AN:Any drabble or short based on Jane Austen's works. Most will have been posted at AHA before, at least until I catch up, some are scenes living on my hard drive waiting for a story. Will add new material if and when I have it.
First chapter is written for the guessing game 'Rhyme that fanfic', which may result in some odd sentences here and there. Cross posted on A03.
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Miss Elizabeth Bennet realized early on that no man keeps looking at a woman he despises, only to find fault. At least, she convinced herself of this undeniable truth after making sure for at least the 100th time that nothing was amiss on her that matters, be that dress, face or hair.
While he may not think her handsome, or at least not enough so to warrant a dance, there was objectively nothing especially wrong with her appearance. Her dress was new, well-fitted and emphasized the best of her form, her hair was clean and dressed up rather nicely. Her face was as it always was and there was little she could do about it. But then again, her face was fine just as it was. Her eyes were large and usually shining with joy, her nose was straight, her cheecks were blushing becomingly, her teeth were all there, straight and white, her lips were full but not too full, and usually curled upward in a smile.
All in all, she was no Jane, obviously, but she was not unhandsome, no matter what either her mother or the most judgmental, dour, infuriating, vexing, handsome, intelligent, intriguiging - No! No! - odious, obstinate, unsophisticated - much better - man of her acquaintance might say.
As she went down to dinner at Netherfield Park, she inadvertently entered what turned out te be the billiards room, instead of the parlor. She would have left, had not the most handsome, well-dressed, intelligent man of her acquaintance been within. As he bent over the table to take his shot, she observed his posterior in his well-fitted breeches and adjusted her opinion of his overall handsomeness upwards by several degrees.
She felt somewhat flushed when his gaze arrested her, and when he invited her to play in his deep, sonorous voice, she felt flutters in her belly. He positioned her quite as he liked, she thought, feeling many more flutters and much heat, and when he bent over her to align her cue, she felt a frisson of that, when her knees nearly buckled and he had to steady her by putting an arm around her waist.
"Miss Elizabeth," he breathed in her ear, "you undo me madam. You must allow me..."
