Do I have any say in this?" You questioned, your voice still weak as your hands clenched into fists under the table. You could feel tears building in your eyes, and you desperately blinked them away, refusing to let them fall as you tried your hardest to keep yourself composed.

"I am afraid not, dear," Your mother answered, "We have gone countless months trying to find you a respectable and kind suitor - a man who is willing and able to take care of you and provide you with all the comforts of society. And yet, all of our attempts have failed." Her tone grew seemingly irritated. "Every man we had brought to you, offering marriage, you have turned away." Her voice rose into one of anger. "You are at a point where men will not even be interested in marrying you, your refusals are becoming the talk of the town, gossip, and blather, and I will not have it." She practically spat angrily, looking up at you with fire in her eyes, a fire that you could not seem to extinguish. 

You stared at your mother silently, a slight pain throbbing through your heart as you took in her words, "I understand wholeheartedly, mother," You began, pushing your chair back to stand, and setting your napkin onto your empty China plate. "I will say this, that I have no desire to marry such a man; duke or not. My heart belongs to someone who is worthy of it." You stated firmly. You then turned on your heel, walking out of the room without saying another word.

Once you were out of their sight, knowing that they weren't going to follow you, you ran. Rushing out into the hall, you ignored the odd looks from your family's servants and maids, swiftly making your way to the front doors and stumbling out into the chill air. Breathing heavily, you felt everything rushing through your veins and blood; flowing throughout your body. Without a second thought, you stepped out into the light rain before running once again. 

You kept running and running, your feet stomping into the wet grass, hair plastered to your face, cold rain falling onto your face; soaking your dress. You didn't care nor have any mind to where you were running or where you were, you just needed to get away. Away from them. Away from them all. Your life, you had no power, no control over it; no matter how hard you fought against it, you could not escape fate. 

You had known that at some point, your parents would grow tiresome of your constant rejection of the men they had brought to you. You knew it was going to be only a matter of time before they would just arrange for you to marry someone else. It was bound to happen sooner or later, considering your age. You weren't getting any younger, and no one wanted a spinster for a daughter.

Still breathing heavily, you came to a stop in a dewy field, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. Finally, you let the tears fall from your eyes, your vision blurry as the water streaming down your cheeks. You wiped your cheek with your sleeve as a sob escaped your lips. You collapsed to the ground in a heap, feeling as if your heart was breaking all over again. The day of the shining sun and the falling rain, something that you had once adored, now only seemed to mock you. As you cried softly, ignoring how cold and drenched you were, you did not hear the sounds of hooves, and someone calling your name. Only when you felt someone touch your shoulder, did you look up.

Fitzwilliam's usually stoic expression was long gone, replaced with worry and concern. His brows furrowed together as he looked at your tear-stained cheeks, and your dampened dress. Fitzwilliam slowly helped you to your feet, helping you lean against him as he guided you to his horse. You did not remember much of the ride back to Pemberley, nor entering the large estate, nor when you were rushed off with a couple of housemaids. You felt numb as you were in the bath, hair being washed and skin being scrubbed. During that time, you had only wished the bath water to be scalding. 

You were quickly dressed in an afternoon dress - one of the dresses that you had kept in your room for when you stayed at the estate - swiftly, you were brought to your room. You sat on your bed, in the home that you'd grown to love more than your own, gazing out the window as the rain began to slowly cease, revealing a beautiful blue sky. A sigh left your lips as a knock sounded upon your door, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Enter," You muttered, surprisingly loud enough for the person to hear, as they opened the door.

Turning your attention from the window, you looked over to see Fitzwilliam, the same worry on his beautiful features as when he had found you in the field in the pouring rain. Silently, he sat beside you, leaving enough space to make you feel comfortable. It wasn't long until Fitzwilliam's curiosity and urgency to see whatever was the matter got the best of him. He watched as you fiddled with your fingers and sighed deeply, "What troubles you? Why were you sitting among the fields?" His voice was soft, filled with concern, and you raised your hand to your hair; brushed but not styled. 

You felt your eyes well up with tears once more, a breathy sigh leaving your lips before you spoke, "I have been arranged to marry Duke Colston." You answered, a voice at the same level as the man beside you. You couldn't even bear to look at him, if you did, you were sure that the tears in your eyes would become a waterfall.

There was silence for several moments as you awaited Fitzwilliam's response. When finally, you glanced towards him, his gaze was locked straight ahead as if lost in thought, "Is this something that you are unhappy about?" Fitzwilliam inquired, his voice calm.

"Incredibly so," You answered with a breath, "I do not wish to marry that man, nor ever." You said, your words laced with bitterness, looking down at your lap, "But I do not know what to do. Despite everything, I cannot bring myself to refuse." You admitted, feeling guilty as soon as you finished speaking. Though you did not agree with the society that you lived in nor the repressing of women's voices, you knew that this was something that had to be done. Not for you, but for your family, no matter how much you detested the idea. "I will have to go along with the matter, for it pleases my family." 

Fitzwilliam stared at the side of your face, subconsciously admiring you as he thought. In his heart, he despised that you were forced to marry someone who was unworthy of you - you did not deserve that, you deserved far better. But what could he do? Again, Fitzwilliam was hopeless. He was unable to do much of anything. Right before him, you were miserable, and he could do nothing but sit here and offer you comfort. He did not even know which he could offer you at this point. He could only watch helplessly as you felt like he was watching you crumble right before his very eyes. His time was up, his hopes diminished, his dreams crushed.

~~~

Fitzwilliam sat in his office, staring down at the many papers and letters before him on his desk. The ticking of the grandfather clock was loud within the silent atmosphere, its deep, heavy, and unenthusiastic noises echoing around the room, as Fitzwilliam tried to force himself to focus. He was not successful, however, as his mind drifted to you every time he closed his eyes. Every time, he would imagine you, dancing with the Duke, marrying the Duke, starting a family with the Duke. Everything that Mr. Darcy himself had desired with you. 

He sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead, closing his eyes briefly as images of you danced across his mind. You, in his arms. Dancing at the ball from only a month ago. You looked up at him with those eyes, those eyes that held his heart. You laughed, and he swore to himself that he would do everything in his power to keep you happy and laughing; he could not lose you. But he did. Why did he not ask for your hand?

A knock sounded at his office door and Fitzwilliam snapped his eyes open, turning his head to face the door. "Enter." He called out, clearing his throat. He watched as Charles Bingley, one of his friends, walked in, bowing slightly before giving him a small smile.

"Her parents have sent a carriage," He spoke to Fitzwilliam, "She'll be leaving soon, Darcy."

Fitzwilliam nodded, placing his quill back on top of his desk as he stood, walking over to the window, peering down at the carriage, "How long before she leaves?" He asked, but before he could receive an answer, he watched as you entered his vision, seemingly thanking the driver, and though reluctantly, stepping into the carriage.

Charles walked over, standing beside the man as he watched you leave. The man then glanced at his friend, observing him. The stoic look on his face, though more brooding, did not mask the sadness and pain that resided in his eyes; clearly, he cared deeply for you. Charles, and anyone else close to either of you, could have seen that. 

"You care for her," Charles spoke softly, Fitzwilliam's shoulders stiffening slightly at his words, "I believe that you might even love her, Darcy."

Fitzwilliam turned toward Charles with an odd look on his face, "What makes you say such a thing?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

"The way you look at her, the way you speak to her," Charles paused, smiling warmly at Fitzwilliam, "There is no one else that looks at her the way you do," Fitzwilliam said nothing, turning his gaze away from the window and heading back towards his desk once your carriage was out of sight. "You should go after her." Charles said suddenly before leaving the room.

Fitzwilliam sat back down at his desk, letting out a deep sigh as he let himself slouch a little. Charle's words were ringing throughout his mind, causing him to frown deeper. He didn't know how long he sat there as he stared at the paper and his quill in front of him before he suddenly stood and grabbed his coat.

~~~

Sitting in the sitting room, book in hand, your mind could hardly focus on the words written in the book. Your thoughts were all on Fitzwilliam, all on the future, and your upcoming marriage with another man you did not love. Your mind already distracted, you snapped your head over to the study's entranceway, hearing muttering coming from down the hall. You could not make out anything, only hearing that it was two men speaking, but you furrowed your brows; hearing the muttering quiet before hearing the closing of another door. Curiosity was clawing at you but you turned back to your book, trying your hardest to get back to reading it.

But as two hours passed, having checked the clock every ten minutes or so, you began to grow restless. Shutting your book, you stared at the doorway, trying to strain your ears to hear anything, but you could not make out anything. The large estate was quiet, aside from the hustling of the servants. You looked over at the clock on the wall, about to stand to practice the piano to calm your nerves before your mother walked into the room. 

She stood, tall and poised as usual, a small smile on her face. With a small gesture, she told you to stand and follow her. And you did so, forgetting your book on the velvet loveseat and following your mother to your father's office. With a steady knock, the door opened and a small gasp left your lips. 

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy stood beside your father, who sat at his office desk, leaned back, and with a thoughtful expression on his face. Immediately as the door opened, Fitzwilliam turned to face you, bowing respectively, as you glanced from your mother and to your father. Looking back to your long-time friend, you tilted your head to the side slightly, "Mr. Darcy, this is a surprise." You then looked to your mother and father once more, "Whatever is the matter?" You questioned.

Your father gave you a soft nod, "Please, join us." More than confused at this point - bewildered - you stepped further into the room, your mother leaving your side to stand next to your father at his desk. "Mr. Darcy here has come to inform us of something rather pressing." Your father answered finally, standing from his leather chair with a small grunt. "We shall leave you both to converse," He added as he made his way out of the room, followed by your mother.

As soon as they were gone, you turned to Fitzwilliam, "Whatever is going on, Fitzwilliam?" You asked as the man in question took a step towards you. 

And though he had a small frown on his face, his blue eyes held such vulnerability, such tenderness. "My lady," He muttered, his eyes searching yours, "I must confess that I am… Somewhat troubled." Letting out a small breath, he continued as you stared up at him, "For many years, I have found myself longing for you, and I can not seem to help but fall in love with you…" At his words, your eyes widened, and your lips parted slightly as he continued. "I have come to speak with your father about your arrangement. I can not force you to continue, nor can I force you to end it. But I can only hope that you could consider me as a potential suitor - husband rather, if that is agreeable to you."

You felt your breath hitch, your heart racing as you stared at the man you loved confessing that he had feelings for you, as well. After a moment, you managed to regain your composure, though you still remained speechless. Licking your dry lips briefly, you spoke, "It is," You breathed out. The words were barely above a whisper, and yet it seemed so loud to Fitzwilliam. He blinked rapidly, almost surprised at your response. You brushed the stray tear from your cheek, a small crawling sensation taking residence in your stomach. "I would be honored to accept your proposal, Fitzwilliam Darcy."

And though it was brief, you saw his smile before he took a step forward and hesitantly took your hand in his. The skin-on-skin contact, though usually forbidden between a gentleman and a young woman, caused butterflies to fill each of your stomachs as you both pressed your foreheads together, eyes fluttering shut. 

~~~

The sun was shining brightly today, as were the birds who were singing their songs in the tree branches, which were swaying lightly in the breeze; the light rain drizzled down from the sky. A content smile spread across your face as you leaned against the railing, overlooking the beautiful gardens that surrounded the estate. Your smile only widened as you felt a pair of arms slowly wrap around your waist, tugging you back into the warmth of Fitzwilliam's body. You hummed and rested your head upon his chest, your hands coming up to cover his. 

His arms tightened around your body, pulling you closer to him. "Good morning, my love." He spoke softly, planting a gentle kiss upon your temple. His lips moved along the soft skin of your cheek gently, causing you to shiver as goosebumps rose along your skin.

"Good morning, Fitz," You whispered in return. "I do declare that this is the most beautiful day I've ever experienced." You sighed out as he chuckled, nuzzling into your neck before pressing his lips to the skin there.

"That it is," He agreed before lifting his head and looking into your eyes. He gazed at you lovingly, brushing the hair from your face before leaning in and placing a soft kiss upon your lips. You sighed as he pulled away, allowing his forehead to rest against yours. Your fingers ran through his short hair, gently scratching his scalp as he hummed contently, enjoying the feeling.

"What is the time?" You asked, breaking the silence.

He glanced at his pocket watch, "Just past eight," He stated, giving you a fond smile, "Shall we head to breakfast?" He then suggested, earning a nod from you. Taking your hand in his, you brought it up to your lips, pressing your own kisses to his knuckles before he began to lead you from the balcony.

Behind the both of you, outside the window, just as the rain began to fade away... A rainbow slowly appeared.

[fictionadventurer]

1980 Pride and Prejudice Episode 1 Thoughts

I'm kind of digging the low-budget 1980s artificiality. Feels comfortable.

Love Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, and the way the script highlights the sitcom vibes of the story, especially in their scenes.

This Lizzie is amazing. She's lively, witty, mischievous, but without feeling like a modern girl in Regency dress. I think I started to fall a little bit in love with her.

Not too fond of Jane so far. Maybe I'm too influenced by other adaptations' takes on her, but she just doesn't act like Jane. I didn't even know which sister was Jane until after the first ball.

This Bingley's a touch too much on the buffoonish side. Though the scenes of banter with Darcy and Lizzie were well-done.

(I'm a bit disappointed they cut out a lot of banter in the letter-writing scene. Now "if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow" seems to come out of nowhere, because we don't get Bingley's witty rejoinder about "comparative heights and sizes").

I'm surprised by how much focus there is on Mary, though disappointed that they portray her piano-playing as "she's terrible" and not "she's better than Lizzie but too stiff and artificial".

Also a lot of Kitty and Lydia! Excellent! (We get the coughing scene!)

Sir William Lucas and Charlotte are both very good.

Everything I've ever heard about this adaptation has focused on how robotic this Darcy is. I guess that skewed my expectations, because I found him shockingly expressive. He's reserved, haughty, and wears his good breeding like a mask, but he's not inhuman. There are plenty of moments where he loosens up a bit, or where we can see the humanity behind the iron control. Like the letter-writing scene--Darcy goes after Bingley for boasting about his poor handwriting, and it might seem like he's just being a pedantic stick-in-the-mud, but he was so straight-faced about it that it was clear to me that he was joking around with a friend.

That first scene with Darcy did feel more like these people were telling us how proud Darcy was before he had a chance to show them.

That first moment with Elizabeth made me realize that the worst thing Darcy says is not "not handsome enough to tempt me" but "I am in no humor to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men." Ouch.

Fascinated by how much of the narration is put into dialogue (and how well it usually works).

There were several points where the dialogue seemed too stilted and artificial, but it's almost word-for-word from the book, so I can't really complain.

I did find myself wondering how well this works for people who don't know the book. Sure, it's almost word-for-word (if abridged and rearranged in places), but is it engaging on its own merits, or just a satisfying watch for the book-loving pedants who can tell it's word-for-word? Because the style of this feels like something that most people wouldn't find engaging if they didn't already know the story.

[lizzy-bonnet]

I love Jane Austen's work and I love podcasts, so naturally I follow several JA podcasts (please drop recs in the tags). I'm enjoying Live from Pemberley from Hot and Bothered, but a comment from literally the first episode of the series has been circulating in my brain since I listened to it several months ago: one of the hosts expressed surprise (and disappointment?) in the fact that when we first meet Lizzy, she is "employed in trimming a hat". This comment literally comes right after a conversation about how Austen tells us so much in the very short space of Chapter 1; without wasting any words, we know exactly who Mr. and Mrs. Bennet are (lightly toxic relationship), understand their family situation (need to marry well), meet the main driver of the first act (rich man in the neighbourhood), and understand a social dilemma (girls can't meet him if Mr. Bennet does not make the first overture). So what is Austen telling us when we meet Lizzy in the employment of trimming a hat?

We so often read a sort of modern girlboss feminism into Lizzy because she is smart and stands up for herself, but I think that's something that really gets embroidered on to the text. Lizzy trimming a bonnet is telling us several things about her:

She is frugal - new hats and bonnets are really expensive (my casual hobby is shopping for reproduction bonnets and this remains true), because the straw is braided by hand, the bonnet shape is assembled and blocked by hand, feathers have to be gathered from real (living or dead) birds, ribbons and flowers are hand-finished, the whole situation is fuck expensive. Lizzy is most likely putting new trim on a straw or wool bonnet she already owns to make it work better for this season's fashions, or a new dress, and possibly recycling trimmings from other hats. Contrast this with Lydia's spending all her pocket money on an ugly hat in Chapter 39, just so she can reduce it to parts, even though she acknowledges she'll also have to buy some extra satin too, to finish the project.

She cares about fashion - we don't get a lot of information on sartorial choices in Austen's work, and when characters are discussing fashion, it tends to be a framework for explaining something about their characters; Miss Steele's need to know how much Marianne's dresses cost (rude, crass); Mrs. Bennet's loving description of the lace on Mrs. Hurst's gown (shallow); Catherine Moreland's agonizing over what to wear to the Assembly (young, a bit flighty); Bingley wears a blue coat (has probably read The Sorrows of Young Werther, is fashionable). The fact that Lizzy is trimming a hat tells us she is fashionable, but paired with the fact that she will get a petticoat muddy in order to see her sister, and does not spend a lot of time worrying after fashion like Lydia tells us that she does not live and die on fashion.

She is creative - I've trimmed various hats and bonnets over my years of interest in historical fashion and honestly it's not easy. It's quite fiddly to get a nice ribbon edge, a ruched lining takes forever, and getting sprays of florals and feathers to be nicely shaped and all in a complementary palette is quite fussy. Getting a nice looking bonnet requires some thinking and planning. But it's also great fun! The Regency era is, in my opinion, a particularly good period for hats.

She is normal - I think Austen wants the reader to understand that Lizzy is a young woman with normal cares and concerns. She doesn't have cash for a new bonnet, she wants to look nice, she knows how to put an outfit together, she's not frivolous like her sisters, and she engages in the typical pursuits of someone who is not yet one and twenty who does not have a specific occupation.

A lot of modern readers are expecting Lizzy to be striding around the countryside unconcerned with "girly" things, or reading a clever book because we have come to think of her as proto-feminist in a way that suggests she might be a bra (corset) burner, but I think that comes from an outdated feminist lens that still wants to tell us that girly things are bad, or at least, a bit weak, and I don't see that in the text at all (I think some of this trickles over from the adaptations). Lizzy walks enthusiastically, she enjoys reading (but not to the exclusion of other employments), she dances very well and plays with mediocrity, she cares deeply about her friends and family, she has excellent manners, and dammit, she trims hats.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Okay you got me. Tell me about PP 1980

Okay, so XD

Imagine you had a BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice that was 5 hours long, faithful to the book, and yet having a different perspective/understanding/interpretation of the characters and the story? That's P&P 1980 in a nutshell, and I think it is worth watching just for that. But here are some other concrete things it has going for it, specially in relation to other adaptations:

The casting is closer in age than 95, and on one specific important case, closer than 05 too: Lady Catherine de Bourgh is played by an actress in her mid 40s, and she nails the absolute Opinionated Facebook AuntTM thing that the character has going in the novel.

It's not the only case of closer accuracy to the book in characters: Mr Collins is a young, tall, big guy, whose main issue is being very small minded, petty, and obsequent, instead of recurring to "he's greasy or slimy" as other adaptations do.

If you agree/like the "Darcy has autism" headcanon, this is the adaptation that leans the most heavily into it (it does overdo it, in my opinion, but there's a very interesting contrast between the flat affect of his facial expression, and the richness of inflexion in his voice)

Elizabeth Garvie's Lizzy is just... extraordinary. This adaptation circumvents the Jane-as-prettier-than-Lizzy issue by casting as Lizzy an actress with big, dark, very expressive eyes, small features and a very lively, sharp countenance and manners, whereas Jane's actress is tall and graceful and has a general air of kindness and sweetness, but in a very youthful way.

Speaking of Jane, this adaptation focuses much more on the sisters as sisters, and gives special emphasis to Lizzy's love for Jane, which I appreciate a lot.

Also speaking of Jane, Jane and Bingley are the cutest in this. They are given time, and he's kind and sociable and sweet without being an idiot. This adaptation includes that great line of his about how he wouldn't mind Darcy so much if he wasn't so tall, and the following comment about how Darcy can be fastidious of a Sunday evening.

That way, this adaptation includes several fan favorite scenes/lines that don't usually make it to adaptation, such as Darcy asking Lizzy to dance a reel, Lizzy playing and singing at a party in Meryton, Caroline teasing Darcy about putting uncle and aunt Phillips on the Pemberley portrait gallery, and the "I cannot fix the hour or the spot..." line. EDIT: also, the coffee pot scene!! and the rivalry between Mrs Bennet and Lady Lucas!

I also think it balances well how awful, in different ways, both Mr and Mrs Bennet (EDIT: and she's not insufferably shrill!!!!) are as parents (unlike how 95 and 05 "pick sides"); it emphasizes how self centered her efforts are, and how lazy and callous he can be in his mockery and indolence.

The opening sequence of each episode is a roll of a hand-drawn summary of the events of the episode and that's such a lovely detail.

Mind you, the adaptation is not without its faults. The production values are not what we are accustomed to nowadays. Some acting and lines are stilted and/or awkward. It has the odd choice here and there that is involuntarily funny. But I don't think people need discouragement from seeing it. I don't even think most of the general Austen fandom is aware of its existence. For my part, it has become my favorite adaptation of P&P (that I have watched so far; I haven't gotten yet to either 1967 or the Italian one).

[silkpages]

i just finished chapter seventy one of 'the other bennet sister' by janice hadlow and there's a moment when mary is called her given name by the male lead and the FLUTTERS I FELT

[halfagony-halfhope]

so many rumors about so many p&p adaptations… so many thoughts…

two jane austen adaptations of the same novel being produced at same time. i think i saw this film before and i didn’t like the ending.

the other bennet sister seems an interesting take. but i have a personal problem (which it isn’t a problem at all imo)… from the first moment darcy and elizabeth appear on a story, they are all i care about. so i have a hard time reading p&p stories where they aren’t the main couple. there, i said it. so i’ll glad watch this adaptation but i don’t know if i’ll read the book.

now the netflix one… 😬 i got excited when i heard daisy edgar-jones would play elizabeth and people were saying great things about the screenwritter… but then i discovered it’s a netflix production and all the excitement went down the drain… i hope they get it right this time.

[shadowtriovibes]

waiting for the gift of sound and vision

Pairing: Gen (Ominis Gaunt & MC & Sebastian Sallow)

Rating: G

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: request: Could I request Ominis showing a blind muggleborn reader (MC or not your choice) how to navigate with their wand and they show him how to use their cane in return?"

“Truthfully, there aren’t very many of us,” Ominis tells him ruefully. “But I suppose you must have felt very lonely not knowing that there others like you and me at Hogwarts. Are you a first-year, Bennet?” Bennet answers, “Yes. My parents are Muggles, and – and when they found out I have magic, they thought maybe…” He trails off, and Ominis feels the bed shift slightly as the boy kicks his feet anxiously.

It’s barely one week into his sixth year when Ominis finds himself resignedly making his way to the hospital wing.

Of course, he’d just found a peaceful corner of the common room where he could start to work on his first Potions essay of the year without the dictation quill getting confused by a roomful of voices when a soft-spoken second-year student shyly approaches him.

“Yes?” he asks somewhat tersely.

The student, evidently not expecting the blind heir of Slytherin to have noticed her approaching, flinches.

“M-my apologies, Mister Gaunt, sir,” she stammers. “It’s just that, er…”

He sighs softly and puts his quill to the side. He recognizes the girl’s voice from when Nerida had proudly introduced her as her younger sister after the Sorting Ceremony.

“Please, Emmeline,” he sighs softly. “You don’t need to call me ‘sir’ or ‘mister,’ I’m not a professor.”

Nor am I any of my brothers, he thinks bitterly, knowing that they absolutely would have expected a naive young student such as her to show a certain level of deference.

“A-alright, Ominis,” she says softly. “Um, Sebastian Sallow asked me to come find you and tell you that he’s being looked after by Nurse Blainey, and to please bring him the library books by his bed.”

Ominis frowns. “Was he asking you to bring them, or me?”

Emmeline quietly giggles and admits, “Actually, I’m not sure. But I can take them, it’s no problem.”

Smirking, Ominis reaches for his dictation quill and tucks it back into his school bag, along with his untouched parchment. He will not allow his best friend to take advantage of all the schoolgirls with crushes who’ve taken to following him around since the start of term.

“Thank you, Emmeline,” Ominis tells her. “I can take Sebastian his books. In any case, I’d like to learn for myself what nonsense he’s gotten into this time.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, sounding a touch disappointed.

“Yes,” he answers, finally offering her a kind smile. “Go on then, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of Charms homework to attend to.”

Emmeline quickly scurries off while Ominis returns to his dormitory and gathers the books Sebastian had left in a haphazard pile on his bedside table. Given that they haven’t been charmed into Braille, he isn’t exactly sure which books he’s picked up. However, since Sebastian hadn’t been specific, he suspects they aren’t textbooks but rather library books he’s taken out for his own research.

(Though none of them have that unsettling, electric feeling that Salazar Slytherin’s spellbook had when Ominis had first touched it, so he has no reservations about delivering them.)

Ominis gathers the books in the crook of one arm and navigates to the south wing with his wand pointed in front of him. Even if he hadn’t thoroughly memorized the layout of Hogwarts castle by now, his wand still proves to be exceptionally useful in avoiding collisions with distracted students, meddling poltergeists, and even the occasional wall that simply wasn’t there the day before.

When Ominis eventually arrives at the infirmary, he’s pleased to discover that he won’t have to deliver a lecture to Sebastian, seeing as you’ve already got quite the head start.

“Honestly, Seb, you’ve got to be more careful!” he hears you sigh.

“Me?!” he exclaims indignantly. “I’m not the one who decided to bring Fire Crabs to class on the very first week of school!”

“Fire Crabs are O.W.L. standard, Sebastian,” you argue. “Maybe if you hadn’t skipped Beasts so many times last year, you would have remembered how to pick one up without… that happening.”

Ominis can’t see Sebastian’s injuries, but having grown up in the Gaunt household means that he’s unfortunately familiar with the smell of burnt flesh.

“I hear you’ve already started without me,” Ominis says cheekily as he drops Sebastian’s books at the foot of his bed. “Tell me, how serious is it this time? Are we going to lose him?”

“Piss off,” Sebastian drawls tiredly.

“He’s going to be fine in a few hours,” you quickly tell Ominis. “He’s got burns all over his arms from Howin’s Fire Crabs, but Blainey practically dunked him in Dittany salve so he’s just got to stitch up again, essentially.”

Ominis winces. “How colorful.”

“I see you brought my books,” Sebastian observes, pleased. “Cheers.”

“I couldn’t very well let Emmeline do it, could I?” Ominis asks derisively. “Really, Sebastian? Taking advantage of the little ones with crushes, are we?”

“Sebastian Sallow!” you exclaim. “Did you ask Nerida’s sister to fetch your books for you while I stepped away for five minutes?”

“N-no, I definitely meant for Ominis to do it!” Sebastian protests.

Ominis sighs tiredly. Knowing Sebastian, the truth is that he probably didn’t much care how his books wound up in his hands, as long as he had something to occupy his mind.

“Love, I swear,” Sebastian says softly. “Please don’t be mad.”

Ominis listens while you take a slow, even breath, and then you murmur, “Well, I suppose you’ve already been sufficiently punished for being a prat today.”

“That’s fair enough,” he agrees quickly.

Ominis tunes out slightly while Sebastian attempts to coax you into staying and reading to him since he can’t very well hold his books in his bandaged hands. That’s when he first realizes that the three of you aren’t alone in the infirmary.

At the opposite end of the room, someone is crying – the childlike kind of cries that usually come from a twisted ankle or a skinned knee.

“Who’s that over there at the end?” Ominis asks softly, distracting you from Sebastian’s placating.

“Oh, that’s Emmeline’s new friend, Bennet,” you murmur. “She was in here with him when we arrived, but he doesn’t look that hurt.”

You trail off apologetically, and Ominis understands that you were probably too distracted by Sebastian’s burns to have paid much attention to why the small boy was currently sitting on one of the infirmary beds.

With a cursory wave of his wand, Ominis deduces that the figure in Nurse Blainey’s office must be the matron herself. He also realizes that the boy is entirely alone.

“I’ll go have a word with him,” Ominis tells you quietly. “He shouldn’t have to sit all by himself.”

You wordlessly pull Ominis into a quick one-armed hug while Sebastian proudly murmurs, “Go on, mate. That’s very kind of you.”

Wand outstretched, Ominis carefully makes his way over to the small boy so as not to scare him.

“Hello,” he calls out softly. “Are you alright?”

The boy flinches, startled. However, he doesn’t look up.

“S-sorry?” he asks in a young, high voice. “Who’s there?”

Lowering his wand, he introduces himself. “Are you Bennet? I’m Ominis Gaunt. I’m a sixth-year, and those are my friends over there. Do you see?”

From a few beds away, you gently wave over at Bennet and Sebastian nods with a pained-looking grimace.

“...N-no,” the boy whispers. “I can’t see.”

For a moment, Ominis is horrified. What sort of Potions mishap or Charms practice gone wrong could have resulted in this poor boy losing his sight?!

…But then he realizes.

Unbeknownst to him, leaning next to Bennet’s bed is one of the long, white canes that he’s heard of blind Muggles using to navigate the world around them. You hadn’t noticed it earlier in your distraction, and even if Sebastian had, he wouldn’t have understood what it was for.

“You can’t see, hmm?” Ominis asks softly, gently taking a seat on the bed next to the boy. “...Would you like to know something?”

“W-what?” Bennet whimpers, slightly bracing himself.

“I can’t see, either,” Ominis tells him. “I’m blind. Are you blind too?”

Bennet swallows nervously and admits, “Yes. I… I didn’t know there were other people like me here.”

Merlin’s beard, Ominis feels gutted for this boy.

“Truthfully, there aren’t very many of us,” Ominis tells him ruefully. “But I suppose you must have felt very lonely not knowing that there others like you and me at Hogwarts. Are you a first-year, Bennet?”

Bennet answers, “Yes. My parents are Muggles, and – and when they found out I have magic, they thought maybe…”

He trails off, and Ominis feels the bed shift slightly as the boy kicks his feet anxiously.

“Well, I’m sure that Nurse Blainey has told you by now that magic can’t be used to restore sight for those like us who’ve never had it,” Ominis says carefully.

Bennet doesn’t answer, but Ominis hears him sniffle sadly.

Softly, he rests his hand on the middle of the boy’s back. He gently rubs in small circles, like how his aunt had done for him when he was a young boy.

All at once, he remembers how utterly adrift he’d felt at Bennet’s age. Before coming to Hogwarts, he’d felt hopelessly lost in his world. All around him were people that possessed sight, possessed magic… He recalls hoping he’d be gifted with both someday, and then eventually hoping he’d at least achieve the latter.

But so many of them had also all possessed a sort of cruelty that he hoped would never take root inside him the way he’d observed with his parents, and later his brothers.

“But,” Ominis continues. “Magic is very special nonetheless. It can offer ways of… of perceiving that isn’t exactly sight, but can come quite close.”

“Nurse Blainey told me that,” Bennet mumbles grumpily. “It’s like my cane.”

“Your cane?” Ominis repeats. “Is that something you used in the Muggle world?”

“I still have it,” Bennet tells him, feeling around for where he’d left the cane propped against the bedpost.

Bennet leans it toward Ominis for him to feel. Ominis reaches out a hand and traces his fingertips along the smooth, cool surface of the thin cane. It feels… lifeless, honestly. He wonders how in Merlin’s name a young man like Bennet is supposed to use something like this to find his way in the wizarding world.

Then he taps it gently on the ground and feels how it vibrates against the stone floor.

Bennet explains, “It’s supposed to help me not trip or get lost, but…”

The boy sighs, sounding as world-weary as a wizard ten times his age.

“Ah,” Ominis says, chuckling softly. “I think I understand, though I do question how useful something like this would be in a place like Hogwarts.”

“Why do the stairs have to change so often?” Bennet whines. “And some of the doors are portraits. They don’t even have a doorknob! How am I supposed to know when I’m at a door or when I’m just talking to an empty frame?”

“Oh, Bennet,” Ominis says, fighting back an actual laugh. “Believe me, I understand completely.”

After a few moments of silence, Bennet asks him, “Do you have a cane?”

“No,” Ominis answers him. “I’ve never had anything like that, actually.”

In fact, Ominis rather wishes he could have had a cane like Bennet’s when he was a child. Before that fateful day at Ollivander’s with his aunt Noctua, he’d developed a regrettable habit of walking virtually anywhere with his hands gently outstretched, hoping that he’d brush his fingertips against any obstructions before running face-first into them.

(His parents hadn’t wanted him to have any sort of navigational aid that would make him “look like a Muggle,” and he’d been too young for a wand of his own. He hadn’t even been taught Braille until Professor Weasley had taken him aside and shown him how to transfigure his textbooks into textured, raised text that she quickly learned he was unable to read.)

“Then how do you…?” Bennet asks him warily.

Ominis twirls his wand in his long fingers. “Would you like me to show you?”

Bennet holds a hand out expectantly, bumping up against Ominis’ own. In that moment he feels a sort of warmth spread through his body. It’s as if he’s met someone for the first time who speaks the same language as him – one he’d never wanted to learn, one he’d fought so hard against for so long no less.

“This is my wand,” Ominis explains to him in a soft voice. “I’ve had this wand since the summer before my first year of school.”

“I’ve got a wand,” Bennet tells him.

“Did you get it from Ollivander’s shop in London?” Ominis asks, and Bennet hums affirmatively. “Well, you may remember that Mister Ollivander said that each wand ‘chooses’ its witch or wizard, and when you treat your wand correctly, it becomes your best friend.”

(Ominis distinctly remembers those exact words; he’d never had a best friend before.)

“I only know how to do a few things with mine,” Bennet admits. “I can make a feather float and I can turn my books into Braille, but only a few pages at a time.”

“That’s quite impressive for only having been at Hogwarts for a week,” Ominis tells him as he gently bumps his shoulder against the smaller boy’s. “But maybe I can show you something that helps me most of all.”

“Is it like seeing?” Bennet asks eagerly.

“It’s… well, I’m not really sure,” Ominis tells him slowly. “I tell my friends that it’s probably a lot like seeing, but the truth is that I simply wouldn’t know. However, it does help me avoid walking into walls anymore.”

Bennet perks up. “Please. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s better than the cane.”

Ominis wraps Bennet’s hand tighter around the handle of his wand and murmurs, “Apparere Adumbratio.”

The tip of Ominis’ wand starts to emanate a pulsating red light, and both Bennet and Ominis are overcome with the sensation of figures springing to life around them. The rows of empty beds appear first, including Sebastian’s prone form lazily lounging on a pile of pillows. Then the boys can make out where you’re seated next to him as you softly read aloud from one of his library books. Outlines of side tables, privacy curtains, and even the Hufflepuff prefect keeping watch just outside the doorway add further definition to the room.

Ominis has tried to describe what he “sees” to Sebastian and Anne countless times as a child, and most of the time it’s futile. Though he’s learned what color means to sighted witches or wizards, having no frame of reference himself he can’t say whether what he senses is in color or not. He suspects not, as magic can be ruthlessly efficient at times, and he has no need for it.

He can’t read words like this, either. While he can make out the shape of a book, its markings remain undecipherable and unrendered in his perception.

And as for people, they tend to largely look the same. The spell calls forth a mere outline – precisely what he needs to understand where in space a person is. The things that make them unique – perfume scents, apparel textures, their voices, their manners – are all things he can take in with his other senses.

Whenever he’s discussed it in the past, Ominis had often felt like he wasn’t able to adequately describe how valuable this spell has been when it comes off as being quite limited.

But as soon as Bennet gasps, he knows that this boy beside him understands.

“Wh-what… oh, wow,” he whispers. “It’s… it’s like – everything is here, I can tell where everything is!”

“It helps, doesn’t it?” Ominis murmurs. “Like I said, it’s not perfect, but –”

“It’s amazing,” Bennet breathes. “I… I can tell that’s Nurse Blainey over there. I can hear the potion bottles she’s got in her hands, and – and your friend, she’s reading from a book! She’s holding it!”

Ominis listens happily while Bennet excitedly narrates the rest of the room.

“...Can I do this with my own wand?” the younger boy eventually asks him.

“I should think so,” Ominis tells him. “You’ll need to practice, though. It’s not an easy charm.”

“I will,” Bennet murmurs to himself. “I’ll practice, I’ll become so good at it.”

“I’d be happy to help you,” Ominis says. “I didn’t have anyone to help me, so… it might be easier if you have a friend.”

“You’d be my friend?” Bennet asks hopefully.

“Of course,” Ominis tells him, pretending not to notice how his voice has become a little thick. “It would be my pleasure, Bennet.”

[bethanydelleman]

George Wickham isn't bad in that way (which is the best thing I can say about him)

A lot of online discussions label Wickham from Pride & Prejudice as a pedophile because both of his victims, Georgiana Darcy and Lydia Bennet, were 15/16 years old. However, I am very certain this was not Jane Austen's point, and it also papers over the big differences between Georgiana's and Lydia's cases.

(This post isn't graphic but I'll put the rest under the jump)

Firstly, Georgiana's age was about her vulnerability to manipulation, not attraction. If Georgiana was older and out, she probably would have not fallen for Wickham and agreed to run away because she would have had other competing choices and more information about the engagement and marriage process. The time is chosen because she is ignorant, under the care of someone who is willing to betray her, and Wickham wants her money. I'm pretty sure he would have gone for her fortune even if he was adverse to her appearance.

Secondly, Lydia runs away with Wickham because she is following her mother's misguided, "husband at any cost" philosophy, there is no evidence in the book that this was a premeditated plan of his. The plot to elope with Georgiana was premeditated, but from everything in the book, Wickham was running away from debt and brought Lydia along for funsies because she offered. The point of Lydia's elopement is that she was too young, too ignorant, and not well protected. Her parents made a huge error in judgment allowing her to go to a place where she might fall victim to something like this. If it wasn't Wickham, it could have easily have been someone else, like Willoughby, almost the same thing happens to Eliza Williams under nearly the same circumstances.

Thirdly, the age of consent was 14 at the time and Lydia at least was "out". So culturally, he's going for people who would be considered "women" though most people at the time also would have thought they were marrying too early. So many people in the novel say Lydia is too young. (The average age of first marriage was 23.4 (Women's History of Britian, 2005)). Also, I think Jane Austen, who rarely describes anyone in detail, going out of her way to make Lydia the tallest of the sisters and also describing Georgiana as very tall, and describing both of them as fully developed, was her making the point that this wasn't Wickham having an attraction to prepubescent girls. Not that liking barely legal girls is great, but it's more like a modern guy dating 18 year olds when he's 30, more icky than illegal.

It was about how girls who are too young are far more vulnerable to mistakes, empty promises, and manipulation.

So yeah, Wickham is the worst, but he's not that bad. This is the most I will ever say in his defence. I hold out a fond hope that he died in battle and Lydia gets a second chance at life. Or ran like the coward he is and then was court marshalled.

[dearausten]

just rewatched pride and prejudice 1995 and i loved it, even more than before! here are some thoughts:

- the best thing about this adaptation is, to me, the performance of jennifer ehle as elizabeth. honestly, she nails everything about her character, in my opinion. from lizzy’s wit and sense of humor to her firm resolution in rejecting darcy the first time and dealing with lady catherine, while also displaying all her conflictimg emotions not only during the whole wickham affair, but also when she found herself longing for darcy’s good opinion (who knows why!). she was absolutely charming and one can’t help but root for her.

- this might be obvious, but i love how it is pretty much the same as the book! it’s very clear that having six episodes worth of screen time instead of two hours as you get in movies played in their favor.

- i love the bennets! i love seeing the sisters interact! i love seeing them in their daily lives and watching their dynamics. i also think they got almost all of the characterizations perfectly. lydia, kitty, mary and mrs. bennet were all on point! however i do feel like they toned down mr. bennet’s flaws and only focused on the funny/sarcastic side of his character. other than that, i liked him too :)

- i’ve seen many people who don’t like this mr. collins but honestly i really enjoyed him. he was ridiculous and absurd, and he annoyed the fuck out of everyone, which is accurate lol. i do wish they’d made him age appropriate bc... that man is not 25 lol. anyways, i actually thought this collins was more accurate than 2005!collins.

- oh, caroline, you sneaky thing! i have nothing to say about her, really. i think she was portrayed very accurately as well. and they included the hursts!

- mr. bingley was good too! love me some golden retriever energy

- and, of course, how could i not talk about colin firth as darcy! he was DISGUSTED to be around common gentry people. he looked like he’d rather hang himself from the ceiling than be in those goddamn social gatherings for one more minute. he was so displeased with everyone and clearly thought they were nothing but a pain in his ass, and i love that lol.

- but OH MY he’s a simp! he can’t stop staring at elizabeth for the life of him. istg he is so fascinated by her. that scene at rosings when lizzy is talking to colonel fitzwilliam and darcy just stared at them while she roasts the fuck out of him????? top tier

- one thing i adored about his performance was just how miserable he looks when she isn’t around! and mind you, this is DARCY we’re talking about.

- the lake scene was great, but CAN WE TALK ABOUT THAT LOOK THEY GAVE EACH OTHER IN THAT ONE SCENE???? YES, THAT LOOK. YALL KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT. IT MAKES ME WEAKKK

- the ONLY note that i have is that i wish he smiled more, especially when they meet after the letter (but before that too)

- honestly the only bad thing i have to say about this adaptation is that the second proposal felt a little... underwhelming. it’s supposed to be this big emotional moment why do they look like they’re talking about the weather 😭

my conclusion: i’ve worshipped 2005 since the first time i watched but i feel like i’ve just become a 1995 stan, it was just so so good and so faithful to the book. and yes, i finished it two days ago. yes, i’ll be rewatching today.