old Austenfic
Feb. 13th, 2011 12:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anghraineIn Austen fandom, I have a particular fondness for next generation fic. Well, for the idea of next generation fic -- I can't say I've much enjoyed most of those I've read. But still, it's the first thing I ever wanted to read, and my personal favourite of my WIPs, Claims to Reputation, consists entirely of epistolary next-generation self-indulgence. This drabble, which I'm not sure if I ever posted anywhere or not, was my first attempt at next-gen fic and a sort of forerunner to that one.
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Title: Nor Help For Pain
Fanverse: Comforts and Consequences (proto-C&C, really, but I think it still fits)
Blurb: George Wickham, Miss Darcy of Pemberley, and falling into ... something.
Pairings/warnings: none
Length: double drabble (274 words)
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George Wickham bowed, inordinately pleased with himself. In general, he preferred older women, and he most assuredly preferred a more conventional vivid prettiness over Miss Darcy’s sort. There was something almost threatening about this bare slip of a girl’s beauty. Perhaps she was too much like her brother and father, for there was that in her manner which marked her as every inch a Darcy of Pemberley.
“Forgive me, I did not realise you were here.” She did not look uneasy, only surprised, so he dared approach her.
“Would you believe me if I told you I was drawn by your beauty?” His eyes lingered on her neck, and before he could stop himself, he reached out for a wayward curl lying loose against her white neck, and absently caressed the smooth gold strand before drawing it up to join the others.
“No,” said she, laughing.
He was not deterred, or would not have been, had not a gaggle of her insipid, giggling friends swept her back inside. He remained where he was, struggling to catch his breath, and recapture the sensation of her hair against his hand. He nearly leapt out of his skin when he heard another voice, despite its deeper timbre reminiscent of hers.
“George, may I have a word with you?”
He whirled and saw what had been an indistinct shadow unfold itself into the tall, menacing figure of his uncle. He swallowed.
“Mr Darcy.”
-----------------------
Title: Nor Help For Pain
Fanverse: Comforts and Consequences (proto-C&C, really, but I think it still fits)
Blurb: George Wickham, Miss Darcy of Pemberley, and falling into ... something.
Pairings/warnings: none
Length: double drabble (274 words)
------------------------
George Wickham bowed, inordinately pleased with himself. In general, he preferred older women, and he most assuredly preferred a more conventional vivid prettiness over Miss Darcy’s sort. There was something almost threatening about this bare slip of a girl’s beauty. Perhaps she was too much like her brother and father, for there was that in her manner which marked her as every inch a Darcy of Pemberley.
“Forgive me, I did not realise you were here.” She did not look uneasy, only surprised, so he dared approach her.
“Would you believe me if I told you I was drawn by your beauty?” His eyes lingered on her neck, and before he could stop himself, he reached out for a wayward curl lying loose against her white neck, and absently caressed the smooth gold strand before drawing it up to join the others.
“No,” said she, laughing.
He was not deterred, or would not have been, had not a gaggle of her insipid, giggling friends swept her back inside. He remained where he was, struggling to catch his breath, and recapture the sensation of her hair against his hand. He nearly leapt out of his skin when he heard another voice, despite its deeper timbre reminiscent of hers.
“George, may I have a word with you?”
He whirled and saw what had been an indistinct shadow unfold itself into the tall, menacing figure of his uncle. He swallowed.
“Mr Darcy.”