#hslw chapter commentary

[cocoscurios]

Me: I'm so busy, I need to finish a few projects.

Also me: So we should definitely start a new project then?

Anyway, chapter-by-chapter commentary for The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words, starting now!

Chapter One: A Place to Call Home Fun fact: I originally planned for The Hour to be a series of drabbles (I was writing Important Nothings at the time and wanted to do a Darcy/Elizabeth project in the same style). I very quickly changed direction when I realized I had a ton of material ready to go in the form of a million D/E scraps accumulated over years of writing about these two idiots. Also, I had no idea what to use for a chapter title here, but I was working in a library at that point, and A Place to Call Home was an enormously popular series with our patrons (I put those DVDs away so. many. times.). Voila, chapter title.

The newlywed Darcys had, at last, arrived at Pemberley, and Fitzwilliam had dismissed the servants.

“I will show Mrs. Darcy around the place,” he had said.

Elizabeth glowed with happiness at the words Mrs. Darcy, and Mrs. Reynolds had positively beamed at the pair of them. Mrs. Reynolds is lowkey the hero of Pride and Prejudice, and, let's be real, she ships Elizabeth/Darcy harder than any of us.

Fitzwilliam offered her his hand. “Shall we?”

She took it with a smile and allowed him to lead her up the stairs, giggling as his pace increased and he took the top few steps at a run.

He turned around to look at her, his face shining with a boyish delight that she had never seen before.

“What would you like to see first?” he asked.

“Oh, I do believe I should inspect everything,” said Elizabeth archly. “The mistress of Pemberley ought to, you know.”

He smiled at this phrase. “I quite agree.” Some Courtney Lore that I have alluded to: my best friend and I came up with elaborate backstories and headcanons and scenarios for pretty much everything in Austen, and especially P&P, and this scene has lived in my mind, in one form or another, since I was about sixteen. We basically plotted out The Newlywed Tour as a way to thoroughly map Pemberley. I could draw up the blueprints if I had to. 

And so he did show her around the place, all of the rooms that she had seen before, and many, many more that she had not.

“I am a bit frightened, Fitzwilliam, of getting lost in your house.” 

“Our house,” he corrected. “And you will learn your way around soon enough.”

“That is very true,” she said. “And after all, I do not intend to be apart from you long enough to have the chance to lose my way, so I shall always have a guide.”

The tour was very enjoyable, but still more was the pleasure of feeling her hand in his, and of hearing his obvious gratification in speaking of Pemberley, his eager anticipation of showing her all of his favorite spots in the house and on the grounds, and his wish for her to see them all to their best advantage. She let the sound of his voice wash over her as he told her of names, and dates, and events, content to listen and to admire him equally as well as the estate.

He led her to yet another door, pausing slightly before opening it. They stepped into an elegant, airy sort of room with a spectacular view. 

“This was my mother’s favorite room,” he said softly. I'll explore it eventually, but my headcanon is that Darcy's relationship with his mother was much more complicated than with his father. It wasn't bad! He loved her very much! But the dynamic was complex! 

“It is beautiful,” Elizabeth breathed, leaning into his arm and taking in the sight. The windows were large, offering a delightful prospect of the grounds glistening with snow, and it would be an even more magnificent sight in the full bloom of spring. It seemed a serene, restful space; she could easily see why Lady Anne had loved this room. I struggle with writing descriptions of places. I vividly recall trying to write about this damn room, when all I wanted was to put IT'S BREATHTAKING, THIS IS A BIG GESTURE, LET'S MOVE ON. I'm just saying, this mediocre paragraph took ages and caused me physical pain. 

“I would like for you to have it.” He had watched her intently and seen all the delight that had passed over her face.

She looked up at him, startled. 

“Oh, no, if it was your mother’s favorite, it should stay as it is." She thought of his father’s favorite room, kept so perfectly that the miniature of Wickham still remained. One of those details about Darcy that I find endlessly fascinating. I want to know how often he goes into that room; if he avoids it entirely or averts his eyes from That Man when he's in there or if he just grits his teeth and bears it.   "I could not possibly--”

“Georgiana and I have already discussed it,” he said, looking at her earnestly. “This has not been our mother’s sitting room for a very long time. If you like it, it is yours.” Headcanon about Darcy is that he includes Georgiana in a lot of this sort of decision-making. 

“I do like it,” said Elizabeth, touched.

“It is settled then.” 

He squeezed her hand gently, looking pleased. She took one last look at the room before they shut the door once more. The view really was breathtaking, and it was hers. The house was hers. This wonderful, honorable, good man was hers. What had she done to deserve such happiness?

Lost in these thoughts, she scarcely noticed that Fitzwilliam had paused again, looking wistful.

“Georgiana and I used to race down this passage,” he said, smiling slightly at the reminiscence. 

Elizabeth looked at him with amazement.

“When?” she asked. She was unable to picture it.

“It would have been when I was about sixteen or so,” he said, “just after my mother died. Georgiana was four. My father--” he hesitated. “That was a difficult period for all of us. I spent most of my time with Georgiana. It seemed to bring her some happiness, and we spent hours up here.” He gave a crooked little smile. “We made a great deal of noise and destroyed our stockings." Darcy is the best big brother ever, guys. I'm not sure what else to tell you.

And Elizabeth could picture it now: her husband, so much younger than she had ever known him, comforting his little sister by running up and down this passage, laying aside his own grief to help relieve hers. There were so many little things like this that she did not know about him; a seemingly endless stream of evidence to prove how kind he had been for so long, how rightfully beloved he had been to the people in his life, how badly she herself had misjudged him. The Mrs. Reynolds chapter in canon is SO IMPORTANT. Darcy is good and kind and generous to his people. He is not a complete jerk, totally reformed by Elizabeth. He is a situational jerk, rightfully shamed by Elizabeth to extend his natural goodness outside of his comfort zone. ;)

...Sorry, that's a pet peeve.

She wanted to know everything. 

They continued to wander through Pemberley, looking into more rooms than Elizabeth could count, and eventually found themselves at the top of another sweeping staircase.

“My father and I used to slide down this balustrade when I was a boy,” Fitzwilliam said fondly. “It is the best one in the house.” BLATANT HOMAGE TO ELLA ENCHANTED. Not even an homage. BLATANT STEALING FROM ELLA ENCHANTED. Ella/Char was my first real OTP (Felicity Merriman/Ben Davidson predates it, but I didn't have the terminology then. I've been a hopeless romantic since I was about six). I was thrilled to learn recently that Gail Carson Levine had some elements of Elizabeth and Darcy in mind with Ella and Char. Anyway, imagine your OTP, etc.

He smiled at Elizabeth’s expression. 

“I begin to believe, Fitzwilliam, that I shall never stop being surprised by you.” I think that Elizabeth loves this. 

This provoked from him a more mischievous look than she had imagined him capable of forming.

“I cannot always be serious,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “I will catch you at the bottom.”

With a laugh, she watched him go, feeling all of the privilege of seeing this side of him, and then followed him down. One of the things I return to, again and again, is Elizabeth getting a side of Darcy that few others see. It's just so warm, guys, I don't know. <3 

[cocoscurios]

The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words Chapter Commentary

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Orders

This chapter was one in which I had to employ My Process, which goes like this:

Brain: Write.

Me: I have no inspiration to write, and what is more, I have no motivation.

Brain: Write.

Me: I don't want to.

Brain: Write.

Me: FINE.

Then I proceed to open up a new document, but instead of writing anything, I use the nice, white, backlit background to look for split ends in my hair. This might take a while, for it is an activity that I find incredibly addictive. While I search for split ends, I think. You may suppose that I think about my beloved Austen characters and what they might be up to. You would suppose wrong. I think about whatever comes into my head, which is usually random song lyrics or what I should have said to that person five years ago. This is wildly inefficient and wastes criminal amounts of time, but it is an essential part of My Process.

Finally, I grow so ashamed of myself and my executive dysfunction that I write an entire chapter in one go. Is it any good? Who cares! That is a problem for Future Courtney, and words have been put on the page!

I then go get myself a little treat.

Anyway, guys, writing is difficult.

(The process, BTW, is totally different with inspiration or motivation - and even better with those two powers combined! - and I can sit and write for ages without stopping. Unfortunately, as we all know, adult ADD.)

Fitzwilliam’s brow was furrowed. His gaze was unfocused. His jaw was clenched. He was sitting very, very still.  My people are loud in their upsetedness, so when others experience Bad Emotion by being quiet, it freaks me out... and guess what kind of upset my husband gets. ;) (this chapter is too old for me to have known that, and, as previously mentioned, Jake is usually an Elizabeth)

Oh, no.

Elizabeth knew what this was. 

"Fitzwilliam, what are you thinking about?"

He seemed to come to himself slightly at the sound of her voice, but he still sounded a little vague. "What I said to you in Kent last spring." LET. IT. GO. MAN. 

Good heavens, the man could hang on to something for ages. Aaaaaages and ages. God bless Elizabeth. 

She sighed. "Disobeying my orders again, I see."

He merely looked at her.

"What have I told you about thinking of the past, Fitzwilliam?" She had never been able to raise one imperious eyebrow the way that he could. She should practice; it would be a useful skill to have. Alas, I share Elizabeth's struggle. 

“I told you that marrying you would be a degradation.”

She smirked. “Yes, you did.” I really do think that, now that everything has worked out, Elizabeth finds this hilarious. She has her own stupid words to eat, after all. 

He looked quite miserable. Darcy eventually forgives himself, but never truly sees the humor in the thing. 

“I recall saying some rather impolite things to you myself,” she said.

“Nothing as bad as that.”

“I accused you of gleefully destroying three people’s lives, my dear. Let us not pretend that I have been blameless.

He still looked unhappy. It was an argument that had never worked on him, a fact that Elizabeth found vexing. She had so entirely pardoned them both for their earlier behavior that she could not understand why he was determined to continue punishing himself.

“You are not allowed to be angry with yourself if I am not angry with you!” she said in exasperation.

He remained grim. He was settling in for a good self-flagellation, she could tell.

"Come here, Fitzwilliam."

He rose immediately. Elizabeth stood before him wearing her sternest expression; her arms were folded in front of her and she was drawn up to her full height. He was still at least a foot taller than she was. I am not immune to the height difference trope. Nor the "man does whatever the woman says because he's down so ridiculously bad" trope. 

"I am perfectly capable of chastising you, justly or unjustly, when I think you deserve it. There is no need for your penitence now.” She could not hold the forbidding look on her face for long; her resolve cracked and she grinned at him. “There is no pleasure in teasing you when you are like this, and that makes me far more upset than anything you might have said last April. An attentive husband would not refuse me my greatest entertainment.” She's so good at wifing, guys. This is such a brilliant way to get what she wants. 

That made him smile now, too; small and reluctant, to be sure, but she could work on that.

He could punish himself forever but he could never deny her. With his orders put in these new terms, she knew he would have an easier time obeying them. I think this was for some sort of prompt challenge, but I couldn't find what it was so I didn't mention it in the chapter notes. I do, however, recognize my style of hitting a prompt word hard and then underlining it. ;)

[cocoscurios]

The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words Chapter Commentary

Chapter Thirty-Four: Fine Eyes

“You should wear your blue coat,” said Elizabeth, scrutinizing all of the choices. “I like you best in blue. It brings out your eyes.” So, I can picture My Darcy very vividly and he looks nothing like any of the Screen Darcys (the only Screen Darcy I like, BTW, is Colin Firth, who looks best in green). This has nothing to do with this chapter, other than to note that My Darcy has blue eyes, the better to be brought out by a blue coat. She brushed an errant curl from her husband’s forehead. My Darcy absolutely has Colin Firth Darcy's hair, though. “You have very fine eyes, Fitzwilliam.”

Said fine eyes widened slightly; perhaps imperceptibly to anyone but her.

“What is it?”

“I have always referred to yours as fine eyes,” he said. “It is surprising to hear my own described thus.”

“Oh? And how long have you been thinking of my eyes, to have a phrase set aside for them?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him. You just know she uses those fine eyes to her advantage, once she learns how fixated he is. 

“Almost as long as I have known you.”

“I confess, I focused on many other things, mostly disagreeable and imaginary, before I noticed yours.” *stares pointedly at the first half of Pride and Prejudice*

They smiled at each other.

“I hope our children inherit your eyes,” she said.

“Oh, no, I would wish them to have yours.” Are we surprised? He's obsessed.

“Very well. The girls will have yours and the boys will have mine.”

“That seems a reasonable compromise.”

“I hope they have your hair, though. It is so much tidier.”

Fitzwilliam shrugged, acknowledging her point.

She laughed and poked him in the side; he lifted her off her feet.

The coat was soon forgotten. WHAT are they getting up to?

[cocoscurios]

The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words Chapter Commentary

Chapter Thirty-Three: Cold

The carriage ride had been long and the day had grown cold. Elizabeth was beginning to feel wearied by the whole thing.

Fitzwilliam, perhaps noticing this, pulled her closer to him, his arms encircling her; she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling protected and comforted and loved.

Until she felt him shivering.

"This is not a hug!" she protested. "You are huddling for warmth!" Jake accuses me of this often.

"It can serve both purposes at once," he insisted with an unabashed grin. And there's my reply.

She could argue the point or she could enjoy their cozy closeness.

The latter seemed like a better use of her time.

Not much to say about this one, other than the fact that I really love a drabble. It's fun for me to fit as much story and emotion as possible into 100 words. This particular drabble holds a special place in my heart because I got to 100 on my very first try, which doesn't happen often.

[cocoscurios]

The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words Chapter Commentary

Chapter Thirty-Two: Opposites

Fitzwilliam Darcy found the married state infinitely agreeable. He had never truly expected to marry at all, and to marry a woman such as Elizabeth…

Well, he considered himself exceptionally fortunate and he had very little in his life left to complain about.

But when he was being completely honest with himself, he admitted there were some things about marriage that he found a bit… discomfiting.

For instance, he had never known, before they lived together, how very untidy Elizabeth was. I like a bit of healthy clutter myself, to be honest (the husband, thankfully, does not mind). 

He had not expected that development, though he could offer no evidence to himself as to why it had come as a surprise, apart from his belief that Elizabeth was generally the loveliest and most wonderful person he had ever met.

But lovely, wonderful people were not necessarily orderly ones. Elizabeth certainly wasn’t.

She left books out, piled precariously or dropped in unexpected places or lying open on the sofa. Guilty. She was careless about her writing desk, paper and pens askew, smudges of ink here and there. Guilty. She kicked her shoes off haphazardly in their room, often in separate places. Not guilty of this one! Her sashes and ribbons were draped about in disarray and she shed both hair and hairpins at an almost alarming rate. Oh God, the hair and hairpins. No matter how many times I sweep, there is always a Courtney Tumbleweed (Jake's term) frolicking about. 

Darcy himself was meticulous and particular (dainty and finical, Bingley said, but Bingley was at least as bad as Elizabeth and his opinion didn’t count) I enjoyed that little aside. He had tried - surreptitiously, so as not to be noticed - to simply straighten up a bit after his new wife, but it had not gone unobserved.

"I can tidy up after myself, Fitzwilliam," she laughed. "You need not be my housemaid."

"I was merely ensuring that nothing was lost," he said airily, reuniting her slippers and untangling several ribbons.

"I will be more mindful in the future," she assured him, taking the ribbons from his hands and kissing him on the cheek.

"I am just glad that you feel at home here," he said, and that much was perfectly true.

Pemberley could tolerate slightly more disorder for the advantage of having Elizabeth as a mistress. HEART EYES.

[cocoscurios]

The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words Chapter Commentary

Chapter Thirty-One: Seizing the Opportunity

I wrote this as part of a prompt challenge and it's not a favorite. Sometimes these things are great for inspiration and sometimes they're not. 

Elizabeth exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Georgiana; her sister seemed rather delighted to be her partner in poking a little fun at Fitzwilliam. I need to write more Elizabeth and Georgiana: partners in crime. 

Georgiana started playing an especially lively Scotch air. Fitzwilliam looked up; it was not the sort of music she usually performed.

"You know, Fitzwilliam, I think I will finally claim that reel that you suggested all those months ago," said Elizabeth slyly. Underrated Darcy moment! Why don't we talk about it more than we do?

Fitzwilliam returned her look with an arch one of his own. "It is quite an honor to have one's hand applied for in such a way." I just think it's nonstop flirty nonsense with these two, honestly. I love that for them. 

"Oh, yes. I mean you to feel very flattered indeed."

"I am most gratified; not least because you have often rejected me in the past." Though I don't see him ever joking about ~things~ he said to Elizabeth, I do think he finds it easy to joke about his rejection, now that they've gotten a happy ending. 

Elizabeth grinned; she hadn't expected him to immediately play along, to give as good as he got. I think they have a lot of fun together. And this isn't even purely headcanon! Given some of the ways Darcy flirts with Elizabeth at Netherfield and Rosings (and that Austen puts the suggestion in Mrs. Gardiner's letter), I truly think they end up having a very playful dynamic.

"You do not enjoy dancing in general."

"No."

"And reels are not particularly dignified dances."

"No."

"Yet you were prepared to dance one with me, in front of the whole party at Netherfield."

"I was, and gladly." BECAUSE HE WAS DOWN BAAAAAADDDDDDDD.

"Miss Bingley would have murdered me in my bed." I will never forgive Elizabeth for denying me Miss Bingley's reaction to this at Netherfield, to be honest. 

He grinned. "It is a good thing that you refused me, then."

"I did not think you were very serious in your request, for, after all, one couple cannot dance a reel. We would have needed a third person, at least. Who did you mean to ask to join us?" Imagine trying to recruit the Hursts.

"Oh, I did not mean to apply for a third; I meant for us to adapt so that it would suit only the two of us. DARCY, I HAVE QUESTIONS. I suppose you meant the same for tonight. Georgiana cannot be expected to play and dance at the same time."

"I had not anticipated such a willing partner," she confessed smilingly. "I rather hoped to tease you."

"I suspected as much."

"I will need to be much cleverer, to keep your interest."

"I can assure you that you will have no trouble on that score."

"Shall I begin again?" called Georgiana pointedly from the pianoforte. Poor Georgiana, always having a front row seat to the Darcys' foreplay.

"Yes, I apologize for being so inconsiderate. We will be more prompt this time," he said, grabbing Elizabeth’s hand. "Come now, my dear. I have been promised a dance." I still don't love it, but I remembered it worse than it was. 

[cocoscurios]

The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words Chapter Commentary

Chapter Thirty: Pemberley by Moonlight

Fitzwilliam was not sleeping.

This was hardly surprising - one of the first things Elizabeth had learned, in her new, married life, was how poor a sleeper her husband was - but she was not usually awake to witness him slipping out of their room. I see Elizabeth as a generally deep sleeper. 

It was an old habit, he said - years of bachelorhood and insomnia had created in him a tendency to escape to the library when he could not sleep - but it was not one that Elizabeth was particularly indulgent of. They had not been married a year, and yet she had lost track of the number of times she had woken in the night, expecting to find him next to her, and instead had to search for him and drag him back to bed.

"Fitzwilliam, where are you going?"

He started slightly. "I did not mean to wake you."

She propped herself up. "I was not sleeping."

"Is something the matter?" He was instantly concerned, instantly by her side. Pretty sure Darcy is always in troubleshooting mode. 

"Not at all," she assured him. "I am perfectly well. Perhaps your restlessness is catching."

"I will go, so as not to disturb you. You should try to sleep."

"So should you," she said, "as I have told you many times. Come back to bed."

He smiled slightly at their impasse. “I was planning a little walk.”

“At this time of night?”

“It is mild.” He shrugged. “We could go together, if you do not wish to sleep.”

"In our dressing gowns?"

"Why not? Who will see us?" She's such a good influence on him. 

Elizabeth grinned at him. "I have not yet experienced Pemberley by moonlight."

"We must remedy that at once."

As the idea became reality, Fitzwilliam did rather insist on their dressing more substantially (he did not want her to catch a chill, and he did so hate being cold himself), but they were soon on their way. There was something pleasurably mischievous about this, sneaking out of doors, hand in hand. Elizabeth felt giggly.

“Show me your favorite view of Pemberley in the nighttime.”

It was a little game of theirs: Elizabeth asking to be shown all of his favorite spots, at every time of day, in every season, wanting to know everything about him. This was originally going to be a little series of these moments, but alas. Maybe some day. 

He led her directly to the stream. Why is the stream thoroughly embedded in my headcanon as a Darcy favorite? I have no idea. There's no particular reason behind it that I can remember, so maybe it's Rhi's influence? IDK. I'm afraid of even small bodies of water, so. This, at first, seemed a bit indolent on his part - the stream was her husband’s favorite spot in general and she had hoped to see someplace new -  but she instantly understood his preference the moment she stood and took the scene in: the serenity of the night, the reflection of the moon and the stars and the trees in the water, the gentle rustle of the leaves in the breeze. Everything about it was idyllic and peaceful.

"Well, my dear, I cannot argue with your choice. It is certainly beautiful."

They walked slowly along the bank, Fitzwilliam telling her of his memories there: skipping stones with his father, reading with his mother, playing with Georgiana. Elizabeth heard it all with pleasure: he rarely shared stories from his childhood and adolescence. He would, of course, answer whatever questions she asked, but he did not often volunteer the information. This goes along with my theory that the elder Darcys' marriage was Complicated, and thus young Darcy's childhood was Complicated, but I have yet to fully explore that in writing. She wanted to know all of these things, to paint the portrait of her husband before she knew him, to catch a glimpse of Fitzwilliam the boy. I was proud of that sentence. 

It was delightful to be here, on so calm and lovely a night, enjoying her home and her husband, relishing the beauty of the place and the companion with whom she experienced it. They stayed out for at least an hour, just the two of them and the night and Pemberley by moonlight. My husband and I are extreme morning people so this sounds like literal torture to me, but you do you, Darcys in my head.

“Do you know, Fitzwilliam, I think I must insist on these little excursions, when the weather allows.”

He smiled at her, brushed his lips against her knuckles. “That can be arranged.”

“And I want to see all of your favorite places, and to hear all of your stories, and to know everything there is to know.” Yeah, Courtney. Just write it already.

“I am happy to oblige. What would you like to see next?”

She held his arm tighter. “We must save something for our next moonlit walk. For now, we really should try to get some sleep."

[cocoscurios]

The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words Chapter Commentary

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Meeting the Family

Upon the whole, Elizabeth found that she liked her husband’s Darcy relations. There was a streak of unconventionality in the Darcys, a glimpse of dry wit that suited her, and one that she had seen in Fitzwilliam, even in the midst of her early dislike for him. After she had met his aunt Darcy, shrewd and irreverent and wickedly sharp, she knew very well where Fitzwilliam had come by the part of him that had commented, rather boldly, that he enjoyed the opportunity to sit by the fire at Netherfield and admire Elizabeth’s figure. I have not explored my Headcanon Darcys enough, but I love them a lot. Also, that comment from Netherfield does not get enough appreciation. 

Her introduction to the Fitzwilliams began much less auspiciously. I've got a lot of unexplored headcanon about them, too. There was, of course, already the breach between her husband and Lady Catherine, and this led to a further rift: the earl was displeased by the quarrel and thought it best not to meet with Fitzwilliam’s new wife. 

This had provoked from Fitzwilliam the harshest and most heated words she had ever heard him speak; a shocking, though somehow endearing, discovery.

“At this rate, I will cut you off from this entire branch of your family,” she said.

“If they do not accept you, then good riddance to them,” he said firmly. With how quickly he wrote his letter to Lady Catherine (and what I wouldn't give for a peek at it), I just know Darcy is willing to cut off anyone who has a problem with Elizabeth. 

It was not a complete rupture. The earl’s children agreed to see her - Colonel Fitzwilliam because he liked her, and the rest out of what Elizabeth supposed to be morbid curiosity - and they were all to dine at the eldest daughter’s house.

Colonel Fitzwilliam greeted her warmly; surprised but delighted to hear that she was to be his cousin’s wife, he had been at their wedding and had spoken disdainfully about his family’s attitude towards her. He and Fitzwilliam were close (like brothers, Georgiana had told her) and he would never side against him, even if it meant upsetting the rest of the family. Canon basically tells us that these two are BFFs (sorry, Bingley). I feel like we all sleep on Colonel Fitzwilliam a little bit. 

She did not think she was going to be so well-liked by the colonel’s brother and sisters. They met her with manners that were polite but cold; she was comforted, at least, that they were not any warmer to Fitzwilliam. Headcanon that the Fitzwilliams are a cold people in general, but they're even frostier than usual here. 

It was abundantly clear, seeing these cousins, where her husband came by his imposing stateliness. The colonel was the marked exception; his sisters were as serious and lofty as Fitzwilliam at his haughtiest, and his elder brother was so pompous and superior that he made Fitzwilliam seem downright playful.

Her husband was younger than his cousins - the future earl was a full fourteen years his senior, and the three sisters (Lady Margaret, Lady Mary-Catherine, and Lady Annemarie Rhi and I spent way too long on those stupid names) were all beyond five-and-thirty  - and they felt their superior ages and ranks keenly. Their spouses were all quiet and forgettable, cowed in the face of the Fitzwilliam family hauteur, but everyone seemed to view Elizabeth as a vulgar interloper. She had rarely been the focus of so many scornful eyes.

Fitzwilliam was both defiant and vaguely hostile in the face of this, daring them to say anything that would make them go the way of Lady Catherine. It was evident that, by the Fitzwilliam family’s standards, her husband was considered rather impetuous, with his odd, modern ideas and his curiously inconsequential wife. She had never thought of it in these terms, but Fitzwilliam might just be the rebel of his family. Even the colonel, after all, would not have dreamt of marrying so imprudently. A favorite little mental image of mine.  

Elizabeth was not easily intimidated, despite the obvious disapprobation of her new cousins, and she was as lively and chatty as ever at dinner. Fitzwilliam kept smiling at her, warm and encouraging, so she knew she had the approval of the only person whose opinion mattered. One of the most fun parts of revisiting these early chapters is seeing how I used to write about Darcy and Elizabeth's relationship as wish fulfillment, only to find myself in a very similar relationship. I can only conclude that I manifested Jake. ;)

“This must all be very strange to you,” said Lady Margaret halfway through the meal, gesturing around as if to indicate the magnificence of both the room and its occupants. “One imagines that it is not what you are accustomed to.”

“Oh,” said Elizabeth, “one gets used to opulence, living at Pemberley. And I am a quick study.” Love her. 

The colonel grinned at her appreciatively; Fitzwilliam was looking down at his plate, his shoulders shaking slightly. He peeked up at her with sparkling eyes. Also love imagining this. 

After that, she was largely ignored.

The period after dinner was awkward, but it saw no decrease in her courage. Lady Mary-Catherine made very stilted conversation with her, but their silences lasted so long that Elizabeth was able to overhear what the other sisters were saying.

“I never thought he would marry Anne,” she heard Lady Margaret whisper, “but I did not imagine he would marry so… misguidedly.”

“It is the Darcy blood,” sniffed Lady Annemarie. “That is what makes him so reckless.” I see the Fitzwilliams - including Lady Anne - being a little snobby towards the Darcys (and I see the elder Darcys' marriage as being Very Complicated).

Elizabeth had not been able to hide her amusement at this picture of Fitzwilliam, and was forced to disguise her laugh with a loud and hasty coughing fit. Lady Mary-Catherine looked a little horrified and moved a few steps away. She does not want to catch germs from A Poor. 

When the gentlemen returned, there was a noticeable absence among them and Fitzwilliam looked peevish.

“Darcy had some words with my brother,” said the colonel to Elizabeth, his lips twitching, “so I am afraid that is another of the family he has alienated.” Darcy can and will fight. He is tall. He is strapping. He will punch his cousin right in the face (though there were no fisticuffs on this occasion).  

...That reminds me of when Rhi and I wrote the Austen Hunger Games back in the day. I should go dig that up. 

“Oh, dear,” she said, feeling less concerned than she probably should have.

They left soon thereafter; Fitzwilliam was in a temper and not concealing it - odd for him - and their early departure was for the best.

“You seem to be hacking away at the family tree, my love,” Elizabeth said, holding his arm and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Perhaps some pruning is necessary,” said Fitzwilliam darkly.

“I am sorry that I am such a disappointment,” said Elizabeth, smiling up at him.

“They are a disappointment. You are a triumph.” Sometimes some Poldark just slips out, okay. 

“I am glad that you think so, but it is unfortunate that we cannot all like each other better. I do not mean for you to have to choose.”

“It is no great struggle. I will choose you, Elizabeth, every time.” Fitzwilliam Darcy, everyone. *"Whatta Man" plays in the distance*

She already knew this but it was nice to hear, and she kissed him on the cheek as they rode away.

[cocoscurios]

The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words Chapter Commentary

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Safe

So, as stated in the author's note, this is super old and written before I'd really nailed down my Fitzwilliam Rules (when Elizabeth stops calling him Mr. Darcy and starts calling him Fitzwilliam). I've since decided that she gets to that point once the stress of telling her parents has been removed. ...FASCINATING INFORMATION, COURTNEY, THANK YOU. 

She could accept that Mr. Darcy did not know the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words that made him fall in love. You may have guessed, from the title of this work, that the whole "hour, spot, look, words" passage is one of my favorites in all of Austen. Story time: the birthday after I first started dating Jake, mere months into the relationship, he got me a scarf with that section on it. He knew I loved Pride and Prejudice, but didn't know how much I loved that part in particular. Just imagine how hard I had to work to keep it together, OMG. But it was then, dear reader, that I knew I would marry him one day. She could not pinpoint the moment it had happened for her, either.

But she was bold enough (and vain enough) to press him further.

“When did you realize that you were in some danger, at least?”

He smiled. “When you spoke about poetry driving away love.” I LOVE this part of the book because Darcy is being flirty and he's so obviously charmed, meanwhile Elizabeth is trying to be sassy with him while also desperately trying to distract everyone from how terrible Mrs. Bennet is. AMAZING. 

She laughed, oddly delighted. “That is what did the mischief?”

“It was amusing.” He shrugged. “I had admired you before then, but it was that which made me feel that I might be in trouble.”

“An odd thing to desire, someone to argue with.”

“Someone to challenge me. It is tedious, being agreed with constantly.”I imagine, being fabulously rich and handsome, that it's a constant stream of Sir William Lucases and Caroline Bingleys approaching Darcy. That can only contribute to his unwillingness to make an effort with people outside of his little circle. ...I feel like these commentaries are my Darcy Apologist Tour sometimes, but I've spent two decades reading terrible takes and I've apparently reached my limit. (Once again, the fact that Darcy's character is good and that he is usually not an unpleasant jerk is shown to us through Bingley, Mrs. Reynolds, and Georgiana. Like... that's the point. He's a good person behaving badly in PARTS of the book. We're supposed to contrast this with characters like Wickham and even Mr. Bennet, who get presented glowingly through Elizabeth's eyes at first but who are actually jerks. And here's the big one: we're ALSO supposed to compare Darcy to Elizabeth, a good person behaving badly in PARTS of the book. ...I'm beating my head against the wall at this point.)

“And so all that time I spent trying to provoke you at Netherfield--”

“You were merely hastening the inevitable.”

“I thought I would drive you off with my sauciness, and all I did was draw you in.”

“I can be contrary in that way.” 

“I had assumed that it was the perfect way to make you hate me.”

“It all but guaranteed the opposite.” 

“I was not as clever as I thought.”

“Or I am more paradoxical than you anticipated.” These last two lines of dialogue are a convoluted inside joke not funny to anyone but Rhi and me, and I maybe should have edited them out for broader consumption, but I like to keep these older pieces intact for my own archival purposes. And honestly, I originally wrote this for her, so all of the rest of you will just have to deal with it. ;)  

“I am glad of it.”

It was a vulnerable moment for Elizabeth, who preferred joking to earnestness. DO YOU HEAR THAT, SIR WALTER SCOTT??? But she was glad that this great, important, good man loved in her that which was often seen as brazen, who saw her as she was and wanted all of it. Siiiiiigh.

She smiled, and he smiled, and they continued their walk, arm in arm.

Nothing new had been said. She had already teased him about his being attracted to her impertinence. So why did it feel different now? Was it hearing her own words being spoken back to her? He had remembered her line about the poetry - something offhand she had said to distract everyone from her mother. She had never imagined that he would tuck it away.

Was it admitting to him that she was grateful that he loved her still, despite their peculiarly contentious history, so full of misinterpretation and confusion?

She thought that was probably it. There were very few people she was truly serious with; she preferred to hide behind her laughter and her jokes, sociable and friendly but private. Her only real confidante was Jane, and how much had she kept even from her sister this year?I think this is key with Elizabeth, and something that gets glossed over a lot. 

But she and Mr. Darcy knew each other's family secrets. They kept each other's confidences. A perverse sort of intimacy had sprung up between them long ago. This is a major reason why they're - by far - my favorite Austen couple. They have a weirdly close (and arguably inappropriate) connection before Elizabeth even likes him. It's such an interesting dynamic. 

She felt safe with him: safe to trust him with her secrets, safe to admit things that made her feel exposed and defenseless, safe to be herself around him. He knew the worst of her and loved her anyway. Who would have thought? The scene between them after she gets Jane's letters is so important. She just... spills everything to Darcy right there. She didn't have to. She could have lied. We see her lying outright to both her father and Jane! But she didn't, because she loves him they've got that connection I just mentioned. 

She squeezed his arm and leaned against him. He looked down at her and smiled.

Elizabeth could not wait to begin her life with this man.

[cocoscurios]

The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words Chapter Commentary

Chapter Twenty-Six: Best of Wives and Best of Women

It is no exaggeration to say that, along with P&P, Hamilton played a big role in helping me through the end of an abusive relationship and the beginning of ED recovery, so lots of love to Lin-Manuel Miranda and thank you for all of the chapter titles. 

Not for the first time, Elizabeth Darcy awoke in the middle of the night to an empty bed, her husband nowhere to be found. She sighed and got up, loath to leave the warmth but curious to see where he had got to now.

Fitzwilliam was not a good sleeper (neither was Georgiana - it was a Darcy trait - and Elizabeth despaired for her future children). He was often up at odd hours, wandering the house and not even attempting to rest. My apologies to the Darcys for this one. I was a terrible sleeper as a baby, not much better as a child, and was a full-blown insomniac as a teenager. But I'm a decent(ish) sleeper now, so maybe things will improve for Darcy in his 30s!

Elizabeth was determined to break him of this practice. Good luck to her, I guess.

He was generally to be found in the library; she expected to discover him there now and was thus mildly surprised to find the room empty. I didn't usually read when I was up in the middle of the night, but I can't give poor Darcy a computer. 

She wondered how long she would be searching and if she herself would be getting back to sleep that night - this was one of the few drawbacks of life at Pemberley; it could be difficult to find someone in a hurry - when, by a lucky chance, she discovered the door of the late Mr. Darcy’s favorite room ajar.

Fitzwilliam usually kept the room shut, preserved, as it was, as a monument. Headcanon: Darcy only really goes in there when he's in a particular kind of mood-- wanting to be close to his father, making important decisions, feeling ~emotional~, etc. Elizabeth poked her head inside. Sure enough, her husband was sitting at his father's desk, his back to her, writing something.

"Fitzwilliam?" she said gently.

He jumped and turned to face her.

"Elizabeth? What is the matter?"

"I could ask you the same question." She crossed the room to reach him, wrapping her arms around his chest as he sat and resting her chin on the top of his head. I'm pretty sure I stole this mannerism and mental image from Jennifer Ehle's Elizabeth.

"I could not sleep," he said.

"I surmised as much."

"I did not wish to wake you."

“How many times must I tell you, Fitzwilliam,” she said lightly, “that I would prefer your waking me in our own room to chasing you down in another?”

It was highly unlikely that he would wake her anyway; the man was bizarrely silent. I gave the Darcys both sides of me here. I have two modes of walking: 1) weirdly loud and stompy for a woman who hasn't cracked five feet and 2) accidental ninja. Elizabeth got the former, Darcy the latter. 

“It is an old bachelor’s habit,” he said. “I am not yet accustomed to having a wife.”

“I have not cured you of all your little quirks in a month?”

“I am afraid not.”

“I shall have to work more diligently.”

She looked down at the desk, littered with papers all covered in Fitzwilliam’s neat, close hand.

"What are you writing?"

"Letters."

"To whom?"

"To you."

Her husband had these occasional, unexpected eccentricities.

"Explain," she said with a smile, moving her chin down to his shoulder.

"It is something my father used to do for Georgiana and me,” he said, leaning his head into hers. “He would write us letters and leave them in different places; in books or on pillows. They were not usually much longer than a note, but we would look forward to receiving them. I still have all of mine.” He paused for a moment. “I thought I would continue the tradition with you.”

She played with the curls at the nape of his neck, both touched and amused. Fitzwilliam did love to write a letter. Rhi and I have a long-running joke about Darcy and his letter-writing, and this bit of headcanon sprung from it. 

“That looks rather longer than a note, my dear,” she said, nodding down at the desk.

“I am considerably longer-winded than my father was.”

She smiled and kissed his cheek. “I look forward to reading it. But you are going to finish it in the morning.”

She stood and took his pen gently from his hand.

“Fitzwilliam, come back to sleep,” she whispered. This was written as a song title prompt challenge, but I had to slip a lyric in here because it fit so well. 

He did not protest as she led him upstairs.

[cocoscurios]

The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words Chapter Commentary

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Visit

Darcy stood for a moment at the parsonage door, debating the wisdom of being there at all. He could turn away now and go back to Rosings, turn away from his pursuit of Elizabeth Bennet altogether.

Except at this point, he did not think he could. He was not particularly happy about it, but he was, unfortunately, in love with the woman. As you are all very much aware, I love writing Darcy being appalled and disgusted about the indignity of having romantic feelings. 

He had never been in love before. He had never even been fond of a woman in that way before. It was incredibly uncomfortable. He had thought that being in love was supposed to be a feeling one enjoyed. Two things: 1) I was a very late bloomer and transferred some of that to Darcy, and 2) I can't remember which came first, Georgiana making this observation about love in Their Family Party at Pemberley or Darcy making it here, but I like that I subconsciously connected the siblings this way. 

 He took a deep breath. Faint heart never won fair lady, after all. He was let in by the servant and found Miss Elizabeth Bennet, quite alone.

This had not been the plan. As a control freak myself... this is a nightmare. 

Do not blush, he warned himself.

“I apologize for my intrusion. I had understood that Mrs. Collins and her sister were also in.”

“No, they went to the village,” said Miss Bennet. “Please, sit down.”

She asked after his aunt and his cousins and he answered quickly, but they then slipped into silence.

Darcy tried desperately to think of something to say and came up with nothing. Why was this so difficult? It wasn’t like his usual reserve - he could talk to other people, if he tried, and wasn’t afraid of saying something ridiculous or stupid. Why, why did she affect him like this? He has a cruuuuuuuush.

She asked after Bingley and his sisters - a subject that Darcy did not want to talk about - and then they were silent once more. It really was his turn to come up with something to say. He looked around, surreptitiously but urgently, for an idea.  BEEN THERE.

“This seems a very comfortable house,” he finally managed. “Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins first came to Hunsford.”

He congratulated himself. That wasn’t so awkward; they could talk of the Collinses painlessly.

“I believe she did—and I am sure she could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful object.”

Darcy could imagine the degree of fawning that had probably occurred. He had seen enough of Mr. Collins to conclude that he was one of that number of people who had become enthralled with his aunt; or, more likely, her wealth and influence.

“Mr. Collins appears to be very fortunate in his choice of a wife.”

“Yes, indeed, his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding—though I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a prudential light it is certainly a very good match for her.” I always found it interesting that Elizabeth is so blunt about this to DARCY, who she actively dislikes at this point. 

His impression had been that Mrs. Collins was a sensible woman, and he had figured this marriage had been a convenient one. It was gratifying to know that Miss Bennet agreed.

“It must be very agreeable for her to be settled within so easy a distance of her own family and friends.”

Miss Bennet quibbled with this, insisting that fifty miles was not close at all.

“It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire,” he said. “Anything beyond the very neighborhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far.”

He hoped she wasn’t too attached; Derbyshire was considerably farther from Longbourn than Kent was.

“I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her family. The far and the near must be relative, and depend on many varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expenses of traveling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the case here . Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not such a one as will allow of frequent journeys—and I am persuaded my friend would not call herself near her family under less than half the present distance.”

“You cannot have a right to such very strong local attachment. You cannot have been always at Longbourn.”

She was so clever, and witty, and urbane; she could not have spent all of her life in a small, rural place.

He had unconsciously moved closer as he spoke, I love this moment, he's such a goner and whether it was this action or the sentiment he expressed, he had surprised her. He could feel his ears going traitorously red. He drew back and grabbed at the newspaper on the table, trying to appear less interested.

“Are you pleased with Kent?” he said.

They talked of the country, and just as he was starting to feel tolerably composed, they were interrupted by Mrs. Collins and her sister.

Thank God.

He said all that was necessary - apologizing again for his error, asking after everyone’s health - and sat there for a few minutes longer.

It was agony, and he left as soon as it was polite to do so.

Well. That had been a mistake. Such an awkward and hilarious little scene. Poor Darcy.

[cocoscurios]

The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words Chapter Commentary

Chapter Twenty-One: The Offer

Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam should have felt guilty about escaping from the ball. It was the Bingleys’ event and they were the Bingleys’ guests; they really were expected to be there. But the ball was meant for the young people, and Bingley had invited so many that the room was quite packed, so the Darcys had felt no remorse at all in sneaking away and taking refuge in his library. Rhi and I had this running joke as teenagers (while we were creating most of our Austen Lore), that the Darcys only ever experience half of the Bingleys' Christmas Ball (or any ball, really) because they always sneak away to make out in the library. It's very fun and nostalgic for me every time I write it into a story.

They were just congratulating themselves on their successful flight, and Elizabeth was thinking of how handsome her husband was and how she would very much like to kiss him, when their daughter, Anna, stormed in.

Anna always knew to check for them in the library first. They should have hidden in the nursery. This probably surprises none of you, but Anna is my favorite of my Darcy children. Also, I was really amused by the thought of Anna totally knowing what her parents get up to at balls.  

"I have received an offer," announced Anna, fuming. "Of marriage!" she added unnecessarily. This chapter was originally imagined differently, with Darcy being much more upset by the whole thing. But these two sentences - along with the mental image of Anna losing it - were always what I was working around. 

Fitzwilliam stood up straighter, immediately alert. Eighteen years of fatherhood had done nothing but increase his overprotectiveness. ...Not as upset as planned, but still not happy about it. ;)

Anna threw herself into a chair, then stood back up and paced before them in high dudgeon. Now Elizabeth was alarmed. Of their children, Anna was the most like her father, both in looks and in temperament, and she was equally as composed and dignified as he was.

Usually. Picture Colin Firth all in a dither before the first proposal. That's the vibe.

"An offer from John Hurst!" Anna hissed, her color high.  I see John Hurst as the actor who played Osborne Whitworth in (new) Poldark, BTW. 

Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam exchanged grimaces.

“Louisa has been eager to marry him off,” Elizabeth muttered. Louisa headcanon: she's widowed shortly after birthing dear Johnny, then marries a much older man in the hopes that she will be widowed again before long (said older man is surprisingly spry and is still kicking during the events of this chapter). She does not enjoy motherhood. 

"I assume that you refused him," said Fitzwilliam dryly.

"Of course I refused him! He may have taken leave of his senses, but I certainly have not!"

She whirled around to look at them.

"I have never paid him the slightest bit of attention! How he could even presume to make me an offer! It is such a degradation!" Shades of her father. ;)

It was strange to see their cool, self-possessed daughter whipping herself into quite a frenzy.

"Would you like me to have words with him?" Fitzwilliam asked. He sounded as though he’d like to. Enjoy imagining that one. I know I do. 

"Oh, I have dealt with it," said Anna with a wave of her hand. "That is settled. I am more concerned about the sort of man I appear to be attracting."

This was not the first proposal Anna had received. Just three months earlier, she had refused another man, a widower, after they had attended several of the same parties in town. That offer had also come as a surprise ("I only ever spoke to him to be polite, and even then it was not very often!"). Frank Churchill was entirely unsuitable in every way, not least in age ("He is old enough to be my father!"). An early instance of Into the Austenverse. ;) Fitzwilliam had had words with the man on that occasion; Elizabeth was rather astonished that there hadn't been bloodshed. I'd pay money to watch Darcy kick Frank Churchill around. 

Hurst was an improvement over Churchill only in being considerably younger. He was as indolent as his father before him, and somehow even less interesting; Elizabeth doubted whether any young lady was longing for a proposal from him.

“Did he do anything…” Fitzwilliam seemed to be struggling for the right word, “...untoward?”

“Other than asking in the first place?” She's her father's daughter through and through. 

“Yes, my dear,” said Elizabeth, determined not to smile, “other than that.”

“Well, no,” Anna admitted. “But it is John Hurst. ”

Elizabeth thought of William Collins and understood completely. I enjoyed this line. 

“Am I never to meet one decent man?” said Anna, exasperation making her voice sound higher than usual. “Sophia did not have such bad luck.”

Sophia Bingley had recently become engaged to a man whom Anna would have eaten alive; one could not imagine that she envied her cousin. I picture Anna and Sophia being fairly close. Obviously, the Darcy and Bingley children are all good friends. 

“You are only eighteen, my love," Elizabeth soothed. "The right man will come along in time."

“I do not care if he does or does not,” said Anna. She had regained her poise; she looked and sounded so much like Fitzwilliam again that it was breathtaking; the lift of the head and the tone of the voice were exactly the same. “I just wish the wrong ones would leave me alone. How fortunate for Jane, that she does not have to endure this yet.”

Anna had recently begun to envy her younger sister on this score.

"As though I would ever marry John Hurst, of all men!" she burst out suddenly. She is so embarrassed about it, I love her. 

Elizabeth again bit back a smile. Anna’s brief moment of control was clearly no match for her indignation.

“Do not waste another thought on Hurst,” said Fitzwilliam. "He is not worth your time."

"You will laugh about this soon enough," said Elizabeth.

"You can stay here with us, if you do not wish to go back to the ball." The Darcys are excellent parents. 

Anna made a huffy little noise. "No, I think I will go to bed."

She kissed her parents goodnight and left, shutting the door more forcefully than was necessary. This was another mental image that I had throughout the whole writing process.

"Well," said Elizabeth, once their daughter had gone, "that was unexpected."

Fitzwilliam looked pensively at the door. “Should we go after her, do you think?”

“No, she will want to be alone for a bit. It is not pleasant to receive an offer from a man you dislike. She will feel better in the morning.”

“You should have told her that you received two very bad offers yourself. Perhaps the decent one will be next.” He can laugh about it now, finally. ;)

“You had better hope,” said Elizabeth with a laugh, “that she does not follow my example too closely, or John Hurst will be our son-in-law.” Another line I was pleased with. 

“Anna has too much sense for that.”

This was undoubtedly true, and John Hurst was no Fitzwilliam Darcy. Tragically few men are. 

"Perhaps this will persuade her never to marry," he said.

Fitzwilliam rather dreaded the thought of their children leaving.

"She will, at least, never marry an unworthy sort of man. She will wait for one like you." Elizabeth paused. "It is Jane we will have to worry about." They really will. 

He scowled.

“Now, now, Fitzwilliam,” said Elizabeth, taking his hand and leading him to a chair. “We do not have to think about it just yet, not when we have the library to ourselves again.”

She had always known how to raise his spirits. A favorite method of closing a scene. It's my version of fading to black. 

[cocoscurios]

The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words Chapter Commentary

Chapter Twenty: The Keenest of All Anguish

“There certainly was some great mismanagement in the education of those two young men. One has got all the goodness, and the other all the appearance of it.” “I never thought Mr. Darcy so deficient in the appearance of it as you used to do.” I love that Jane came out and said it. She's not the pushover fandom makes her out to be.

Elizabeth could not get Jane’s words out of her head. She heard the reproach in them. It was Jane, so it was a gentle reproach, but it was there still, and Elizabeth took it seriously. Honestly, Jane is such a better person than I am, because I would've given Elizabeth a little shake YEARS ago. She had been ashamed of herself before, but this brought it back afresh. If even Jane could acknowledge that Elizabeth had been prejudiced... 

“I never thought Mr. Darcy so deficient in the appearance of it as you used to do.”

How much more would Elizabeth have liked Darcy if he had flattered her in the way Wickham had? She did not know that she would have been particularly fond of him - he was still so reserved and haughty - but she almost certainly would not have disliked him so much.

Well, she thought wryly, look at how flattered I am by his proposing, without even liking him at all! Of course I would have overlooked many things, had he admired me more openly. Mary plants the difference between vanity and pride early on, then Elizabeth comes out and explicitly scolds herself for her vanity, and yet some people still don't recognize the way P&P condemns Elizabeth's behavior AT LEAST as much as it does Darcy's. The fact that she also has to learn and grow is what makes her interesting and one of literature's very best heroines-- and it's why the relationship between E&D is Austen's most popular.

She had not realized before the strength of her own vanity, and how easily she could be worked on by those willing to exploit it. She had not realized how quickly she could be deceived by outwardly charming appearances.

None of these realizations made her feel any more comfortable.

Hadn’t she been just as silly as Kitty and Lydia, in her own way? Hadn’t she made just as much of a fool of herself?

I have been worse. Kitty and Lydia have only made spectacles of themselves. I have been gleefully abusing a man, across several counties, to anyone who would listen. And why? Because I was offended one time at a ball and let myself become unreasonable. 

She got out of bed, no longer able to lie still with her own shame and embarrassment. She paced up and down the room, her face burning, her stomach sour with guilt. She had certainly been unjust to him. No matter how much she disliked him, he hadn’t deserved half of what she had said to and about him.

She would probably never meet him again, there were no real amends that she could make, but she had to learn from this. She could not repeat this mistake again. I just love the parallels. Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy changes FOR the other; they don't expect to see each other again. Instead, they each see their faults clearly after making disastrous mistakes and change FOR THEIR OWN BETTERMENT, using what they learned from the other as their motivation. And they find each other in the end and live happily ever after because it's Austen, and the mutual improvement is poignant because it's a novel, but let's give them both credit where it is due-- they each took the initiative to change their behavior because it was the right thing to do, NOT because they were trying to win the other's approval and/or affection. Which is so much better.

***

Georgiana had been looking at him warily all evening.

“Is something wrong, Fitzwilliam?” she asked timidly.

He had been staring out at the room without taking it in.

“No,” he said, forcing himself back into the present. “Nothing is wrong.”

“You seem… displeased.”

“Not at all.” He tried to smile at her. “Do not fret on my account.”

She seemed unconvinced but said nothing for several minutes. Darcy returned to his own disagreeable thoughts.

“Are you upset with me?” she asked finally. “Is this about… are you thinking of Ramsgate?”

“No!” Darcy all but yelped. Georgiana stared. “No,” he said more calmly. “I am not upset with you, and I am certainly not thinking about Ramsgate. I have told you that you are not to blame for any of that.”

Georgiana looked close to tears now. Darcy went to her and took her hand.

“I am upset with myself, for something entirely unrelated. I have been--” he hesitated. “It does not matter now. You have done nothing wrong. Do not worry yourself over my ill humor.”

She smiled, a little tremulously, and went off to bed.

He would need to keep an eye on Georgiana. She was still plainly suffering from the events of last summer. We don't talk enough about how fresh Ramsgate is at the beginning of P&P and how that might be contributing to Darcy's Darcyness when he gets to Hertfordshire. There were still very few glimpses of the girl she had been before Ramsgate. The thought left him both angry and grieved. How much George Wickham had destroyed! He ruined everything he came in contact with. He had traumatized Georgiana, slandered Darcy, and poisoned Elizabeth Bennet against him. 

Wickham did not make me say what I did about her family. He did not make me insult her. He did not separate her sister from Bingley.

Wickham had certainly not helped, but Darcy had made quite a big enough mess on his own. 

He buried his face in his hands, frustrated and humiliated. Why couldn’t he be warmer with people? Less haughty and supercilious? Make more of an effort with those outside of his own set? No matter how ridiculous Elizabeth Bennet’s family was (and they were ridiculous), he should have been just as considerate to them as he was to his friends, and servants, and tenants. He had his own ridiculous relations. Their higher rank did not make them any less so. And now seems like the time to take a stand on Shy!Darcy! He's not shy. He's never given any indication of shyness, no matter how certain actors have played him. He's reserved. He doesn't know how to relate to people who aren't in his class and circle and doesn't make an effort to try. He's not a natural people person, and while he's not always socially comfortable, he's not shy. Georgiana is shy. There is a difference, and Austen makes that difference quite clear in the book. 

He should not have spoken to her the way that he had. He had been insulting, unfeeling, offensive, and to a woman he professed to love! He was horrified by his own conduct. No wonder she despised him.

There was very little chance of their ever seeing each other again, but he had taken her words to heart. She had shown him things about himself that needed to change, and he would change them. There was clearly no winning her now, and she would never get the chance to witness his improvement, but he would alter his behavior because of her. Because of her (and how she opened his eyes to his conduct), not for her.  He owed her that much.

[cocoscurios]

The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words Chapter Commentary

Chapter Nineteen: To Be or Not To Be

Elizabeth had settled quickly into life at Pemberley. The place already seemed so much like home that it was difficult to believe that she had not lived there for years, yet it had only been four weeks since the Darcys had married. She hoped her presence had not been too much of a disruption for her new family; or, at least, not an unpleasant one. I sometimes come across the opinion that Elizabeth would really miss Longbourn and her family life there. To those people, I point to Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, and if they need the Cliff's Notes, the last paragraph of chapter sixty. 

“What did you used to do in the evenings, before I intruded?” Elizabeth asked.

Fitzwilliam was in his study, finishing some letters, and she and Georgiana sat in the drawing room, talking happily as they waited for him. I love this period when it's the three of them. <3

“You have not intruded at all,” said Georgiana earnestly. “I love having you here.”

The Darcys had a deeply-rooted strain of sincerity about them that Elizabeth’s style of humor had only just started to chip away at. Darcy gives it away at Netherfield (obviously, though, his ribald side showed there too). 

“Still, I hope I have not shown up in your house and changed the place entirely. I should like to know all of your Darcy traditions, so that I might fit in. If it were just you and Fitzwilliam, as it was for so long, how would the two of you have amused yourselves?”

“We have not altered very much, Elizabeth. We always had quiet evenings. The only real difference is that Fitzwilliam has not read aloud since I returned to Pemberley.”

This pastime was news to Elizabeth.

“He has never read to me!" she said, a little indignantly. “I will need to have words with him."

“Oh, it is most entertaining!" said Georgiana. "He acts out all of the parts.” Inspired by a former teacher of mine, an otherwise serious and quiet man, who became an Oscar winner when reading to us before lunch.

Elizabeth smiled at this image, and at Georgiana’s enthusiasm.

“Fitzwilliam,” she said accusingly, when he walked in a few minutes later, “I have been informed that you have a great genius for reading aloud, and yet you have never done so for me. Georgiana says that I should scold you.”

Elizabeth winked at her before she could color too deeply.

“I apologize for my negligence,” Fitzwilliam said smilingly.

“I will only forgive you if you read to us now.”

He gave a bow of mock solemnity and picked up a volume of sonnets.

“Oh, no, Fitzwilliam,” said Georgiana, and unless Elizabeth was mistaken, there was a note of mischief in her voice, “we have not yet finished Hamlet.” Georgiana coming out of her shell by mimicking Elizabeth is one of my favorite headcanons. 

“It has been many months since we left off.”

“All the more reason to continue with it now.”

"But Elizabeth was not with us when we started."

“Is it a special favorite?” Elizabeth asked.

“Fitzwilliam does love a soliloquy,” said Georgiana, very innocently, but there was a wide smile spreading across her face, “and he performs Hamlet's particularly well. I do not know why he intends to deny us this evening.” Darcy as Shakespeare Fanboy is headcanon that I dedicated to Rhi way back when. <3

Fitzwilliam had gone a little pink.

“Yes, why do you intend to deny us, Fitzwilliam?” teased Elizabeth. “I should like to see if you are fit for the stage. Georgiana tells me that you play all of the characters.”

He raised an eyebrow at his sister.

“You do!” Georgiana insisted. She turned to Elizabeth. "He will not want to start in the middle. He is finical that way." Calling myself out here. 

“I do not know when you became so insolent,” he said, looking at Georgiana with an odd expression on his face. There was a drop of consternation in it, but was otherwise entirely amusement. 

“It will have been my doing, I am afraid,” said Elizabeth. “My mother always said I was the worst behaved of all her children. I am a bad influence.”  This exchange is one of those instances of me thinking up random lines of dialogue when I should have been sleeping, then getting up and writing them down for future use. I remember being super irritated about it on this occasion.  Fitzwilliam looked both diverted and hesitant.

“I think we had better hear the sonnets,” said Elizabeth, coming to his rescue. “If Hamlet is to be performed, I should like to see it from the beginning.”

“Very well,” agreed Georgiana, in a tone of voice very unlike her own. “The sonnets will do.”

“Perhaps,” said Fitzwilliam, trying to look sternly at his sister but unable to keep his mouth from twitching, "I will send you to live with the earl for a while, where you will hear nothing more interesting than Fordyce’s Sermons.”

Georgiana giggled, perhaps a little nervously. She was beginning to look a bit faint from the effects of her own boldness.

***

“You do read very well,” said Elizabeth slyly, after Georgiana had gone to bed. “I wonder why I did not know this before now.”

“As I recall, we were otherwise engaged most evenings.” Wink, wink.

She grinned at him. “I suppose that is true. I did not realize that your reading was such a regular entertainment. I did not mean for it to cease with my arrival at Pemberley.”

“I am sure it would have been resumed soon enough.” He smiled. “Of course, it has never been accompanied by so much teasing before."

“I am sorry if we embarrassed you.”

“No, it was good to see Georgiana so lighthearted.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. “She was trying to emulate you.”

“In all of my impertinence.”

“There are worse examples to follow.”

He kissed her forehead.

“Well," said Elizabeth, picking up the volume of Hamlet that had remained untouched, "as it is just the two of us, might I be treated to a peep of your Prince of Denmark?"

He looked reluctant. “Your expectations are rather high now. It is a lot of pressure.”

“Fitzwilliam, you are aware that I am quite sickeningly fond of you, are you not?”

He smiled bashfully.

“I am sure that I will find you all that is charming and delightful."

“I thought you might like the sonnets," he said, changing the subject. "I know you are prejudiced against the efficacy of poetry in love, but--” One of my favorite exchanges in P&P. It's so good. “I did like the sonnets. You read them beautifully." She smirked up at him and pressed the volume against his chest. “I want to see this secret talent of yours. Please, Fitzwilliam? For me?” He is powerless against her and we love it.

He took the book from her with a rueful little smile.

“Thank you, dearest.”

Elizabeth settled into a chair and prepared to be entertained.

[cocoscurios]

The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words Chapter Commentary

Chapter Eighteen: Something There That Wasn't There Before

Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth had discovered, was a pleasant person to talk to, when one got to know him and when one wasn’t quite so determined to hate him. 

Maybe he was just more relaxed in his own home.

At any rate, she had never enjoyed a conversation with him more than now, slightly separated from the rest of the room, the others’ eyes no longer constantly watching them.

They had resumed their discussion of Elizabeth’s travels through Derbyshire; it was a convenient topic, with everything so fresh in her mind and his obviously minute knowledge of the place. There was never a lull that couldn’t be easily filled.

“Chatsworth is pretty enough from the outside, I will admit,” Elizabeth said, “but once you enter in…” I am so shady about Chatsworth, I'm sorry (I'm not actually sorry).

She made a face.

She wondered if the part left unsaid was as screamingly loud to him as it was to her, that she preferred Pemberley, elegant and understated.

“But I suppose,” she said quickly, “dukes are not known for their restraint.”

Mr. Darcy laughed; he had a habit, she was learning, of lowering his head slightly when he laughed or smiled. This trait shamelessly stolen from an actor I would not hate as Darcy (no, I will not say who, unless guessed correctly. I'm like Rumplestiltskin, in a way).

It was charming. So charming.

She was not used to thinking of him as charming, but there it was. She doesn't have a crush quite yet, but it's developing quickly. We are in a Crush Watch, on the cusp of a Crush Warning. 

And his eyelashes, she saw, were very long. She had never noticed before. It's the worst when men have long eyelashes. WHAT ARE YOU USING THEM FOR? YOU DON'T NEED THEM. 

That was why she was continuing to look at them, probably. It was simply astonishing that she had missed it until now. It was just an interesting observation. Really. We are right in the path of the Crush. It might be wise to take shelter. 

She didn’t want him to catch her staring. She hastily reached for a nectarine on the table before them.

Very unfortunately, Mr. Darcy reached for one at the same time.

It was only a moment, a simple brush of her fingers against his. Their eyes met, and there was an instant where Mr. Darcy might have looked as shocked as she felt, but in the next second, Elizabeth was quite sure she had imagined it. He smiled and gestured for her to choose first, and he did not look the slightest bit ruffled.

Elizabeth wished that she could say the same for herself. Her hand was tingling and her stomach was fluttering and she felt the tiniest bit lightheaded, which was silly enough, but her face was growing very hot indeed, and she could not imagine why. INCOMING.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the platter. She had hoped that hers was a demure, attractive blush, but no. She was not a shade lighter than scarlet.

Lovely. It's really fun to make Elizabeth and Darcy squirm. I am an equal-opportunity torturer (this is acceptable since I absolutely smother them in fluff later).

She had been handling herself so well, too! She had been composed, and poised, and outwardly at ease. She had conversed cheerfully with Mr. Darcy, and his sister, and Mrs. Annesley. She had done herself no discredit, even when Miss Bingley had tried so hard to fluster her.

And she had been undone by one tiny bit of contact, one slight graze of his fingertips, barely even a touch at all. She's just a girl. <3

It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous.

She had only been surprised; she was reacting to its unexpectedness. It meant nothing. Keep telling yourself that, Elizabeth, if it brings you any comfort. 

She could not explain, then, why it was the last thing she thought of before she went to sleep that night. ...The crush might be here now, guys, but I'm not sure. 

[cocoscurios]

The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words Chapter Commentary

Chapter Seventeen: Resemblance

Fitzwilliam led Elizabeth to the picture gallery, which held a livelier interest to her now than on her first visit to Pemberley. She was eager to see his parents, who were still shadowy and indistinct figures to her. She did not remember seeing them in the summer, but she had been intent on finding Fitzwilliam’s portrait then and had skipped over every unfamiliar face. More of the grand mapping out of Pemberley, with some bonus sketching of Darcy's parents!

They came first to Lady Anne, a handsome woman, who looked like a more elegant version of her sister, Lady Catherine. Her features, though strong, were more graceful, and her expression was less severe; though, Elizabeth thought fairly, that could be her own bias against Lady Catherine speaking, and, at any rate, it was difficult to tell from a portrait alone.

Lady Anne had been pale and fair, much fairer than her darker-haired children. Elizabeth did not see much of Fitzwilliam in his mother, but she did see many elements of Georgiana: the shape of the eyebrows, the grey eyes, the length of the neck, the wide mouth. I've always pictured the Fitzwilliams as a very blond family; the Darcy siblings get their darker coloring from their father and stand out when they visit the earl and co.

She wondered what Lady Anne had been like. Fitzwilliam had not spoken much about his parents and she was curious to know more. There was only so much you could learn from a picture. Lady Anne’s was a proud, patrician face, but she knew very little about the woman behind it.

They came next to George Darcy. Fitzwilliam, she saw at once, greatly resembled his father. Their coloring was identical, the shape of the eyes and the mouth the same. The late Mr. Darcy was smiling in his portrait, and it was one she recognized well. She wondered if his mouth had looked as serious as his son's did in repose, making their smiles all the more striking. 

A quick glance around at the portraits of the previous generations of Darcys proved how Fitzwilliam favored this side of his family; there was a great-uncle with his nose, a cousin with his brow, a grandmother with his cheekbones.

Elizabeth recalled with amusement how, in the midst of her dislike, she had thought Fitzwilliam like his aunt. There were certain expressions, certain manners that were similar there, but it was the jawline that was the only real point of resemblance. Elizabeth recognized it now as the strong, obstinate Fitzwilliam jaw. Lady Catherine, Lady Anne, the colonel, and her husband all had it; Georgiana had inherited a softer one from her father.

Fitzwilliam looked a little wistfully at his parents’ portraits.

“They would have loved you,” he said. “My father, especially.” Lady Anne, I think, would have taken some convincing, but would have gotten there in the end (she wouldn't be happy about being connected with the Bennets, but Elizabeth's obvious love for Darcy would win her over); the elder Mr. Darcy would have loved her instantly. 

He did not offer more than this, and Elizabeth did not ask. There would be better times to press for further information. I really want to explore Darcy's parents further (I've got loads of headcanon for them), but don't have a compelling enough project for it. Maybe it'll happen bit by bit in Sport for Our Neighbors.

She wondered suddenly who their own children would resemble; her face grew warm at the thought. Would they be tall like him or petite like her? Would they have the same thick, soft, brown curls as Fitzwilliam and Georgiana, or her wilder, darker ones, always hovering right on the edge of untidiness? Fitzwilliam's bright blue eyes or her dark ones? She felt a delicious surge of anticipation and tightened her grip on her husband’s arm.

Her own portrait would be up there someday, and their children's portraits after that. You know Darcy can't wait to get Elizabeth and the kiddos represented in that gallery. It was a thought both daunting and marvelous, and one she never would have believed six months ago.

She glanced behind her a final time before they moved on to the next room.