A Tiny Heyer/Austen Ficlet (445 words)
... written for this prompt on lost_spook's commentfic challenge. The characters are Elizabeth and her mother from Pride and Prejudice, and Mrs Scorrier from Venetia...
Mrs Darcy bowed her head in cool greeting, looked at her mother's latest bosom friend, and smiled: that sweet, seemingly unaffected smile that said as clearly as if she had spoken aloud, "Thank you, I believe you are the neighbour I have made sufficient sport of today."
Of course, oh-so-superior Mrs Scorrier was clearly more than a trifle deaf to such needle pricks of civility, and gave that thin laugh that set on edge far sweeter natures than Elizabeth's, before passing on towards the town's small haberdasher.
Elizabeth sighed with relief. If she was compelled by sheer civility to hear one more word about Mrs Scorrier's trials and tribulations, and sacrifices, and her daughter's illustrious marriage and eminent connections...
"Dearest Lizzie, what do you think?" Her mother fussed happily. "Mrs Scorrier, such a lovely woman and so well connected, such a great thing for your sisters! Her daughter is Lady Lanyon - perhaps Mr Darcy or Mr Bingham will be good enough to call on Sir Conway when he and his wife visit - and then you could perhaps host a dinner, which would be a great thing for -"
Elizabeth let her sadly unruly imagination picture her austere husband in proximity with the terrible woman who had run roughshod over her attempts at polite - and only slightly malicious - conversation, and she repressed a shudder. "Mama, I do not believe that can answer."
"Why should it not? I see not reason why it should not. In fact, I have assured Mrs Scorrier that it will be possible to arrange."
Elizabeth turned a shocked gaze. "Mama, surely you have not!"
Mrs Bennett shrugged, a little pettishly. "I saw no harm in it when Mrs Scorrier suggested -"
"Mama! She could not have!" Though, Elizabeth admitted to herself, this Mrs Scorrier could all too well have.
"And why not?"
Elizabeth sighed, and made a note to write her friend Lady Damerel for advice on how to manage an acquaintance both ladies admitted was one for which the courteous endurance expected of a gentlewoman was simply too much to be endured…
Of course, Venetia Damerel had the better of Elizabeth Darcy in this. Venetia may have had the far sweeter, more forbearing nature, and therefore was in herself more open to such abuses of civility as could not be avoided, true. But Elizabeth's husband had never - as she commonly had cause to rejoice, but in these rare occasions to lament - found himself Beyond the Pale.
It was a sad reflection, Elizabeth thought, that where avoiding acquaintance with such as Mrs Scorrier were concerned, moral uprightness could be its own punishment...
Mrs Darcy bowed her head in cool greeting, looked at her mother's latest bosom friend, and smiled: that sweet, seemingly unaffected smile that said as clearly as if she had spoken aloud, "Thank you, I believe you are the neighbour I have made sufficient sport of today."
Of course, oh-so-superior Mrs Scorrier was clearly more than a trifle deaf to such needle pricks of civility, and gave that thin laugh that set on edge far sweeter natures than Elizabeth's, before passing on towards the town's small haberdasher.
Elizabeth sighed with relief. If she was compelled by sheer civility to hear one more word about Mrs Scorrier's trials and tribulations, and sacrifices, and her daughter's illustrious marriage and eminent connections...
"Dearest Lizzie, what do you think?" Her mother fussed happily. "Mrs Scorrier, such a lovely woman and so well connected, such a great thing for your sisters! Her daughter is Lady Lanyon - perhaps Mr Darcy or Mr Bingham will be good enough to call on Sir Conway when he and his wife visit - and then you could perhaps host a dinner, which would be a great thing for -"
Elizabeth let her sadly unruly imagination picture her austere husband in proximity with the terrible woman who had run roughshod over her attempts at polite - and only slightly malicious - conversation, and she repressed a shudder. "Mama, I do not believe that can answer."
"Why should it not? I see not reason why it should not. In fact, I have assured Mrs Scorrier that it will be possible to arrange."
Elizabeth turned a shocked gaze. "Mama, surely you have not!"
Mrs Bennett shrugged, a little pettishly. "I saw no harm in it when Mrs Scorrier suggested -"
"Mama! She could not have!" Though, Elizabeth admitted to herself, this Mrs Scorrier could all too well have.
"And why not?"
Elizabeth sighed, and made a note to write her friend Lady Damerel for advice on how to manage an acquaintance both ladies admitted was one for which the courteous endurance expected of a gentlewoman was simply too much to be endured…
Of course, Venetia Damerel had the better of Elizabeth Darcy in this. Venetia may have had the far sweeter, more forbearing nature, and therefore was in herself more open to such abuses of civility as could not be avoided, true. But Elizabeth's husband had never - as she commonly had cause to rejoice, but in these rare occasions to lament - found himself Beyond the Pale.
It was a sad reflection, Elizabeth thought, that where avoiding acquaintance with such as Mrs Scorrier were concerned, moral uprightness could be its own punishment...