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fic commentary (Natural Daughter!)
“I am thinking,” said Mrs Evans, “of taking Miranda to Pemberley.”
I'm not sure if it's obvious who this is about and what's going on from the first, or partway through, or never. Anyway, “Miranda” is the future Mrs Gardiner. In canon, we only get her first initial and married surname—M. Gardiner—and while I've usually used an ordinary name like Margaret or Mary to get away from the vastly improbable “Madeleine” of fanon, I wanted a flamboyant name for her here. I have a reason! Sort of.
Her father and sister exchanged bewildered glances.
“Pemberley?” repeated Mr Brennan. “Is it not rather early for that?”
She stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“It is a splendid place, but - well, you have only been in Lambton a year,
While Mrs Gardiner is often portrayed as a Derbyshire native, I think canon actually implies that she lived in the Lambton/Pemberley area for a long time but wasn't from there originally. This is, of course, relevant to the crack!canon of this story.
and Miranda is so young.
Five or so, I think?
I do not think she has the patience to stand still and admire the architecture, nor should it be expected of her. It can hardly go anywhere. Wait a few years -”
He's not just talking about Miranda's attention span here, which of course everyone realizes.
“A few years? Nonsense.” Mrs Evans sliced at her lamb with quick, sharp motions. “Perfect strangers and their children see it every week. Why should not my daughter?”
So it's probably obvious at this point, but the crack!canon is: not only is Miranda the future Mrs Gardiner, she's also Mr Darcy's natural daughter.
(I took the very limited sample of “Fitzwilliam” and “Georgiana” and ran with the idea that the Darcys tend to recycle Suetastic Awesome McCoolnames, or at least three- or four-syllable ones. Miranda's one of them, since Shakespearean names were still fairly uncommon at this point.)
Miranda, playing noisily in the corner, glanced up. Her gown was smeared with dust, her face with dirt, and one small cut - courtesy of her favourite tree - adorned her forehead.
I rather like the idea of Mrs Gardiner as a bit of a tomboy, all the more because she's such a fabulously stylish woman.
“Aunt Lucy? Where are we going?”
“To Mr Mortimer's shop, darling,” said Miss Brennan hastily, and swept her away without even bothering to wash her face.
Mortimer the random shopkeeper is one of the only original characters that I've had from the early days and never altered or dropped. In fact, I introduced him for my last Christmas story. 2006?
Miranda was not fooled, but she trailed after her aunt willingly enough. Her mother had been different ever since they came to live with her family in Lambton - nervous and irritable.
Mrs Evans is intensely proud, I think, and after several years as a respectable, comfortably-off married woman, her current situation grates. It'd be bad enough to return to her father's house; it's all the worse because they're now a stone's-throw from Miranda's.
She often tried to make Miranda come inside and help in Grandpapa's shop, talking about charity and obligation and other dull things.
She's very dutiful, despite her resentment—or because of it.
Aunt Lucy, however, always laughed merrily and cried, “What splendid nonsense, Alice! - but there is no need to trouble the child with it.” And sometimes she added, “Miranda is a joy to us - you know that her existence is ample recompense for her maintenance.”
They evidently pay something towards her upkeep, then, though I imagine most of it comes from Mr Darcy himself. He'd take care of his responsibilities.
Miranda adored her.
When they went to Pemberley a few days before Christmas, she attached herself to her aunt's skirts. “Aunt Lucy? Aunt Lucy, I'm cold! My teeth are chattering - see - and my lips are turning blue and my nose - oh.”
She had never thought that so many trees could be gathered into one place. They were everywhere - guarding the twisting, icy strip of the stream, dotting the park, sprawling into a wood that seemed to go on and on, even up into the snow-covered hills. Lambton's little stand of cedars, where she played with James and Maria Leland,
I amused myself by using this as backstory in First Impressions. It's very peripheral, but Mrs Gardiner and Catherine mention the Lelands. And Mortimer too, I think. So apparently this is FI canon (though proooobably a sort of AU of the other C&C fics), and Mrs Gardiner and Catherine are sisters! ~the more you know~
was nothing to it, and the water seemed designed to be skated upon. The house was pretty too.
Elaborate description is elaborate!
While Grandpapa and Mama talked to Mrs Tate, the housekeeper,
I started to use Mrs Reynolds and then realized she wouldn't have been at Pemberley yet. Cue instant alt!Mrs Reynolds.
Miranda looked around at the tapestries and statues and bright floors. It was a little like her aunt's shelf full of pretty, dusty things she wasn't allowed to touch, only a whole mansion of it instead of one shelf. There wasn't any dust, either.
Yeah, armies of servants help with that.
Aunt Lucy disengaged Miranda's fingers and held her hand. “There is nothing to be afraid of,” she whispered.
Miranda swallowed and nodded. She was only a little afraid after that, and very bored.
Granddaddy was totally right, even if it was just a cover for “maybe you shouldn't bring Miranda to her natural father's house until she's old enough for it to mean anything.”
There were so many nice things that she couldn't look at anything in particular - and even Aunt Lucy wouldn't let her touch any of it - and the housekeeper never stopped talking. She trailed behind her family, trying to look interested in Mrs Tate's prattle about Mr Darcy and Lady Anne
Even while still playing fandom's “find the illegitimate Darcy!” game, I wanted a more sympathetic, canon-like Mr Darcy. So in this version, he had the affair before the marriage and as above, he's responsible about it.
and their baby,
Darcy! This is a bit of a call-back to “Left to Follow” and my unholy joy in filling the Fitzwilliam Darcy quota with an infant.
then sent a desperate glance outside.
“This is the long gallery,” Mrs Tate announced. “It was built by Sir John Darcy towards the end of Elizabeth's reign - ”
This single line required more research than the entire rest of the story. Well, “required” might be putting it strongly, but dating fictional houses: more complicated than you'd expect. To sum up, most scholars think the long gallery makes it late Elizabethan or Jacobean. My rough model for Pemberley, though, is Haddon Hall—medieval, but with extensive later additions, including a long gallery.
Miranda glanced at the long line of paintings and suppressed a yawn. Grandpapa and Mama looked fascinated, but her aunt - she couldn't help notice - was smiling very politely.
I invented Lucy Brennan just to fill out the family and provide a namesake for one of the Gardiner daughters, but I got thoroughly attached to her by the end.
Even she, however, stared up at the painting of Mr Darcy.
Awkwardtiemz!
Miranda couldn't see what was so interesting about it. He was rather nice-looking, with deep blue eyes and lots of chestnut hair, but so were lots of people - Lady Anne, in the picture next to him,
This 'verse has a totally different family tree than the old one, because I can, but some parts of my headcanon never change. Darcy will always be ridiculously inbred. In fact, I think he's much more so in this 'verse than the old one. Yes, there is an actual family tree, though First Impressions went into it more than this story does.
and a bored-looking girl on his other side. There wasn't even a dog, like his mother had in her portrait.
The door at their end of the gallery swung open. She jumped, then turned to look at the very pretty young woman walking through it. The woman was very tall, and had the same hair and eyes and smile as Mr Darcy, so Miranda supposed she must be his wife.
Clearly infallible reasoning. And wow, this would have been even more awkward if it were Lady Anne. Yikes.
“Mrs Tate, I was wondering about tonight's menu
In fact, Lady Anne isn't even here, since Miss Carteret is acting as hostess. I honestly don't imagine this Lady Anne—a canon-compliant version of the one from FI, not LTF!Ly A—spends much time away from London.
– oh!” The young lady caught sight of Miranda's mother and the the others, and flushed.
She totally knows. I don't remember why, exactly.
Mrs Tate looked as irritable as Mama. “Miss Carteret,
Her older sister very recently married; until now, she was Miss Philadelphia Carteret. In FI's portrait scene, Henry vaguely notices Mrs Gardiner's preoccupation with a lady who turns out to be “Lady Auckland—Miss Philadelphia that was.”
I was just showing this gentleman and his family about the house.”
“I see,” said Miss Carteret, turning to smile at Mama and Aunt Lucy. “Welcome back to Pemberley. I hope you have found everything as pleasing today as it was six years ago.”
Oh right. She was around during the affair. She's 23-24, while Miranda would have to be around five.
Miranda scowled. “Well, I haven't,” said she. “I've never been here before.”
“Miranda!” gasped Mama.
Aunt Lucy bent down to the now thoroughly bewildered Miranda and whispered, “She is Mr Darcy's half-sister.”
His mother married a Carteret relative after Mr Darcy's father died. And yes, these are the Persuasion Carterets. Yay for crossovers, and it amuses me to think that if Anne Elliot ever met this verse's Elizabeth, she'd be by far the younger.
“Oh,” said Miranda, then added stoutly, “I'm sorry if I shouldn't have talked to you.”
Miss Carteret stared at her, then chuckled. “This must be your daughter, madam,” she told Mama. “I would know that spirit anywhere.”
She's not talking about Mrs Evans' spirit.
She seemed friendly, so Miranda – after another longing glance outside – blurted out, “Does anybody ever skate on the stream?”
“Miranda!” That time, even Aunt Lucy looked aghast, but Miss Carteret only laughed.
“We certainly do – and if your mama will permit it, so shall you. I am certain there are skates that would fit all of you.”
This is a frankly bizarre gesture to make to a girl who is, on the face of it, just some random kid from a nearby village. Miss Carteret, of course, knows Miranda is her only niece and couldn't care less how it looks.
Mama's eyes widened. “Oh, but I cannot – ”
“It is a small enough thing,” said Miss Carteret, resting her slim hand on Miranda's rich hair for a moment, “and it would please me to do something for a child of my brother's own neighbourhood.”
Her brother's neighbourhood. Wink wink nudge nudge.
Her mouth curved into a slow smile, cheeks dimpling and blue eyes crinkling at the corners.
I chose the default-family-colouring as a compromise between the original black hair/blue eyes and the later blond hair/grey eyes. Afterwards it occurred to me that, with Darcy, brown hair and blue eyes probably equals movieverse fic. God forbid.
“Oh, Mama,” Miranda cried, certain that Miss Carteret was the most beautiful lady in the world.
Mama hesitated – then after a glance at Miss Carteret's smiling face, gave in. “Well – if you have no objection – Miranda, what do you say?”
I think her original plan was just showing Miranda her unjustly not-birthright. But ice skating works too!
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Afterwards, Miranda could scarcely believe Miss Carteret's kindness to a stranger, a child from a village the family did not even visit.
*whistles* I don't think she ever did figure it out, actually. And random aristocrat playing Lady Bountiful for a random village girl is really less of a leap than “obvs my aunt.”
At the time, however, she noticed only the wind rushing past her ears, her mother and aunt's hands in hers, her grandfather's laughter - and once, though she might have imagined it, the great lady standing at a window and waving at her.
Lady Auckland is alive and writing letters during the revised "Claims," so there's totally a reunion between her and Mrs Gardiner at some point. And since Mrs G is (with Darcy, lol) the last one to know the truth, probably a shocking (shocking!) revelation, too.
So maybe Star Wars has ruined me for everything.
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