A/N: Just a few little notes from the reviews. #500 was an anonymous review, so you can't claim the prize. I do try to answer a good subset of the reviews, but with 500, you can see I can't really get to them all. Of course, if you want a real answer, a longer review is more likely to get one. Most of the answers are via PM though, or my author's notes would be longer than the story.
Interesting reactions to the last few chapters. A lot of positives (people liking the character development and slowdown of the pace), but a not insignificant number of people missing the action of the first few chapters and feeling like I'm stuck, going in circles, beating side stories to death, etc. I won't say which opinion is right. It's the first time I've had such disparate opinions about one of my stories; although if I find out people either love or hate them, I wouldn't be surprised. Soooo… guess I'll just plow forward.
Here are a few things from some of the reviews, but not another entire page like I did back in chapter 12. This is more of a warmup exercise.
Charlotte's List: The list is in Chapter 25. Search for the word "abide". Anne's use of the list is quite possibly the most obscure movie reference ever to "Ten Things I Hate About You", but I don't expect a single person to make the connection.
When will Lizzy wake up? Probably 5-10 more chapters, but we're moving away from Rosings for the moment. I have her wakeup scene in my head, but I need to put more ducks in a row first… or is it sheep. Can never remember which sister to emulate.
Bad Winter – Very Convenient: Yes, it is but it was in fact the worst winters in decades. Darcy was in reality being a bit of a slacker. There was an even worse one about 4 years later that I think I might use in a future story; but the trip to Pemberley makes perfect sense.
Is Anne really such a badass? I wouldn't put anything past her, but I never know what she's going to do in one of my stories until I've already written it. She almost always surprises me. Collins is only alive at Darcy's convenience though. I have about 3 good endings for him in mind, and a Collins HEA is not in the cards. In my more entertaining musings, I can imagine Anne slipping into Collins' house with an axe, only to find Lydia with a pair of throwing knives, and they go into the next room to find Jane with a pistol and in the hall they find Mary with a sledgehammer and Georgiana with a truncheon, and eventually they all enter the room only to find Kitty already smothered him with a cuddle toy or a teddy bear while the lunkheads sit in the corner smoking pipes and complimenting her on the efficacy and cleanliness of the method. Actually, now that I've spoiled it maybe there's no point in writing any more? I can just expand that scene and we're done, right? Oh wait, forgot the romance. Dang, back to the keyboard.
What's up with Mr. Bennet? Did he send the papers or just the sisters? Is he even still alive? We shall see, and I'm debating bringing the Gardiners in as well. To be honest, I kind of forgot about Mr. B, but do keep in mind that if he did send a packet with the sisters it could easily have gotten lost in the shuffle. The dinner was the day after they arrived and it was pretty jam packed.
Any more surprises? Not really, it's pretty much all cleanup now ;)
If you're bored with these characters, maybe you'll like this one. I'm going to try something I've never done before. It's radical. It's unprecedented. You can tell me if I come out carrying my shield or on it.
Wade
Bloody Bollocks, it was cold! I looked over at the fond memory of a fire and wondered if I could figure out how to get it going again before I froze to death. I glanced over at the fairly disgusting looking remnants of the lamb I had on a tray for dinner in the library and wondered if there was anything salvageable, or if I should bother waking one of the servants up. The candles were guttering down to nearly nothing, so a wise man might just advocate that the better part of wisdom suggested going to bed.
In the end, I wondered idly how long I had been sitting there in thought, but instead of taking out my pocket watch; I returned to the table where I had all the parchments laid out, and tried once again to make some sense of them.
The pages were obviously written in haste and agitation, especially the first. They did not look as bad as my writing, but if Caroline should happen to see them and praise the evenness of the handwriting or the quality of the pen, she would be lying more than usual. Of course, with Caroline nearly everything was a lie, and every conversation was really just a matter of how many and how deep. She lived in her own little world where nobody and nothing was important if it did not help her with her attempts to move herself into the circles where she had not been born, and would never truly be accepted. She used people like tools, and failed to realize that most of her 'friends' did the same thing.
The first parchment sounded a touch mad. Darcy was the best friend I had ever had, but we had grown apart over the past year. Now, with the first parchment I well and truly understood that between the two of us, our combined intelligence would still make the stupidest man in London… or it would if Darcy was in London. In the letter he refused to give all of the particulars, but he was apparently in Kent, with the Bennet sisters… all of the Bennet sisters. The story he gave me, which I surmised was only a tiny portion of the real story made me want to get on my horse and go there immediately to throw myself at Jane Bennet's feet and beg for redemption. Unfortunately, the rest of the story convinced me I would be taking my life in my own hands with that approach. Apparently Jane Bennet was… not so serene anymore.
The rest of the first letter is where he descended into madness. Darcy had a plan… a devious and difficult plan, which he admitted was as likely to get me killed as to succeed, or possibly more so; but it just might be the path to redemption. He outlined the barest suggestion of a way forward toward the accomplishment of his goal, but then spent a full page telling me why I should not accede to the plan, and it would be much more sensible to forget the whole thing.
I was barely pondering and absorbing that the next morning, when another letter arrived. It was shorter, better written, and much clearer. Apparently, a few hours sleep did wonders for him. It told me in no uncertain terms to burn the latter half of the first letter and please forget that I had ever seen it. He admitted that if the letter contained a touch of madness, it was really only a fraction of what he was experiencing; but would not elaborate further.
The third letter, on the fourth day, implored me to both burn the first letter and then notify him by express that I had done so. He truly thought he might not bear it if I got myself killed over some hare-brained scheme, which now seemed the most likely outcome.
The fifth letter was mostly a repetition of the fourth. To prevent a sixth, since the man seemed to be sounding more and more desperate, I wrote back express with my sincerest thanks for the information he had given me; my fondest assurances that I held nothing against him in the debacle of last winter since it had been done in the service of a friend, and my absolute iron-clad assurances that I had burned all the appropriate letters.
That had been some hours ago… well, come to think of it, I did not really need my watch or the clock as I could see dawn coming through the window. I had not been lying to Darcy, as I had never done so in the past and never intended to do so in the future. I did fully intend to burn the offending letters… I just had to think about it just a bit more.
At long last, I rang for a servant since they were clearly up and about by now, asked for some assistance with the fire and some breakfast; and then did exactly as my friend, mentor and most trusted advisor told me to. I burned the letters. I burned every last one of them… except for the first of course, and then sat down with my own pen and did my best to create something legible.
"Caroline, I have some important business that will keep me occupied for at least a month, and probably two. You will need to go stay with your sister."
"Charles, what can you possibly be thinking? Lord Winchester's ball is in a fortnight, and there are three more in the next week after that. You cannot go! I forbid it! We shall stay here and enjoy the rest of the season. I insist. I am certain now that things have settled down in Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy will be back, and we must call on him. We have hardly seen him at all year, and I have not seen dear Georgiana at all!"
I looked at her wondering what had made me fail to see her machinations in every aspect of my life since we were children. In the end, Darcy's revelations were not a surprise, but more likely a confirmation. She really was the most self-centered woman I had ever met, and she truly cared for nothing that did not advance her own agenda.
"Mr. Darcy is not coming to town, and I truly believe you should start setting your sites on another. There is even less chance of you achieving your ambitions now than ever, and there was no chance to start with. Start looking elsewhere, Caroline. You will never, ever, be Mrs. Darcy."
She just huffed as she always did when she thought I was being ridiculous, but perhaps there was a touch of something new in her expression, as I had never been so blunt before, but she rallied quickly.
"Oh Charles, you are so tiresome. I have not pursued him these five years and bent myself to be the perfect mistress to him for nothing. No, he shall see my virtues this time, but he cannot do it if we do not call on him."
"Take my word for it Caroline! I have it on the very best authority that he will not be to town at all this season, and even if he were, we would not be calling on him."
"Charles, how can you say such a thing? If you truly need to go about some dreadful business, well go to it but I shall stay here. I shall invite Louisa and Gilbert to stay here."
I wondered if her stubbornness were a gift or a curse for her. I now thoroughly understood which they were for me.
"I am afraid that will not be possible Caroline. You cannot stay here, so either go to your sisters, or go to Scarborough, or perhaps since you are quite on the shelf now; I shall just set you up in your own establishment."
It was probably mean-spirited to say such a thing, whether true or not (it was), but after Darcy told me the whole story of how spectacularly I had failed Jane Bennet because I listened to the two of them, I was in no mood to quibble. At least Darcy's intentions had been good.
"Charles, how can you say such a horrid thing!"
She actually started to cry, big tears, and a less astute man may well have been fooled by them, and a weaker man might relent and let her have her way one more time; just as he had been doing all his life. A kinder man might have held his tongue, but I was tired of being all of those things.
All my life had thus far been driven by the fact that most of the good things in life except for an acceptable sister had been handed to me. I did not have to earn my fortune, and in fact, the chief goal of my father's life was to insure that his children and grandchildren did not have to earn anything. It suddenly struck me as quite a terrible idea, yet I had gone along without thinking very much about anything all along. Everything from going to Cambridge to leasing an estate had been done in the service of my father's ambition, without ever giving very much consideration to whether they were my ambitions or not; and to tell the truth, I did not think I had ever before today had any ambitions. I certainly had lacked resolution the one time in my life when it might have been the making of a man. I doubted Jane Bennet would have put up with me for a month as I was, let alone the rest of my life.
My sister on the other hand truly believed the world owed her everything that a member of the Royal Family might have been born with. She was determined to pretend we were better than we were, as if wishing would make it so.
I finally brought my thoughts to the matter at hand.
"Caroline, listen to me! Listen very carefully! You will never marry Fitzwilliam Darcy. I do not care how much you try to flatter yourself, he will never offer for you under any conditions. Even if you managed to compromise yourself with him, he would throw you out on your head and he would ruin the rest of the family along with you. He is an excessively a polite man and has put up with you these years in service to our friendship, but he is quite finished with all that. You have wasted the last five years reaching for the impossible, and leaving the possible routes to happiness by the wayside, destroyed by your greed. You will stop! You will stop now!"
I was quite happy with myself for finally having put my foot down as the head of this family, finally grown into my manhood, finally ready to tackle the implacable bear that my sister had become.
"Charles, you are so tiresome! I shall not listen to this another minute. Be a good boy and call for my maid. I shall rest, and then invite Louisa over for tea and luncheon."
She started to leave and I watched her stick he nose in the air as if she were better than everyone in the room; myself included, or more likely, myself especially.
"Caroline!"
"Yes, Charles."
I could tell she was not really listening, so I stood up from the table, walked in front of her and said, "Caroline, this is important. You must listen."
"Do not be so tiresome, Charles. I shall discuss this with you rationally after luncheon when you come back to your senses."
I wondered just what it would take to get her attention, and when I finally ran out of patience, I used the only approach I had ever found that worked. I am ashamed to admit it, but I reached over and slapped her on the cheek."
She screamed at me as if I had thrown her in the fireplace, but I could see it was all just an act and waited her out patiently.
When she finally shut her mouth for just a moment, I told her how things were to be.
"Caroline, I have dispatched the instructions to my solicitor an hour past. The townhouse will be sold within the week, at whatever price I can get. At the end of that week, you may go to our sister's house, or you may take me up on my earlier offer for your own establishment, or you may go back to Scarborough, but make your decision before luncheon, as I will be gone before nightfall, and shall not be back for some time. The choice will be made for you if you refuse to see the world for what it is.
She stopped screaming, and looked at me appraisingly, wondering which approach to use next. There was a time when I would have waited and tried to keep peace in the family, but it was far too late for that.
Fitzwilliam Darcy had set me a task. He tried to rescind it immediately, but that was like trying to unlight a fire or unring a bell. There was just the slimmest chance that I could maybe for the first time in my life earn the respect of the one person who needed and longed for it the most… myself. Perhaps once I had managed that, I could work on someone else.