A/N: This story was inspired by Paradox's April Crossover Challenge and a lot of S/P Regency talk that was going on in the community at the time. I just haven't had time to get it going before now, what with finals and everything.
However, now I am free for the summer, so updates will be much more frequent! I'm also working on the last chapter of "My Fair Sheldon," I promise.
This is basically S/P meets Jane Austen's Persuasion, with my own little spin on it. I'm going to be going to some OOC and AU places with the characters, but I'm looking forward to exploring that. Apologies in advance for sad!Penny. The Penny who has gumption to spare will be back, trust me.
I hope everyone enjoys this! Don't feel shy about commenting either, good or bad!
Chapter One: "I think very differently now from what I was persuaded to think eight years ago…"
What's this? What thoughts are these? Why should desire
look back to days that never can return?
Unhappy wretched soul, since still you burn,
why are you heaping wood upon the fire?
--Canzoniere 273
Sir Eric was a proud man of goof and respectable family, thank you very much. He had land, a grand home, and three beautiful daughters. His most prized possession though, was his title. He was a baronet. If asked, he would say that he lacked for nothing.
In point of fact, he did lack something.
A rather important something.
Money.
Sir Eric Elliot of Omaha Hall was penniless.
He had hoped to rectify the situation when his daughters married. No such luck.
The eldest, Alicia, was still single at age twenty-nine. This perplexed Sir Eric, as he had always found her to be the handsomest of his three girls. And her beauty had not diminished with time. Alicia was still the same lovely creature she had been at sixteen.
She had even had a suitor once, a Mr. Barry Elliot. He was the heir presumptive to the Elliot estate and Sir Eric had had high hopes for the match. As usual though, his hopes had led to nothing. Mr. Elliot had "fallen in love" with an heiress who actually had tuppence to rub together and that had been the end of that. He and Sir Eric had not spoken since and no one else had come seeking Alicia's hand.
The other two had proven to be even bigger disappointments than Alicia.
Sir Eric's youngest daughter Leslie had married Leonard Musgrove when she was nineteen. They lived in the parsonage on his parents' estate, Jersey. Leonard was set to inherit, but Sir Eric knew that the Musgroves were not particularly rich either. Leslie's paltry "fortune" would not settle his debts. Leonard was a most amiable man, but he was next to useless in Sir Eric's opinion.
Sir Eric's greatest disappointment, however, lay in his second eldest, Penelope. At nineteen, her beauty and vivaciousness had nearly rivaled her sister Alicia's. The only thing that had kept her from surpassing her sister's myriad accomplishments had been her unruly spirit. She had been a wild creature, always traipsing about the surrounding countryside in every kind of weather, riding her horse as if she were a man, and verbally lashing every hopeful suitor until he was nearly in tears.
Then, almost eight years ago to the day, she had met—he shuddered to think of it—that naval scientist. Of all the preposterous things! Sir Eric dabbled in science himself and was certainly respected for the results his experiments had produced, but that was a hobby. This charlatan, this…this nobody was a scientist by profession, claiming that he wished to use his natural abilities for the benefit of Britannia against the French.
This man had actually presumed himself to be good enough to marry Penelope. Worse, she had accepted his proposal!
Well, Sir Eric had put a swift and decisive end to that with the help of his dear friend Lady Ramona Russell. She was Penelope's godmother and only confidant. It was she who had persuaded Penelope to do the wise thing and back out of the match. She had been made to believe that the upstart lad would never have been able to support them both on his paltry naval man's earnings and he would probably die in the war anyway. He was apparently not much of a sailor.
Penelope had done as her elders had wished, and for awhile Sir Eric had thought everything was sorted. However, there seemed to be something wrong with the girl.
She grew wan and pale, whereas before she had had a youthful, healthy bloom about her. She was quiet and withdrawn, instead of displaying her wonted lively demeanor.
While Sir Eric felt this to be a marked improvement—she behaved more like a proper young woman now—it did nothing to fix his finances.
Penelope, at seven and twenty, was well on her way to becoming a spinster.
He was beyond financially ruined. There would be no dues ex machina in the form of a rich and generous son-in-law.
The only thing that gave him any comfort was his favorite book, the Baronetage. It was the last bit of Elliot glory to be had, a place in the Baronetcy of England. There would be nothing else for him.
He held the heavy volume to his chest and sighed deeply.
. . .
Penny Elliot watched from the door with tired eyes as her father sought some comfort in his tattered old book. She gave a sad sort of sniff and continued on her way, past the library. She had been wandering the house all day, lost in her own thoughts. She didn't enjoy gamboling about the fields as much as she used to, so on days like today she settled for roaming the familiar corridors of her beloved Omaha Hall.
Today was a particularly difficult day. Exactly eight years ago, almost to the very hour, he had asked her to make him the happiest of men.
She remembered looking up into his big, hopeful eyes and feeling so deliciously happy. Theirs had been an instant connection. They had met at a ball, where she had coaxed him to dance. Each of them had enjoyed their conversation so much that both had agreed it had to be continued at any cost. They were together nearly every day, even if only for a few moments.
Here had been a man who could take her away from her unhappy home. She loved Omaha, but she had never felt at peace with her family. They were often cold and distant, absorbed in their own affairs.
Her constant companion and friend had been Lady Ramona, but when Penny was honest with herself, she had known that this was not enough.
As a child, she had read and reread the works of Newton, Bacon, Copernicus, and Galileo. Through them she had developed a taste for learning everything she could about the world around her. He was exactly the sort of man who would one day join their illustrious ranks, if not surpass them.
But…
But she had ultimately refused him. She had agreed at first, believing that their union would be a happy one.
Her father's ignorant fury had made her doubt this, but not for long.
It had been Lady Ramona who had changed her mind.
It was not the speech that she had given about financial instability or the great possibility of widowhood that had changed Penny's mind; it had been the thoughts that this speech had spawned in her own reflections.
She would not have made him happy.
If things did not go well for him in the navy, he would have been miserable over his inability to support her.
If success were to come his way—and it had—then he would be miserable because he had tied himself to an intellectual inferior and relations that any man with sense would blush to be connected with.
Either way, his happiness would not be perfect, and she had loved him too much to let that happen.
So, she had written him the following day and broken their engagement.
She had regretted it ever since.
What hurt her most was how stupid she had been.
She had let the influence of others persuade her own thoughts and her subsequent reasonings had been insufficient to properly support the course of action that she had taken.
Of course they—he—would have been happy.
They had loved one another.
It ought to have been enough.
Penny had never been the same. She had withdrawn almost entirely into herself. She no longer relished the things she used to. She put aside her Newton and took up Petrarch. Here was a kindred spirit.
She never rode anymore, never raised her voice in mirth or anger, and didn't speak much.
More importantly, she had given up dancing.
It just wasn't fun anymore.
In the last eight years, life had not been particularly kind to her.
It had been kind to him though.
He had won them the war and made his fortune with his scientific innovations. The French had not stood a chance. He had declined being knighted though, claiming that if Nelson had died bravely without that distinction then so could he.
Instead, he had been made a captain for his heroism in the face of grave danger (he had saved the entire crew from their burning ship after a raid).
Her father and Lady Ramona had been entirely wrong.
He was a brilliant, respectable physicist and a brave sailor indeed.
Her wandering footsteps had brought her full circle back to her chambers.
She went inside and passed the time until supper reading a book.
. . .
Two weeks later, Sir Eric was forced to do what he had been dreading all along: rent out Omaha Hall. He had exhausted every other possibility in the attempt to alleviate his debts. Now he would have to pack up his family and move somewhere smaller until he could rebuild his capital, which could take several years. He positively shuddered at the thought.
He and his daughters were in the study, discussing tenant options with his agent, Mr. Shepherd.
"No, no Shepherd! I will not have some farmer supping at my table. Who else have you found?"
Mr. Shepherd cleared his throat. Sir Eric's ridiculous prejudices always set his teeth on edge.
"Well, there is one more. An Admiral Koothrapali."
"A navy man, you say?"
"Yes sir. He and his wife have just returned from the Continent and they are looking for a nice, secluded country seat."
There was a long pause in which Sir Eric appeared to be giving the matter great thought.
Finally, he asked "He's not a man of science, is he?" in clipped tones.
Penny blushed scarlet and attempted to hide her burning face behind a hand.
Mr. Shepherd looked absolutely perplexed.
"No sir. There's nothing scientific about him as far as I can perceive."
Sir Eric pursed his lips.
"An Admiral?"
"Yes sir."
"An Admiral…"
Sir Eric's eyes took on a faraway gleam. Penny could tell he was already boasting of such a prestigious connection to all their acquaintance in his head.
She shook hers as he and Mr. Shepherd signed some papers and finalized the paper work.
Afterward Penny saw Mr. Shepherd to his coach while Sir Eric and Alicia ran off to tell Lady Ramona that Omaha Hall was soon to be graced by the patronage of an Admiral.
"Mr. Shepherd, do forgive my curiosity, but the Admiral's name feels very familiar to me. I am sure I saw it in a paper or something once. After all, one does not forget such an unusual last name."
"There's no doubt you have seen it, Miss Penelope. Several years ago he married one Melissa Cooper, sister to one of our nation's finest men!"
Penny had gone very pale, but Mr. Shepherd did not notice this as he delivered his death blow:
"In fact, the Admiral himself told me that his wife's brother would be coming to stay with them for some time if they were to call Omaha their new home. He'd be here whilst you are staying with the Musgroves. Just think of it Miss Penelope! You'll get to meet a hero, face to face!" he said excitedly as he got into the coach.
Penny forced herself to smile and wave as it pulled away.
She felt faint.
She was going to see him again.
Captain Sheldon Lee Cooper was coming to Omaha