free for all

[tigriswolf]

And it's time for the regularly-scheduled free for all!

As ever, the rules are:

*No more than five prompts in a row.
*No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
*No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing. Use a spoiler cut as needed.
*If you know the character's full name, use it. Also, give the fandom's complete name, too.
*If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space.

Have fun!

Comments

[quitehopeless.livejournal.com]

A/N: I decided this kind of fit with the Persuasion AU, at least it seemed to almost go along with Barbara musing in the beginning about her family's reversal in fortune. I hope it works, at least. And apologies for having to tweak it so much.

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Barbara sat at the window seat, looking out at the grounds. She imagined them filled with an angry mob, creditors demanding everything they were due and more, crashing down the gates and trampling over the lawn, overturning plants and stones. She could see them ripping paintings and tapestries from the walls, taking anything of value.

She saw all of it being lost in an instant, everything she had once known, everything she held dear, her heritage and the memories of her mother—oh, while her mother had been alive, this house had known economy and moderation. They had not had to fear the knock of a creditor, had not had to hear repeatedly about their debts—lectures that went to the deaf ears of her father and sister.

She had never thought to fear poverty before. She'd been told to, years before, when she was told to refuse the offer Richard had made her. She had been told to, and she'd thought perhaps she had, that she had acted out of it, but she had not truly understood it, not until now.

She wanted to ask how it had come to this, how they had found themselves so close to being thrown out of their ancestral home, how they would lose everything that their family had built, how it had all gone wrong, but she knew there was no use in asking how it had happened.

All that mattered was knowing that it had happened.

They were reduced to begging for an extension—for mercy.

They acted like thieves, like tricksters, buying things for which they did not have any money. Truthfully, that was stealing, regardless of what others thought.

She could not stand it. They were supposed to be a family of nobility. Her father was a baronet. Her father's ancestor had earned his title through a great act of valor, and yet she thought all of that had died out years before her father. Her uncle, was different. He would have honored the title, respected the land and the people dependent on them, would not have squandered a fortune or been so very vain.

If her uncle had been the one to inherit, perhaps all would have been different. He would have married the woman he loved instead of mourning her in silence.

True, Barbara would not have been born, but if she had not been, then she could not have made the mistake that she had, the mistake she now suffered for.

She had thought she'd made the right choice, but now, looking back on it, she regretted it. She traced a finger along the glass. Oh, uncle. I do not blame you, but I wish I had never listened to you. I wish I had not been so easily swayed, that I had been stupid and stubborn and not convinced myself I was being noble. I wish I had been with him all this time.

She sighed. The creditors were not taking it all away, not yet, but that would come. She knew that her uncle was in advising her father about the finances, giving him the options—retrenchment or renting out the hall—and she knew how her father would react to those options.

He would not listen. He would doom them all.

All these years of enduring her sister's heedless and cruel remarks, her father's vanity, and the machinations of her sister's friend Mrs. Armstrong—they would all be for nothing. Barbara would have lost her home and been reduced to poverty, the sort that she had been told that she was avoiding by breaking off her engagement to Richard.

She should have married him. Poverty with Richard was not half as frightening a prospect as it was now. She had not been so scared of it before—she could have married another if she were worried about money alone, but she had not. That man had married her younger sister instead.

She should count that as another mistake, another poor choice, but she did not. He was a good man, better than Pamela deserved, but she had not regretted refusing him, even now, facing the prospect of losing her home. She considered the man a good friend, was honored to have him as a brother, but she did not love him.

She feared, though, that she still loved Richard, that she always would.

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

Oh, but this is lovely! And as soon as I'm done with Mary Balogh, I'm going to do a re-read of Austen's works. Thank you, thank you!

[quitehopeless.livejournal.com]

You're welcome. :)

And thank you. I'm glad you liked it.

I have watched almost all of my Austen movies lately, but now I need to read the books, too.