"To Wives and Sweethearts...May they never meet." —Jack Aubrey, "Master and Commander"
Allow me to introduce my new pet project- My Napoleonic War extravaganza. In this story, which is centered on Jack Aubrey and his family, you will be meeting multiple families of good name and excellent reputation from multiple books set during the Napoleonic Wars, including, but not limited to, Patrick O'Brien's beloved novels. Feel free to note in your comments if you've found my oblique references in each chapter. Sometimes if I don't think it's obvious enough I'll make note of something at the end.
That being said, allow me to offer an apology beforehand. This will not be a dedicated fan's completely accurate fan fiction. There will be errors in time and place not completely cohesive with the books on which they are based. Children will be given where sometimes married couples have none, and birthdays assigned to those children to suit my purposes. This will anger some people, and I am sorry. For those of you, however, who do enjoy seeing your favorites suffer through domesticated life and its various adventures, this will be a fun frolic I hope you will enjoy.
As for time, I hope to finish this as quickly as possible. Updates may be sporadic, as I am beginning my first year of college next year and that will not be easy. Until that end, however, may we amuse and confuse you.
Ladies and Gentlemen, the curtain rises and the play begins. Attend!
It is a sad and universal truth that when considering husbands for their daughters, maternal figures place more emphasis in their efforts upon the contents of the gentleman's purse than they do upon his character, a device that lies less often than the former. Mrs. Sophia Aubrey was no exception to this observation, and with twin daughters in need of marrying had only redoubled her efforts on their behalf into the investigation of the condition of the purses of many of the eligible young men of their neighborhood. Her daughters were both just turning eighteen, a prime time to 'come out' for the season and find husbands, if their father could bear to part with them.
"And I've just finished the guest list for Fanny and Charlotte's birthday, Jack dear, if you'd please have a peek after lunch and see if I haven't forgotten anyone," Sophie was saying as Killick served the midday meal. The 'Jack dear' she was addressing was none other than her husband, Admiral John Aubrey, Royal Navy, and the party to which she was referring was the one celebrating her daughters' eighteenth.
"Have you invited Pullings?" Jack inquired, knowing how much his former first lieutenant would want an invitation to see Jack's children all finally grown up. He really had no inkling of who else would be on this guest list or why they would be there, and he really didn't care so long as there were a few time honored friends with whom he could pass the time and plenty of brandy to be had from the cellar to pass the time with. A congenial man who wanted little from life other than good food and the happiness of his wife and family, it took little to annoy or vex Lucky Jack unless it was asking him to coexist for several hours with a houseful of strangers whose only intentions were to drink his good wine, soil his carpets, and kick up a ruckus.
"Yes, dear, and I'm told that some of the best families will be up from London, I've sent invitations, though I don't expect them to come..." Sophie added, absentmindedly.
"Best families, mm?" Jack asked, sipping his wine with a smile. He still was not listening.
"Oh, yes," Sophie was saying, "The Crawleys, and the Bingleys...and I've heard word that the Darcys are to be in town as well!"
"The who, dear?" Jack asked, paying more attention to his naval gazette than his wife.
"The Darcys, dear. He is worth nearly ten thousand a year, and..." she lowered her voice with a secretive smile, "They have a son who will inherit it all."
This news did not mean half as much to Jack as it did to Sophie, who would die to see her daughters married to someone so rich, but that was only because Jack would have much rather preferred to see both daughters married off to sensible sea captains with a healthy respect for his daughters and a sound opinion on politics to keep him occupied during the debates that invariably occur during family dinners. As Sophie continued about this party trifle and that, Jack pretended interest and nodded and smiled away, still paying more attention to his paper.
Woolcombe had been spruced up for the occasion of Fanny and Charlotte's eighteenth- bushes had been pruned, flowerbeds replanted, and a new coat of paint on walls that had badly needed it had been doled out by the loving hands of the few members of Jack's crew he had retained when the HMS Suffolk had gone in for repairs and he had been put back on half pay, banished back to land until a suitable position for a Rear Admiral could be found. Yellowed by his promotion and parted from the sea that was his constant love, Jack had become somewhat melancholic over the past several months, and Sophie was hoping that this party and the prospect of seeing a few old friends might cheer him.
Anyone who could not be cheered by such a party surely had a serious problem, for good spirits were high that night and very infectious to anyone who was well in need of cheering. A small group of musicians played in the corner to the delight of anyone in the county who had come for the dancing, (for indeed, half the county had been invited and it seemed the rest were determined to show up anyway) and beyond them in Mrs. Aubrey's estimable kitchen, a small army of maids slaved away at stoves and fires to keep the food plentiful upon the tables while Killick ranted under his breath about the misuse his master's good china was getting.
Fanny and Charlotte, both in new gowns in honor of the occasion, were standing near the dancing floor receiving both congratulations and offers of dances. Handsome young women who had their mother's slim beauty and their father's height, Sophie was convinced that only the tallest of young men would be considering them for dancing partners, an assured way towards finding a man of considerably good breeding for the both of them.
Overall Mrs. Aubrey was pleased with the turnout: Enough of Jack's friends were here that he was both sufficiently occupied and happier than she'd seen him in weeks. But as for the honorable families she had dared to invite as a nod to their presumed proximity and not any previous acquaintance there were no signs of their ever arriving. Mrs. Aubrey threw the idea from her head and returned to her daughters to try and wheedle out from them what they thought of Sir Sidney Morton.
"Sir Sidney?" Fanny asked, as if she had not heard her mother properly. "He's nearly ten years older than the both of us put together, Mama!"
"Nevertheless, he's a handsome match, Fanny my dear," Sophie was saying to her daughter. Fanny exchanged looks with Charlotte, for Sir Sidney had come and introduced himself to the two of the earlier and no connection between his name and handsome could be made by either of them in any capacity. Pockmarked, short, and with a marked propensity towards bad breath, the only thing that might have recommended him to Mrs. Aubrey's attention was the large estate that he owned, Box Hill. He had danced abominably with both of them, though being good hostesses they had not said anything about it, and trod on both pairs of delicate feet more than once. Indeed, their nominal injurious comments during his set with them seemed to have given him an impaired idea of his dancing talents, and instead of sitting near the sideboard drinking his punch he was still causing concern among the other ladies intent on dancing.
Mrs. Aubrey became distracted by another conversation, as is wont to happen at parties, and drifted away from her daughters without waiting for an answer.
"No, Mama, I would not ally myself with Sir Sidney unless it was a last resort," Fanny retorted sharply to her mother's retreating back. "Oh, I wish someone interesting would show up; all the captains have gone downstairs with Father and they're the only ones worth looking at. Don't you think Captain Pullings is dashing, Lottie? That scar makes him look like a buccaneer!"
Charlotte, however, was not paying attention to her sister's comments on Captain Pullings' scar; her attention had been drawn to a party only now just entering the room; Four women and three men, much better dressed than the best of this company, were sallying forth along the dancing floor, really just the dining room with the majority of the furniture removed.
Mrs. Aubrey, distracted now towards the party approaching her daughter, rushed back to her twins' side to make the proper introductions, since the people of the group were completely unknown to the two of them. She curtseyed, lower than Fanny or Charlotte had ever seen her curtsey before, and the group gave their obeisance back. One of the men, all three observing women were pleased to note privately, was exceptionally tall and well formed; the other two seemed to be related, father and son, for both bore a great resemblance to each other.
Mrs. Aubrey was all in a tizzy, for these must have been the great and vaunted names she did not have the last hope of actually seeing in her home. "Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, how nice of you to come!" She was saying to one of the older women, who was (one could assume) married to the older gentleman. "Your children are all looking very well," She complimented, and the woman who was presumably Mrs. Bingley nodded amicably. "And Mrs. Darcy! A great pleasure!"
The other older woman nodded and smiled. "I am sorry to say Mr. Darcy was held away on business. This is my son, George," She offered, and the tall one bowed again, to which Fanny and Charlotte both curtseyed again as their mother introduced them as "Fanny, the darker one in blue, and Charlotte, the lighter one in peach."
"And these are my daughters," Mrs. Bingley said, "Victoria, and Caroline, and my son, Henry." At the mention of each name, its possessor curtseyed or bowed, much to the delight of Mrs. Aubrey, who was not used to such rehearsed displays of courtesy.
Though no sound interrupted further introductions, Charlotte saw the slightest of good natured smiles creep into George Darcy's countenance, presumably at the two of them being introduced by color. "Oh, Mrs. Darcy, you must try the pudding, our cook, Killick, there's none better," Mrs. Aubrey was saying, ushering the two mothers off while their children remained in a slightly clandestine but somewhat awkward circle. Fanny took one look towards her mother and let out a snort of laughter, shortly muffled by the application of her handkerchief to her mouth.
"Whatever do you find funny?" Victoria Bingley asked, clearly affronted that such a sound could come from a lady.
"I am sorry, but my mother is quite humorous sometimes. There she is, standing over there with your mothers, glancing over their shoulders to see if any of us have fallen madly in love yet," Fanny observed with another chuckle. Victoria and Caroline glanced discreetly, and turned back to the group with more supportive looks.
"She reminds me of Grandmother Bennett," Caroline remarked sympathetically.
"Our grandmother raised five girls and never quite grew out of trying to find husbands for them. Even after they were all married," Victoria explained. "We are constantly harangued by her inquiries on our marital state."
"Oh, I am sorry," Fanny said. "My mother will not be good for you, then. Oh, they are moving! We are spared from scrutiny a little longer."
The dance was ending, and the dancers milled about on the floor as the instrumentalists took a break between songs.
"Do you dance, Miss Charlotte?" George Darcy asked, and Charlotte looked at him in surprise, having not been paying attention to the conversation at all.
"Only if you don't step on her toes, Mr. Darcy," Fanny said with a smile. "I fear they have been most ill-treated this evening."
"I shall do my best," George said with an amicable smile, and Charlotte took his hand to be lead into the figure.
"I am sorry for my silence, Mr. Darcy," Charlotte said as they held hands for the turn, rotating around partners and then coming together again, "But my sister is the more talkative of the two of us."
She could see him laugh as they ducked in and around the other dancers, and when they again held hands, he said, "I had noticed, Miss Charlotte…But I like quiet women better than talkative ones," He added as the figures brought them together again. Charlotte blushed and said nothing more to him until the dance ended.
It was quite hot in the hall, and she forwent the known frontier of her sister's company in favor of the wide and blissfully empty abyss of the garden patio, which had been hung with cunningly crafted paper lanterns just for the occasion. Strung out on wire, they looked like fairy lights, hanging in the air.
"Thirsty?" George asked behind her, and she was surprised to see that he'd returned to her side, a glass of punch in both hands. She took one with a murmured thank you and let the cool liquid slide down her throat.
"I thought perhaps you might have felt sick," George explained when her glance inquired what had brought him outside. "You left me rather quickly in there, you know."
"There are too many people here for me," Charlotte replied, taking another sip of her punch. "I do not much enjoy large parties unless all invited are acquaintances of mine."
"Your mother invites the whole county, too?" George asked good-naturedly, studying her over the rim of his punch glass. "Parties don't generally bother me, but I suppose that's because I have to go to so many. My father, he's like you. A private sort." At her silence, he went on. "And yours?"
"He likes his friends enough, but he's not one for large parties either. He is an admiral, you know; I think the likes of land-dwellers vex him. Not orderly and navy-like enough," Charlotte elaborated. George laughed, and Charlotte could not help but smile; she found talking to him was not nearly as hard as some of the other young gentlemen she'd met tonight.
"He sounds like a capital fellow," George admitted. "Oh, there's your mother again. Shall we look clandestine or pretend we hate each other?" he asked with a cheeky grin. Charlotte's smile grew wider. But it was not for Mrs. Aubrey to leave them be; as all interfering mothers do, she blazed over to the pair quite unawares that she had spoiled a perfectly good moment to ask something of her daughter.
"Lottie, we're ringing the toast, do come inside. Oh, you too, Mr. Darcy, do come in and get some punch…Oh, I see you already have some," Mrs. Aubrey said as the two of them passed inside. "Fanny, where is your father?" she asked her other daughter, an inquiry to which Fanny gave the quintessential confused look, not having seen her father since several of his navy friends had shown up.
"Who's looking for me?" Jack asked in his booming voice, kissing his wife on the cheek and hugging both of his daughters close. He smelled a bit of brandy, and his cheeks were beginning to turn red. Having been hiding out in the wine cellar, his private retreat when the social battles upstairs got particularly noisy, he had returned upstairs when Killick came down to announce that they were ringing the toast.
Never one to miss out on toasting, Jack Aubrey climbed up on a chair while Killick, ringing the retired ship's bell in the kitchen normally used for summoning the family to dinner in a particularly enthusiastic manner, silenced the guests in anticipation of his master's toast.
"Friends and honored guests, on behalf of myself and Mrs. Aubrey, thank you for coming here this evening to celebrate my daughters' birthday. Eighteen wonderful years of life have been beautified by the presence of my daughters, years that I hope will continue to bestow themselves upon the both of them. To Fanny and Charlotte!" Jack said with a smile, holding his glass high.
"Fanny and Charlotte!" The company answered back, holding their glasses high and clinking them with whoever was nearest to down the contents and clap for the two girls, arm in arm, smiling and blushing with pleasure.
There was, of course, more dancing and food and revelry, but Charlotte did not have an opportunity to chat with the commendable Mr. George Darcy until he came up to bid his good-byes.
"My mother says she's been invited to tea next Wednesday," George announced after Charlotte bid another one of her well-wishers goodbye. "You wouldn't mind if…perhaps I came along?"
Charlotte blushed again, redder than she had ever remembered getting before. "I would like that very much, Mr. Darcy," she admitted with a smile.
"It's settled, then," George said, taking her hand and kissing it very lightly, which made her blush even more.
"Mother's going to have a fit when she finds out he's interested in you," Fanny said slyly to her sister, and Charlotte cast a hurried and harried glance at her twin.
"Who said he was interested?" Charlotte asked hastily, and Fanny just smiled and rolled her eyes knowingly. "Promise you won't say another word about it?" she requested quickly, and Fanny smirked.
"Not a word," she promised, holding up her hand as if swearing an oath. This seemed to satisfy Charlotte, who tried hard for the remainder of the evening not to look as though the entire party had gone, much to the amusement of Fanny.
So. You've met the Aubreys, the Darcys, and the Bingleys, so you know that Austen has not been spared from this Extravaganza. There's one more very small reference in here I don't expect anyone to get, and that was the Crawleys, which are stolen from William Makepeace Thackeray's Vanity Fair. They probably won't come in again.
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