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Entry tags:
- ch: arissa nellith,
- ch: catherine bennet,
- ch: charles bingley,
- ch: colonel fitzwilliam,
- ch: edward gardiner,
- ch: elizabeth bennet,
- ch: fitzwilliam darcy,
- ch: georgiana darcy,
- ch: henry bennet,
- ch: leia organa,
- ch: m gardiner,
- fandom: austen,
- fandom: star wars,
- fanverse: first impressions,
- fanverse: revenge of the jedi,
- fanverse: the quality of mercy,
- fic: first impressions,
- genre: canon-compliant,
- genre: fic,
- genre: genderbending
FI (10 & 11), au of an au
I clearly do not have an essay on Eliza Haywood to write. La!
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Title: First Impressions (10/13, 11/13)
Fanverse: First Impressions
Blurb: awkward meeting is awkward, the Gardiner-Darcy mutual admiration society is formed, and apparently I am super ambiguous about Henry's opinion of Catherine.
----------------------
Afterwards, they returned downstairs. Mrs Reynolds consigned them to the care of the gardener, who met them at the hall and led them out toward the river.
"It is certainly not a modern house," Mr Gardiner said. "However, when you consider the gallery and the saloon, I cannot think it was built much before James' time – perhaps Elizabeth's, but no earlier."
"Edward, the chapel and the dining room are plainly medieval- "
Henry, laughing, glanced over his shoulder at the house – and the owner of it herself walked forward.
She came from the road, which led behind it, to the stables, and appeared with such abruptness that it was impossible to avoid her sight
Their eyes met – their cheeks crimsoned – she visibly started.
"Mr Bennet!" she cried. "I – I beg your pardon. I did not – your family – they are in good health?"
"Yes – excellent – I believe," said he, his voice somewhere between a gasp and a croak. "And – and yours are well, I hope?"
As if summoned by the enquiry, Colonel Fitzwilliam's voice rang out. "Kate, I do not understand why – " Fitzwilliam himself rounded the corner – "Bennet?"
"Fitzwilliam. I was just asking after your family's health," said Henry.
Miss Darcy took her cousin's arm in a grip which would have reduced a lesser man to tears. "We are all very well, are we not?"
"Oh, quite," said Fitzwilliam.
"Have you – have you been long in this part of the country?" she persevered. Henry said something, he knew not what; he had no attention to spare for anything but the excruciating embarrassment they suffered under. – Even Colonel Fitzwilliam's expression, which he correctly interpreted as murderous rage, inspired nothing more than mild alarm; his was a humiliation so complete as to leave little room for anything else.
Civility was left to Miss Darcy, who, to his embarrassed surprise, made a valiant effort. She enquired after his family at least thrice, and the time of his having left Longbourn, and the length of his stay in Derbyshire, several times more. The distraction of her thoughts was evident in her strained face and hurried manner, and still more in the lack of anything like her usual serenity. Finally, she seemed to give it up as hopeless, and the cousins took their leave.
Mr and Mrs Gardiner, who had immediately recognised the lady as Miss Darcy, joined him.
"What a lovely young woman," said Mr Gardiner.
"She has an excellent figure," Mrs Gardiner added.
Henry heard not a word and trailed after them in silence. Shame and vexation overpowered him. His coming to Pemberley was the most foolish, unfortunate thing in the world! – what must she have thought? So vain a woman would only think that he had purposely sought her out.
Why had he come? Why had she come before she was expected? Why had they not left just ten minutes earlier?
He could not stop blushing; nor could he stop wondering at her odd behaviour. She had been perfectly civil – cordial, really, if one accounted for the situation. He remembered the last time she had addressed him, hauteur pervading every word.
They walked down a beautiful walk by the river, but Henry could think of nothing but Miss Darcy. Where was she? What was she thinking? What did she think of him? – was she still in love with him?
Perhaps her civility came from the familiarity of her own home – but no, she had been anything but at ease. Whether she had seen him with pain or pleasure, she had not done so with composure. He knew not what to think of it.
Henry longed to be gone, but could not bring himself to ruin his aunt and uncle's evident pleasure; and, though he could not attend to anything before his eyes, he pretended to for their sakes.
They had left the river to climb through the woods, when Mr Gardiner announced:
"I should like to go around the whole park."
Henry quailed.
"It might be beyond a walk, however."
The gardener smiled triumphantly. "It is ten miles, sir."
"Ten miles! We must take the accustomed circuit then."
Henry gave a sigh of relief.
After some time, their path took them back to the edge of the water. They crossed a bridge, which led them into a small glen, simpler even than what else they had seen. It allowed room only for the stream and a narrow, winding path through the coppice-wood which bordered it. Henry, restored a little to himself, longed to explore it.
Mrs Gardiner, however, was tired, and thought only of returning to their carriage as soon as possible. Her nephew was obliged to submit, and in the circumstances did so without any great reluctance.
They walked back on the nearest side of the river, but slowly. Although Mr Gardiner's long residence in town left him little opportunity to indulge his passion, he was an avid fisherman, and so distracted by the trout in the water, and in talking to the gardener about them, that in the course of an half-hour, they had advanced but little.
Henry, not particularly enraptured by fish, almost stumbled over his own feet when he saw Miss Darcy approaching them once more. This path was less sheltered than the one which had brought them there, and allowed them to see her before they met; Henry felt grateful, at least, for the warning. He was just resolving to appear calm, when a turning in the walk concealed her from view, and he half-hoped that she would strike into another path.
However, another turn brought her immediately before them, her expression no longer alarmed, but every bit as earnest and welcoming as before.
Henry stepped forward. "Miss Darcy," said he, determined to match civility for civility, "your home is quite lovely. A delightful, charming place – " He remembered the last time Pemberley had been mentioned between them, imagined how its praise might be construed, and fell silent, colouring deeply.
She glanced at Mrs Gardiner, who stood a little behind him, and said, "Mr Bennet, will you do me the honour of introducing me to your friends?"
Plainly, she did not recognise them as the low connections she had railed against at Hunsford, but took them for people of fashion. Henry suppressed a smile.
"Of course. Mr Gardiner, Mrs Gardiner, this is Miss Darcy." He added, "Mr Gardiner is my mother's brother, Miss Darcy."
"Oh!"
He cast a sly glance at her, half-expecting her to hurry away; but, though plainly very surprised, she not only failed to flee his disgraceful companions, but joined them and struck up a conversation with Mrs Gardiner.
"I hope, madam, that you have enjoyed Pemberley."
"Oh, very much," said Mrs Gardiner. "It is even lovelier than I remembered."
"You have been here before, then?" She looked gratified.
"Yes, many years ago. I was only a child at the time, but my aunt and my grandfather brought me. They were from Lambton and my mother and I had just come to live with them."
"Lambton!" repeated Miss Darcy. "Why, that is not five miles away. Did you live there long?"
Mrs Gardiner smiled. "Almost fifteen years – until Mr Gardiner swept me away to London, ten years ago."
"Five-and-twenty years? That was not long before I was born," Miss Darcy said. "You must have been very young."
"Thank you! I believe I was six or seven years old."
"And have you visited Lambton since your marriage?"
"No; this is the first time I have returned to the country. I understand that several of my old acquaintances remain here, however."
"I might know of the whereabouts of some of them," said Miss Darcy, her manner growing a little more cautious. "I try – we do not often go into Lambton, but we hear about the people who live around Pemberley."
To Mrs Gardiner's credit, her serenity did not falter. She only blinked, and said, "I am particularly hoping to see my dearest friend from those days. Her name was Maria Leland."
"One of the apothecary's daughters," Miss Darcy said promptly.
"Why, yes! – the eldest."
Miss Darcy's eyes narrowed in thought. "I think she was married several years ago, to the proprietor of – yes, Willard's. He inherited his uncle's shop."
"Oh, old Mr Willard is dead? I am sorry to hear it."
"As was I. He was an excellent man – "
Henry smiled. He felt more than surprise - pleasure, triumph. It was consoling for her to know he had some relations for whom there was no need to blush. He listened with the closest attention to everything that passed between them, glorying in every expression, every sentence of his aunt, which marked her intelligence, her taste, or her good manners.
Miss Darcy, walking beside Mr Gardiner, must have seen his longing glances at the river, for she said presently, "I hope you will feel welcome to fish here as long as you continue in the neighbourhood, Mr Gardiner. We can provide you with tackle. The gentlemen of my party, I understand, intend to fish there the day after tomorrow; I am sure you will be welcome, and they can tell you where to find the best sport."
"Thank you very much," said Mr Gardiner. "I would be honoured to join them."
Mrs Gardiner, walking arm-in-arm with Henry, gave him an expressive look. He said nothing, but his astonishment was extreme.
Why had she so changed? Surely, it could not have been his words – nonsense! They could not work so dramatic a change; and, besides, it was impossible that she should still be in love with him.
After walking some time in this way, Mrs Gardiner found Henry's arm inadequate to her support; the gentlemen accordingly changed places, and Henry and Miss Darcy walked on together.
Henry hesitated, then said: "Your arrival was very unexpected, for your housekeeper informed us that you would certainly not be here till to-morrow; and indeed, before we left Bakewell we understood that you were not immediately expected in the country."
"That is quite true," said she, "but some business with my steward occasioned my cousin and I coming forward a few hours before the rest of the party with whom we were travelling. They will join me early tomorrow, and among them are some who will claim an acquaintance with you."
Henry gave her an enquiring look.
"Miss Bingley, and her brother and sister."
He could only give a slight bow at this, instantly reminded of the last time that name had been mentioned between them. She was blushing.
After a very awkward pause, she continued, "There is also one other person in the party who, more particularly, wishes to be known to you." Her eyes were fixed on the ground, her hands almost wringing. "Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce you to my sister's acquaintance during your stay at Lambton?"
Henry, too surprised to know what he said, assented. Georgiana Darcy could only know of him through her sister; plainly, whatever resentment Miss Darcy had felt, had not made her think ill of him. He was satisfied at this, without quite knowing why, and flattered and pleased by the request.
They continued in silence; both were excellent walkers, their strides strong and brisk, and they so quickly outstripped the others, that Mr and Mrs Gardiner were an eighth of a mile behind by the time they reached the carriage.
"Perhaps you are tired," said she. "Would you like to walk into the house?"
"No, I am not tired," Henry replied. He tried to think of something to say, but almost every subject seemed a painful reminder of some point of their history. "We – we saw Dovedale on our way to Lambton."
"Oh! Dovedale!" Miss Darcy clasped her hands again. "It is very picturesque, is not it?"
"Yes, I thought so." Another dreadful silence threatened to descend upon them. Henry added, with an edge of desperation, "We went to Matlock as well."
"Matlock? It is reckoned very fine. How did you like it?"
"Oh, we all admired it greatly – "
They persevered as well as they could; but time, and Mrs Gardiner, moved slowly, and they were nearly out of ideas when the Gardiners finally came up.
"Would you like to come in and take refreshment?" Miss Darcy asked.
The exhausted Mrs Gardiner was forced to decline, and they all said farewell with wonderful politeness. Miss Darcy curtseyed to everybody; they climbed into the carriage; and as it drove away, Henry watched her walk slowly toward the house.
"Well, I must say that she is infinitely superior to anything I expected," said Mrs Gardiner.
"I quite agree," added her husband. "She is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming."
Henry listened to their praises with a bewildering sense of gratification, hoping they would content themselves with praise alone.
"To be sure, Hal," Mrs Gardiner said, "she is not so handsome as Jane; or rather, she has not Jane's countenance, for her features are perfectly good. But how came you tell us she was so disagreeable?"
He excused himself as well as he could. "I liked her better in Kent than before," he lied, "and I have never seen her so pleasant as this morning."
"But perhaps she is a little whimsical in her civilities," said Mr Gardiner. "Great ladies often are; and therefore I shall not take her at her word about fishing, as she might change her mind another day, and warn me off her land."
Henry felt certain that she would not recognise a whim if a chorus of angels presented one to her, but remained silent until Mrs Gardiner mentioned Miss Darcy's supposed cruelty to Wickham. Then he felt compelled to speak.
"By what I heard from her relations in Kent," he said carefully, "her actions are capable of a very different construction. Her character is by no means so faulty, nor Mr Wickham's so amiable, as they were considered in Hertfordshire. I heard from a very reliable authority that, when his godfather died, Mr Wickham asked for and received three thousand pounds in lieu of the living, in addition to a legacy of another thousand pounds. When the incumbent died, he asked for it again – and, not unreasonably, was refused."
"Really? Then how – " Mrs Gardiner began, but just then, Lambton came within sight, and she was far too busy remembering and pointing out each familiar landmark, to think of anything else.
For his part, although Henry accompanied them to dinner, and then to their meetings with Mrs Gardiner's old acquaintances, he could do nothing but think of Miss Darcy and her desire for him to be acquainted with her sister.
Henry and the Gardiners spent the morning with her friends, and had just returned home to dress for dining with them, when they heard the sound of a carriage.
Curious, all three peered out the window; they could only indistinctly make out the forms of two ladies, but Henry recognised the livery. He hastily retreated.
"I suppose," he said, blushing all over again, "it is Miss Darcy. She – she told me that she would like to introduce her sister to – to us. I am sorry I did not warn you; I thought they were coming tomorrow."
His uncle and aunt stared. Though very flattered by Miss Darcy's attentions, they had wholly attributed them to good manners. However, Henry's evident embarrassment, along with the circumstances of the previous day, prompted a suspicion of some sort of attachment. At the very least, their acquaintance plainly went farther than anyone had guessed.
Henry was perturbed, and amazed at being so. What if Miss Darcy had said too much in his favour? Miss Georgiana might expect – heaven only knew what. He paced in the back of the room, certain that the meeting would be a disaster, while his uncle and aunt gave him looks that only made everything worse.
In a few short minutes, the young ladies appeared. "Georgiana," said her sister, her voice gentler than he had ever heard it, "this is Mr Henry Bennet, and his uncle and aunt, Mr and Mrs Gardiner. Mr Bennet, Mr Gardiner, Mrs Gardiner – my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy."
Although Henry had heard from Mrs Gardiner's friends that Miss Georgiana was exceedingly proud, a few minutes' observation served to convince him that she was only exceedingly shy, with nothing of her sister's sharp, fearless eye about her.
Miss Georgiana Darcy was tall and womanly, her features good, her expression sensible and good-humoured. She had an abundance of pale brown hair and fine blue eyes, the same shape and colour as Catherine's. She ought to have been a handsome girl; and indeed she was, when taken by herself. But when her bland prettiness was set against Catherine's vivid beauty, as it must often have been, she looked merely a pale shadow of her sister.
Henry, only too familiar with the havoc such a contrast could wreak among sisters, heartily pitied her, and did his best to set her at ease.
Catherine looked at him with unguarded approval, though she only said, "Mr Bingley is coming, as well."
"I shall be very glad to see him," said Henry, just in time to hear Bingley's quick step on the stair.
"Bennet!" he cried. "How are you? It has been too long. I hope your family is well?"
"Quite well," said Henry, unable to retain resentment in the face of such warmth.
Mr and Mrs Gardiner watched all of this with considerable interest. They had long wished to see Bingley – but their suspicions of Miss Darcy and Henry took precedence. Mr Gardiner joined the conversation between Mr Bingley, Miss Georgiana, and Henry, and made discreet enquiries, while his wife took a turn about the room with Miss Darcy.
"I have grown ridiculously frail," she said, leaning heavily on the young lady's arm. "We can sit down, if I am burdening your arm too much."
"Oh, no," said Miss Darcy. "I am very strong."
"That is exactly what my nephew says," said Mrs Gardiner, laughing. Miss Darcy flushed. "Have you known him long?"
"Almost a year."
"Henry and Miss Georgiana seem to be getting on quite well."
Miss Darcy gazed at them with an expression at once grave, pleased, and wistful. "Yes, I thought they would," she said artlessly. "If anybody could draw her out, it would be Mr Bennet. – He has a most engaging manner."
Mrs Gardiner smiled, satisfied. "Yes, he does."
Of the gentleman's sensations they remained a little in doubt; of the lady's, however, they were certain. At least one of them knew what it was to love.
While the others were preoccupied, Bingley said to Henry, "It has been a very long time since we had the pleasure of meeting. – It is above eight months! We have not met since the twenty-sixth of November, when we were all dancing at Netherfield."
"Your memory is very exact," said Henry. "I believe it was, though I had not recalled the precise date."
Bingley made idle conversation for a few minutes; then he dropped his voice and asked, "Are all your sisters still at Longbourn?"
"Jane and Kitty are," Henry replied, smiling. "Lydia has accompanied the colonel's wife to Brighton."
"I hope she will enjoy her stay there," said Bingley.
"I am certain she shall."
Their visitors stayed about a half-hour, and when they arose to depart, Miss Darcy and Miss Georgiana invited Mr and Mrs Gardiner and Mr Bennet to dinner at Pemberley. Mrs Gardiner looked at Henry, who scarcely knew what to think or where to look, but nodded his acquiescence.
"We would be honoured," she said. "Which evening would be most convenient?"
"A number of my cousins have threatened to descend upon me tomorrow," said Miss Darcy, "so – the day after that, perhaps?"
"That would suit our plans admirably."
They left, and Mr and Mrs Gardiner, and Henry, went to dress for the evening's engagements. The latter's thoughts were, if anything, even more at Pemberley than on the previous night. He laid awake for two whole hours, trying to decide what to do.
He certainly did not hate her; her attachment to him had long ceased to be repugnant to his feelings; quite the contrary. He was fascinated by her; perhaps he had always been so. After all that he had discovered, he even admired her, liked her. Above all of these, however, he felt grateful – grateful not only that she had loved him once, but for loving him well enough to forgive all the petulance and acrimony of his rejection, to accept the kernels of truth amidst his unjust accusations.
He had been left with no doubts that she would accept a proposal; now he had only to decide whether he wished to offer one.
That evening, Mr Gardiner had accepted Miss Darcy's offer of her river and tackle; he and Henry were to meet some of the gentlemen at Pemberley by noon. Mrs Gardiner had decided that such a striking civility as Miss Georgiana's, in coming to see them on the very day of her arrival, ought to be imitated, and therefore intended to call on the ladies of the house at about the same time.
Henry, therefore, spent a good part of the day in an activity he had no interest in, longing to be somewhere else, with nothing but the scenery to appeal to him. He felt convinced the trout were amusing themselves at his expence.
The cousins had apparently made good on their threat; at least, one fashionable young man referred to some inconvenient debts and added, "God bless Cousin Kate!"
"Kate? You have sunk to borrowing from a woman?" cried his brother. "Have you no shame?"
"Shame is a luxury of the rich. – Kate understands that well enough. Besides, I will get it back soon enough and then I shall repay her in whole."
"Kate understands nothing of the kind! I grant you she is clever in her way, but – "
Henry's pole jerked. "I beg your pardon," he said.
After what seemed several hours more, they finally returned to the house. He had not known whether he more anticipated or dreaded meeting her again; he was favouring anticipation when they entered the saloon, and he began to regret that he had come.
She was accompanied by Bingley's sister, Mrs Gardiner, and a number of other young ladies, many of whom seemed to be related to her, for most of the visit. He could not imagine that she had spoken of – of anything concerning only themselves, but plainly suspicions had somehow been roused. The moment he entered, every eye in the room seemed to settle upon him, and again whenever he spoke to her.
This could not have been above four or five times; when they did talk, she was exactly as he had become accustomed to seeing her, but there were few opportunities. Henry gave it up early on and divided his time between watching her, making conversation with Bingley and Miss Georgiana, and avoiding Colonel Fitzwilliam.
He thought of striking up a conversation with one of the Darcy cousins – several of them were very pretty – but did not bother.
Catherine would be distressed, he told himself nobly, and glancing in her direction, found her listening to Mrs Gardiner with an expression of acute interest, to all appearances oblivious to him.
Henry chuckled softly, and admitted that, whatever Catherine's role in his indifference, it was indeed indifference that he felt. He certainly could not dredge up enough interest to invest his time in a conversation of any significance. Like Miss Georgiana before them, they all seemed lesser versions of Catherine.
He was very nearly persuaded that he ought to marry her and be done with it.
Henry's party left shortly thereafter. They talked of everything and everybody but the person they were all most interested in – her sister, her friends, her house, her fruit, everything but herself; yet Henry longed to know what they thought of her, and the Gardiners would have been highly gratified by their nephew's beginning the subject.
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Title: Through A Glass, Darkly
Fanverse: The Quality of Mercy; Through A Glass, Darkly; Revenge of the Jedi, sort of
Blurb: Leia gets her chance to deal with her heritage. In baby-steps.
Pairings/warnings: No pairings; original character; so AU of my AU (Revenge of the Jedi) that it's canon-compliant; a challenge to myself to get two characters who, properly, could never, ever meet into the same scene.
Length: one-shot/double-drabble, kinda (272 words)
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Arissa Nellith’s house would not have been out of place on the streets of Tyria. When the door shut behind her, Leia could almost imagine herself at home. Almost.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Nellith was Alderaanian: Alderaanian to the bone, Leia would have said, if spies at the Emperor’s ridiculously opulent memorial hadn’t noted her attendance there. Not that they’d been necessary; the HoloNet’s own reporters had made the most of her presence.
“I assumed you would disapprove, Princess,” Nellith told her, “though I’ll admit I didn’t imagine you would take the trouble of coming all this way to denounce me in person.”
“I’m not here to denounce you,” Leia said impatiently. She liked her. She’d liked her -- before, and continued to like her despite her ridiculously early retirement to some ex-colony on the edge of nowhere. “You weren’t there for the Emperor.”
Nellith’s lip curled. “No.”
“My brother says it was for Vader. I think he’s right. How did you know him?”
“Your brother?” Nellith stared at her. “What are you talking about? You don’t have --”
“How did you know Vader?”
By her expression, Nellith was half-inclined to tell her exactly what she could do with her questions, sovereign or no sovereign. (No sovereign, strictly speaking.) Instead, she gave Leia a long, intent look.
“He was my friend,” she said, “a very long time ago.”
So Luke had been right about that, too. Leia’s shoulders stiffened.
“You’re a Jedi, then.”
“No,” said Arissa, “I was a Jedi, once, but that was . . . a different life. I left the Order before the Purges.” She paused. “On the advice of a friend.”
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Title: First Impressions (10/13, 11/13)
Fanverse: First Impressions
Blurb: awkward meeting is awkward, the Gardiner-Darcy mutual admiration society is formed, and apparently I am super ambiguous about Henry's opinion of Catherine.
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Chapter Ten
Afterwards, they returned downstairs. Mrs Reynolds consigned them to the care of the gardener, who met them at the hall and led them out toward the river.
"It is certainly not a modern house," Mr Gardiner said. "However, when you consider the gallery and the saloon, I cannot think it was built much before James' time – perhaps Elizabeth's, but no earlier."
"Edward, the chapel and the dining room are plainly medieval- "
Henry, laughing, glanced over his shoulder at the house – and the owner of it herself walked forward.
She came from the road, which led behind it, to the stables, and appeared with such abruptness that it was impossible to avoid her sight
Their eyes met – their cheeks crimsoned – she visibly started.
"Mr Bennet!" she cried. "I – I beg your pardon. I did not – your family – they are in good health?"
"Yes – excellent – I believe," said he, his voice somewhere between a gasp and a croak. "And – and yours are well, I hope?"
As if summoned by the enquiry, Colonel Fitzwilliam's voice rang out. "Kate, I do not understand why – " Fitzwilliam himself rounded the corner – "Bennet?"
"Fitzwilliam. I was just asking after your family's health," said Henry.
Miss Darcy took her cousin's arm in a grip which would have reduced a lesser man to tears. "We are all very well, are we not?"
"Oh, quite," said Fitzwilliam.
"Have you – have you been long in this part of the country?" she persevered. Henry said something, he knew not what; he had no attention to spare for anything but the excruciating embarrassment they suffered under. – Even Colonel Fitzwilliam's expression, which he correctly interpreted as murderous rage, inspired nothing more than mild alarm; his was a humiliation so complete as to leave little room for anything else.
Civility was left to Miss Darcy, who, to his embarrassed surprise, made a valiant effort. She enquired after his family at least thrice, and the time of his having left Longbourn, and the length of his stay in Derbyshire, several times more. The distraction of her thoughts was evident in her strained face and hurried manner, and still more in the lack of anything like her usual serenity. Finally, she seemed to give it up as hopeless, and the cousins took their leave.
Mr and Mrs Gardiner, who had immediately recognised the lady as Miss Darcy, joined him.
"What a lovely young woman," said Mr Gardiner.
"She has an excellent figure," Mrs Gardiner added.
Henry heard not a word and trailed after them in silence. Shame and vexation overpowered him. His coming to Pemberley was the most foolish, unfortunate thing in the world! – what must she have thought? So vain a woman would only think that he had purposely sought her out.
Why had he come? Why had she come before she was expected? Why had they not left just ten minutes earlier?
He could not stop blushing; nor could he stop wondering at her odd behaviour. She had been perfectly civil – cordial, really, if one accounted for the situation. He remembered the last time she had addressed him, hauteur pervading every word.
They walked down a beautiful walk by the river, but Henry could think of nothing but Miss Darcy. Where was she? What was she thinking? What did she think of him? – was she still in love with him?
Perhaps her civility came from the familiarity of her own home – but no, she had been anything but at ease. Whether she had seen him with pain or pleasure, she had not done so with composure. He knew not what to think of it.
Henry longed to be gone, but could not bring himself to ruin his aunt and uncle's evident pleasure; and, though he could not attend to anything before his eyes, he pretended to for their sakes.
They had left the river to climb through the woods, when Mr Gardiner announced:
"I should like to go around the whole park."
Henry quailed.
"It might be beyond a walk, however."
The gardener smiled triumphantly. "It is ten miles, sir."
"Ten miles! We must take the accustomed circuit then."
Henry gave a sigh of relief.
After some time, their path took them back to the edge of the water. They crossed a bridge, which led them into a small glen, simpler even than what else they had seen. It allowed room only for the stream and a narrow, winding path through the coppice-wood which bordered it. Henry, restored a little to himself, longed to explore it.
Mrs Gardiner, however, was tired, and thought only of returning to their carriage as soon as possible. Her nephew was obliged to submit, and in the circumstances did so without any great reluctance.
They walked back on the nearest side of the river, but slowly. Although Mr Gardiner's long residence in town left him little opportunity to indulge his passion, he was an avid fisherman, and so distracted by the trout in the water, and in talking to the gardener about them, that in the course of an half-hour, they had advanced but little.
Henry, not particularly enraptured by fish, almost stumbled over his own feet when he saw Miss Darcy approaching them once more. This path was less sheltered than the one which had brought them there, and allowed them to see her before they met; Henry felt grateful, at least, for the warning. He was just resolving to appear calm, when a turning in the walk concealed her from view, and he half-hoped that she would strike into another path.
However, another turn brought her immediately before them, her expression no longer alarmed, but every bit as earnest and welcoming as before.
Henry stepped forward. "Miss Darcy," said he, determined to match civility for civility, "your home is quite lovely. A delightful, charming place – " He remembered the last time Pemberley had been mentioned between them, imagined how its praise might be construed, and fell silent, colouring deeply.
She glanced at Mrs Gardiner, who stood a little behind him, and said, "Mr Bennet, will you do me the honour of introducing me to your friends?"
Plainly, she did not recognise them as the low connections she had railed against at Hunsford, but took them for people of fashion. Henry suppressed a smile.
"Of course. Mr Gardiner, Mrs Gardiner, this is Miss Darcy." He added, "Mr Gardiner is my mother's brother, Miss Darcy."
"Oh!"
He cast a sly glance at her, half-expecting her to hurry away; but, though plainly very surprised, she not only failed to flee his disgraceful companions, but joined them and struck up a conversation with Mrs Gardiner.
"I hope, madam, that you have enjoyed Pemberley."
"Oh, very much," said Mrs Gardiner. "It is even lovelier than I remembered."
"You have been here before, then?" She looked gratified.
"Yes, many years ago. I was only a child at the time, but my aunt and my grandfather brought me. They were from Lambton and my mother and I had just come to live with them."
"Lambton!" repeated Miss Darcy. "Why, that is not five miles away. Did you live there long?"
Mrs Gardiner smiled. "Almost fifteen years – until Mr Gardiner swept me away to London, ten years ago."
"Five-and-twenty years? That was not long before I was born," Miss Darcy said. "You must have been very young."
"Thank you! I believe I was six or seven years old."
"And have you visited Lambton since your marriage?"
"No; this is the first time I have returned to the country. I understand that several of my old acquaintances remain here, however."
"I might know of the whereabouts of some of them," said Miss Darcy, her manner growing a little more cautious. "I try – we do not often go into Lambton, but we hear about the people who live around Pemberley."
To Mrs Gardiner's credit, her serenity did not falter. She only blinked, and said, "I am particularly hoping to see my dearest friend from those days. Her name was Maria Leland."
"One of the apothecary's daughters," Miss Darcy said promptly.
"Why, yes! – the eldest."
Miss Darcy's eyes narrowed in thought. "I think she was married several years ago, to the proprietor of – yes, Willard's. He inherited his uncle's shop."
"Oh, old Mr Willard is dead? I am sorry to hear it."
"As was I. He was an excellent man – "
Henry smiled. He felt more than surprise - pleasure, triumph. It was consoling for her to know he had some relations for whom there was no need to blush. He listened with the closest attention to everything that passed between them, glorying in every expression, every sentence of his aunt, which marked her intelligence, her taste, or her good manners.
Miss Darcy, walking beside Mr Gardiner, must have seen his longing glances at the river, for she said presently, "I hope you will feel welcome to fish here as long as you continue in the neighbourhood, Mr Gardiner. We can provide you with tackle. The gentlemen of my party, I understand, intend to fish there the day after tomorrow; I am sure you will be welcome, and they can tell you where to find the best sport."
"Thank you very much," said Mr Gardiner. "I would be honoured to join them."
Mrs Gardiner, walking arm-in-arm with Henry, gave him an expressive look. He said nothing, but his astonishment was extreme.
Why had she so changed? Surely, it could not have been his words – nonsense! They could not work so dramatic a change; and, besides, it was impossible that she should still be in love with him.
After walking some time in this way, Mrs Gardiner found Henry's arm inadequate to her support; the gentlemen accordingly changed places, and Henry and Miss Darcy walked on together.
Henry hesitated, then said: "Your arrival was very unexpected, for your housekeeper informed us that you would certainly not be here till to-morrow; and indeed, before we left Bakewell we understood that you were not immediately expected in the country."
"That is quite true," said she, "but some business with my steward occasioned my cousin and I coming forward a few hours before the rest of the party with whom we were travelling. They will join me early tomorrow, and among them are some who will claim an acquaintance with you."
Henry gave her an enquiring look.
"Miss Bingley, and her brother and sister."
He could only give a slight bow at this, instantly reminded of the last time that name had been mentioned between them. She was blushing.
After a very awkward pause, she continued, "There is also one other person in the party who, more particularly, wishes to be known to you." Her eyes were fixed on the ground, her hands almost wringing. "Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce you to my sister's acquaintance during your stay at Lambton?"
Henry, too surprised to know what he said, assented. Georgiana Darcy could only know of him through her sister; plainly, whatever resentment Miss Darcy had felt, had not made her think ill of him. He was satisfied at this, without quite knowing why, and flattered and pleased by the request.
They continued in silence; both were excellent walkers, their strides strong and brisk, and they so quickly outstripped the others, that Mr and Mrs Gardiner were an eighth of a mile behind by the time they reached the carriage.
"Perhaps you are tired," said she. "Would you like to walk into the house?"
"No, I am not tired," Henry replied. He tried to think of something to say, but almost every subject seemed a painful reminder of some point of their history. "We – we saw Dovedale on our way to Lambton."
"Oh! Dovedale!" Miss Darcy clasped her hands again. "It is very picturesque, is not it?"
"Yes, I thought so." Another dreadful silence threatened to descend upon them. Henry added, with an edge of desperation, "We went to Matlock as well."
"Matlock? It is reckoned very fine. How did you like it?"
"Oh, we all admired it greatly – "
They persevered as well as they could; but time, and Mrs Gardiner, moved slowly, and they were nearly out of ideas when the Gardiners finally came up.
"Would you like to come in and take refreshment?" Miss Darcy asked.
The exhausted Mrs Gardiner was forced to decline, and they all said farewell with wonderful politeness. Miss Darcy curtseyed to everybody; they climbed into the carriage; and as it drove away, Henry watched her walk slowly toward the house.
"Well, I must say that she is infinitely superior to anything I expected," said Mrs Gardiner.
"I quite agree," added her husband. "She is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming."
Henry listened to their praises with a bewildering sense of gratification, hoping they would content themselves with praise alone.
"To be sure, Hal," Mrs Gardiner said, "she is not so handsome as Jane; or rather, she has not Jane's countenance, for her features are perfectly good. But how came you tell us she was so disagreeable?"
He excused himself as well as he could. "I liked her better in Kent than before," he lied, "and I have never seen her so pleasant as this morning."
"But perhaps she is a little whimsical in her civilities," said Mr Gardiner. "Great ladies often are; and therefore I shall not take her at her word about fishing, as she might change her mind another day, and warn me off her land."
Henry felt certain that she would not recognise a whim if a chorus of angels presented one to her, but remained silent until Mrs Gardiner mentioned Miss Darcy's supposed cruelty to Wickham. Then he felt compelled to speak.
"By what I heard from her relations in Kent," he said carefully, "her actions are capable of a very different construction. Her character is by no means so faulty, nor Mr Wickham's so amiable, as they were considered in Hertfordshire. I heard from a very reliable authority that, when his godfather died, Mr Wickham asked for and received three thousand pounds in lieu of the living, in addition to a legacy of another thousand pounds. When the incumbent died, he asked for it again – and, not unreasonably, was refused."
"Really? Then how – " Mrs Gardiner began, but just then, Lambton came within sight, and she was far too busy remembering and pointing out each familiar landmark, to think of anything else.
For his part, although Henry accompanied them to dinner, and then to their meetings with Mrs Gardiner's old acquaintances, he could do nothing but think of Miss Darcy and her desire for him to be acquainted with her sister.
Chapter Eleven
Henry and the Gardiners spent the morning with her friends, and had just returned home to dress for dining with them, when they heard the sound of a carriage.
Curious, all three peered out the window; they could only indistinctly make out the forms of two ladies, but Henry recognised the livery. He hastily retreated.
"I suppose," he said, blushing all over again, "it is Miss Darcy. She – she told me that she would like to introduce her sister to – to us. I am sorry I did not warn you; I thought they were coming tomorrow."
His uncle and aunt stared. Though very flattered by Miss Darcy's attentions, they had wholly attributed them to good manners. However, Henry's evident embarrassment, along with the circumstances of the previous day, prompted a suspicion of some sort of attachment. At the very least, their acquaintance plainly went farther than anyone had guessed.
Henry was perturbed, and amazed at being so. What if Miss Darcy had said too much in his favour? Miss Georgiana might expect – heaven only knew what. He paced in the back of the room, certain that the meeting would be a disaster, while his uncle and aunt gave him looks that only made everything worse.
In a few short minutes, the young ladies appeared. "Georgiana," said her sister, her voice gentler than he had ever heard it, "this is Mr Henry Bennet, and his uncle and aunt, Mr and Mrs Gardiner. Mr Bennet, Mr Gardiner, Mrs Gardiner – my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy."
Although Henry had heard from Mrs Gardiner's friends that Miss Georgiana was exceedingly proud, a few minutes' observation served to convince him that she was only exceedingly shy, with nothing of her sister's sharp, fearless eye about her.
Miss Georgiana Darcy was tall and womanly, her features good, her expression sensible and good-humoured. She had an abundance of pale brown hair and fine blue eyes, the same shape and colour as Catherine's. She ought to have been a handsome girl; and indeed she was, when taken by herself. But when her bland prettiness was set against Catherine's vivid beauty, as it must often have been, she looked merely a pale shadow of her sister.
Henry, only too familiar with the havoc such a contrast could wreak among sisters, heartily pitied her, and did his best to set her at ease.
Catherine looked at him with unguarded approval, though she only said, "Mr Bingley is coming, as well."
"I shall be very glad to see him," said Henry, just in time to hear Bingley's quick step on the stair.
"Bennet!" he cried. "How are you? It has been too long. I hope your family is well?"
"Quite well," said Henry, unable to retain resentment in the face of such warmth.
Mr and Mrs Gardiner watched all of this with considerable interest. They had long wished to see Bingley – but their suspicions of Miss Darcy and Henry took precedence. Mr Gardiner joined the conversation between Mr Bingley, Miss Georgiana, and Henry, and made discreet enquiries, while his wife took a turn about the room with Miss Darcy.
"I have grown ridiculously frail," she said, leaning heavily on the young lady's arm. "We can sit down, if I am burdening your arm too much."
"Oh, no," said Miss Darcy. "I am very strong."
"That is exactly what my nephew says," said Mrs Gardiner, laughing. Miss Darcy flushed. "Have you known him long?"
"Almost a year."
"Henry and Miss Georgiana seem to be getting on quite well."
Miss Darcy gazed at them with an expression at once grave, pleased, and wistful. "Yes, I thought they would," she said artlessly. "If anybody could draw her out, it would be Mr Bennet. – He has a most engaging manner."
Mrs Gardiner smiled, satisfied. "Yes, he does."
Of the gentleman's sensations they remained a little in doubt; of the lady's, however, they were certain. At least one of them knew what it was to love.
While the others were preoccupied, Bingley said to Henry, "It has been a very long time since we had the pleasure of meeting. – It is above eight months! We have not met since the twenty-sixth of November, when we were all dancing at Netherfield."
"Your memory is very exact," said Henry. "I believe it was, though I had not recalled the precise date."
Bingley made idle conversation for a few minutes; then he dropped his voice and asked, "Are all your sisters still at Longbourn?"
"Jane and Kitty are," Henry replied, smiling. "Lydia has accompanied the colonel's wife to Brighton."
"I hope she will enjoy her stay there," said Bingley.
"I am certain she shall."
Their visitors stayed about a half-hour, and when they arose to depart, Miss Darcy and Miss Georgiana invited Mr and Mrs Gardiner and Mr Bennet to dinner at Pemberley. Mrs Gardiner looked at Henry, who scarcely knew what to think or where to look, but nodded his acquiescence.
"We would be honoured," she said. "Which evening would be most convenient?"
"A number of my cousins have threatened to descend upon me tomorrow," said Miss Darcy, "so – the day after that, perhaps?"
"That would suit our plans admirably."
They left, and Mr and Mrs Gardiner, and Henry, went to dress for the evening's engagements. The latter's thoughts were, if anything, even more at Pemberley than on the previous night. He laid awake for two whole hours, trying to decide what to do.
He certainly did not hate her; her attachment to him had long ceased to be repugnant to his feelings; quite the contrary. He was fascinated by her; perhaps he had always been so. After all that he had discovered, he even admired her, liked her. Above all of these, however, he felt grateful – grateful not only that she had loved him once, but for loving him well enough to forgive all the petulance and acrimony of his rejection, to accept the kernels of truth amidst his unjust accusations.
He had been left with no doubts that she would accept a proposal; now he had only to decide whether he wished to offer one.
That evening, Mr Gardiner had accepted Miss Darcy's offer of her river and tackle; he and Henry were to meet some of the gentlemen at Pemberley by noon. Mrs Gardiner had decided that such a striking civility as Miss Georgiana's, in coming to see them on the very day of her arrival, ought to be imitated, and therefore intended to call on the ladies of the house at about the same time.
Henry, therefore, spent a good part of the day in an activity he had no interest in, longing to be somewhere else, with nothing but the scenery to appeal to him. He felt convinced the trout were amusing themselves at his expence.
The cousins had apparently made good on their threat; at least, one fashionable young man referred to some inconvenient debts and added, "God bless Cousin Kate!"
"Kate? You have sunk to borrowing from a woman?" cried his brother. "Have you no shame?"
"Shame is a luxury of the rich. – Kate understands that well enough. Besides, I will get it back soon enough and then I shall repay her in whole."
"Kate understands nothing of the kind! I grant you she is clever in her way, but – "
Henry's pole jerked. "I beg your pardon," he said.
After what seemed several hours more, they finally returned to the house. He had not known whether he more anticipated or dreaded meeting her again; he was favouring anticipation when they entered the saloon, and he began to regret that he had come.
She was accompanied by Bingley's sister, Mrs Gardiner, and a number of other young ladies, many of whom seemed to be related to her, for most of the visit. He could not imagine that she had spoken of – of anything concerning only themselves, but plainly suspicions had somehow been roused. The moment he entered, every eye in the room seemed to settle upon him, and again whenever he spoke to her.
This could not have been above four or five times; when they did talk, she was exactly as he had become accustomed to seeing her, but there were few opportunities. Henry gave it up early on and divided his time between watching her, making conversation with Bingley and Miss Georgiana, and avoiding Colonel Fitzwilliam.
He thought of striking up a conversation with one of the Darcy cousins – several of them were very pretty – but did not bother.
Catherine would be distressed, he told himself nobly, and glancing in her direction, found her listening to Mrs Gardiner with an expression of acute interest, to all appearances oblivious to him.
Henry chuckled softly, and admitted that, whatever Catherine's role in his indifference, it was indeed indifference that he felt. He certainly could not dredge up enough interest to invest his time in a conversation of any significance. Like Miss Georgiana before them, they all seemed lesser versions of Catherine.
He was very nearly persuaded that he ought to marry her and be done with it.
Henry's party left shortly thereafter. They talked of everything and everybody but the person they were all most interested in – her sister, her friends, her house, her fruit, everything but herself; yet Henry longed to know what they thought of her, and the Gardiners would have been highly gratified by their nephew's beginning the subject.
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Title: Through A Glass, Darkly
Fanverse: The Quality of Mercy; Through A Glass, Darkly; Revenge of the Jedi, sort of
Blurb: Leia gets her chance to deal with her heritage. In baby-steps.
Pairings/warnings: No pairings; original character; so AU of my AU (Revenge of the Jedi) that it's canon-compliant; a challenge to myself to get two characters who, properly, could never, ever meet into the same scene.
Length: one-shot/double-drabble, kinda (272 words)
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Arissa Nellith’s house would not have been out of place on the streets of Tyria. When the door shut behind her, Leia could almost imagine herself at home. Almost.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Nellith was Alderaanian: Alderaanian to the bone, Leia would have said, if spies at the Emperor’s ridiculously opulent memorial hadn’t noted her attendance there. Not that they’d been necessary; the HoloNet’s own reporters had made the most of her presence.
“I assumed you would disapprove, Princess,” Nellith told her, “though I’ll admit I didn’t imagine you would take the trouble of coming all this way to denounce me in person.”
“I’m not here to denounce you,” Leia said impatiently. She liked her. She’d liked her -- before, and continued to like her despite her ridiculously early retirement to some ex-colony on the edge of nowhere. “You weren’t there for the Emperor.”
Nellith’s lip curled. “No.”
“My brother says it was for Vader. I think he’s right. How did you know him?”
“Your brother?” Nellith stared at her. “What are you talking about? You don’t have --”
“How did you know Vader?”
By her expression, Nellith was half-inclined to tell her exactly what she could do with her questions, sovereign or no sovereign. (No sovereign, strictly speaking.) Instead, she gave Leia a long, intent look.
“He was my friend,” she said, “a very long time ago.”
So Luke had been right about that, too. Leia’s shoulders stiffened.
“You’re a Jedi, then.”
“No,” said Arissa, “I was a Jedi, once, but that was . . . a different life. I left the Order before the Purges.” She paused. “On the advice of a friend.”
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(Though, admittedly, there are some ... complicating factors there, like he hadn't made his decision when he talked to Arissa and so it was less "join the Empire!" than "um, something weird is going on, something's going to go horribly wrong, you're not happy with things anyway, maybe you should get the hell out of Dodge." But I also think Arissa was on much more consistently okay terms with Vader than anyone knows about.)
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