anghraine

Rambling about FI (mostly), ALE (a little), and the one that exists in my head (with a long detour about Darcy and Wickham):

Occasionally, I get criticisms that FI hews too closely to the book. That's both true and a bit "???" since it was a retelling-type AU and not a for-want-of-a-nail AU.

(I have unfinished meta about that distinction in my Tumblr drafts--I should finish it someday >_>.)

Anyway, it was about how the basic plot/scenes/relationships in P&P would work out with f!Darcy and m!Elizabeth. It was kicked off by a brief thought experiment about how the Pemberley scenes would register differently even with nothing changed. A young Mr Bennet at Pemberley, in awe at the taste and benevolence of the heiress he rejected, agreeing that Miss Darcy is very beautiful--that reads differently than Elizabeth's awkward "very handsome." More conventionally romantic. A Miss Darcy suggesting marriage, otoh, would read as much less so (and indeed people generally found the scene much less romantic than the original).

Any substantial changes, however, would be confined to "local" variations like Mrs Bennet doting on her precious only son and Mr Collins switching from Jane to Mary, not Elizabeth (who of course would accept him). The rest was just trying to find equivalents to the novel. The offscreen viscount became the Family Approved Spouse instead of Miss de Bourgh. Catherine's and Henry's ages shifted to match up demographically; i.e., twenty-eight is the exact average age at marriage for a man in Darcy's position, but would be just short of twenty-five for a woman. A statistical and not literal equivalent, but an equivalent nonetheless. Catherine got conditions on her inheritance to enable the Hunsford equivalent. FI!Jane hoped Bingley would open the Netherfield ball with her solely to enable Henry and Catherine's dance (and his shock at her acceptance rather than her invitation). Catherine buys wedding-clothes to make the reveal of her involvement come out. Etc.

It was a very constricted way to write, definitely. Overall I enjoyed it a ton, but now and then I did feel a bit suffocated, yeah. Every time I thought of making a natural change and following it, though, it led far astray--and that would make it a very different sort of fic. I wanted a retelling. By its nature, it was always going to be nailed to the P&P tracks. The only material I thought would work but didn't include came at the end, when I simply ran out of time. (I've always thought this was painfully obvious. The end is very abrupt and Charlotte's thread, in particular, is left hanging. /sigh)

ANYWAY. I've often thought about the actual for-want-of-a-nail AU that people occasionally think FI was. (Should be? idk.) There is one of those, of course. It's about as opposite FI as possible for something produced by the same group of people to be.--Er, I leaned heavily on

hland

tulina's help and input for plotting/drafting FI, while I bailed out on my part in writing ALE, but was heavily involved in the plotting stage. In any case, where FI was narrowly focused on the most locally-restricted changes possible to see how recognizable scenes and dynamics looked, ALE went big. Nearly universal genderswap, so we're seeing how f!Mr Bennet works out, m!Charlotte, all of that, how those global changes propel the characters and the story. (Awesomely tbh. I am an impartial judge.)

But sometimes I like to imagine one that does let the dominos fall where they may like ALE did, but is even more narrowly focused than FI. Not even m!E. Just f!Darcy. I never really made any attempt to hide that she was my driving interest in writing FI and I'm pretty sure that came through (she always seemed everyone's favourite part of it). But f!Darcy without any hoops to jump through, just ... ok, where does this go?

- The Bingley connection

...uh, what Bingley connection?

In FI, I had a schoolgirl acquaintanceship between Catherine and the Bingley sisters that was renewed later on, mostly because Bingley was an adorable puppy whom she earmarked for Georgiana. But it was still a stretch. This Miss Darcy (let's go Philadelphia, because f!Darcy always defaults to Philadelphia for me care of polysyllabic Austen-Leigh pretension) is the actual age, 27/28. Significantly older than Caroline, perhaps Louisa, definitely Bingley. There is no reason for her to be friends with them. There isn't really any reason for her to even know them. At least not any better than, say, Colonel Fitzwilliam in canon (who in all probability only knows them through Darcy).

- Bingley and Jane

Okay, if Philadelphia doesn't know the Bingleys, then she's not at Netherfield, which means the only interference comes from Bingley's sisters, who canonically don't have the influence over him that Darcy does. So Louisa and Caroline tell him that Jane doesn't return his feelings and/or is being manipulated by her family, he goes "nah" and returns to propose. And they get married, it's all good.

(Fascinating storyline there. >_>)

(And Philadelphia has yet to even appear.)

- Everything to do with Mr Collins and Charlotte is unaffected by Darcy's presence/absence. Mr Collins still selects Elizabeth, she still refuses him, he still sulks off to Lucas Lodge and falls under Charlotte's benign sway.

- BUT there is one person to whom I think the existence of Philadelphia Darcy rather than Fitzwilliam Darcy would matter a ton. And whose actions would be significantly changed from canon by the simple fact that she isn't there.

Wickham, of course.

Back in FI, the otherwise-minor age adjustment made Catherine several years younger than Wickham (canonically Darcy is almost exactly the same age as W). So she was even more vulnerable. And the complications of the inheritance to make the Hunsford scene work also made Wickham more likely to specifically target her, without really altering the plot. So here...?

Okay, so Philadelphia and Wickham are the daughter and godson of Mr Darcy, separated by no more than a few months. For their first twelve years they're the only children, brought up together at Pemberley. So the quasi-siblinghood is probably going to be stronger (compared to FI, that is, not canon). And as there, Wickham is not just the favourite "son" but the only one. That dynamic would inevitably be different. Not that there couldn't necessarily be competition, but I think it'd have a very different flavour than the tension between two boys/young men. There's a very two-stars-keep-not-their-motion-in-one-sphere vibe with that--there can only be one! And, of course, with men it is literally true that there can only be one firstborn son, and in Darcy's case he's the only "trueborn" son at all. Without that literal son, Mr Darcy's favouritism of Wickham is less... loaded? It probably would seem only natural for a man without a male heir of his own to feel a strongly paternal interest and affection for his dependent godson. And there'd be less potential for Wickham to look like an encroacher on the rightful territory of the heir.

That is, canonically Wickham pretends that Darcy was jealous of his father's favouritism, but it turns out to be the other way around--Wickham carts around a monumental grudge against Darcy, whose security in his position is so ironclad that he feels Mr Darcy's favouritism conferred a moral obligation to Wickham. His explanation of the favouritism is neutral, perhaps even defensive of it; he plainly does not feel slighted. Far from envious of Wickham, he doesn't seem to even think of him unless reminded. Wickham is just ... not that important to Darcy. But Darcy is very important to Wickham. In fact, I tend to think that in Wickham's view, Darcy is the upstart. He's awkward and uncompromising and has no charm and isn't as cherubically pretty (and in all probability is slightly younger). Yet he's that precious only son and heir, and nothing Wickham is or does can alter that fact.

Here, though, Wickham's at least somewhat less vulnerable. There's no actual firstborn son to define himself against, just a daughter who may or may not be in a position to inherit. Wickham wouldn't feel nearly as threatened by that, IMO. And he's not infringing on Philadelphia's "place" as daughter--he occupies a different position altogether. The balance isn't so skewed, at least not in a male competitiveness sort of way.

But it's also potentially worse. If Wickham is defined by anything, it's his enormous sense of entitlement. However, instead of an unassailable rival receiving everything that Wickham feels entitled to, it's a woman. Even more of an insult, perhaps. And on Philadelphia's side, well. For one, she wouldn't know how much of her father's preference for Wickham came down to personality, and how much to gender. Oh, it might be easier in some ways to think it's as much preference for a (pseudo)son over a daughter as preference for his personality over hers. But obviously that could be very painful on another level, particularly considering her own pride.

One of the things about Darcy that gets overlooked, I think, is that his snobbery was neither deep, consistent, nor his real problem. It was a problem, certainly, but it's something that he seems to have simply accepted, and been encouraged to accept, but never internalized enough to find actually satisfying. He's friends with the Bingleys solely because he likes Bingley (and there's reason to believe that their friendship functions outside of Darcy's usual social circle). He would like Bingley to marry Georgiana, despite the reality that he's far beneath her socially, because he'd make her a good husband. His snobbish distaste for the Bennets turns out to be heavily leavened by legitimate, personal disapproval of everyone but Elizabeth and Jane. As Elizabeth points out at the end, he's irritated (at best) by deference for his social position, whereas the deep respect for his judgment and intelligence in Bingley, Georgiana, etc, are intrinsic to his most important relationships.

It's not deference in itself that bothers him, but deference that has nothing to do with who he is as a person. And who he is as a person is ultimately the thing that really matters to Darcy. I, uh, wrote a paper on this, but to sum up (*looks up* um) he rejects Elizabeth's social, contextual generalizations and insistently focuses on the particular and personal, especially wrt himself. His real emotional investment is in believing himself superior not as a representative of an elite group but as an individual, in intelligence and moral worth. That is, his purely social elitism is a sort of emotional quick-fix that he himself doesn't take all that seriously, and which he quickly sets aside when it's brought to his attention. That individual, personal pride is where the real stakes are. And, interestingly, when he says that he believed himself superior in that intelligence and moral worth, he actually corrects himself mid-sentence: he at least wished to believe himself superior. And... that's something different.

It's not the first time we've seen Darcy draw that distinction between believing/wishing to believe--not even the first in relation to his own motivations. Way back in the letter, he says that he chose to accept Wickham's account of his intentions because he wished to believe him sincere more than actually believing it. He was emotionally invested, and in that case following that investment also suited his more rational doubts about Wickham-as-clergyman. He wanted to believe Wickham sincere out of residual attachment from childhood. And I suspect he wants to believe himself personally, uniquely superior because--well, in an odd way, the same thing.

Darcy attributes the (slight) warping of his personality entirely to his parents, while tap-dancing around criticizing them for anything in particular. He talks vaguely about how, as the only son and heir (and for twelve years an only child), he was indulged, allowed/encouraged in snobbishness, and left to his own devices as far as following his parents' teachings went. What he doesn't say, but we know from other sources, is that he was in fact a mild and pleasant child. We also know that his father considered Mr Wickham, his steward, a good friend and raised bby Wickham at Pemberley, at his own expense, outright favoured him, and provided for him as he would for another son. Setting aside the (understandably) popular theory that he was Wickham's natural father, this is all attributed entirely to his generous, open-minded personality. He doesn't remotely sound like a man who would encourage his only son to be arrogant and snobbish by the age of eight.

Of course, there's another figure involved: Lady Anne, about whom we know little beyond her cooperation with Lady Catherine in arranging the betrothal of their children for maximum intrafamilial profit, and being a good person, if not as benevolent as her husband. She's dead and neither Darcy nor anyone else says anything against her. But those scraps fit reasonably well. We've got kindly, generous Mr Darcy who dotes on his lively, charming little godson; we've got Lady Anne, principled but not as universally benign, planning alliances; we've got tiny Darcy, clever, sweet, and quiet--perhaps unnervingly so, if we accept Mrs Reynolds' insistence that, from early childhood, he has not once raised his voice. Wickham and Darcy both look up to Mr Darcy. He's kind and affectionate to both, but favours Wickham. Meanwhile that twelve-year blank between Darcy and Georgiana is undoubtedly filled with miscarriages/stillbirths/infertility. It's hard to see Lady Anne feeling any interest in Wickham (he certainly doesn't mention her doing so), but that one son? Irreplaceably valuable. It's not at all difficult to see her making very sure her son knows just how important he is.

And he does know. He knows it so well that he never feels in the least bit threatened by Wickham. He understands that, at the end of the day, Wickham is not his parents' son, but is being treated as if he is, and that means that they owe him the life they're promising him, the life his own parents could never have given him. He knows that he's a Darcy and a Fitzwilliam, the heir to Pemberley, and nothing can ever take that from him. He matters. He matters a lot. And he'll matter regardless of what happens, or what he does, or who he is, or anything. He's convinced of that superiority (more or less) and secure in it. But at some level it doesn't quite satisfy. He's this bright, dutiful, squeaky-clean kid; he wants to be superior for actual reasons. (Like Wickham, like his father.) In a way, perhaps, he needs to think himself superior for actual reasons. Pride in himself defines his entire life, his entire being. If it's not rooted in something substantial, then...?

And it is rooted in something substantial! He is clever. He is loyal. He is responsible and kind, and a pillar of the community, and an affectionate brother and friend, and he does his duty, and has an excellent sense of aesthetics. But he can't seem to value those simply in themselves, only in contrast to the inferiority of others. And it's very easy to imagine that had its base, however unconsciously, in okay but George isn't as good at lessons and okay but George shouts when he's mad and okay but George wouldn't be any good at landlording anyway.

*cough* Okay, that was a really long and weakly substantiated tangent. ANYWAY the thing is that Darcy's pride is ultimately about personal, qualitative superiority and that, for whatever reason, he has a deep emotional investment in that superiority whereas his classist superiority is assured but negotiable. And going with the headcanon above for Philadelphia, it seems like she would be only too eager to attribute her father's preference for Wickham to gender rather than personality difference. And at the same time, given the intensely personal nature of her pride, she'd resent it more. Potentially.

It'd probably be mostly beneath the surface. After all, they're the same age and brought up together--they'd never have known anything different. "The girl her father doesn't even like as much as me is going to get everything" and "papa likes his charity case better than me even though I'm his only real child" would be part of the wallpaper of their lives. They're close as children, friends and companions until they're sent off to school.

I don't think teenage Wickham would have been uniformly awful. But it's clear from Darcy's account that he was well on his way there. However, Darcy attributes his consciousness of Wickham's turn for the worse to being privy to... pretty much everything, as a fellow teenage boy. Philadelphia would likely in town during that time at some ladies' seminary (not inevitably, but probably, esp with Lady Anne's death). Even holidays she might very well spend with her other relations as often not. They'd have just about completely separate lives until they returned home.

Catherine was enough younger that Wickham was very evidently... Wickham-ish by that point. But for Philadelphia? There's not really anywhere for her to know what he's like, except what she knows from her family. Georgiana loves him, Mr Darcy loves him. She might get some hints from the servants, but I suspect they'd be very careful about how they talked about Mr Darcy's beloved godson. And she'd remember him very much as a brother.

But for Wickham, the clock would be ticking a lot faster. He has university and then the vicarage, forever. Likely Mr Darcy's health was up in the air for some time before his actual death. For him, everything going to Philadelphia and Georgiana would be turning into a much more pressing issue. And especially if he hadn't seen Philadelphia for some years, it's perfectly easy to see him taking one look and fixating on her, even exploiting their childhood memories (as he'll do later with Georgiana, more adroitly). But he'd still be very young at that point, and he's never a miracle of subtlety. Philadelphia, to go by Darcy's track record, seems likely to be completely oblivious. So he'd both have to do something pretty hamfisted for her to even notice his interest and is very likely to do it.

In FI, it was awful--pretty clear sexual assault. But I kind of like the idea of it not being that with Philadelphia. He's just got some vague idea that he'll win her over and then he can get the things and also her, but he quickly gives in to impulse and kisses her, she's horrified and pushes him away, and that's that. It's not inconsequential; Philadelphia would instantly realize what his renewed friendship was really about and Wickham's vanity would be injured. Undoubtedly he'd be a dick about it--but we don't actually have evidence that he's at all aggressive by nature. He might very well just sulk around like a pissbaby.

That would be enough to completely sour their relationship and sink Philadelphia's opinion of him (baby's first betrayal!), but no more than that at the time. Not on her side anyway, and quite possibly even on his. But I suspect having to ask her to transmute his living to cash would grate on him even more than it would anyway, and when he has to come crawling, he probably resents the hell out of her even before she refuses. That, still, is where chilly estrangement becomes absolute contempt on her side and hatred on his. But that could still register as largely personal to her, as unpleasant a person as he plainly has become. She would never have imagined a sustained stalking/seduction campaign perpetrated on Georgiana. And he'd be after a much bigger prize with it here, as Georgiana is co-heiress to Pemberley. Had Wickham succeeded, he might not have the full prize, but certainly far more than he had any chance at canon--and at last able to take on Philadelphia on equal footing.

But he was always kind and affectionate towards Georgiana. None of them ever saw that coming. And after it did, Philadelphia had to see Georgiana suffering her own girlhood betrayal, magnified tenfold. In her eyes, it's a failure. But in Wickham's, Philadelphia Darcy denied him the prize which he's always felt was rightfully his AGAIN. And I think--Wickham's always struck me as irrationally obsessed with Darcy. Darcy hates him when he's there and forgets him when he's not, but Wickham's got this whole vendetta going. He never forgets Darcy. He repeatedly goes out of his way (which isn't something he does much of to begin with) to fuck with Darcy. His rant about him contains perhaps the most thorough catalogue of Darcy's virtues that we hear from anyone. Philadelphia would undoubtedly be less of a powerful figure in his representation, but it's difficult to imagine that his obsession wouldn't have a sexual and misogynistic edge to it.

In FI it did, of course, but his entire presentation of Catherine was caught up in belle-dame-sans-merci tropes. I can definitely see him going there with Philadelphia, but also... just being pettier, more awful-crazy-ex about it. Because, back to where we started, Philadelphia isn't there. The only reason to mention her at all is BURNING COLOSSAL GRUDGE (which is still pretty recent at that point; it's maybe four months after she stymied him at Ramsgate). And... Elizabeth's interest in Wickham certainly isn't all about Darcy, but he certainly has an enormous influence on it. Wickham flatters the vanity that Darcy injured, Wickham satisfies her persistently intense curiosity about Darcy that Darcy himself denies, Wickham validates the resentment that Darcy disregards, tolerating Darcy is an insult to Wickham, etc. The two seem inextricable in Elizabeth's own view.

So. What interest does Wickham hold for Elizabeth when Darcy is not in the picture at all? Her vanity hasn't been wounded, her curiosity isn't aroused. He's just--a very attractive, very personable young man. She's into him. They have a romantic dance at the Netherfield Ball. It's her first serious flirtation and she enjoys it until he ditches her for Mary King. And Wickham--

Well, on the one hand, there's no reason he would mention Philadelphia. Except in the context of his general sob story. Which--okay, that actually is pretty likely. But she could very well figure as nothing more than a capricious heiress, and Elizabeth's reaction would probably depend on how much of his hatred bled through. He could probably restrain the virulence per canon--and likewise in canon, his mistakes tend to be saying too much rather than too little, but not being too open about what he says. And since she's not there, he can say pretty much anything that isn't too contradictory of public knowledge. Perhaps that she was the one in love with him, and he tried to reject her gently, but she's not the sort of woman to take such things gently, and she achieved her revenge after her father's death and her sister's minority placed her in control, etc.

Yeah, he'd totally go for Philadelphia the Crazy Ex, never expecting that Elizabeth would ever actually meet her.

Which... she still hasn't. /sigh