So I'm very excited about this story, though I do have some bad news if you choose to read it. Since it is a regency fic, it'll take me a little longer with the chapters due to the language and the historical stuff and the clothing. But I do have a crystal clear picture of the plot, so that will speed things up hopefully.
Some background I hope you will read but will most likely not:
- I cannot make John a doctor, it just wouldn't make sense for the time period, as far as I can tell.
- For the same reasons, Sherlock cannot be a detective.
- Molly's name is Margaret, and Molly is her pet name.
I hope you like this as much as I do. It's the longest thing I've ever written, five pages!
A man of lesser consequence with such peculiar interests might have found himself quite put out of society's good standing, but as Sherlock Holmes was not a man of such consequence, rather a man of ten thousand pounds a year, they found themselves quite willing to overlook this otherwise disconcerting slight.
Indeed, coming from a family of high respect and standing, the man in question had always had an ease in his childhood quite uncommon in this day and age. His every wish was attended to, and his parents were the doting kind of people who did not believe in a cold and unfriendly upbringing. As a child, he never wanted for anything, and indeed his life was not a very difficult one.
However, even with such a good an upbringing, Sherlock Holmes always had had a rare gravity around him. His housekeeper, Mrs. Hudson, a woman utterly devoted to the boy she had raised since birth, had always thought him to serious for his own good. The good woman was often found remarking how the young master ought to smile more.
His good friend John Watson, in sharp contrast, was a man of remarkably good humour. Their friendship was an odd one, people often said, as they seemed to be men most different. However, they remain loyal to each other, and would not stand to hear a bad remark against the other.
And it was this companionship that to led to the two men atop their horses, overlooking a - in John's eyes, perfectly delightful; in Sherlock's, a modest if not somewhat distasteful - house. The white speckled horse tossed its head while they stood, but Sherlock's faithful pet stood stoic and stately, as if he too were observing the land.
"It's a fair prospect," John grinned with satisfaction, as if he were a man surveying the world itself, a world soon to be his.
Sherlock remained unimpressed. "Pretty enough, I grant you." Dark curls whipped in the wind, struggling to free themselves for the tall hat atop his head.
His companion laughed, well used to the mannerisms of his strange friend. "Oh, it's nothing to Pemberley, I know, but I must settle somewhere." His horse whinnied, hooves landing heavy and impatient on the ocean of green grass. John paused, preparing his inquiry. "Have I your approval?"
Sherlock's lips pursed together for a moment. His face was impassive. "You'll find the society somewhat savage," said he.
"Country manners?" John laughed, as if his friend had just made a joke, unable to fathom such a disagreeable possibility. "I think they're charming."
"Then you'd better take it," was his reply. Sherlock whipped his horse around in a quick, sharp circle, setting off on a trot with his back to the estate his friend was admiring.
…
"Janine, that's mine!"
The shrill shriek was common in the Bennet household, but Margaret and Mary still find it difficult to remain unvexed when it disturbs the admittedly rare peace.
"Well, it's mine now." Janine giggles coyly, perching the struggled-over item over her curls, admiring her appearance. Turning back to her sister, she rolls her eyes and added with a childish attempt at condescension, "You'd never wear it anyway, you're much too plain."
Janine, the youngest, was a silly girl, one that takes much after her own mother, Mrs. Hooper. They were simple women, both content with pretty men and pretty things, but never content for long. Prone to fits of vexation and discontent, Mrs. Hooper fancied herself nervous, while Janine fancied herself young, or charmingly youthful. Janine thought herself a great beauty, as Mrs. Hooper, the foolish woman, often doted on her youngest.
Kitty, perhaps, had more sense, but even so, Janine had great influence on her. They were often found whispering together before bursting into girlish giggles.
Sally, the middle, was a solemn and strange girl, who often wished to say something clever but found she didn't know how. She found comfort in the solitude of her books and in her sonatas, but took very little pleasure in balls or dancing. Indeed, she was quite awkward in society, managing to interject at the wrong times and stay silent at the right.
Margaret and Mary, the two eldest, were the most sensible of the Hooper girls, and indeed, the handsomest. It was well agreed throughout the whole of Hertfordshire that Mary was a beauty unlike one ever seen, and that Margaret also was quite uncommonly pretty. Mrs. Hooper took great comfort in the beauty of her eldest, when she was fretting and sighing, while Mr. Hooper took pleasure in their minds, especially in that of Margaret. Margaret had always taken a special interest in books and learning, fostered in her by her dear papa, and they remained each other's favorites from birth to burial.
They were lively girls, utterly devoted to each other, who delighted in anything ridiculous, plentiful in the frettings of Mrs. Hooper and the giggles of Janine and Kitty. They had an ease in their words that was declared quite charming and very agreeable by those who they encountered.
While Mrs. Hooper's mind was easily known - easily amused with gossip and frivolities, Mr. Hooper seemed a man of uncommon humour. Indeed, he was a man who took great pleasure in vexing his wife, not a very hard task in his household. He was all sarcasm and wit, a trait most shown in his two eldest - his only comforts when listening to the going-ons of his wife, Kitty, and Janine.
Now for all of Mr. Hooper's wit, he was a man of poor fortune, and much to the distress of his wife, should he die, as she was sure he would in the very near future, the estate and the money would go not to his loving daughters nor wife, but to his odious cousin. The weight bore deeply on their minds, released in worry by Mr. Hooper, and fretting by the Mrs.
"Oh, Kitty, let her have it!" said the woman at present. She fanned herself in distress. "Would you tear my nerves to shreds?"
"But it's mine!" Kitty wailed. "You always let her have everything that is mine!" She burst from the room, sobbing childishly, attracting the attention of Margaret and Mary as they returned from their walk.
Grinning with triumph, Janine examined herself in the bonnet once more, before deciding that she didn't much fancy it, tossing it carelessly onto a chair, and falling into the chair herself, crushing it in the process.
"Oh, my nerves," Mrs. Hooper sighed once more in her self-pity. Calling shrilly, "Mary! Margaret! Where are you?"
"Coming, Mama!" was their reply. Delicately unlacing the satin light blue bows under their chins, they hurried to the drawing room in time to hear their mother say, her attention easily diverted -
"My dear Mr. Hooper," with the air of a woman who thought herself very important, "have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?"
Her husband replied that he had not.
"But it is!" the silly woman trilled, delighting in sharing unknown information. "For Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told me all about it."
He made no reply.
"Do not you want to know who has taken it?" cried his wife impatiently.
Not glancing from his book, Mr. Hooper replied, "You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it."
And indeed, that was invitation enough.
Eagerly, and with no mind for the disinterest apparent in his voice, she began. "Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken by a young man of large fortune from the north of England; that he came down on Monday in a chaise and four to see the place, and was so much delighted with it that he agreed with Mr. Brook immediately; that he is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to be in the house by the end of next week." All this said she with hardly a breath in between.
Mr. Hooper, with practiced caution as to not provoke longer speeches, asked, "What is his name?"
"Watson," said she.
"Is he married or single?"
His wife smiled, the question she had anticipated asked, and the answer she wanted on her tongue. "Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!"
Mr. Hooper knew very well what she meant, but found it in himself to ask, "How so? How can it affect them?"
"My dear Mr. Hooper," the silly woman cried. "How can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them."
Indeed he had. "Is that his design in settling here?"
His wife was shocked. "Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so!" The woman leaned forward, enjoying herself immensely. "But it is very likely that he may fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as he comes."
Still he did not look up. "I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you may send them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better, for as you are as handsome as any of them, Mr. Watson might like you the best of the party."
The silly woman blushed, easily charmed by her husband's undetected teasing. "Oh, my dear, how you flatter me. I certainly have had my share of beauty, but I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now. When a woman has five grown up daughters, she ought to give over thinking of her own beauty."
Mrs. Hooper continued, "But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment it would be for one of them. Sir Stamford and Lady Adney are determined to go, merely on that account, for in general you know they visit no newcomers. Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible for us to visit him if you do not."
Turning a page idly, "You are over scrupulous surely. I dare say Mr. Watson will be very glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying whichever he chooses of the girls; though -," throwing a fond smile his admittedly favorite daughter's way, "- I must throw in a good world for my Molly."
His lady was aghast, holding no such smiles. "You will do no such thing! Molly is not a bit better than the others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Mary, nor half as good humoured as Janine. But you are always giving her the preference."
"They have none of them much to recommend them," replied he. "They are all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Molly has something more of quickness than her sisters."
Mrs. Hooper was thrown into a fit, just as her husband had intended. "Mr. Hooper, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion on my poor nerves."
"You mistake me, my dear. I have high respect for your nerves." At last he closes his book, and stands with a leisurely smile. "They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty years at least."
She turned her face away with foolish anguish. "Oh! You do not know what I suffer."
He could not resist one last jab. "But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of four thousand a year come into the neighborhood."
The lady waves her handkerchief hopelessly. "It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come since you will not see them."
Strolling quickly to the door, but not before stooping to press a soothing kiss on Margaret's smiling cheek, he says, "Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will visit them all."