#mrs.bennet

[mametupa]

[damemaladroite]

it always feels strange to me that they didn't even try to save when the kids were younger too, like before Jane had officially come out as a lady-- there must have been a period of 7 or 8 years between when Lydia was born and it seemed unlikely they'd have any more children where they could have begun saving some money since they wouldn't have to worry about the cost of having a daughter out (since from my understanding, that could really add up) It just feels like they had gotten used to this extravagant lifestyle that they had early on in their marriage and weren't willing to try and economize so that they could set aside at least a bit more for their daughters.

Please, for the love of all that is holy, stop saying that Mrs. Bennet is the only one "taking the situation seriously."

She is not.

Screaming about a problem doesn't mean you are taking it seriously. If she was taking it seriously, she'd have given her girls a proper education and advocated for saving for dowries. Her little schemes around Jane don't count as taking it seriously.

No one is taking the situation seriously.

[eternalera]

seeing people get mad at lizzie for getting mad at darcy for his original proposal pisses me off SO MUCH. currently in my class we're reading pride and prejudice and people keep going 'hes really vulnerable right now! why is she yelling at him? :(' as if SHE didnt just learn that this man RUINED (temporarily but she didnt know that) her sisters chance at marriage.

and lemme tell you. thats not a little thing. not back then. back then getting married for a woman was EVERYTHING. they werent allowed to own property and weren't typically included in things like wills (hence why mrs.bennet wanted lizzie to marry collins for the house since none of them wouldn't inherit it). also making money back then AS A WOMAN WAS HARD. not to mention the fact that your brothers and (married) sisters most likely had to take care of you if you didnt get married.

jane was already reaching 'maiden age' as she was getting older and keep in mind that people did not typically live long back then so she was basically in the middle of her life. which means that the chances of her getting married go down a TON.

and not only was bingley good for money (cause he was) but he was someone who she LOVED (lizzie even says this and says its obvious when in reality its not but thats another thing). and jane didnt even want the money, she just wanted to marry bingley because she loved him.

AND DARCY RUINED ALL THAT BY PREVENTING IT. he did it out of good faith but in that argument that they had he said none of it (for good reason). which of course lizzie gets mad at becaus he mightve just ruined janes chance at not only a secure marriage but also a happy life. its totally reasonable to get mad at him for that. and its totally reasonable to REJECT HIM for that.

and darcy wasnt the only vulnerable one in this exchange either. lizzie JUST found this all out btw, and she even ends up staying back because she needs to recover from finding this out. BUT THEN HE PROPOSES. OF COURSE SHES NOT IN THE BEST MENTAL STATE EITHER.

then theres the wickham thing and thats just basically her trying to piss him off at that point.

theres also the harsh rejection and while she was harsh you also have to understand that he was also kind of insulting her and her family in his proposal. and yeah he was saying how he struggled with proposing to her or not but if someone was proposing to you and was like

"anyways so your family sucks, you have low connections, youre kinda poor and loving you goes against my morality and everything ive learned and ive been debating if i should love you or not but yknow what? fuck it, would you marry me?"

thats NOT a good proposal. especially to someone who just learned you fucked up their sisters chance at a happy life.

anyways thats all lol. just needed to get this off my chest <3

i do think that they were both harsh to each other in this scene but the flaming that i see towards lizzie is INSANE. like girl was actively being insulted and shes been characterized as headstrong and prideful. did you really think she was gonna sit there and take it?

[cookingdramawithmrsbennet]

Cooking White Soup with Mrs.Bennet

Ingredients:

1 whole chicken or veal knuckle (about 3–4 lbs)

2 quarts water

1 cup blanched almonds

1 cup cream

4 egg yolks

2 slices of white bread (crusts removed)

1 onion, peeled and halved

2–3 cloves

1 bay leaf

A pinch of mace or nutmeg

Salt and pepper to taste

Before we get to the delightful business of today’s instructions, I must unburden myself of the most vexing news! Upon hearing of Mr. Darcy’s interference in my dear Jane’s happiness with Mr. Bingley, I am quite beside myself with indignation. Wicked, wicked man! He is, without a doubt, the most disagreeable man that ever was born. Why, he has no consideration for the feelings of others! To think he would come between such a perfect match, it is truly beyond endurance.

But let us set aside this dreadful business for the moment and turn our attention to something far more agreeable. Now, here is how you prepare…

Instructions:

Prepare the Stock: Place the chicken or veal in a large pot with the water, onion (studded with cloves), bay leaf, and a pinch of salt. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Skim off any foam and cook gently for 2–3 hours until the meat is tender and the broth is flavorful.

Strain the Stock: Remove the meat and aromatics. Strain the broth through a fine sieve or muslin cloth to ensure it’s clear. Return the strained stock to the pot.

Prepare the Almond Paste: Grind the blanched almonds into a fine paste using a mortar and pestle or food processor. Add a little of the hot stock to thin it, then stir it back into the pot.

Thicken the Soup: Tear the bread into small pieces and soak it in a little hot stock. Once softened, mash or blend it into a smooth paste, then stir into the soup to thicken.

Enrich the Soup: In a bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and cream. Temper the mixture by slowly adding a ladle of hot stock while whisking, then stir it into the pot. Be careful not to let the soup boil, as this will curdle the eggs.

Season and Serve: Add a pinch of mace or nutmeg, then season to taste with salt and pepper. Warm gently, stirring until thickened. Serve immediately in bowls or cups for an authentic Regency touch.

Did You Know?

White Soup was a popular dish in 18th-century and early 19th-century England, especially among the upper class. Originating from French culinary traditions, it was made with veal or chicken stock, breadcrumbs or almonds, cream, and egg yolks, with a touch of spice like nutmeg or mace. Its pale, creamy appearance made it a symbol of elegance, often served at balls and formal events.

Famously mentioned in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, it highlights the sophistication of Regency society. Though it fell out of favor in the Victorian era, White Soup remains a hallmark of historical English cuisine.

[mistyhollowcottage]

thought I’d be an Elizabeth, but unfortunately I am Mrs.Bennet yelling at my husband that he has no compassion for my poor nerves

[orjustsomeghostofme]

Me: Do we need another P&P adaptation

Netflix: Oliva Coleman as Mrs.Bennet

Me: Yes. I guess we did.

[strawberryteabunny]

I do really agree with Austen about a better marriage with someone of good, steadfast character who can respect and treat you well, rather than someone you might have a passionate connection with but don’t actually know how they’ll treat you years or decades down the line. Like okay, I do find Mr. Collins a horrific bore, but we don’t ever get the sense from him that he’d be cruel to his wife- which in that time period when divorce was so inaccessible and women’s rights so few is incredibly important. Wickham? Idk. We know he lies, gambles, and has a habit of seducing young girls- I don’t have much hope for how he’ll treat Lydia as she gets older or if their finances take a hit.

I will say though that it could have been possible for the Bennet girls to become governesses- 1813 is a little early but just a decade or so later governesses would start to become increasingly popular and not much care was taken about their education, just their class. I can’t say how the Bennets specifically would fare because they also might not have been of good enough character (Lydia’s scandal would have hurt them a lot in that case too) but it was starting to become more of an option.

In the Victorian era as the idea took shape that a lady cannot do any kind of work, governessing became the only possible occupation for high-class women that lost their fathers (or husbands) and had no other way to support themselves. From everything I’ve read though it was still a very miserable way to live, because you weren’t one of the servants in the house but you also weren’t part of the family- so you were just alone, and with almost no marriage prospects, because a gentleman had better options and a working-class man would want a wife that was actually useful to him, not someone who was just preparing for marriage to a gentleman. (Successive finishing schools and governesses just churning out more Mrs.Bennet-types…)

The state of womens’ education was abysmal at this time, since again the upper class (and now, upper middle and middle class as they imitated the rich and fashionable) wanted their women to be purely decorative, so women would learn to speak a bit of some foreign languages, an instrument, a bit of painting and fancy needlework- but any practical skills that could potentially be put to use to work were forbidden. These same women, when they became governesses, were equally useless at teaching other girls- because you can’t educate your daughters to be good teachers at things like history, mathematics, geography, cooking, sewing, etc. or you’re implying you expect them to have to become governesses!* It’s an endless cycle of women receiving and perpetuating terrible educations. And once a governess gets too old, she has no marriage prospects and few skills, and they often died in poverty at that point. (In earlier centuries, a governess was only for the very wealthy, so they were paid well, well-educated, and could count on receiving support even after ‘retirement’ or being kept on for multiple generations, and sometimes even became friends with their pupils or were considered family, but that’s not how an upper-middle class Victorian family saw their household staff)

*the exception was usually daughters of clergy, who were in a weird limbo of being considered well-bred but also grew up expecting to work, so they usually received a bit better education as children themselves. But most women suddenly finding themselves needing to work as governesses had generally gone to finishing schools instead, which taught “ladylike” skills on the assumption that you would never need to work or support yourself financially. (Even with the reality that there weren’t nearly enough eligible bachelors wealthy enough to support all these girls and their social-ladder-climbing ambitions… yikes.)

If none of them married, how desperate would the Bennett girls actually have been?

Well the only dowry they have is £50 apiece from their mother’s small inheritance, per year; so that’s a total of £250 generated by Mrs. Bennet’s inherited investments per annum.

The Dashwoods (four women) are living on £500 a year when they are forced to live in Barton Cottage (with good-will making the rent presumably ridiculously low thanks to Sir John Middleton’s good nature, to say nothing of all the dinners and outings he invites the ladies to, which will help them economize on housekeeping costs for heavier meals.)

So there would be six Bennet women left to live on half as much as the Dashwoods are barely scraping by on. £250 is roughly considered enough to keep ONE gentleman at a barely-genteel level of leisure (presuming he does not keep a horse or estate or have any major expenses beyond securing his own lodgings/clothes/meals at a level becoming of a gentleman.)

None of the Bennet girls have been educated well enough for them to be governesses to support themselves, so…yes, their situation would heavily rely on mega-charity from others to just help them survive, much less maintain them in the lifestyle they’ve been accustomed to. The Dashwood women have NO social life beyond the outings provided by Sir John and the offer of Mrs. Jennings to host the older girls in London–otherwise they’d be stuck in their cottage, meeting absolutely no eligible men, creating a cycle of being poor and unmarried and too poor to meet anyone with money they could marry.

If the Bennet girls don’t at least have ONE of them marry well enough to help the rest before their father dies, they are really, truly, deeply fucked.

They may joke about beautiful Jane being the saviour of the family, but…it’s true. Mr. Bennet failed his daughters several times over in A) presuming he’d have a son, B) not saving money independently from his income to support his family after his death when it became clear he wasn’t going to have a son, C) not educating them well enough to enable them to support themselves in even in the disagreeable way of being a governess, D) not making any effort to escort his daughters to London or even local assemblies to help their matrimonial chances because he just doesn’t feel like it, E) throwing up his hands and shrugging when faced with the crises of Mr. Collins and Wickham.

Much as we are relieved on a romantic level that Mr. Bennet’s support of Elizabeth saves her from parental pressure to accept Mr. Collins, Mrs. Bennet is NOT A DICK for pushing for the match, because on a material level it very much means they get to KEEP THEIR HOUSE and gain a connection to the powerful patron Lady Catherine de Bourgh, which could be VERY advantageous for the other unmarried girls.

And the scandal of Wickham very nearly scuppers the chances of ANY of the other girls, and Wickham is a further DRAIN on the family finances, not a man who is going to substantially be able to support them. It is SUCH a disaster, and of course there’s not much Mr. Bennet can do until they are found, but he’s away in London and doing…what, exactly? Mr. Gardiner takes over and manages everything and Mr. Bennet seems happy to just let him.

Mr. Bennet does the ABSOLUTE LEAST, and actively damages his children’s futures by his inaction AND by his one action to support Lizzie’s individual needs being prioritized over the collective gain, which…I mean, Lizzie is going to be JUST as homeless and destitute as her sisters when he dies, so much good being Dad’s Favourite is going to do her. :/

[pakki-ya-nahin]

Mrs.Bennet watching Jane and Bingley at the Meryton ball

Pride and Prejudice Meme(6)

[the-fox-knows]

Passing of Time

Prelude to Change (1)

Everyone has their thing. That specific detail of their life that defines more than just their personality and their likes and dislikes. It is something that resonates within them, giving a sort of meaning that only they alone can understand. It is something that has always been around, but with the rise of pop culture it has become bountiful as well as instantaneous. What I speak of are stories.

Stories have been something that have been in existence since the dawn of time; influencing and inspiring those that it touches. For some it is charging the Black Gates of Mordor with Members of the Fellowship; or travelling through space and time in a curious blue box; or perhaps sipping tea with stiff upper lips in the company of the Dowager Countess Grantham.

For me, it is sharing the walks of Elizabeth Bennet and experiencing all the changeable emotions that carry her through the book until the very end when she and Mr. Darcy come together in blissful union. All expectations of happiness and love fulfilled.

The only problem with that is it has altered my perception of reality, thus ruining my love life. When men like Mr. Darcy, Knightley, and Tilney are lingering in my mind it’s hard to not compare them to men of my general acquaintance. Especially those who are brave enough to ask me out. Not to say I'm a particular catch, in fact I’m quite the reverse as I am the proud owner of a reputation that precedes me. While I may not be as extreme as Jane Hayes from Austenland nor guilty of having hallucinations of the back of my shower being a doorway leading to the Bennet’s household, I am known to be a most . . . enthusiastic fan of the Austen era. To summate the meaning of my dedication to the long dead authoress and her equally inanimate heroes the blokes that do take me to the pub around the corner are not quick to repeat the offer in any way, shape, or form. 

I don't consider it much of a loss. I have my hopes for men more romantic then the sole aim to get me to the nearest ale house and then, well...

Though, I suppose I'm not being fair. There was one who was different from the others. But it was finished with my mistake.

Mum worries though; she's always been one for grandchildren and as I’m her only child all her hopes rest on my reproductive organs. Every now and then, when I visit, she'll bring out my old cot for a 'dusting' as she tells me of the new couples that are filling the flats around hers. I usually keep my thoughts to myself at these points in time. At least she's not like Mrs. Bennet. She doesn't arrange blind dates for me or push me to get close to my GP or some of the other things that would be the norm of a modern day Mrs. B. My mum let's me do things in my own time, though she does like to give me little reminders of the ticking clock.

I can't help remind myself of that same ticking clock, but I'm stubborn and have high expectations. What woman doesn't after a generous dollop of Jane Austen. In all fairness, it's that lady’s fault.

I reckon I should properly introduce myself seeing as I'm rambling to strangers about the goings on of my personal life. You should at least have a name. It's Sophie Devon, named after my great-aunt on my dad's side. I've never met her, but I'm told that I have similar features to her so I guess inheriting her name is fitting. I'm a 23, almost 24, year old Londoner with a life not unlike thousands of others; not even my obsession of Austen is unique, though when not with like minded people it can sometimes feel like I am the only one who appreciates the lady’s writings in this modern age. And since it is rare that I am with like minded people I feel myself clinging to my dreams and imaginings stronger and stronger.

When I am forced to detach myself from my telly, filled of Mr. Darcy glowering at all he sees, I can be found working my days in an office — HR to be exact — and what more can I say on that subject other than - Agh! I complain but it's not all bad. My mate, Jules, works just a few desks down within talking distance and is my polar opposite. She has no qualms with men in general, pubs round the corner, or the ... 

But you know what they say about opposites and attraction.

The day was Friday and when I had woken that morning nothing suggested itself to me of a mystical nature. Everything was as it had been everyday before and, to my mind, it would continue in that fashion.

It was December and the annul office Christmas party was that night. It was a thing of mild excitement. I avoided it, but some around the office have assured me that it has improved since the last time I attended.

"Sophe, you going to the office party tonight?" Jules asked across a few drooping heads.

My computer screen showed me that I shouldn't, that I should prepare myself for a long night and wake up tomorrow with the workload considerably lighter and my weekend freer.

"Are you going?" I looked up. She shrugged and spun lazily in her chair. Our co-workers were in varying states of attention. Slack hands holding up nodding heads and drooping eyes only staying open by the sprightly voice of Jules. Friday's were never fast around here.

"I was thinking of it. Dan will be there." She mentioned the name with something of playfulness in her voice.

"Dan is always at those things. It's not surprising," I said, bringing my eyes back to the lit screen. Jules, however, had caught the scent and was intent on pursuing it.

"He said he'd look out for you. Maybe save you a dance."

I gave her a look which she only laughed at. "Fine. Don't dance with Dan. Break his heart some more."

"Keep your voice down, would you," I whispered, darting my eyes around to make sure that no one was paying too much attention to our conversation. I really wished Jules understood the concept of 'there's a time and a place.' Unfortunately for me, she was yet to make that discovery.

"Please, they're all half dead anyway," she motioned widely with an arm.

"Yes, but it's the other half that you have to watch out for," came the quiet voice of Jonny. He sat in the corner of the wide office space and was one of the few who was still diligently working. He paused his typing fingers to look over at us with a smirk. Jules was highly amused by this and let out a crowing laugh as she spun in a full circle, sitting slouched in her chair. I too, found myself smiling.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"So, is it a yes or a no?"The glass doors of the building opened for us and we were hit with a cold blast of air. Winter was well on its way and people all around were bundled snugly. I had my own scarf wrapped tightly around my neck while my hat was pulled low over my ears. I groaned in answer to her question.

"Oh, come on, Sophe. If it's because I teased you about Dan, I'm sorry. But don't let it stop you coming and having a good time."

I stopped and had to give her an arch look. "An office party? A good time?"

"Hey, for you that would be living it up." She hooked her arm through mine and forced me to keep walking.

"Why the sudden urge to go to this Party? You've never been this keen before."

Jules was capable of many things; running every morning before work, applying make-up flawlessly in under five minutes, fooling co-workers into covering for her while she slipped off to treat herself for a longer lunch break. The one thing she was not able to do was lie to me and she knew it.

"Look, I'm worried for you."

I sighed but she went on more strongly. "Ever since you and Dan split you've become more of a recluse."

"I have not," I interrupted. Now it was her turn to give me a look, though it smoothed quickly into one of sympathy.

"I understand. You were never easy to please with all your 'Austen Standards,' and then Dan happens and you began acting like a regular human being.”

I snorted.

"But it’s been six months. That's half a year," She implored.

"I am aware of the amount of time that six months elapses," I mumbled.

"So don't you think it's time to start testing the waters again?"

I didn't answer her straight away and after a huffy sigh, she didn't push for a response. We got onto the tube and remained silent, each contemplating our own matters. She had probably dropped the argument thinking it hopeless. I, on the other hand, was repeating her words through my mind. Everything she said was true. Dan had been great and I had relinquished (somewhat) my grip-hold on Pride and Prejudice and the implacable gentleman that was Fitzwilliam Darcy.

But then I had screwed it up and let my own obsession cloud my judgement. Trying to change someone, especially when that person doesn't need changing, is always a mistake. A horrible mistake.

Jules and I got off the tube and walked the few yards it was to the flat we shared. The jingle of my keys alerted Jax to our presence and, as per usual, we walked in to see him siting right in front of the door, swishing his fluffy white tail.

"Hi Jax," I greeted. The dainty cat ran over and arched his back, happy to accept the petting. Jules walked past and dumped her purse on the chair nearest the front door; her clacking pumps leading her to the small kitchen. 

She and Jax had never seen eye to eye. I had found him sheltering under the flap of a damp cardboard box in the pouring rain looking very forlorn. He had clearly been underfed and had no tags so I had no apprehensions in tucking him under the safety of my raincoat and bringing him back home.

Two years later he's my shadow and sleeps gratefully on the edge of my pillow.

"And how have you been today?" I cooed in a voice I knew annoyed my flatmate. He nuzzled his head against my hand and let out a loud purr.

"Yes. Let's get you some dinner." 

I unwrapped my scarf and doffed my hat, adding it to the pile on the chair; my handbag acting as the cherry on top before I followed Jules to the kitchen. Jax trailed behind, rumbling like a little motor.

"Ugh. Does he have to walk all over the worktop?" she asked, distastefully eyeing the white fluff that had jumped up and was pacing beside the sink.

"Come on, Jax. Down." I clapped my hands and motioned for him to jump to the floor. He did as he was told and began twining in an out of my legs.

"You should really teach him not to do that," Jules said, scooting out of the kitchen. "You'll trip over him." 

A second later the telly was on and I heard the tune to EastEnders fill the flat.

"I won't trip over you, will I?" I smiled. He only pawed at my leg, entreating me to hurry with his food. I grabbed a can from the cupboard, popped the lid, and served the cat food in Jax's personal bowl.

"I'm going to take a shower," I called out to Jules. She mindlessly waved her hand in acknowledgement.

After a weeks work of the same routine - point A to point B and back to point A - it was nice to just sit a moment with my eyes closed, lying on my bed.

The weekends to me always presented possibilities. My time spent during the week always seemed so formal, so laid out with a lack of possibilities of alterations. My job was a senseless one. It was automatic with a ready made solution to any problem that may arise. There was no testing my abilities nor a need for my brain to think past the boundaries of the four walls of the office. I wanted something different - only I didn't know what it was yet. But it was out there, just like my Mr. Darcy. Patience is all that is required.

With one thought leading to another in a hazy circle of remembering all that had happened that week and what I needed to do to prepare for the next, I opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Jax came up a moment later, joining me as he fit himself in the nook of my shoulder and neck. Idly, I stroked his fur.

‘Perhaps I should go to the party,’ the thought snuck its way into my considerations. It wouldn't hurt and if Jules was entering the realms of being 'worried' then it would be a step closer to putting her anxieties to rest. And if Dan does come and ask for a dance (though, I'd wager it was only Jules saying that) then I'll deal with it in the mature way that I know I'm capable of. After all, I work in bloody HR. I have ready material in dealing with other humans.

With my mind made up, I discarded my clothes and stepped into the shower. The warm water soothed my chilled skin and once I had lathered my body with soap I stood under the spout letting the streams of water run down my shoulders and back. It was numbingly pleasant to just stand there and feel the hot steam build in the room creating a faux sauna that I hoped would seep to the rest of the flat.

When I had finally finished I could hear Jules rummaging around both our cupboards, no doubt searching for something to wear. "You can wear my blue top if you want," I called as I squirmed into my robe and switched on the hairdryer, blasting the warm air into my face. The sooner I warmed up, the better.

"The one with the sweetheart neck?"

"Yeah."

I ruffled my medium length hair, aiming the warm air at the nape of my neck, sending a jolt of gooseflesh down my arms.

"What do you think?" Jules appeared at the door holding up a pair of slim black trousers and the blue sweetheart neck-lined blouse.

"Nice."

"Oh," She slumped her arms, frowning.

"More than nice," I amended, shouting over the droll of the machine in my hand. "The blue will really bring out your eyes."

Said eyes lit up as she examined her outfit. I examined her with furrowed brows.

"You're really putting an effort into tonight," I commented nonchalantly. My hair was becoming relatively dry so I turned the hairdryer off and put it away.

"Well, you know, it's good to make an appearance to show..." she looked up for a second but immediately brought her gaze back down to the clothes as I watched, amused, as she struggled for the word that could possibly explain why she was so eager for an office party.

"...togetherness," she came up with at last.

I turned away, trying my best to hide the grin that was widening fast. "Togetherness," I repeated. From the corner of my eye I saw Jules shift uncomfortably. She was on the verge. Just a second longer.

"Oh, shut up. It's Henry, alright," she blurted.

Sweet victory.

"Henry Ellis from I.T.?"

"Yeah," she came in and sat on the closed lid of the toilet.

"He's been helping me with my computer, as you know, and I don't know. I hadn't really looked at him before - he's not re-"

"Really your type," I finished for her.

"But he's been very sweet," she continued, "and I was hoping that tonight - "

"Tonight you might have the chance to see what he shaves with tomorrow?" I interrupted again.

"No," she said immediately. Then she cringed a little. "Well, maybe a bit. But I don't want it to be just one night. I -" she hesitated.

"Yes?" I stopped my flossing and stared at Jules's reflection in the mirror. She looked up, shrugging her shoulders.

"I want to know him."

I didn't answer at first. I wasn't at a loss of words, but I knew Jules and I knew her temperament. If I gave her a sweet sappy line she'd huff to cover up her moment of vulnerability. Strange ways does the mind work. So I waited for her to follow up.

"That's one of the reasons I wanted you to come tonight."

I tossed the floss into the rubbish bin, slid my tongue smoothly over my clean teeth, and turned to face my uncomfortable friend on the toilet.

"Not to worry, dear one," I playfully patted her head, "I'm coming with you." I then pranced out, leaving her on the throne and went to search for something decent to wear.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

My memory of the last office party was a pathetic one. Half the people were drunk and the other half were on their way there. The dancing had been non-existent unless you counted bodies loosely pressed together moving in a lazy circle, looking more like two forms just trying to keep each other propped up. The food had been passable but the music was the playlist of a fifteen year old hormonal teenager.

That was three years ago. Presently, I had to admit that improvements had been made. There was a tolerable amount of alcohol but not enough to get the entire gathering inebriated; actual couples were dancing in rhythm to the music, which was, thankfully, pleasant to the ears. The only thing that remained the same was the food. But still everyone had something in their mouths; eating mainly because it was there rather than anything else.

Jules, never a timid one, and bolstered by my accompanying her, had succeeded in getting Henry to ask her to dance. Though he seemed very willing. She winked at me with a flirtatious smile spreading winningly across her face as they passed by me. I rolled my eyes and turned away. Best not to encourage any bad behaviour on her part.

Night stood guard at the windows; dark, yet brilliantly illuminated by the added lights of the season, providing its glow even to us who were on the seventh floor. Pedestrians, cars, double-deckers, and all the rest of the multitudes that made up London’s lifeblood looked incredibly small from this height.  

As of yet, I'd seen no hint of Dan. I nearly convinced myself that I wasn't looking for him, but by the time the doors leading to the hall opened for the tenth time and my head spun around to see who it was coming in, I knew that, despite my best efforts, I was anticipating him.

My plastic cup was in need of refilling so I slowly took my time to the punch table. There was only one other person there handling the ladle but they were quick with filling up their cup and walking away. I stepped forward and reached for the handle when my hand collided with someone else's.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't see - " I looked up to be met with a grinning Dan. He was the same as ever; great hair, charming smile, big blue eyes and all it did was remind me of how stupid I had been.

"Hi Dan," I attempted calm, therefore it was unwise of me to reach for the ladle again. You would think that I'd be used to seeing him as we work in the same building, but our offices are on different floors so our paths rarely crossed. With neither of us seeking each other out as we used to, we could go a good month before we caught sight of each other.

"Hey Sophe," he gently pulled the ladle from my clumsy grip and poured out the punch into my waiting cup. He then did the same for himself.

"How are you?" he asked, not looking at me.

"I'm good. You?"

"Oh, you know. I'm always fine." He deposited the ladle and took a sip of the warm liquid.

"I see Jules is still making her conquests." He motioned with his cup towards the pair now with their arms completely wrapped around each other. I couldn't help but laugh, feeling much lighter as I did so.

"Yes, well, she claims her intentions are entirely honourable. I guess we'll just have to take her word for it."

"Ooh, always a dangerous thing to do," he said. Setting down his cup, he extended his open hand to me. I looked at it blankly.

"Care to?" he asked. I raised my eyes to his - thinking. He watched the wheels turning just beyond the barrier of flesh and bone, waiting with a slow smile touching just the side of his lips. Steeling myself, I hastily placed my cup beside his and accepted his hand.

He led us to the side of the dancing, no doubt remembering my shyness in the area of 'movin' and groovin'. The song currently playing came to an end and was succeeded by a much slower one. I gulped inconspicuously as I felt his hand come round my waist while his other held my right hand in a firm hold. We swayed slightly, moving in an easy circle. I kept my attention on the dancers, too nervous to look up into Dan's face. I knew he had his eyes on me, I could feel it and it just brought back old emotions and feelings that stung with a prevalence that brought a guilty flavour to my mouth.

The hand on my waist tugged me just a tad closer and I put my hands softly on his chest; finally looking up at him.

"I'm sorry, but I can't. I'm just...not ready yet." All my HR training left me to deal with my personal life. Suppose fair's fair when I never liked the job anyway.

He dropped his hold on me and nodded once, an accepting expression appeared on his face that wasn't quite a grin, but he tried nevertheless. Step by step I retreated, continuing to apologize.

"I'll see you around," I finished weakly. He let out a good-humoured bark and shook his head.

"You won't. But it was nice to see you tonight, Soph."

I smiled. "You too."

I slipped behind some dancers and went in search of Jules. I found her and Henry sitting closely together at a table in the corner. They were oblivious to the rest of the room and were completely unaware of my presence standing not a foot away.

"Ahem," I dramatically cleared my throat.

"Sophe," Jules tore her attention away from Henry, an apparently difficult task to accomplish.

"I think I'm going to go home," I told her. That gained a larger portion of her attention."

"What? Why?"

"Headache," I lied. "I'll see you later." I saw that she was of two minds; she clearly wanted to get the truth from me, but neither did she want to let Henry slip away.

"Alright, see you later then," she decided, though her eyes told me that she'd be asking later. I nodded, bid the pair goodnight, and then began the trek home.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jax was cuddled up snugly in my arms, purring contentedly. I couldn't say I shared his ease of mind. Though I did have a remedy for it. 

Pride & Prejudice was loading within the antique chambers of our dated television; a mug of hot cocoa was held comfortably in both my hands, and my favorite red blanket was draped over my knees. The expansive sofa was as comfy as ever.

"Ahh," I sighed, already relaxing as the first notes of the 1995 theme of the mini-series played out of the telly. Time past and I was on the third episode, wishing that I could enter that world and escape from all things modern; jobs; relationships; food (well, some food), when my bladder made itself known. Jax was none to pleased at having to depart from his warm spot, but he didn't have much say in the matter.

I slid down the cramped hall in my socks and consequently nearly lost my balance. With my duty done, I washed up and was just walking back into the sitting room when I unexpectedly tripped over something and came tumbling to the floor. My head painfully grazed the side of the wall and I saw stars momentarily. When my vision cleared I looked to see what it was that had tripped me.

"Jax!" I exclaimed. An ironic laugh escaped my lips as I thought back to Jules's earlier comment just this day.

"Our flatmate may have some hidden powers Jax. Unless it's only that you can understand us and thought it would be a good idea to prove her right."

I scooped him up, bringing ourselves back to the sofa. My head spun suddenly, though, and I had to shut my eyes as I dropped down on the cushions. Jax squirmed out of my arms and went somewhere behind me. I lowered my head into my hands and grumbled out Jax's name in a very accusatory tone. My only response was a loud purr.

"Well this won't do." 

I opened my eyes and cautiously made my way to the kitchen in search of some paracetamol. Finding my target, I turned the cold tap on and filled a glass to the brim. Popping the tablet into my mouth, I had the water chase it down.

Meanwhile, I noticed the suspect lounging luxuriously on my red blanket, grooming himself with gusto, utterly unaware of my glaring eyes. I turned the telly off, yanked the blanket from under him and stumbled to my room, catching the shocked growl. I smirked.

My bed welcomed me while my pillow enveloped my spinning head in soft comfort. The edge of my mattress dipped slightly, announcing the disgruntled presence of Jax. Though a bit miffed, he still curled himself up by my head.

"Night, night Jax," I murmured.

Sleep claimed me swiftly, yet my dreams were turbulent with shifting images of Jules, Dan, Henry, Pride & Prejudice, and a shadowy version of Mr. Darcy made up entirely of animate sentences — everything that had been swirling in my subconscious for the past twenty-four hours. The strangest part came when I appeared to be in a dark, circular tunnel moving fast. I could see nothing distinguishable to prove this, although there was a whip-like wind rushing into and past my face. The speed almost became overwhelming and I felt myself starting to waken.

But suddenly there was a light coming from the other end of the tunnel. I watched as it seemed that this light and myself would collide, though I was surprisingly calm about it. The light grew closer and from its glow I saw a figure flying towards me. It was a young woman, probably near to my own age, with rich brown hair and shining eyes. I didn't notice much else as she and I were about to crash. We both saw the other and looks of astonishment passed our features before all went black and my sleep continued undisturbed.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The sun streamed into my room, sprawling across my bed and shining strongly onto my closed eyelids. I lifted my arm to cover my face and rolled on my side reaching for Jax.

"Jax?" 

I moved my hand around with my eyes still shut. When I couldn't feel him, I opened my eyes and looked around.

I was struck immediately by the foreign room I was currently lying in. The furniture were all antiques, though to my untrained eyes, the pieces were in wonderful condition. There was a wash stand in the corner and an ewer sitting beside it. A small writing desk was positioned near a display of windows and the bed that I lay stunned in was a four poster with sheets and covers that were definitely not mine.

I blinked. Then blinked again. I rubbed my eyes and another wave of shock hit me. Instead of the loose jumper and baggy trousers I wore to bed, I was presently dressed in a nightgown with flared cuffs.

"What?!" I breathed.

There was no sign of my red blanket nor Jax. But one thing at a time. Gingerly, I uncovered my legs and swung them out of the bed. Crumpled slippers lay waiting to be worn so I complied and stood shakily on my feet. My head felt better in regards to the fall last night, but with my new surroundings an all new sort of dizziness was coming over me.

'Maybe I'm still dreaming,' I thought. I pinched myself. 

"Ow!" 

Not dreaming then.

I rubbed the sore skin on my arm as I warily walked over to the writing desk. There were a couple of quills, a spare nib and an ink stand, but no papers. Pulling open the drawers I found a trove of letters. Before I scanned any of them my attention was caught by the view provided outside the window.

The city was gone. Buildings, lights, noise - vanished and replaced with the quiet calm of the country.

"What the -?" My voice scratched but I ignored it. Before allowing myself to freak out fully I picked up a letter, unsent by the look of its creaseless body,on the very top. It was addressed to a ‘Dear aunt’ but it was the signature at the bottom that numbed my fingers and had me seriously questioning my sanity.

Your loving niece

~Elizabeth Bennet

"Elizabeth Bennet?" I whispered. The letter fell from my hand with a quiet shuffle as I spun around to observe the room anew. Quaint, simple, elegant, things generally acquainted with the heroine. Atop the wash stand there was a mirror and I tripped over to it.

I thought I might scream. Not only was the city gone - I was gone. This face that stared at me in the reflection was not my own. The brown hair, the big brown eyes belonged to somebody else. The curving lips and pert nose were the expressions of another person entirely.

"What?!"

Hands that were not mine obeyed my thoughts and brought the limbs up to clasp the face of the stranger's, pulling it in every direction.

"What the hell is happening?" I said a tad louder. The hands grasped the throat and the big brown eyes widened. It wasn't even my voice!

I stumbled back until the back of my knees met the curve of the bed and I sat down, or, should I say the body sat down.

I was scared. I was scared of where I was. I was scared to leave the room. I didn't know what may be out there, so I deliberated. I thought of last night and a torrent of memories flooded back of all the strange dreams I had had. 

That tunnel with that girl. 

It was her! 

That was Elizabeth Bennet?!

"That means," I said aloud, marveling at the strange tone that emitted from me, "I'm in Elizabeth Bennet's body!"

Once spoken my mind reeled and I had no choice but to fall back and pass out.

[mametupa]

[cosmixoracle]

I'm watching the BBC version of pride&prejudice and everytime Mrs.Bennet speaks I die a little on the inside.

[cookingdramawithmrsbennet]

Baking Shrewsbury Cakes with Mrs.Bennet

Ingredients:

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened

1 egg, beaten

1/2 tsp ground nutmeg

1/4 tsp cinnamon

1 tsp rose water

Before we get to my delightful instructions, let me share a most shocking affront that has quite set my nerves on edge! That vexing Mr. Darcy had the audacity, the audacity, I say, to insult MY Elizabeth! He dared to call her "only tolerable" and refused to dance with her at the Meryton assembly. My Elizabeth! The most charming, beautiful, and accomplished girl in all of Hertfordshire! Who, in their right mind, could look at her and find her only tolerable? Such arrogance, such conceit, I am nearly faint with indignation!

But no matter! Back to baking you go, for there is no use dwelling on such disagreeable men when we have cakes to prepare and happier matters to attend to.

Instructions:

Preheat your oven to a moderate heat .

Cream the butter and sugar together until smooth.

Mix in the egg and rose water.

Sift the flour, nutmeg, and cinnamon, then gradually combine with the wet ingredients to form a dough.

Roll the dough on a floured surface to about 1/4-inch thickness. Cut into rounds or shapes of your choice.

Place on the baking sheet and bake for 10–12 minutes until lightly golden. Let cool before serving.

Did You Know?

Shrewsbury Cakes are traditional English biscuits from Shrewsbury, Shropshire, dating back to the 16th century. Believed to be created by baker Edward Burton, they became popular during the Elizabethan era. Made with butter, sugar, flour, eggs, and spices like nutmeg or cinnamon, they’re firm, crumbly, and often flavored with rosewater or lemon zest.

By the 17th century, they were a favorite travel snack and renowned across England. Today, they remain a beloved symbol of English baking heritage, cherished for their simple yet elegant taste and historical charm.

[myfandomistingling]

Mr.Bennet: "I don't have a favourite child!"

Mrs.Bennet: "Lydia is missing!"

Mr.Bennet:"Who?"

[dancingchopines]

On my latest reread of Pride and Prejudice, I noticed multiple ways both Mrs.Bennet and Mr.Bennet failed to help their daughters make good marriages. 

1.The meager dowries. Their small dowries are brought up of course in context of how their parents never saved enough because they kept expecting to have a son who would then be able to keep the estate in the family and the girls wouldn’t need to marry quite so urgently to provide for themselves. This still strikes me as a bad plan even if they had had a son? Imagine that there had been one son, born after Lydia, and now this poor boy would have to help five older sisters get married off, with years of little accumulation of dowry money???? If an estate isn’t being entailed away, as we see from the comments of Charlotte Lucas’ younger brothers cheering when she (finally, by the time period standards) got married, it still would have been burdensome. The parents should have been saving a better amount for each daughter regardless.

2.Not properly educating them. Now Lady Catherine de Bourgh says many inappropriate things but I definitely agree with her that not getting a governess for the Bennet girls was a terrible idea. Once it became clear that there would be no son and their dowries would be small from poor planning, everything now depended on these girls being able to get good spouses. Shouldn’t then they have been educated to have been as ideal spouses as possible? This is like wanting your kids to get into college to best provide for themselves but not preparing for any entrance exams and doing that coursework. Instead, as Lizzy retorts to Lady Catherine, the girls had masters in subjects if they wished. As we readers see, none of the Bennet daughters are really educated in skills, socially or housework, to the standards of the time. They’re not proficient in the arts or socially(barring Lizzy and Jane in the latter).

3.Not exposing them to enough candidates. Mr.Darcy at one point mentions how society in Meryton in less varying than in London. At another point Lizzy says they the family never went into London because her father did not like being in town.  So it is established that new people don’t often come into the area and that the Bennets had the money to be in London to some degree but only did not due to Mr.Bennet’s presence. How then, are all five girls supposed to find suitable husbands without sufficient society to move in? 

4.The inappropriate behavior of the Bennet family, parents and children. This is the most emphasized of my points in the actual novel so I am just including it for completionism but I won’t elaborate on it.

In summary, besides the overtly improper behavior of the Bennet family and the small dowries mentioned in the book, the Bennet parents deeply failed to make good matches for their daughters and in my opinion it is frankly a combination miracle plus testament to their characters that Jane and Lizzy made the matches that they did.

[aduialel]

I love this! Who could be better Caroline than Gollum. 😂

I might wish to change the roles of Thorin and Thranduil but it's so easy to see Thranduil as a seducer and a charming well dressed rake, among other things. 👀😏

Hobbit characters as Pride and Prejudice characters

Note: its just pure fun, noo hate  …………………………………………………… Thorin as Mr. Darcy

Thranduil as Mr. Wickham

Gandalf  as Mr. Bennett

Fili as Jane Bennett

Kili as Kitty Bennett

Bilbo as Charles Bingley

Gollum as Caroline Bingley