that Austen fic I'm not writing
Mar. 23rd, 2012 11:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anghraineI don't even know how it happened! I've been all "eh" about everything remotely related to Austen fandom, and suddenly I felt the need to poke at First Impressions-that-wasn't and this exploded out of my brain. Rough draft and worksman-y, but *gasp* I enjoyed something Austen-related! Yay!
My dear friend,
As you must see from the address, I arrived in town to-day. I can imagine how you will look, so you need not take the trouble of telling me how shocked you are, how unnecessary is any intervention on my part, etc etc. I have already formed a plan to recover your sister—several plans—and I have taken every precaution to protect my reputation, and when I find her, Miss Lydia's, as well.
The facts of the matter are these. Mr Wickham was only able to recommend himself to Miss Lydia, or to any other young woman, because of my silence, my pride and reserve. I am not acting solely out of the concern arising from our friendship; I consider it my responsibility to make amends for my error, as far as I may. Moreover, our particular knowledge of him provides both my cousin and myself with advantages that Miss Lydia's natural protectors do not possess.
I trust I need not detail the exact nature of Mr Wickham's relationship with his old conspirator, Mrs Younge. It is sufficient to say that both Fitzwilliam and I are convinced that he would have gone to her immediately upon his arrival in town, no matter his companion of the moment. She lets more or less respectable lodgings at a house on Edward Street; my cousin and I shall call upon her tomorrow. If they are not concealed there now, she will certainly now his location, and, I do not doubt, can be persuaded to give it up at a cost.—Yes, I shall be very deeply offended if anyone threatens to repay my expenses.
Once we have found your sister, I will do my utmost to persuade her to leave Mr Wickham. No, you have not misread me. Mr Wickham is a vicious, unscrupulous man, without a shred of honour or decency in his nature. Far better that your sister return home unmarried than what she would endure in a respectable marriage to him. We shall all be able to contrive something—particularly if she remains here in town, where I can vouch for her innocence.—I dislike disguise but I would consider it more than justified in this case.
If she will not leave him, than we will be forced to convince Mr Wickham to marry her. I cannot imagine it will be very difficult if the proper inducements are applied. The only question is how much, but I am sure I can persuade him to be reasonable. At this juncture, of course, we will naturally turn the matter over to your father and uncle.
I beg your pardon if I am impertinent in involving myself in your family's concerns, but Mr Wickham, you see, is my family's concern. My father raised him. We grew up together, almost as brother and sister—almost. I have known what he was since I was a young girl. I understood still more when he tried to seduce Georgiana. There must have been others; I do not know how many, or who they were, because they were not the younger sisters of my particular friends. I did nothing, Elizabeth, for fourteen years. This is my fault as much as it is Miss Lydia's, whose only crime lies in being foolish at fifteen. Who among us was not? I must do what I can to remedy my father's mistakes and mine.
Moreover, I really cannot think that your relatives can manage this part of the situation as readily as my cousin and I can. It is not merely that we have names and addresses; we know them, we know how to best appeal to them, and Fitzwilliam has considerable patronage in the army. If you are truly offended, you must tell me so, but truly I have no desire to act other than I have done.
As for you, my friend, I can only imagine what you must have already suffered. It seems hardly enough to extend my sympathies. I am sorry—I do not think I could ever pity you, but I am heartily sorry that you are being forced to endure such a situation. Rest assured that I will write to you again as soon as I have certain knowledge of your sister.
I remain your affectionate friend,
Frederica Darcy
My dear friend,
As you must see from the address, I arrived in town to-day. I can imagine how you will look, so you need not take the trouble of telling me how shocked you are, how unnecessary is any intervention on my part, etc etc. I have already formed a plan to recover your sister—several plans—and I have taken every precaution to protect my reputation, and when I find her, Miss Lydia's, as well.
The facts of the matter are these. Mr Wickham was only able to recommend himself to Miss Lydia, or to any other young woman, because of my silence, my pride and reserve. I am not acting solely out of the concern arising from our friendship; I consider it my responsibility to make amends for my error, as far as I may. Moreover, our particular knowledge of him provides both my cousin and myself with advantages that Miss Lydia's natural protectors do not possess.
I trust I need not detail the exact nature of Mr Wickham's relationship with his old conspirator, Mrs Younge. It is sufficient to say that both Fitzwilliam and I are convinced that he would have gone to her immediately upon his arrival in town, no matter his companion of the moment. She lets more or less respectable lodgings at a house on Edward Street; my cousin and I shall call upon her tomorrow. If they are not concealed there now, she will certainly now his location, and, I do not doubt, can be persuaded to give it up at a cost.—Yes, I shall be very deeply offended if anyone threatens to repay my expenses.
Once we have found your sister, I will do my utmost to persuade her to leave Mr Wickham. No, you have not misread me. Mr Wickham is a vicious, unscrupulous man, without a shred of honour or decency in his nature. Far better that your sister return home unmarried than what she would endure in a respectable marriage to him. We shall all be able to contrive something—particularly if she remains here in town, where I can vouch for her innocence.—I dislike disguise but I would consider it more than justified in this case.
If she will not leave him, than we will be forced to convince Mr Wickham to marry her. I cannot imagine it will be very difficult if the proper inducements are applied. The only question is how much, but I am sure I can persuade him to be reasonable. At this juncture, of course, we will naturally turn the matter over to your father and uncle.
I beg your pardon if I am impertinent in involving myself in your family's concerns, but Mr Wickham, you see, is my family's concern. My father raised him. We grew up together, almost as brother and sister—almost. I have known what he was since I was a young girl. I understood still more when he tried to seduce Georgiana. There must have been others; I do not know how many, or who they were, because they were not the younger sisters of my particular friends. I did nothing, Elizabeth, for fourteen years. This is my fault as much as it is Miss Lydia's, whose only crime lies in being foolish at fifteen. Who among us was not? I must do what I can to remedy my father's mistakes and mine.
Moreover, I really cannot think that your relatives can manage this part of the situation as readily as my cousin and I can. It is not merely that we have names and addresses; we know them, we know how to best appeal to them, and Fitzwilliam has considerable patronage in the army. If you are truly offended, you must tell me so, but truly I have no desire to act other than I have done.
As for you, my friend, I can only imagine what you must have already suffered. It seems hardly enough to extend my sympathies. I am sorry—I do not think I could ever pity you, but I am heartily sorry that you are being forced to endure such a situation. Rest assured that I will write to you again as soon as I have certain knowledge of your sister.
I remain your affectionate friend,
Frederica Darcy