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drconstellation · 7 months

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On Pride and Prejudice and S3 parallels to watch for

(*no Nazi zombies included)

I don't think it's the second "marriage proposal" that is going to matter in S3. That's just the icing on the cake. What's really going to break your heart to pieces will be the parallel to the lake scene encounter at Pemberley Estate. That comes before the quiet, gentle, second suggestion of "lets make a team of the two of us" again.

I keep seeing people write "oh, aziracrow are going to throw themselves together! Oh, its going to be violent! And frenzied! They wont be able to hold back!" Ah, no. I respectfully disagree. I see it possibly playing out very differently.

Recently we had this observation:

Let this old Gen X-er take you back nearly 30 years to 1995, when the BBC production of Pride and Prejudice pictured above came out (and I believe this is the version Lord Gaiman has recommended you watch - for good reason! But I may be biased here...) Colin Firth played Mr Darcy, and I dare anyone to name anyone else in the production off the top of their heads, because Firth's Darcy at the time was considered just *sigh.* The lake scene was so famous in its day it became became a meme before memes were a thing, in a time when we still had VHS video tapes and the internet didn't exist (gasp!)

We must set the scene.

Elizabeth has come the Lake Country with her aunt and uncle on a bit of a holiday, and they have called in on Mr Darcy's home, Pemberley Estate, to have a sticky-beak (as you do, apparently, in those days). He's not home, not expected until the next day, but the housekeeper is happy to show the visitors around the mansion, filled with amazing furniture and paintings and nick-knacks that all good rich Georgian families should have. The aunt and uncle ooh and ahh appreciatively and ask questions, and the housekeeper paints a glowing picture of how kind and generous her master is. Hmmph, thinks Lizzy, that's not the Mr Darcy I thought I knew.

Meanwhile, galloping across the fields on his lovely steed, comes Mr Darcy, a day early. And the visiting party slowly make their way out into the gardens. (cue the building tension...)

Darcy decides he is hot after the long ride, and strips down and goes for a swim in a lake (or pond, or duck!pond - whatever, its wet) to cool off (ha! I'm surprise that puddle didn't evaporate into steam as soon as he hit it) while Lizzy continues to wander and ponder what she is learning about him...

And as Darcy strides blithely across his demesne, practically nekkid from the waist up in his wet see-through shirt - he runs into the object of his desires.

This is their Vavoom! moment. (Well, maybe better Austen scholars than me would disagree, but for the purposes of this post, I declare it is.)

The point is...

The point I'm trying to make is this is going to be the important part of P&P in S3 of GO. Our two love birds have sprung each other unawares, and one of them in particular is in a vulnerable situation. They are vulnerable physically, with their damp, tousled hair (*sigh*) and, as aforementioned, is not appropriately dressed to the expected presentation for polite company at the time (*ahem* wet see-through-linen-shirt-that-doesn't-leave-much-to the-imagination *ahem*) so is also somewhat emotionally vulnerable. And the other is witnessing them in this vulnerable situation. The one they least wanted to see them like that. And neither of them can unsee it.

After the shock, Darcy struggles to pull his dignity back together and make some awkward small talk, before continuing onto the house to rapidly make himself socially presentable again and become the perfect host for the rest of the visit. And, well...things went rather splendidly after that, in short.

See, that's what I mean. The second proposal doesn't matter. Its the after thought. It just tidies up the loose ends. Ices the cake. Makes us feel all warm and gooey, like we're hugging a hot chocolate topped with little marshmallows in our cold hands. Its the equivalent "lake scene" that is going to slowly creep up on you like a fist around your heart, then squeeze when you least expect it, and leave you gasping with its rawness.

Now I'm not going to declare which of Aziracrow was representing Darcy, and which was Elizabeth. Crowley gave the better proposal for being a team of two, but Aziraphale gave the societal put down to Crowley. They kind of split the parallel proposal between themselves.

Hmm, so what kind of "lake scene" could we see in S3? Which of the two would reveal their vulnerable side? Who has the large domain where the other comes a visiting? Who learns something unexpected about the other? Who goes chasing a villain to redeem themselves in the other's eyes? Don't know. Not even even going to guess at this point. But I am going to go and do my homework so I'm ready when the time comes.

We should acknowledge that the first proposal just wasn't going to work, that they had to go their separate ways and grow, just as Lizzy and Darcy did. Smashing them back together like Blackbeard playing with his cake toppers, to cross fandoms, is just...stupid. You can't keep making the same mistakes. It wont work. Not in the long run. And these are immortal beings, (lord, I want to write a whole post on immortality, but not here, right now) the long run is to long to contemplate.

I'm saying wait and see - but be watchful. You might be caught out where you least expect it.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens 3 #pride and prejudice #aziraphale #crowley #lake scene parallel #Surely it was a duck pond?#ducks!#second marriage proposal #vulnerability #may as well be naked #Mr Darcy #no one remembers any one else from 1995 #bit of a dark horse

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onevolon · 4 months

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my love for you is infinite - part16

Santiago Garcia x afab!reader(Darcy)

note: pride and prejudice (2005) but with triple frontier boys because why not lol

word count: 1496

warnings: the end!

you can also read it on ao3.

part15 - masterlist

Francisco and Santiago lie in bed.

“Can you die of happiness? You know, he was totally ignorant of my being in town last spring!”

“How did he account for it?”

“He thought me indifferent!”

“Unfathomable.”

“No doubt poisoned by his pernicious sister.”

“Bravo! That is the most unforgiving speech you've ever made.”

“Oh Santiago, if I could but see you so happy. If there were such another person for you!”

There is a noise outside.

“Perhaps Mr. Collins has a cousin. It's no less than I deserve. What is that?”

More noise, it sounds like a carriage, then aloud banging on the door downstairs. The boys look at each other.

***

Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet and the girls lit by only candles have gathered. The door bangs again.

“Maybe he's changed his mind.” says Tom.

Timidly, Mr. Bennet opens the door revealing a baleful looking Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Everyone gasps.

“Lady Catherine!”

Lady Catherine does not acknowledge, but comes in uninvited, inspecting the assembled company of aghast Bennets. She waves a dismissive hand towards the boys.

“The rest of your offspring, I presume.”

“All but one, the youngest has been lately married your ladyship. And my eldest was only proposed to yesterday afternoon.” Says Mrs. Bennet.

“You have a very small garden, madam.”

“Could I offer you a cup of tea perhaps, your Ladyship?”

“Absolutely not! I must speak to Mr. Santiago alone, as a matter of urgency.”

The Bennets all look at each other, bewildered by this strange turn of events.

***

Santiago leads the way into the drawing room - holding a candle. Lady Catherine walks in. The door closes behind them. Santiago puts the candle down on a small table. They sit, facing each other.

“You can be at no loss, Mr. Santiago, to understand why I am here.”

Lit only by the oil lamp Lady Catherine resembles a flickering ghoul.

“Indeed, you are mistaken. I cannot account for this honor at all.”

“Mr. Santiago, I warn you, I am not to be trifled with. A report of a most alarming nature has reached me that you intend to be united with my niece, Miss Darcy.”

Santiago stares at her, amazed.

“I know this to be a scandalous falsehood, though not wishing to injure her by supposing it possible, I instantly set off to make my sentiments known.”

Santiago's spirit rises within him.

“If you believed it impossible, I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far.”

“To hear it contradicted, Mr. Santiago.”

“You coming here will be rather a confirmation, surely, if indeed such a report exists. “

“If? Do you then pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been industriously circulated by yourself?”

“I have never heard of it.”

“And can you declare there is no foundation for it?”

“I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. You may ask the questions, which I may not choose to answer.”

“This is not to be borne. Has my niece made you an offer of marriage?”

“Your Ladyship declared it to be impossible.”

“Let me be understood. Miss Darcy is engaged to my daughter. Now what have you to say?”

“Only this - if that is the case you can have no reason to suppose she will make an offer to me.”

“Oh, obstinate boy! This union has been planned since their infancy. Do you think it can be prevented by a young man of inferior birth and whose own brother's elopement resulted in the scandalously patched-up marriage, only achieved at the expense of your uncle? Heaven and earth, are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted? Now tell me once and for all, are you engaged to him?

“I am not.”

“And will you promise never to enter into such an engagement?”

“I will not. And I certainly never shall. You have insulted me in every possible way and can now have nothing further to say. I must ask you to leave immediately. Good night.”

Santiago throws open the door, revealing the family outside.

“I have never been thus treated in my entire life.”

Lady Catherine storms past the family and out into the night. Santiago is standing shaking with the excitement of having stood so firmly up for himself.

“Santiago, what on earth is going on?” Mr. Bennet asks.

“Just a small misunderstanding.”

He walks past them to bed.

“Santiago!” Mrs. Bennet yells after him.

“For once in your life. Just leave me alone.”

Everyone looks shocked by Santiago's reaction.

***

Francisco is fast asleep, Santiago more awake than he's ever been. He quietly climbs out of bed and creeps out of the room.

***

Santiago creeps out into the garden and wanders through the early morning mist, as the sun starts to rise.

He has lost track of himself and is walking beyond the Longbourn grounds. The mist is starting to evaporate and through the departing strands she sees a figure emerging. He stops, suddenly conscious of herself and frightened. Then he realizes it is Darcy - red-eyed, slightly wild looking - but still Darcy.

They both stop and stare at each other for a second.

“I couldn't sleep”

“Nor I. My aunt?”

She stops, looking wretched.

“Yes. She was here.”

“How can I ever make amends for such behavior?”

“After what you have done for Ben and for all I know, for Francisco also, it is I who should be making amends.”

Darcy looks at him for one deep moment.

“You must know - surely you must know, that it was all for you.”

Santiago is still as stone.

“You are too generous to trifle with me. I believe you spoke with my aunt last night, and it has taught me to hope as I had scarcely allowed myself before. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me forever.”

Santiago is silent.

“If, however, your feelings have changed...”

Darcy looks at him. Something in Santiagos eyes gives her confidence.

“I could, I would have to tell you, you have bewitched me body and soul and I love and love and love you. And never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

Santiago looks at her very serious, very simple.

“Well, then.”

Darcy takes a step towards him, one hand stretched out. Santiago takes hold of her fingers.

“You’re cold.”

He kisses her thumb. He sweeps her into his arms on a sound that's half a laugh, half a sob.

***

The place is in an uproar. Francisco, Tom, William, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet are all gathered, fretting terribly about Santiago's whereabouts. Through a window we see Santiago lead Darcy along the duck board plank across the moat. Santiago enters the house, everybody starts.

“Santiago, where have you been? We thought something had happened to you.”

Darcy follows Santiago in.

“Miss Darcy! What on earth are you doing here?”

Santiago takes Miss Darcy's hand.

“Miss Darcy has come to speak with Papa.”

Everyone is stunned.

***

Santiago paces outside the door of the library, waiting. After a while Darcy emerges, she gives Santiago the briefest of smiles and leaves the door open. Santiago walks in. His father is in a state of shock.

“Santiago, are you out of your senses? I thought you hated the woman.”

“No, Papa.”

“She is rich, to be sure, and you will have more fine carriages than Francisco. But will that make you happy?”

“Have you no other objection than your belief in my indifference?”

“None at all. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of fellow, but this would be nothing if you really liked her.”

“I do like her! I love her! She's not proud. I was wrong, entirely wrong about her. You don't know her, Papa... if I told you what she's really like. What she's done.

“What has she done?”

***

Santiago's hair caught up in the collar of the coat as he turns to Darcy with a heart-stopping smile. She’s at his side, in night-shirt and breeches, both of them looking as though they've just flung themselves out of bed... which is precisely the case.

“And how are you today, my dear?”

“Very well, only I wish you would not call me my dear.”

“Why?”

“It’s what my father always calls my mother when he's cross about something.”

“What endearments am I allowed?”

“Let me think. Santiago for every day. My Pearl for Sundays and God Divine - but only on special occasions.”

“And what shall I call you when I'm cross? Mr. Darcy?

“Oh no. You can only call me Mr. Darcy when you are entirely and perfectly and incandescently happy.”

She takes his face between her hands.

“And how are you this morning Mr. Darcy?”

Santiago smiles as she kisses every inch of his face and in between each kiss, murmurs "Mr. Darcy".

#santiago garcia #triple frontier #ben miller #frankie morales #onevolon fic #santiago garcia x reader #tom davis #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac fic #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #oscar isaac

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useless-englandfacts · 1 year

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In light of all the horrid stuff going on in this country lately, I would just like to remind everyone that england isn’t a totally terrible place!!

This country is full of beautiful architecture, art, literature, and natural beauties that are sometimes hard to believe are real.

This is the Major Oak of Sherwood Forest, and is estimated to be as much as 1100 years old!! It is estimated at 23 tons, and is 33 feet in girth/10 metres. According to local folklore, it is the tree where Robin Hood and his merry men slept when in the forest.

This is Durdle Door, in Dorset. It’s a natural limestone formation on the jurrassic coast, which was deemed “of such international geographic importance” that it was England’s first foray natural World Heritage site with UNESCO in 2001, joining the Grand Canyon and the Great Barrier Reef (visit-dorset.com)

As for architecture, we have the iconic Highclere Castle

Most well known for its use in iconic historical drama Downton Abbey, first written records of the Highclere estate date back to the year 749 when the estate was granted to the bishops of Winchester. In the late 14th century the bishop of Winchester William of Wykeham built himself a palace on the property, and was taken by Edward VI during the reformation in 1551. It was then granted to the Fitzwilliam family, rebuilt in 1679 by then owner Sir Robert Sawyer, who then bequeathed it to his daughter Margaret, first wife to the 8th earl of Pembroke, Thomas herbert, and it remains in the hands of the Herbert family to date, albeit the branch that resulted in the current Earl of Carnarvon. It was redesigned in the years 1842-49 to the facade we know today. (Quick side note, I am directly related to the herbert family through my great grandfather, so carnarvon I’m coming for you watch out)

We also have of course, the ever iconic Chatsworth house

IYKYK. Jk this incredible house is most well known for its use as Pemberley, the Derbyshire residence of Mr Darcy in the 2005 production of Pride and Prejudice (the best film ever made thank you very much).

The Manor of Chetesuorde is listed in the Domesday Book of 1086 as property of the crown in the custody of William de Peverel. Chatsworth ceased to be a large estate until the 15th century when it was purchased by the Leche family. They enclosed the first park and built a house on what is now the south east part of the gardens. The lands were sold in 1549 to Sir William Cavendish, husband of Bess of Hardwick (who was the “keeper” of Mary Queen of Scots while imprisoned. Also apparently her grandson married ANOTHER of my ancestors so I’m related to her too?? What the fuck I need to stop learning family history on the fly). Bess began to build her own home on the property from 1553 to the 1560s.

The home was renovated a truly mindboggling amount of times, as is the amount of times it changed hands. So I’ll keep it simple. A great number of important changes were made by the 4th duke of Devonshire, greatly changing the layout of the home. His son would marry Georgiana Spencer, 4 times great aunt of princess Diana (and YET ANOTHER RELATIVE OF MINE! From another branch of the family!! I need to call my mother. And update my ancestry.com).

In 1811 the 6th duke of Devonshire inherited Chatsworth, and proceeded to transform it into the wonderful beacon of regency romance we know and adore today over the course of his stewardship over the property.

These are only four incredible natural and historical landmarks in England. There are so many more that I could spend 3 life times researching!! (And so many more that have nothing to do with my family history, I promise. Swear I wasn’t doing this on purpose lmao)

This country can be a fucking nightmare, but it’s also a beautiful country with incredible sights and history, and I think we do ourselves a disservice when we forget that. It’s okay to love England (I fucking adore this country you have no idea, wouldn’t be running a blog if I didn’t!), you aren’t a bad person or supporting the bad shit we’ve done if you are proud of being English.

Because don’t get me wrong this country has perpetrated some of the worst shit in history, but we’ve also contributed some of the most important literature and scientific discoveries ever!!

Mary Anning revolutionised the field of paleontology!! Mary Shelley started the entire sci fi genre. Steven hawkin, Charles Darwin, Dorothy Hodgkin and Rosalind franklin discovered DNA! Isaac Newton, William Blake, John Keats, Byron, Alan Turing, Branwell, Charlotte, Emily, and Anne bronte, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, John Everett Millais, John William Waterhouse, to name a few merely off the top of my head!

England can be a wonderful place, and our heritage can be incredible and a legacy to be truly proud of. It would not do to forget, however, that a lot of our history would not have been possible without queer and ethnic minority groups. We all know a good deal of English wealth came from the slave trade, female scientists and artists often had credit for their work stripped from them and given to husbands or even strangers, and a good number of our most influential scientists and artists were very notably queer who were treated incredibly poorly and sometimes killed, and these are facts that can and do exist simultaneously.

Our heritage is wonderful, but it is still being made today. Things that we do now will be landmark events for our descendants, and it is our duty to do better for this country than our ancestors.

#long ass post sorry #I’m In A Mood today #apologies for the absolutely bizarre turn into my family history I genuinely did not expect to be related to like everyone involved in this #i severely underestimated how intertwined the nobility is #I would love to chat with anyone about some fascinating bits of English history they know and am happy to elaborate on anything I possibly #can!#politics #english history #chatsworth house #highclere castle #dorset #sherwood forest #english culture #trans rights #durdle door #can’t tag everything or I’ll be here all day #Admin Roe

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rusakkowrites · 3 months

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WIP folder game

@wurzelbertzwerg tagged me to share my WIP folder, so here goes! These are story ideas that I’ve somewhat actively worked on at some point – I also have several notebooks full of scribbled ideas, but fortunately they’re out of scope for this game.

If you would like to share the contents of your WIP folder, consider yourself tagged by me!

Fandoms that I’m currently active in

Pride and Prejudice

Childhood Friends AU: Darcy and Elizabeth meet in London when Elizabeth is eight years old and end up meeting again over the years for various reasons. Probably won’t be finished because the plot involves some fanon-based characterisations and unrealistic scenarios that I don’t like anymore.

Different conversation at the inn AU: A short canon divergence in which Darcy can’t bear seeing Elizabeth in distress and ends up confessing his plan to find Lydia and Wickham. This leads to an earlier romantic resolution.

Elizabeth de Bourgh AU: AU in which Elizabeth’s father was Sir Lewis’s younger brother, who broke with his family, and her mother was Mr Bennet’s cousin. She’s been raised by the Bennets after being orphaned. When she’s 19 or 20, her paternal relatives take a renewed interest in her after she gets a surprise inheritance. Probably won’t be finished. (I actually also have some notes for a different AU in which Elizabeth is related to both the Bennets and the de Bourghs in a slightly less convoluted way – that one I might actually try to work on at some point.)

Hogwarts AU: An AU in which all the Austen characters are witches and wizards, mixing and matching plot elements from Pride and Prejudice and Harry Potter. Currently on the back burner because I feel conflicted about writing or posting anything related to J.K. Rowling.

Kitty thinks Darcy is evil AU: A Pride and Prejudice sequel from Kitty’s point of view, featuring lots of ridiculous misunderstandings on Kitty’s part.

Pride and Prejudice and Compound Interest: A short exploration of the potential financial futures of Elizabeth, Lydia and Charlotte. I have a complete draft of this one, but I feel like it would require more research before I’m willing to post it, and I’m not really motivated to do said research at the moment.

Animorphs AU: Darcy’s proposal to Elizabeth is interrupted when an injured alien crashes his spaceship in Mr Collins’s vegetable garden. I have lots of ideas and snippets for this one, but the scope creep became kind of intimidating, so I don’t know if I’ll ever finish any part of this story.

Emma

Snowed in AU: An AU in which the Woodhouses, the Knightleys and Mr Elton do get snowed in at Randalls on Christmas Eve. Mr Elton drinks more wine than in canon, his proposal is even worse, and events butterfly away from there. This one I’m actually actively working on at the moment (but that doesn’t necessarily mean it will ever be finished).

P&P + Emma crossover

P&P + Emma: Elizabeth’s trip with the Gardiners is cancelled and she persuades her father to forbid Lydia’s trip to Brighton, so the meeting at Pemberley doesn’t happen and Lydia never elopes. Instead, Elizabeth is invited by the Gardiners to visit some of their relatives in a little town called Highbury – and coincidentally, Mr Darcy and his sister happen to have family there too. The additional characters cause further complications in the already convoluted plot of Emma.

Northanger Abbey

To Rip What You Sew: A very short little Henry/Catherine piece inspired by a stupid pun. I need to find a suitable Gothic novel to reference before moving forward with this one.

April Lady (Georgette Heyer)

April Lady canon divergence: I actually have a preliminary summary for this one: “A dresser’s discretion and a kiss that is not interrupted put Lord and Lady Cardross on a different path towards reconciliation.” I’ve got most of the story written, but it’s been sitting and waiting for editing inspiration for a few years because I wasn’t quite happy with some parts of the plot.

Permanently abandoned WIPs from fandoms that I’ve moved away from

Yuri!!! On Ice

Yuuri of Green Gables: An AU idea inspired by L.M. Montgomery’s works. I only have a very vague recollection of what the plot was supposed to be, but I remember that it would have spanned from Yuuri’s childhood through his university years and that Yuuri became an artist. There was also a dramatic romantic resolution involving a broken engagement. I also had plans for a sequel that involved Yuuri getting measles and hallucinating. All in all it was a sprawling project that never got much beyond a 12,000-word bullet point plan and a few draft scenes.

Stand Still, Stay Silent

A Dangerous Midsummer: An AU in which Emil went to Finland with a group of cleansers after the first adventure and (of course) ended up working with Lalli. I remember that the story involved troll-hunting shenanigans, swamps, midsummer traditions and eventual romance.

Bedtime stories and lullabies: A story about Onni’s childhood, exploring his relationship with his family through bedtime stories and lullabies.

Tuuli Hollola: A fic about Tuuli Hollola from Kaino’s perspective.

Side effects: A story from Year 0 told through clinical trial documentation.

The Swedish mage: A story about a Swedish original character who accidentally found out that he was a mage during a visit to Norway. I remember that the dreamworld was involved, but I think I hadn’t quite worked out the entire plot when I abandoned the story.

I generally only post stories that are completely or almost completely pre-written, so these WIPs fortunately aren’t sitting abandoned on AO3 causing me stress. Most of them will probably never see the light of day, but they were fun to work on nonetheless!

#writing #fanfiction #tagging games

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pleasereadmeok · 2 years

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Rogue Roles

“I suspect he has enough charm to get away with mass murder. Casting agents appear to agree: over the years he’s come to specialise in playing charming rogues.” [Telegraph about Matthew Goode 2018]

Matthew Goode playing a ‘charming rogue’ in:-

The Lookout

Watchmen

Stoker

Death Comes to Pemberley

Self/Less

Roots [maybe not so charming in this one tho’]

The Hatton Garden Job

The Big Bad Fox and other Tales

Ordeal by Innocence

The King’s Man

Medieval

I debated whether to include The Crown - coz Tony was a bit of a rogue as well, but not a bad guy. There are shades of grey in all of these roles - that’s what Matthew Goode excels at portraying.

📷 MG Rogue Roles 1/2 my edits

#matthew goode #matthewgoode #stoker #medieval movie #The King's Man

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lothiriel84 · 4 months

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So Pure in Thought and Word and Deed

He was, in short, the spitting image of her husband, and she felt all the joy she had longed to share with him slip through her fingers and shatter to the ground at her feet.

A Pride and Prejudice ficlet. Darcy/Elizabeth, with Georgiana featuring prominently in her own right.

Not five months into their marriage, Elizabeth began suspecting that she might be with child. Thinking it prudent not to give her mother cause for any premature excitement, she wrote to her aunt Gardiner instead, and promptly received confirmation that, while it was still too soon to tell, all the signs pointed in that direction.

Her heart full of joy at the prospect, she elected to take a long walk to steady her nerves before breaking the news to her loving husband. As she skirted the small farm at the far side of the park, she was surprised to find Mr Darcy’s favourite mount tied to the large oak tree standing in front of the house. Given that her husband had announced he would be away on business for the entire day, she was quite puzzled as to what his horse could be doing there, and without much consideration on her part, she found herself taking a turn around the modest yet well-kept garden.

What she found there left her floundering in confusion at first, and then outright dread as the full implications of the scene presenting itself before her eyes started to sink in. There stood Fitzwilliam, bouncing a small child in his arms; the boy could be anywhere between one and two years of age, with a head of dark curls and the most beautiful green eyes she had ever seen. He was, in short, the spitting image of her husband, and she felt all the joy she had longed to share with him slip through her fingers and shatter to the ground at her feet.

Scarcely knowing where she was going, she fled as quickly as her legs would carry her; it was hours later when she eventually found her way back to Pemberley, where she immediately locked herself inside her chambers, ignoring Georgiana’s worried entreaties that she at least consented to have a tray sent in.

If her husband had come to check on her upon his return later that evening, she did not know, as she had finally succeeded in crying herself to sleep. In the morning she took herself downstairs with something akin to bitter resignation, feeling as if all the happiness they had shared up until that moment had been nothing but a lie, and there was nothing left for her to look forward to anymore.

“Elizabeth, my dear, have you been unwell?” Fitzwilliam enquired, ever solicitous of her, and it was enough to stoke the embers of her anger once more, despite her better efforts.

“It is none of your concern, Sir,” she replied with an icy coldness that verged on dangerous. “I would not have you concern yourself on such trifling matters as your wife’s health.”

Mr Darcy looked as if he had been slapped, and could not seem to find the words to express his confusion at such an abrupt change in her manners towards him. “If I have done something to offend you, Madam, I am deeply sorry for it – though I confess I am thoroughly in the dark as to the nature of my offence.”

“Then let us talk about it no more. I find I have lost my appetite, so please excuse me if I retire to my rooms.”

Not ten minutes later, there was a knock at her door, and she once again expressed her wish to be alone, even in the face of Georgiana’s clear distress.

“Elizabeth, please,” her sister-in-law pleaded through the door. “Whatever the nature of your quarrel, I feel sure it is nothing but a misunderstanding. And you have not eaten since yesterday morning, you cannot go on like this, especially – in your condition.”

That sweet, innocent Georgiana would figure out her secret before anyone else was something Elizabeth could not have anticipated. Still, she felt entirely too frazzled to face her new sister’s concerns, as well-meant as they were, and merely repeated that she required some rest; Georgiana, she felt sure, was too well-bread to reveal anything of so delicate nature to her brother, and that was the only think that mattered at the moment.

She did not emerge from her voluntary seclusion for the next two days, though she accepted the trays that were sent to her rooms with absolute punctuality. The mere notion of food revolted her, but she needed to think of her child, if nothing else; it would not do to visit the sins of the father upon such an innocent creature as she was, in all likelihood, carrying inside herself.

Fitzwilliam looked as startled as she had ever seen him when she finally made an appearance for tea. Still, she refused to meet his gaze, taking her place beside Georgiana instead.

“Am I allowed to enquire how much longer do you plan to refuse to speak with your own husband, Elizabeth?” he asked of her in a low voice, barely waiting for his sister to excuse herself from company, after pleading a headache that would have scarcely fooled anyone.

“That’s rich coming from you, Sir,” she shrugged, turning the full force of her irritation onto the slice of bread she was buttering. “I would have thought it congenial to your sensibilities, as you clearly appear to have kept something of much import from your own wife.”

“I wish you would stop speaking in riddles, Madam,” Fitzwilliam replied, with a touch of his old temper. “Speak plainly, and I promise I shall address any concern you might have about this marriage.”

Elizabeth considered him for a long moment, wondering how he could act the part of a gentleman with such well-practiced ease when he clearly was not. “Why have you never told me about the child? I think I could have born the proof of your past conduct much better, had I been informed of it directly, rather than having to discover it for myself.”

All colour left his cheeks, and he stood up abruptly, glancing down to her in something akin to fear. “You have been to Mrs Goddard’s farm, have you not?”

“I see you are not even making an attempt to deny it,” she stated with a sort of forced calm, clutching at her teacup so tightly that a detached part of herself wondered whether it would shatter in her grip. “I should be grateful for that, I presume. Tell me, is his mother so below you in station you could not bring yourself to act as any honourable man would, or were you so concerned about losing the good opinion of society as to abandon your own flesh and blood to protect your reputation?”

“It is not as you think it is, Elizabeth,” he forced out with some difficulty, and there was something so pained about his countenance that she almost felt sorry for him.

“Enlighten me, then. How, pray tell, are you going to explain the presence on your own estate of a child bearing such startling resemblance to yourself?”

She had the momentary satisfaction of seeing her husband, always so in command of himself, falter before her very eyes. And yet, she did not feel so much vindicated as she felt utterly devastated in the face of such blatant disregard for her natural feelings on his part. “The secret is not mine to tell. I cannot, I will not betray their confidence, not even for your sake.”

“That’s a very pretty excuse, Sir, but you cannot seriously expect your wife to content herself with letting matters slide, as if it was nothing.”

“Nor can you expect me to go back on my own word,” he pleaded with her, to no avail. “I am not guilty of the sin you’re so keen to ascribe to me, but that is all I am allowed tell you in good conscience.”

“Then we have nothing more to say to each other, I find. Good day to you, Sir.” She pushed away from her chair, and was halfway across the room when she very nearly collided with Georgiana, as pale as a ghost, who had apparently rushed in at that very moment.

“I will not stand for this a moment longer,” she cried out in such anguish that gave even Elizabeth pause. “If you will not tell her, Fitzwilliam, then I shall, and you cannot stop me.”

“Georgiana,” her brother entreated her, crossing the room in two swift strides, and reaching out for her arm as if to command her to silence.

Georgiana, however, would not be swayed. “Robert is not Fitzwilliam’s son.” Her voice broke quite pitifully, yet she bravely soldiered on. “He’s his nephew. There, I have said it – despise me, if you will.”

It took several moments for the full import of her sister-in-law’s words to register with Elizabeth. When they did at last, she found she was very much in need to sit down, and was only able to do so thanks to her husband, who very firmly escorted to the nearest chair.

“I am so very sorry,” was the only speech she could manage, as Fitzwilliam pressed a glass of water to her lips, coaxing her to take small sips until her fainting fit had passed. “Oh, I shall never forgive myself, for as long as I shall live.”

“You could not have known,” Georgiana shook her head, and although she still looked very pale and distressed, she offered Elizabeth the faint suggestion of a smile. “I could not bear to be made to marry his father, not after learning of his true intentions towards me. Fitzwilliam has been so very understanding throughout all this; he has done what he thought best to preserve my reputation, all the while ensuring that the child is well looked after, and he shall never want for anything in his life.”

“You see now why I could not tell you, Elizabeth? I do own that it did not sit well with me, to keep such a thing hidden from my own wife, and that I had not stopped to consider what sort of conclusions you might reach, were you ever to find out – but I admit I had hoped you would trust my word as a gentleman, if nothing else.”

“I beg your forgiveness, Sir,” she spoke very quietly, much ashamed of her earlier assumptions. “I allowed my fears to run away with me, and I have no excuse for accusing you so unjustly, save perhaps – but now is not the time, not when you have every cause to be displeased with my conduct.”

Georgiana surprised them all by throwing her arms around her neck. “He shall be so very happy, I feel sure. I know that I am, for both of your sakes.”

With that, she fled the room for good, leaving a very bemused brother to search his wife’s gaze for anything in the way of an explanation. What he found there, Elizabeth did not precisely know, but it seemed enough for his entire countenance to light up in a manner even she herself had seldom had the good fortune of witnessing before.

“Oh, my love,” he all but choked out, gathering her to himself and pressing his lips very tenderly to her brow. “When?”

“Next winter, I believe,” she told him in a voice much trembling with emotion, giving herself up at last to the comforting warmth of his embrace.

#Pride and Prejudice #Elizabeth Bennet #Mr Darcy #Georgiana Darcy #Elizabeth/Darcy #alternate universe #canon divergence #family secrets #brother-sister relationship #I wrote a thing #It's a Sin (series)

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zeldadiarist · 2 years

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Zelink Week 2022, Day Four

Hello! This @zelinkweekofficial prompt was inspired by one of the first fanarts I got for this AU, made by the one and only Emiisley (on Instagram). Also by that scene at Pemberley from 2006 P&P because the Hercules ref is blatant.

Not so fun fact: I’m an art conservator. Some people do kiss statues, specially religious ones. I’ve removed lipstick from some. Eww.

Day four: Statue (I Won’t Say I’m in Love)

An excess.

That's what Zelda thought immediately after seeing the life size, extremely detailed and lifelike sculpture in front of her that was hidden in Queen Ajah's garden in the Gerudo Palace while she was attending a protocolar soirée.

The curls in perfect disarray.

That obnoxiously perfect pointy nose, so not Gerudo, and oh so Hylian.

The chiseled - pun intended - cheekbones and jaw that contrasted with the fullness and soft lines of the lips.

The rich textures and elegant folds on the suit it wore.

The reflexive expression in its eyes.

Everything in it screamed a likeness to the original that was almost uncanny. Zelda felt if she touched the sculpture, it would magically turn to flesh and bone.

She wouldn't know if to kiss him or kick his ass if that happened, though (maybe the latter wasn't a good idea if she was wearing a vaporous beige colored tulle party dress. Not that the former was better either. Any art conservator would murder her for leaving lipstick marks on marble!). Link had stopped answering her messages for good a long time ago - almost two years - and their relationship would definitely take a lot to mend.

Nabooru and Rutela, the former the daughter of the party host and the latter, the Zora Princess, simply observed her expression of almost offended shock, trying their best not to laugh at her.

"I can bet a Zora scale she would be less impressed if it were the real Link," Rutela commented with snark.

"I hope your mom didn't spend taxpayer money on this…" she pointed out to Nabooru, circling the sculpture with her right index finger.

Marble was definitely not a cheap sculpting material, but the artist clearly splurged on… scrumptiousness - a thought Zelda saved to herself.

"She didn't, Peaches," she eased her small friend's sort of concern. "Master Pikango offered his work for free when my mom told her who the subject was. She intends to bring it to the royal hall when he turns twenty-one next month, or he accepts his title of Son of the Desert Wind."

Zelda raised a quizzical brow. “And Link was willing to pose for this?”

“Do you actually know Linny as well as you think?” Rutela asked the tiny Hylian with snark.

“People change their minds, as much as they can change their appearance.” She shrugged, her puffed sleeves making the gesture more dramatic. “So he could…”

“Of course he didn’t,” Nabooru cleared out. “It’s just based on pictures of him, just like the portrait you saw in the hall.”

“Oh, that one.” Zelda saved another thought for herself, realizing Master Pikango certainly had done a good job - his lips looked as kissable as the real ones, but she’d rather be dead than say that out loud. “He looks sleepy instead of dreamy, not gonna lie.”

The Zora and Gerudo princesses laughed loudly, knowing Zelda was right in her description, and returned inside the palace.

The rest of the evening was as every formal party she had attended since she was thirteen: structured and boring, so she was dying to sneak out, waiting for the perfect chance to do so. She was fortunate to be able to hide easily thanks to the average size of most guests - these were the occasions she was thankful for being short.

Her steps led her to the Gerudo Queen’s garden once more, where she almost had a heart attack seeing a large shadow looming over her - just to realize it was just the lonely sculpture of Link.

“You’re just as quiet as the original,” she said to it, “but definitely on the pale side.” She laughed at her own bad joke.

Under the moonlight, she took another look at the depiction of her estranged friend. Every perfectly rendered detail in it evoked a deep heartache in her, for it reminded her of the indifference he had shown the last times they met before they had their bitter last conversation.

She leaned against the cold marble with a bittersweet smile, wrapping her arms around herself longingly.

Usually, her companion whenever she snuck out of the events at Hyrule Castle was always Link. They talked and fooled around like the kids they were. She loved that.

And still, despite everything that happened between them, she loved him.

She would never admit to others, lest to her inner circle, but she would make an exception for her unexpected, silent companion.

“I miss you so much.”

#zelink week 2022 #zelink #modern zelink #golden chain au

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marblecarved · 8 months

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The subjects of Georgiana's drawings are not always the roses in their pretty vases, or Pemberley's garden; Among these drawings, in fact, one can also find a couple of portraits - and when I say a couple, I mean that only one of them is the finished result. Indeed, when Georgiana gained a bit more confidence in her drawing skills, she asked her brother, Fitzwilliam, if she could draw him, but that proved itself a bit tricky, you see... it's not so easy, as she quickly found out, to draw a person, not like it is to draw a rose. So it took her five tries to draw a portrait of her brother she liked, and the remaining four she never threw away, keeping them, instead, together with the rest of her drawings.

#⌠ . georgiana darcy : development.#please‚ do not reblog!

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profeyandere · 9 months

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𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌 𝐂. ─── ☾ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐄

Masterlist || Pride and Prejudice Masterlist || Wattpad

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairing: William Collins x Reader

Warning: None uwu

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

A small and lopsided smile delicately and angelically decorated your jovial face, showing something more in you than your usual seriousness or disgust for the company of others at social gatherings or parties of the people closest to you. Your heart, finally feeling happy and euphoric about the scene that was presented before you, did not stop beating against your fragile and warm chest, making you think at times that it was very likely that in a matter of minutes, you could faint due to lack of air or a heart attack. That last assumption was too extreme and exaggerated, and it almost made you laugh because of how imaginative you were and how melodramatic you could be, but it was inevitable to show that side of you that you had so hidden when you saw your dear brother wrapped in the arms of the woman he loved, finally enjoying the first dance they shared as husband and wife. The couple looked at each other with affection, which was obvious from the moment Fitzwilliam asked to woo Elizabeth, but now it was different. You could see with perfect clarity the love that one transmitted to the other with the elegant movements of their joined bodies, whether it was through their joined hands or the clash of their bodies when Darcy wanted to spin his current wife, and you could not stop to see those smiles. Your brother's pale, glued lips showed the happiness that was palpable in his person, perfectly completing his being with a touch that made him look more attractive and special than he already was, while your sister-in-law's bright and teasing smile shamelessly showed how happy and lucky she felt to finally be with the man she had worked so hard not to fall in love with. Watching them both, you knew that it was impossible to control the feelings that developed in those around you because the two of them were a clear sign that no one was capable of fighting what was in their hearts.

You weren't aware of it, and very few would be sure of it, but your eyes sparkled with emotion when you saw the small bubble that had engulfed the newlyweds, even if that detail seemed to be something quite minuscule compared to the perfect scene taking place in the center of the large ballroom, there was a person, a little man in a simple suit who kept his gaze fixed on your person. Before his eyes there was only something more beautiful than the union of the people who were enjoying the dance piece that formally made them a perfect couple, and that 'something' was you. Your face, your brilliant eyes that seemed clearer in the light of the candles and the lamps that decorated the room, and the beautiful light-colored dress that you were wearing at that moment made you look like a queen, a goddess, or an angel fallen from heaven to bless the whole world with your radiant beauty, as natural and graceful as that of a swan finally showing its wings as it takes off for its first flight. Mr. Collins had the happiness of being able to get to know you correctly, going to the house where you lived with your brothers to be able to share several afternoons with you, whether it was playing countless games of chess or the happy checkers with which he always beat you and giving long and leisurely walks in the great gardens of Pemberley, Derbyshire, as you searched for a way to establish a moment of peace and quiet to talk to each other without your younger sister's cheeky smile or your older brother's sharp, cold stare at Mr. Collins.

Those two relatives of yours were looking for a way to torment you once they found you alone in some room of the house. Ever since that conversation so far back in time that you had with Mr. Collins about his possible marriage, or future proposal for a hand, towards one of his cousins, he had given in to your wishes and had taken your advice as if they were orders that he really should follow as if he was a faithful servant of yours; Georgiana often teased you about it because, in her view, no man would have agreed to a woman talking to him that way and most likely would not have paid any attention to you, he was too likely to ignore your advice, but he took it and promptly denied his wish to marry one of his cousins because of the disgust you seemed to have shown at such an idea. You never mentioned or questioned him about why he had listened to you, what it was that had pushed him to ignore society's expectations and listen to you, specifically you of all the people in this world. On the one hand, he had had Lady Catherine, your aunt, behind his back, scandalously encouraging him to marry as soon as possible, and, on the other hand, he had found Mrs. Bennet, his cousin's wife and mother of the newlywed, who was constantly after him insisting that he marry one of her younger daughters, but it wasn't until he found you that he realized that his life did not have to be as two women wanted, no matter how much one wanted. One of them would have offered him so much help and was someone he truly appreciated and admired.

Your sincerity was what he needed to get out of that little hell, and it was what saved his cousin Elizabeth and the other girls from marrying him.

A wave of applause brought the clergyman out of his thoughts, who promptly joined the ovation as he joyfully congratulated the newly married couple who shared a little kiss as a sign of his deepest love and affection. Collins couldn't help but feel a slight pressure on his chest as he watched his cousin enjoy her husband's company, hoping deep inside that he might be as lucky as Elizabeth to woo Darcy and thus, try to show his affection towards you and charm you with his attentions.

"I thought that at some point you would be the one to take the step, Mr. Collins, but I see that you are still proud enough not to go over to talk to the person you are burning with your eyes."

Your voice, remarkably serious that contrasted perfectly with your mocking tone and the mischievous smile that you shamelessly showed, caused his body to begin to tense and become more and more rigid until he was completely stretched out in his position, almost becoming a little taller than you by a couple of centimeters. The cleric's mind began to race a mile a minute, trying to find an ingenious response to your simple words that, being as true as his affection for you, could show you how aware he was of your presence with him and that there was no been surprised.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

His tone of voice, slightly muffled, caused a soft laugh to escape from you, which quickly dissipated into the air and was barely heard thanks to the festive atmosphere around you, which was made even happier when some relatives and friends from both sides of the couple gathered on the large dance floor to enjoy the music.

"I accept your apology," you murmured, nodding gently in his direction. That statement made the man understand that his assumptions about your discomfort were correct. His face quickly showed a sad face at the thought that he had made you feel bad by looking at you, but you made sure of it in a few seconds and continued speaking to try to calm his afflicted heart. "If you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was come over. I thought we were close enough that formalities were out of the question."

"Although that's true, I'm afraid to remember that we were in the company of your family and mine," he indicated, briefly lowering his gaze to his hands before placing them behind his back without realizing that your gaze full of surprise was fixed on him. "Furthermore, as a higher-ranking member of society, you should be the one to make me feel blissful in your presence."

You couldn't help it, your eyes moved by themselves, and you rolled them for a moment when you heard him.

"I hope you'll forgive my expression. What nonsense," you said while you shook your head softly, turning your gaze to him quickly with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Since when do you care so much about decency and society when we have shared afternoons in solitude, with no one else us? You have come to my house, as I have to yours, and we have enjoyed the solitude and the company of the other. Why is now different for you, if I may ask?"

Mr. Collins remained silent for several seconds, not knowing exactly what to answer because you were right. Ever since that surprise meeting at the party where he finally met you, he couldn't help but feel attracted to your ingenuity in knowing how to escape from situations in which you didn't feel comfortable, your rebellious attitude towards what society dictated, and the maturity that society had given him allowed him to see the fact that marrying just any woman would not bring him the happiness that every human being deserved. When he saw you, he could only think how lucky he was to be able to enjoy your company in the large garden of your brother's house while you talked about his progress with Lady Catherine and what he was getting with his work within the church, while that you only listened attentively. If you were similar to your brother in anything, apart from the serious face you used to show everyone around you, it was in your ability to listen attentively and carefully to others, soaking up their achievements and feeling proud of them, even advising them if possible.

When the man was ready to answer you, having finally managed to compose himself from your sudden question, he felt a strong pull on his wrist that led him to move towards the small dance floor where a large part of the bride's family was enjoying a party calm music, as well as lively, with the other wedding companions. Your little sister, your adored Georgiana, had arranged for your courageous and agreeable conversation partner to share a little piece with each of his cousins, dancing among them like a dizzy duck that doesn't quite know where to move; You couldn't help but feel bad for William, but the little laugh that escaped your lips wasn't something that went unnoticed by him. Just hearing from you more than your small voice in a clipped, authoritative tone was music to his ears.

"Dear sister, you are too mean," you spoke mockingly, losing sight of your partner.

"What's wrong with wanting your loving and shy boyfriend to share a room with his cousins?" She questioned in the same sarcastic tone, making you roll your eyes when you heard the title that Collins had acquired in your relative's mind. True, you two were pretty close, it was almost scary how well you knew each other, but he never seemed to take that kind of interest in you because if he did, why hadn't he already asked your permission to woo you?

"Georgina, it would be better for everyone if you stopped making such absurd ideas about my relationship with Mr. Collins."

The young little woman Darcy glanced at your perfect profile and how your eyes almost seemed to sparkle. Georgina was not a silly girl with the idea of getting married as soon as she got the chance, being the complete opposite of her sister-in-law's young sisters, but she was observant and quite like you in the more serious aspects of her current life and want to wait long enough to find, in his brother's case, his Elizabeth or, in your case, your Mr. Collins, but her assumptions couldn't be wrong, she refused. For her, in addition to Lizzie and her brother, the unique couple that you and the cleric made was quite pleasant since the male's submission together with your dominance caused the relationship to be quite balanced, in addition to your respective knowledge on various topics that interested the other made your conversations enjoyable and quite fluid, but what most managed to distinguish that possible affection that you had towards the man was in the brightness that your eyes had. Fitzwilliam and you had always been more serious than her because you were older since he had to be the perfect man and you the most educated damsel in the entire region, so you had learned to show only one side of yourselves, a little shell that seemed to crack little by little when Elizabeth and William respectively arrived, and the crack caused your eyes to shine like the brightest stars in the firmament and your hearts to open wide to the new experiences that the sun could bring you. love.

"Like I'm lying," she murmured gracefully, being subtly scolded by you with a little touch of your shoe against hers. "You can't say I'm lying, everyone knows it."

“It's not that simple, Georgina, and I don't think it's very appropriate for you to press the issue any further."

That blunt statement of yours went unnoticed by the young woman, who simply shook her head when she saw how stubborn you were. Many times she did not know who was worse, your brother or you.

Spotting Collins again among the great mess of people on the dance floor, you quickly made your way through several of the guests to reach him and move him away from the crowd, seeing his face completely flushed and slightly sweaty from his obligation not to decline any dance offer that he found with each step he took. You could almost laugh again when you saw how he was breathing but, as you had seen in him, it was not easy for him to have to have several conversations at the same time while having to try not to step on women's feet.

"Let's go outside, you need to give yourself some air," you murmured once you had managed to reach him, gesturing with your hand towards the nearest exit that would take you to the small garden outside the building where the party was taking place, allowing him to then to be able to breathe some fresh air and be able to calm their nerves while it was just the two of you.

Seeing Collins nod in agreement gave you the break you needed because you, like him, needed to get rid of the accumulation of emotions that you had felt throughout the day, even if you had not been the protagonist of that evening; Nor would it surprise you to see your brother looking for an outlet to relax before returning to attend to all the guests who demanded his attention. Your heart began to beat more strongly as the minutes passed, while you were alone again in a comfortable silence, going out to the aforementioned garden, allowing you to observe with intensity some of the small flowers that had been taken care of for the very special occasion that was happening that day and enjoy the warm and soft breeze that enveloped you that summer night. Your breathing was not agitated, but you felt on the verge of a mental collapse as you stopped by Mr. Collins's side when he felt far enough from the building and comfortable enough that he could breathe easy and regain his relaxed, placid countenance.

Somehow you couldn't help but think about your sister's words and, therefore, your relationship with the cleric to your right. As one of the women belonging to the Darcy family, London, and the whole world hoped that tomorrow you would be engaged to a man of equal or greater social status to your own, not to a mere clergyman who depended on your aunt to take whatever decision regarding his life; Of course, he was faithful to it, you just had to remember how he used to talk about you the first times you shared a snack at her house, but you made him understand that only he could and should decide who he should marry or when to do it. The only thing you were trying to show him was that he shouldn't be after a woman who told him how to make his life, which you achieved after much persistence and after showing him other pleasures that were deprived of him because of your aunt. You could not aspire to marry Collins, but rather a friend of your brother's or some other bourgeois or marquis your aunt approved of, but your heart seemed complete only when your eyes turned to that man who had seemed so strange to you when you met him. You met your mind only thought of a man when the subject of marriage was mentioned by your aunt and only a name escaped from your lips while you dreamed of the day you would get married. There was only one man in your life who could make you happy, and he was in front of you, as clear as it had been to your sister from the beginning.

"Looks like you needed a moment too," Collins mentioned, drawing your attention. "Don't get me wrong, I just want to point out that you seemed a little out of sorts."

"There's something that bothers me, but it's not important," you commented without giving too much information, seeing the question look that Collins had, making you sigh and knowing that at some point you would have to mention it. "Would you risk everything you have if you believe you truly love a person? Just like my brother did for your cousin."

Mr. Collins seemed to think about it for a couple of seconds, at least that's what you supposed when you saw his frown.

"Well, I suppose so," the cleric replied, making you nod gently at his words. "It's complicated, I guess. Is it good to take a risk? It's possible. Up to what point? Don't know."

"I could lose everything for him," you said quickly, surprising him with that sincere statement. "He is not what my aunt would want for me. He is very different from what she would expect, and all she would do is give him a heart attack as she knew, and that fact came true."

Mr. Collins couldn't help but look at you curiously, wanting to know more about that stranger who was your lover, but also afraid of what he had wanted so much to never come true.

"Your brother did it, you can always lean on him."

Your gaze strayed back to him before turning your gaze forward, being able to make out on the horizon the large whitish ball that had appeared a few minutes ago. Everything seemed to be going in your favor, even if your respective doubts and fear were afloat and in some way had shown themselves over the months when you met, but one of the two had to take the step and, as happened before and in several times, it had to be you.

Your delicate hand, which was then intertwined with the other, slowly slid and touched one of his fingers, surprising him with the sudden touch, but which he did not reject. Your hand managed to wrap around his with an elegant movement and, as soon as you knew it, he had wrapped yours with his; With a simple handshake, you both felt how your hearts became one that full moon night, and it was when all your fears seemed to vanish with the breeze of that summer night.

#william collins #william #collins #william collins x reader #william collins x you #william collins x oc #reader #you #oc #tom hollander #william collins imagine #tom hollander imagine #pride and prejudice #pride and prejudice 2005

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synchronousemma · 2 years

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Thursday, 23rd June (Midsummer Eve; Harriet's birthday): The Donwell Abbey party takes place

Read: Vol. 3, ch. 6 [42]; pp. 234–240 (“Under a bright mid-day sun” to “before the following evening”).

Context

The Westons, the Woodhouses, the Eltons, Harriet Smith, and Jane Fairfax arrive at Donwell. Jane Fairfax leaves early. Frank Churchill arrives late.

This occurs at “almost Midsummer” (vol. 3, ch. 6 [42]; p. 234); the next day is “not [...] above six-and-thirty hours” (vol. 3, ch. 9 [45]; p. 254) before Frank’s return to Richmond on “the 26th” (vol. 3, ch. 14 [50]; p. 289), making this the 23rd.

Lionel Trilling notes that for “English culture” we ought to read “English agriculture” (p. 53). Per Kaythryn Sutherland, “[a]t the time Austen wrote, the older and more recent senses of the word ‘culture’ (as cultivation of land and intellectual work) still coexisted, and the division […] did not yet gape between physical and mental labour” (p. 50).

Note that the sections “Wearied Spirits” and “There’s No Place Like… Swisserland?” contain spoilers.

Readings and Interpretations

A Lecture on the Picturesque

The strawberry party marks the first time that Donwell Abbey is directly described, despite its having been referred to repeatedly in the preceding narrative. We see Emma considering the “respectable size and style of the building, its suitable, becoming, characteristic situation, low and sheltered—its ample gardens stretching down to meadows washed by a stream, of which the Abbey, with all the old neglect of prospect, had scarcely a sight—and its abundance of timber in rows and avenues, which neither fashion nor extravagance had rooted up” (p. 234). Ruta Kaufmann writes that Donwell is “one of the most significant dream homes” in Austen:

Donwell acquires its features of a dream home gradually as the narrative advances, although it never forms such a striking picture as Pemberley or Northanger Abbey. In a way, it is always in the background of the action and comes to the foreground only in a couple of passages. […] [W]e get a proper tour of the domain only in Summer, during the strawberry party, when all the guests get a chance to admire it. Symbolically, it is viewed on the Summer solstice—at the “highest” point of the year—surrounded by ripe fruit, which evokes fertility, self-sufficiency, and dream-house quality. (pp. 113–4)

Alistair Duckworth notes that the “distrust of fashionable improvements” expressed in this first description of Donwell is typical of Austen. It “not only reminds us of the theme in Mansfield Park, but comments, too, on the recent actions and intentions of the visitors to Donwell—especially, perhaps, on Mrs. Elton’s attempt to redefine what is ‘natural’ by coercing Knightley into giving an alfresco ‘gipsy-party’” (p. 175). Janet Todd similarly notes the unabashed old-fashionedness of Donwell, putting it into historical context:

For […] Mrs. Elton, the world has begun its unstoppable shrinkage into a series of described and packaged tourist spots complete with artificial, designated activities. Mr. Knightley’s putdown to Mrs. Elton is the putdown of a whole new manner of being and seeing, which is, despite his momentary power, about to triumph. Mrs. Elton tries to make the strawberry party a tripper’s day out, where Mr. Knightley insists on its being an old-fashioned visit to his country property. […] Mr. Knightley is against tourism, and his land is closed to sightseers. Village folk can have a right of way across it—and he insists that they do even when he has to move his path to avoid damage to the home meadows—, but he makes no effort to provide vistas for them. He is unperturbed by his house’s “old neglect of prospect” (389) and in no rush to “improve” the pleasure grounds; his avenue of limes leads to a wall and pillars framing neither house nor view. (pp. 21–2)1

Critics therefore tend to argue that Donwell presents an image of an idyllic, idealized, or even nationalist England. Alistair Duckworth writes that “the description of the view from Donwell,” coming as it does after the sense of “social disintegration” conveyed by the party’s splintering as they walk through the grounds, “posits an alternative hope in her description of the view from Donwell of the Abbey-Mill Farm, as if to underscore the contrast between the present fragmentation of the party and the enduring possibilities of an organic society” (pp. 174–5). Lionel Trilling argues that Austen presents Highbury as an idyll (a literary genre which presents an innocent and happy humanity), contrasting it with the outside world from which “insincerity and vulgarity come” (p. 58): “we cannot help feeling that ‘English verdure, English culture, English comfort, seen under a sun bright without being oppressive’ make an England perceived—if but for the moment,—as an idyll” (p. 57). For Trilling “Emma is a novel that is touched—lightly but indubitably—by national feeling” (p. 53). Per Deirdre Le Faye, here “Knightley and Donwell Abbey are both synecdochic of a larger national concept of Englishness, which itself carries overtones of provincialism, honesty and integrity” (2005, p. 26).2

Douglas Murray, however, questions whether “the novel as a whole endorse[s] this view of Donwell as metonym for the kingdom,” arguing that the text may “interrogate or even undermine that notion”:

I would like to argue that readers would be naive to interpret this passage as mere unreflective nationalist discourse, as Jane Austen’s unqualified, freestanding ode to post Napoleonic England. This passage, like most narration in the novel, adopts the technique of free indirect discourse and is filtered through the consciousnesses of all the visitors: the party ‘insensibly followed one another to the delicious shade of a broad short avenue of limes’ [p. 235]. […] [T]he primary perceiver of Donwell is Emma herself […]. In fact, almost the entire visit to Donwell consists of Emma’s impressions. (p. 956)

Thus, because it is focalized through Emma, “the description of Donwell Abbey presents a landscape which very much accords with Emma's personality and preoccupations,” including “a compulsive rage for order and, in a semiotic sense, purity”—but the code of values presented here is not Austen’s (ibid.). Similarly, Paul Pickrel argues that here Emma “is beginning to think of Donwell Abbey as her own future home,” which explains in plot rather than political terms why the description of the estate seems “excessive” (p. 305; see also Burrows, p. 108).

The view from Donwell also includes “what [Emma] has previously excluded from her outlook,” namely Abbey-Mill Farm (Duckworth, p. 175). For Trilling, the “almost solemn vision of England’s green and pleasant land” culminates in the “favourably placed and sheltered” Abbey-Mill Farm for a reason: “the little burst of strong feeling has the effect, among others, of pointing up the extremity and the large import of Emma’s mistake” (p. 53). “English culture, English comfort” is thus linked to moral improvement.

Paul Pickrel, however, argues instead that the description “shows how unconcerned with Harriet she has become”:

Trilling does not quote these words from the same passage: “There had been a time ... when Emma would have been sorry to see Harriet in a spot so favourable for the Abbey-Mill Farm; but now she feared it not” [p. 236]. She thinks that she no longer fears calling attention to the Farm in Harriet’s presence because Robert Martin is no longer a threat, but the truth is that by this time Harriet has turned out to be so much more trouble than she is worth that Emma would be glad to get her off her hands to almost anybody. (And by the way, the Farm is not the property of Robert Martin; he rents it from Mr. Knightley). (p. 305)

Delightful to Gather

Emma’s famous ‘strawberry monologue’ occurs in this section. It runs:

The best fruit in England—every body’s favourite—always wholesome.—These the finest beds and finest sorts.—Delightful to gather for one’s self—the only way of really enjoying them.—Morning decidedly the best time—never tired—every sort good—hautboy infinitely superior—no comparison—the others hardly eatable—hautboys very scarce—Chili preferred—white wood finest flavour of all—price of strawberries in London—abundance about Bristol—Maple Grove—cultivation—beds when to be renewed—gardeners thinking exactly different—no general rule—gardeners never to be put out of their way—delicious fruit—only too rich to be eaten much of—inferior to cherries—currants more refreshing—only objection to gathering strawberries the stooping—glaring sun—tired to death—could bear it no longer—must go and sit in the shade. (pp. 234–5)

There is much to notice in this passage. There is the gradual depreciation in the value of strawberries as the party grows tired (“always wholesome” to some varieties “hardly eatable” to “inferior to cherries”); the laconic “Maple Grove,” as though this reference is so frequent that the term may stand on its own in place of the entire discourse which Mrs. Elton must have given; (presumably) Mrs. Elton’s conspicuous show of her employment of and dealings with servants through her presumed knowledge of their temperaments (“gardeners never to be put out of their way”); and then, of course, there is the syntax that is used to relate the discourse, as though we are being presented with an index or chapter heading rather than conversation (e.g. “beds when to be renewed”).

Linda Bree writes that Austen uses “[f]ragmented syntax” such as this “to merge and summarise series of events into a single flow of expression”:

Mrs Elton’s comments at the Donwell strawberry party form a celebrated tour de force of condensed monologue, accounting for her whole strawberry-picking experience. […] The paragraph following this shows the versatility of Austen’s elliptical style for other purposes, as the narrator records Mrs Elton’s efforts to persuade Jane to take on an appointment as governess: ‘Delightful, charming, superior, first circles, spheres, lines, ranks, every thing’ – a tumble of words vividly evoking Mrs Elton’s almost hysterical insistence – ‘and Mrs. Elton was wild to have the offer closed with immediately’ [p. 235]. Wild indeed. (p. 99)

For Margaret Doody, the “wonderfully telegraphic monologue” on strawberries has the effect of bringing “the asinine bride [Mrs. Elton] back with a jolt into the physical” from the “painted pastoral” she had earlier imagined the party to be (see “Making An Ass of U and Me”): she “descends from pretentiousness to frank admission of being too hot.” Thus “[t]he corrective to the mind’s misrepresentation of the world lies in the senses’ contact with the physical realm” (2009, p. 181).

Lisa Hopkins does not read the passage as a monologue belonging to Mrs. Elton, instead calling it a “medley of unattributed indirect speech” with “individual voices […], as in the talk of Maple Grove, occasionally briefly discernible” (p. 66). However, she concurs with Doody’s assessment of the importance of the physical in the passage:

The very impersonality of the dialogue […] serves to emphasise the universality [as opposed to something mediated by cultural preconceptions] and inevitability of the movement it sketches, a cyclical one which takes the characters through a predictable progression from freshness to tiredness, eagerness to satiety, comfort to heat, and activity to rest. The brief interlude thus incorporates the text’s key issues: the wholesomeness of strawberries and their price both find a place in the conversation, linking the episode with the connections of food to health and finance, but this rare hands-on experience of crop-gathering, with its sharply realistic depictions of the pleasures and pains of strawberry-picking, is also situated firmly within the context of the seasonal progression of agricultural life. (ibid.)3

Ripe for the Picking

Margaret Doody argues for a Georgian association between strawberries and sexuality, reading the strawberry party and its surrounding incidents in this light:

Strawberries are traditionally the fruit of Venus. Mrs. Elton’s desire for a strawberry party intimates sexual desire. But it is Mr. Knightley who says suggestively, “Come, and eat my strawberries. They are ripening fast” (III, ch. 6). He is ripening fast and needs to make more haste in the service of Venus—though it is not with Mrs. Elton that he wishes to enjoy strawberries. (Mrs. Elton’s lack of staying power in berry gathering perhaps points to a deficiency in sexual stamina.) (2015, p. 348)

The motif of ripening, fertility, and sexuality runs through this section in another way: Nicholas Preus notes that Mrs. Weston, “by the time of the Donwell Abbey strawberry party, which she attends, is nine months pregnant” (p. 207; see “A Pregnant Silence”).

Bringing the Outdoors Indoors

The guests at Donwell, after picking strawberries outside, are treated to cold meat indoors. Hopkins recalls Mr. Knightley’s insistence that the meal take place indoors, arguing that food is “demarcated and subdivided in Mr Knightley’s terminology”:

[T]here are strawberries outdoors, and cold meat indoors. […] The strawberries belong to the outside world, which is precisely defined here as that which is not natural; inside, in the proper place of gentlemen and ladies with all their inevitably attendant servants and furniture, we find cold meat. This is presented to us, with Mr Knightley’s endorsement, as being in fact the simpler and more conventional of the two foodstuffs, and it is certainly ultimately experienced as such by the wearied strawberry-pickers, glad enough to seek the shelter of the house; and yet the processes involved in the preparation are far more laborious and complex than the mere plucking of fruit. Here, though, they are occluded, rendered invisible by the voice which glosses over the materiality of production in order to present the class structure as “natural”. (pp. 67–8)

Hopkins also points out that this is “the only time in the novel” when Mr. Knightley may “appear publicly as the squire” of Highbury:

Squire of Donwell Abbey but short of ready cash, [Mr. Knightley’s] social position is nevertheless preserved by his largesse with food, even though, as in the case of the apples he sends to Mrs and Miss Bates, it is at the expense of his own consumption and almost, arguably, his own reputation, since he has virtually lied about it: “To think of your sending us all your store apples. You said you had a great many, and now you have not one left” (p. 251). […] Beth Fowkes Tobin suggests that this foregrounding of Mr Knightley’s personal involvement with food production is a politically enabling strategy for Austen: “in linking Mr Knightley’s gentlemanly virtues with his owning land, and Emma’s moral inadequacies with her money and lack of property, Austen, acting as an apologist for the landed classes, was defending the ‘paternal system of government’” [p. 229]. (p. 32)

Wearied Spirits

Later in this section, Jane, “for the only moment in the novel until the dénouement, speaks openly to Emma” (Wiltshire, p. 114): “‘I am fatigued; but it is not the sort of fatigue—quick walking will refresh me.—Miss Woodhouse, we all know at times what it is to be wearied in spirits. Mine, I confess, are exhausted. The greatest kindness you can show me, will be to let me have my own way, and only say that I am gone when it is necessary’” (E pp. 237–8). Howard Babb calls this a “very untypical speech” of Jane’s:

Jane’s generalization about “we all know” makes an almost direct plea, though less for Emma’s sympathy, perhaps, than for the indulgence of a superior. And the major weight of what she says is still borne by the personal “I’s” and “me’s.” Most of the time Jane keeps herself at a much greater distance from her generalizations, characteristically speaking in her own person and reserving them, as it were, for the opinions of those above her. Her first report on Frank Churchill, for instance, is sprinkled with such phrases as: […] “He was generally thought so”; “She believed every body found his manners pleasing” [vol. 2, ch. 3 [21]; p. 109]. Jane talks in this way, I take it, not merely because she wants to hide her interest in Frank Churchill, but because her lack of position makes it improper for her to judge authoritatively. (p. 185)

For John Wiltshire, this passage is “[t]he most telling instance of [Emma’s] conflicted feelings” about Jane Fairfax:

Jane’s open appeal goes straight to Emma’s heart: she responds quickly and kindly, at her best. She ‘sees’ Jane’s situation with an intelligent compassion that breaks free of her ingrained prejudices. ‘She saw it all’, though, is not quite true, even at that moment. What Jane has been suffering is Mrs Elton’s railroading her into accepting ‘a situation, a most desirable situation’—made all the more intolerable because she is anxiously waiting for Frank to arrive—not the company of Miss Bates. Emma is quite ignorant of Jane’s feelings about Frank, but she has overheard Mrs Elton and wondered at Jane’s patience. In attributing Jane’s misery to her home, she is expressing her own feelings at the same time as she is picking up Jane’s. So her kindness doesn’t last—in fact in her reflections a few minutes later it turns into something else entirely. Her prejudices and antagonisms return. Once again, ‘such an aunt’ is the especial target of her dislike. The phrase ‘their just horrors’ is especially confronting. ‘Horrors’? ‘Just horrors’? She is praising herself for the snobbery she feels and momentarily attributes to Jane. So this passage displays Emma at her moving best and her dismaying worst, and the selfhood they each express is entirely coherent. (p. 114)

There’s No Place Like… Swisserland?

Only after Jane’s departure does Frank Churchill finally arrive. Rachel Brownstein writes that Frank’s conversation continues the national theme:

[S]ulky Frank Churchill, looking over views of remote “Swisserland” in the snugness of Donwell Abbey, says to Emma, “I am sick of England—and would leave it tomorrow” [p. 239]. The sour remark damns him as Byronic—he also promises a self-expressive effusion from abroad—before his character is revealed as thoroughly bad; the contrast between Frank the would-be wanderer and Emma’s own home-loving male relations could not be more dramatic. In the England of Emma tourists cut off from the Continent by the Napoleonic wars (they include an “Irish car party”) are pleased to explore the local beauties of Box Hill. The reader is invited to think that only a fool or knave like Frank would want to leave England: we recall that he is said to be “aimable” only in French, not amiably English, having “no English delicacy towards the feelings of other people” [vol. 1, ch. 18; p. 97]. (p. 215)

Deirdre Le Faye points out that Waterloo had occurred before the time period in which Emma is set. “Following the end of the war in 1814 the English were again free to visit Europe after being twenty years cooped up at home”: thus “Frank Churchill is able to talk of going abroad to ‘Swisserland’, a statement he could not have made at any earlier period of his life” (2002, p. 309).

Of course, in evaluating Frank’s statement it is important to remember that his movements, though freer than Jane’s or Emma’s, are at many points circumscribed or frustrated by the influence of his aunt. His poor mood, which Emma attributes to the hot day, has in fact resulted from an argument he has just had with Jane, after she left the party and before he arrived; thus he has just been reminded of what his aunt’s temperament is costing him.

Footnotes

On this passage see also Rehman (pp. 131ff); Wallace (p. 174).

For readings of this passage as nationalist see also Jordan (pp. 35–6); Barchas (pp. 132–3).

On this passage see also Brown (pp. 131–2); Davidson (pp. 23–4).

Discussion Questions

Can the attitude underlying the descriptions of Donwell throughout this section appropriately be called “nationalist”? To what extent does Austen participate in Emma’s ideas?

Who is speaking in the strawberry monologue? Why did Austen use fragmented syntax in this passage?

What is revealed about Emma and/or Jane through their conversation as Jane leaves the party?

What is the narrative purpose of Frank’s frustrated desire to leave England?

Bibliography

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Bree, Linda. “Emma: Word Games and Secret Histories.” In A Companion to Jane Austen, ed. Claudia Johnson and Clara Tuite. Hoboken: Wiley-Blackwell (2009), pp. 133–142.

Brown, Lloyd W. Bits of Ivory: Narrative Techniques in Jane Austen’s Fiction. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press (1973).

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#Jane Austen #Emma #Emma Woodhouse #Mr. Weston #Mrs. Weston #Mrs. Elton #Mr. Elton #Frank Churchill #Jane Fairfax #Harriet Smith #Mr. Knightley #e

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