A/N: My first attempt at Jane Austen fic, so I really hope it's okay and that everyone's in-character. Please review and tell me your thoughts!
A Perfect Couple
When they had communicated the news of their upcoming wedding, everyone in Highbury had been so happy for them, all exclaiming what a capital match it was likely to be. Well, almost everyone. There were some people whose jealousy made them somewhat petty. But he didn't concern himself about such things, and he knew his wife would not either.
They really were perfect for one another; uncommonly suited – everyone said so. When they had returned from their wedding journey, they had been showered with invitations to dine and balls held in their honour. It had been rather trying for both of them to be so much in society, for they were both retiring sort of people who thrived on their own resources and who had little need for frivolous entertainment, but they would not have upset the good people of Highbury for the world. Thus proof had been given to household after household just how much mutual felicity existed between them.
She truly was such an accomplished woman, taking great pains after her marriage to practice her playing and singing; she sometimes painted, and although she was too modest to allow it, he thought her efforts rather brilliant and would often tell her so. She would smile, blushing prettily, and say that his partiality to her blinded him, and in those moments, he defied anyone to find a handsomer woman in all Highbury. She was truly one in a thousand.
A wonderful dancer, too. They made a handsome couple on the dance floor, if he did say so himself. For an old married man and an old married woman, they were quite something, and he could sense the admiring eyes of half the room on them as they moved down the set.
She raised an eyebrow, and he understood her silent inquiry (they were so in tune with one another that they could communicate without speaking). 'They wanted me to dance with the little chit,' he elaborated, grimacing. She smiled in understanding and sympathy, and then inclined her head to the left.
'Look over there,' she said, the glee in her voice obvious. He looked in the direction she indicated and saw Emma Woodhouse dancing with Frank Churchill, looking in that Smith girl's direction, a stricken and anxious expression on her face.
He looked back to his wife and was delighted by the mirth in her eyes at seeing the haughty Miss Woodhouse so discomposed. By God, they even shared the same sense of humour!
More than ever he was glad that he had chosen Augusta Hawkins over Emma Woodhouse; they truly were a perfect couple.
