Teapot, ouija board, wellies
Sep. 25th, 2006 12:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mylodonTitle: Teapot, ouija board, wellies
Pairings: Tom/Eddie, slashy and het references to other AOS men.
Rating: PG
Notes: Based on a combination of ideas from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mzcalypso.
I make no claim upon the characters who are owned by O'Brian, Forrester or Austen.
Teapot, ouija board, wellies
Linnet Cattermole lifted the teapot gracefully and poured without spilling a drop. Neat little hands she had, hands that longed to be engulfed within the rather larger ones of Thomas Rogerson. Her brother regarded her with indulgence as he had done since she was in her cradle, although he felt rather uneasy now. The last thing he wanted was for her to break her heart again, as she had over that scrub Princeton, who had wooed her for a summer and then done a runner when he realised that her dowry was not quite as large as he had anticipated. Eddie had been at home briefly then - before he went off to the Indies - and it had hit the girl hard. Many a time his shirt had been soaked through with her tears, tears that had eventually turned into rage and a need to go and burn all the man's letters and dance around the flames.
Now there was every sign that she had fallen all over again for someone totally unsuitable. Not that she was gushing all over him or anything like - she wasn't the sort of girl to fawn or bat her eyelids. She just listened very intently and asked intelligent questions and considered what Rogerson said as if she understood it and it mattered. Of course she did understand a lot of it; she had started reading books with a nautical flavour as soon as her beloved brother had entered the middies' berth. Since Thomas' arrival she had been secretly researching Norie and constantly amazed the young men with her perspicacity.
And she always stared after him when he left the room. Not that Eddie blamed her; Thomas was an incredibly handsome man. Women didn't turn their heads through 180 degrees to admire Eddie Cattermole, but they did for Rogerson, frequently. Not that Eddie minded that either - fat chance any of them had of turning Thomas' head.
But he did mind about Linnet. How on earth was he to fend her off? "He's taken a vow not to marry until he becomes a Post Captain." That would defer the issue but not settle it; it was the sort of statement that could come back to haunt people down the line. "He's a confirmed bachelor, wed only to his career." That was exactly the sort of thing to rouse the spinsters into a fever pitch of activity trying to be the one who changed this delightful young officer's mind. He could tell the truth of course, but that might be the worst course of all. "He can't love you, Linnet. He sleeps with me."
She would never understand - he could imagine the ensuing conversation. "But of course you sleep together, many officers do. If you read your history books it was always an expedient measure when resources, financial or otherwise, were low."
"Yes, but we share a bed not just to sleep."
"Indeed I would guess that you keep him awake half the night boasting of your adventures and telling him tall tales about all your imaginary sweethearts."
Would he end up having to draw a picture or explaining it all in terms of the family cat and its propensity for producing kittens? The whole thing made him feel sick. There could be no explanation; no admission that might get back to his parents. This called for subtlety and an imaginative approach, something that lieutenant Cattermole prided himself on.
Better not tell Thomas what was going on, either - he'd blush and refuse to talk to the girl all the rest of his visit and then the cat would be among the pigeons and Eddie would be the one to suffer Linnet's inquisition. What are you up to stinker? Another daft scheme? Why have you upset Mr Rogerson? And then she'd be at Thomas' side attempting to comfort him and the man would get redder and become completely introverted and...
"Eddie, is the tea not to your liking? You've hardly touched a drop. And I made the cakes myself." Linnet looked very offended and concerned - Cattermole slurped down his whole cup in stunned response.
"Sorry Gumboots, I was woolgathering. Don't often get time for just thinking on ship," Eddie lied.
"And what was so important it affected your appetite?" Linnet ignored the fact that he had resorted to his pet name for her - rather than making her feel self conscious, it produced a warm glow that Eddie seemed to think that Tom was sufficiently part of the family to be allowed into these private jokes.
"Old wives tales." It was the first thing that came into Cattermole's mind and he hoped beyond hope that it would close this thread of conversation.
"What sort of tales?" Rogerson at last spoke up, after an age of sitting silent; he'd been drinking his tea mechanically, the cup being patiently refilled again and again by his hostess and now he was feeling distinctly uncomfortable in the lower regions. He awaited the correct moment when he might beg a short absence and decided to take his mind off things with a foray into the conversation.
Eddie carried on, unabashed. "Oh, the sort of things where maidens can tell the names of their husbands to be - stuff and nonsense." He spoke without thinking - as he so often did - then stopped, aware of what he had actually said. The workings of his brain had manifested themselves in his airy banter; worse still, Thomas had gone a lovely shade of red.
Rogerson may have been naive in the ways of the world, but he had sisters and he knew what was afoot with Linnet. She's taken a shine to me and as much as I like the lass there's nothing I can do to oblige her. He wished that Cattermole had never started this stupid discussion, but equally he knew that once started on a theme, Eddie could rarely be dissuaded.
"What sort of things do you mean, Eddie - not those awful boards that people use to converse with the dead that the rector frowns upon so severely?" Linnet asked the question with as much distaste as if her brother had been speaking of brothels or cannibals.
"Oh no, they're just stuff and nonsense. I mean throwing apple peel over your shoulder and then looking to see what letters it forms, so you know your sweetheart's initials. Or looking into a silver basin at midnight under a full moon to catch a glimpse of his face. Or putting something or other under your pillow, to ensure that you get sweet dreams of your true love." He could vouch for the efficacy of that one personally. The first time he had met Rogerson - at Pellew's table - he had appropriated a single dark hair that had left the man's queue and was lying by his plate. He had carefully placed it under his pillow roll and had spent the whole night in pleasant dreams of his new amour. True love that had certainly proved.
"I think we should try the apple peel thing now." Rogerson suddenly was fired with enthusiasm, "Shall I ring for the parlourmaid?"
Eddie looked at him in astonishment, not knowing quite what had prompted this outburst of zeal; then he realised. It would be terribly easy for Linnet to purloin one of Thomas' hankies or some such memento and use it to induce sweet dreams. Or to find a silver basin (there were several in the pantry) and imagine Rogerson's handsome face staring up at her. But T and R would be damned difficult to produce from a curly piece of peel - C or S perhaps, but nothing with cross pieces.
"Splendid idea," he averred, leaping up himself to summon the maid who, when she came, was not at all surprised by the strange request, being used to Master Cattermole's eccentricities. A cooking apple was soon produced and a good sharp knife.
"Should I peel it myself?" Linnet inquired, wondering how she could manoeuvre the cutting to produce pieces that would make an R.
"Oh no, someone else should oblige, " Eddie forestalled her - he needed to be the one who was manipulating this endeavour. He produced long curling pieces of skin that he placed in Linnet's hands. "Now over your shoulder with them!"
The girl obliged, wishing with all her heart that some might come together to produce the requisite initials.
"It's a W and an M!" Thomas' voice was resounding with relief. "Without a doubt."
Eddie looked more carefully. "That stray piece might just make a back to that M and then you have a sort of B."
Linnet tried hard to hide her disappointment but failed. "Stupid nonsense. Half the alphabet you'd never ever be able to make this way and then half the men in the world would never find sweethearts." She turned and stormed off.
"Perhaps there will be plenty of young men with those initials at Admiral Lennox's ball tomorrow." Eddie addressed his sister's retreating back. She had taken umbrage at the whole exercise, it having failed to produce an acceptable result and was now going to indulge in her favourite activity when in a huff. Soon she would be knocking seven bells out of one of the flower beds, wearing her favourite heavy gumboots which the very Admiral who was holding the dance tomorrow had assured her were the image of those favoured by the Duke of Wellington.
Her absence left the boys to their musings. "W and M, Eddie. Who do we know that would fit that bill?"
"Don't forget the B, Tom. That must give us plenty of scope for the morrow."
The hearts of all the ladies in the area were aflutter at the prospect of the ball and dresses were already being taken out, decided against, put away, taken out again. Admiral Lennox, although himself unmarried - his chatelaine being his formidable sister Elizabeth - managed to fill his parties with the very handsomest men in England, many of them officers. No lady was short of a dancing partner at one of his amusements and - quite astonishingly, given how attractive and amusing these gentlemen were - most of the males were quite unattached.
Cattermole had once, when a very young middie, met Jack Aubrey and his officers of the Sophie. If only some of those were to be found gracing Lennox's dance floor. Like William Marshall, ship's master, now serving with Hornblower. He was a fine looking man - even in middle age - and had beautiful manners; if Linnet could allow for a little maturity he could be just the ticket. Not young Babbington, however - he would not suit. That little whoremonger should never be allowed anywhere near Eddie's beloved sister.
What about William Mowett, though; there was a distinct possibility - he had a winning smile and as a bonus there was the poetry, enough to turn any girl's head. Eddie began to speculate on what the lieutenant could find to rhyme with Linnet but soon gave up and resorted to his favourite pastime of winding up Rogerson.
***
They could see the lights of the house from miles away - so many carriages lined up for the occasion, so much finery and high hopes. Hopes that, for Eddie and Tom, were slightly dashed when their discreet enquiries about those present did not yield any of the names on their list. Cattermole took the first dance with his sister, leaving Rogerson to do his duty for the second. They took refreshments and watched the throng milling around.
"Mr Rogerson, I believe?" A tall, very handsome officer appeared at Tom's shoulder; his brown curls were unusually paired with dark blue eyes and his demeanour was rather grave and beautifully mannered. His face looked vaguely familiar - Thomas knew that they had met but could not put a time or place to it. "Are you still serving with Mr Hornblower?"
"Indeed sir, until recently I was Captain Hornblower's first lieutenant." Rogerson held out his hand. "I must apologise for not being able to recall your name."
"Of course, I'm forgetting my manners." The man bowed. "William Bush at your service."
Rogerson beamed. "I remember now - you came and dined off Madeira, when we were stuck in harbour by an ill wind. May I present Miss Cattermole - and her brother Eddie, with whom I now serve."
William shook Cattermole's hand and kissed his sister's knuckles, making an elegant leg. Eddie was beyond delight. William Bush. W and B. A perfect combination.
"Mr Hornblower and Mr Kennedy told us often of your adventures in blowing up the Spanish fort and the escapade on the cliff." Bush blushed slightly, but with a happy smile and Rogerson continued. "Miss Cattermole, we are honoured to be in the presence of a true hero." As the four of them talked of the service and the latest news thereof Cattermole could see the familiar signs - seriousness, quiet questioning - which suggested his sister was coming under the officer's spell. He asked her to dance, she agreed. They took refreshments. They chatted. Eddie and Tom at last relaxed.
***
"You say you have a houseful of sisters, Mister Bush?" Linnet ventured, over her glass of sorbet.
"I do indeed ma'am. All of them delightful and an ornament to any gathering." He smiled and surveyed the room. "They'd have enjoyed this, had they lived near enough to attend."
"Did they," Linnet felt very bold in the manoeuvre she was about to venture, "did they ever attempt those silly things that maidens carry out to try to find out who they will marry?"
"Many's the time, Miss Cattermole." Bush looked around the room again. "The trick where you throw peelings over your shoulder was a favourite. Endless arguments I heard about what the letters were supposed to be. They mostly looked like so many C's and S's to me."
Linnet could not resist a small shot from the chaser. "And did you ever try it yourself?"
William laughed heartily. "I did indeed."
Linnet's heartbeat quickened. "And what was the result?" L and C she whispered to herself, or C at least; please.
"Much to my sisters' annoyance, who maintained that they had never seen such a thing, I produced a very convincing F and D." He looked out over the crowds and broke into a grin. Another stunningly handsome - if rather sullen looking - young man approached them, shook William's hand, bowed to the lady.
"At last, you old rogue, " Bush smiled fondly. "Miss Cattermole, may I present my particular friend, Mr D'Arcy?"
Pairings: Tom/Eddie, slashy and het references to other AOS men.
Rating: PG
Notes: Based on a combination of ideas from
mzcalypso. I make no claim upon the characters who are owned by O'Brian, Forrester or Austen.
Teapot, ouija board, wellies
Linnet Cattermole lifted the teapot gracefully and poured without spilling a drop. Neat little hands she had, hands that longed to be engulfed within the rather larger ones of Thomas Rogerson. Her brother regarded her with indulgence as he had done since she was in her cradle, although he felt rather uneasy now. The last thing he wanted was for her to break her heart again, as she had over that scrub Princeton, who had wooed her for a summer and then done a runner when he realised that her dowry was not quite as large as he had anticipated. Eddie had been at home briefly then - before he went off to the Indies - and it had hit the girl hard. Many a time his shirt had been soaked through with her tears, tears that had eventually turned into rage and a need to go and burn all the man's letters and dance around the flames.
Now there was every sign that she had fallen all over again for someone totally unsuitable. Not that she was gushing all over him or anything like - she wasn't the sort of girl to fawn or bat her eyelids. She just listened very intently and asked intelligent questions and considered what Rogerson said as if she understood it and it mattered. Of course she did understand a lot of it; she had started reading books with a nautical flavour as soon as her beloved brother had entered the middies' berth. Since Thomas' arrival she had been secretly researching Norie and constantly amazed the young men with her perspicacity.
And she always stared after him when he left the room. Not that Eddie blamed her; Thomas was an incredibly handsome man. Women didn't turn their heads through 180 degrees to admire Eddie Cattermole, but they did for Rogerson, frequently. Not that Eddie minded that either - fat chance any of them had of turning Thomas' head.
But he did mind about Linnet. How on earth was he to fend her off? "He's taken a vow not to marry until he becomes a Post Captain." That would defer the issue but not settle it; it was the sort of statement that could come back to haunt people down the line. "He's a confirmed bachelor, wed only to his career." That was exactly the sort of thing to rouse the spinsters into a fever pitch of activity trying to be the one who changed this delightful young officer's mind. He could tell the truth of course, but that might be the worst course of all. "He can't love you, Linnet. He sleeps with me."
She would never understand - he could imagine the ensuing conversation. "But of course you sleep together, many officers do. If you read your history books it was always an expedient measure when resources, financial or otherwise, were low."
"Yes, but we share a bed not just to sleep."
"Indeed I would guess that you keep him awake half the night boasting of your adventures and telling him tall tales about all your imaginary sweethearts."
Would he end up having to draw a picture or explaining it all in terms of the family cat and its propensity for producing kittens? The whole thing made him feel sick. There could be no explanation; no admission that might get back to his parents. This called for subtlety and an imaginative approach, something that lieutenant Cattermole prided himself on.
Better not tell Thomas what was going on, either - he'd blush and refuse to talk to the girl all the rest of his visit and then the cat would be among the pigeons and Eddie would be the one to suffer Linnet's inquisition. What are you up to stinker? Another daft scheme? Why have you upset Mr Rogerson? And then she'd be at Thomas' side attempting to comfort him and the man would get redder and become completely introverted and...
"Eddie, is the tea not to your liking? You've hardly touched a drop. And I made the cakes myself." Linnet looked very offended and concerned - Cattermole slurped down his whole cup in stunned response.
"Sorry Gumboots, I was woolgathering. Don't often get time for just thinking on ship," Eddie lied.
"And what was so important it affected your appetite?" Linnet ignored the fact that he had resorted to his pet name for her - rather than making her feel self conscious, it produced a warm glow that Eddie seemed to think that Tom was sufficiently part of the family to be allowed into these private jokes.
"Old wives tales." It was the first thing that came into Cattermole's mind and he hoped beyond hope that it would close this thread of conversation.
"What sort of tales?" Rogerson at last spoke up, after an age of sitting silent; he'd been drinking his tea mechanically, the cup being patiently refilled again and again by his hostess and now he was feeling distinctly uncomfortable in the lower regions. He awaited the correct moment when he might beg a short absence and decided to take his mind off things with a foray into the conversation.
Eddie carried on, unabashed. "Oh, the sort of things where maidens can tell the names of their husbands to be - stuff and nonsense." He spoke without thinking - as he so often did - then stopped, aware of what he had actually said. The workings of his brain had manifested themselves in his airy banter; worse still, Thomas had gone a lovely shade of red.
Rogerson may have been naive in the ways of the world, but he had sisters and he knew what was afoot with Linnet. She's taken a shine to me and as much as I like the lass there's nothing I can do to oblige her. He wished that Cattermole had never started this stupid discussion, but equally he knew that once started on a theme, Eddie could rarely be dissuaded.
"What sort of things do you mean, Eddie - not those awful boards that people use to converse with the dead that the rector frowns upon so severely?" Linnet asked the question with as much distaste as if her brother had been speaking of brothels or cannibals.
"Oh no, they're just stuff and nonsense. I mean throwing apple peel over your shoulder and then looking to see what letters it forms, so you know your sweetheart's initials. Or looking into a silver basin at midnight under a full moon to catch a glimpse of his face. Or putting something or other under your pillow, to ensure that you get sweet dreams of your true love." He could vouch for the efficacy of that one personally. The first time he had met Rogerson - at Pellew's table - he had appropriated a single dark hair that had left the man's queue and was lying by his plate. He had carefully placed it under his pillow roll and had spent the whole night in pleasant dreams of his new amour. True love that had certainly proved.
"I think we should try the apple peel thing now." Rogerson suddenly was fired with enthusiasm, "Shall I ring for the parlourmaid?"
Eddie looked at him in astonishment, not knowing quite what had prompted this outburst of zeal; then he realised. It would be terribly easy for Linnet to purloin one of Thomas' hankies or some such memento and use it to induce sweet dreams. Or to find a silver basin (there were several in the pantry) and imagine Rogerson's handsome face staring up at her. But T and R would be damned difficult to produce from a curly piece of peel - C or S perhaps, but nothing with cross pieces.
"Splendid idea," he averred, leaping up himself to summon the maid who, when she came, was not at all surprised by the strange request, being used to Master Cattermole's eccentricities. A cooking apple was soon produced and a good sharp knife.
"Should I peel it myself?" Linnet inquired, wondering how she could manoeuvre the cutting to produce pieces that would make an R.
"Oh no, someone else should oblige, " Eddie forestalled her - he needed to be the one who was manipulating this endeavour. He produced long curling pieces of skin that he placed in Linnet's hands. "Now over your shoulder with them!"
The girl obliged, wishing with all her heart that some might come together to produce the requisite initials.
"It's a W and an M!" Thomas' voice was resounding with relief. "Without a doubt."
Eddie looked more carefully. "That stray piece might just make a back to that M and then you have a sort of B."
Linnet tried hard to hide her disappointment but failed. "Stupid nonsense. Half the alphabet you'd never ever be able to make this way and then half the men in the world would never find sweethearts." She turned and stormed off.
"Perhaps there will be plenty of young men with those initials at Admiral Lennox's ball tomorrow." Eddie addressed his sister's retreating back. She had taken umbrage at the whole exercise, it having failed to produce an acceptable result and was now going to indulge in her favourite activity when in a huff. Soon she would be knocking seven bells out of one of the flower beds, wearing her favourite heavy gumboots which the very Admiral who was holding the dance tomorrow had assured her were the image of those favoured by the Duke of Wellington.
Her absence left the boys to their musings. "W and M, Eddie. Who do we know that would fit that bill?"
"Don't forget the B, Tom. That must give us plenty of scope for the morrow."
The hearts of all the ladies in the area were aflutter at the prospect of the ball and dresses were already being taken out, decided against, put away, taken out again. Admiral Lennox, although himself unmarried - his chatelaine being his formidable sister Elizabeth - managed to fill his parties with the very handsomest men in England, many of them officers. No lady was short of a dancing partner at one of his amusements and - quite astonishingly, given how attractive and amusing these gentlemen were - most of the males were quite unattached.
Cattermole had once, when a very young middie, met Jack Aubrey and his officers of the Sophie. If only some of those were to be found gracing Lennox's dance floor. Like William Marshall, ship's master, now serving with Hornblower. He was a fine looking man - even in middle age - and had beautiful manners; if Linnet could allow for a little maturity he could be just the ticket. Not young Babbington, however - he would not suit. That little whoremonger should never be allowed anywhere near Eddie's beloved sister.
What about William Mowett, though; there was a distinct possibility - he had a winning smile and as a bonus there was the poetry, enough to turn any girl's head. Eddie began to speculate on what the lieutenant could find to rhyme with Linnet but soon gave up and resorted to his favourite pastime of winding up Rogerson.
***
They could see the lights of the house from miles away - so many carriages lined up for the occasion, so much finery and high hopes. Hopes that, for Eddie and Tom, were slightly dashed when their discreet enquiries about those present did not yield any of the names on their list. Cattermole took the first dance with his sister, leaving Rogerson to do his duty for the second. They took refreshments and watched the throng milling around.
"Mr Rogerson, I believe?" A tall, very handsome officer appeared at Tom's shoulder; his brown curls were unusually paired with dark blue eyes and his demeanour was rather grave and beautifully mannered. His face looked vaguely familiar - Thomas knew that they had met but could not put a time or place to it. "Are you still serving with Mr Hornblower?"
"Indeed sir, until recently I was Captain Hornblower's first lieutenant." Rogerson held out his hand. "I must apologise for not being able to recall your name."
"Of course, I'm forgetting my manners." The man bowed. "William Bush at your service."
Rogerson beamed. "I remember now - you came and dined off Madeira, when we were stuck in harbour by an ill wind. May I present Miss Cattermole - and her brother Eddie, with whom I now serve."
William shook Cattermole's hand and kissed his sister's knuckles, making an elegant leg. Eddie was beyond delight. William Bush. W and B. A perfect combination.
"Mr Hornblower and Mr Kennedy told us often of your adventures in blowing up the Spanish fort and the escapade on the cliff." Bush blushed slightly, but with a happy smile and Rogerson continued. "Miss Cattermole, we are honoured to be in the presence of a true hero." As the four of them talked of the service and the latest news thereof Cattermole could see the familiar signs - seriousness, quiet questioning - which suggested his sister was coming under the officer's spell. He asked her to dance, she agreed. They took refreshments. They chatted. Eddie and Tom at last relaxed.
***
"You say you have a houseful of sisters, Mister Bush?" Linnet ventured, over her glass of sorbet.
"I do indeed ma'am. All of them delightful and an ornament to any gathering." He smiled and surveyed the room. "They'd have enjoyed this, had they lived near enough to attend."
"Did they," Linnet felt very bold in the manoeuvre she was about to venture, "did they ever attempt those silly things that maidens carry out to try to find out who they will marry?"
"Many's the time, Miss Cattermole." Bush looked around the room again. "The trick where you throw peelings over your shoulder was a favourite. Endless arguments I heard about what the letters were supposed to be. They mostly looked like so many C's and S's to me."
Linnet could not resist a small shot from the chaser. "And did you ever try it yourself?"
William laughed heartily. "I did indeed."
Linnet's heartbeat quickened. "And what was the result?" L and C she whispered to herself, or C at least; please.
"Much to my sisters' annoyance, who maintained that they had never seen such a thing, I produced a very convincing F and D." He looked out over the crowds and broke into a grin. Another stunningly handsome - if rather sullen looking - young man approached them, shook William's hand, bowed to the lady.
"At last, you old rogue, " Bush smiled fondly. "Miss Cattermole, may I present my particular friend, Mr D'Arcy?"
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-25 01:58 pm (UTC)I love you anyway. *wink*
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-25 07:59 pm (UTC)Hugs and kisses.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-26 12:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-26 10:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-26 01:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-26 01:52 pm (UTC)I've posted it to Article XXIX, changing only the names, really and a few details. What Linnet now needs is a nice O'Brian lad to meet in a sequel....
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-26 07:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-25 08:49 pm (UTC)The first time he had met Rogerson - at Pellew's table - he had appropriated a single dark hair that had left the man's queue and was lying by his plate. --- awww...
Liked Cattermole's review of the officers of the Sophie for possibilities..and the whole scene with the apple peels.
I like Linnet ... she wasn't the sort of girl to fawn or bat her eyelids. She just listened very intently and asked intelligent questions and considered what Rogerson said as if she understood it and it mattered. ... hope she'll find someone nice (and with the right initials) someday.
Thank you for posting this -- it is distracting my mind from worrying about Horatio and Archie!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-26 11:26 am (UTC)Thanks - I'm glad it amused. It must be the re-run of P&P on BBC4 getting to me....
So do I. But not Babbington....
And the matter of H/A will be OK, I promise. Courage, Camille....
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-26 11:47 am (UTC)my particular friend, Mr D'Arcy? *Dies at the thought* What a wonderful idea!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-26 12:13 pm (UTC)Almost as lovely as your icon - thanks. I think Mr Bush and Mr D'Arcy would get on well together - WB is used to dealing with grumpy men....
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-26 09:06 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-27 11:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-27 03:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-27 11:06 am (UTC)Thanks.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-28 06:45 am (UTC)Fitz and Horry do have a bit in common but wouldn’t Mr Darcy have been all you’re too common for me?
"Yes, but we share a bed not just to sleep."
"Indeed I would guess that you keep him awake half the night boasting of your adventures and telling him tall tales about all your imaginary sweethearts."
So so funny. And I love the idea of him drawing a picture. I do love Eddie he is so likeable, for want of a better word.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-28 10:57 am (UTC)It's funny, but after I wrote this I started to think of all the Elizabeth/Bush similarities. Common, loads of silly sisters ... b ut rather like with Miss Bennett, Fitzwilliam was smitten despite himself.
Thanks for the kind words. I'm so pleased you like Eddie, you being his onlie begetter....
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-28 11:35 pm (UTC)Yes I can see that - especially the Paul McGann Bush who is so pretty!
And who could not like Eddie? He is a truly charming creation.
(no subject)
Date: 2016-07-30 05:44 pm (UTC)I admit, when I read a lot of gen Hornblower fic, I hate whichever female OCs are paired up with Archie or Horatio, and I'd rather they just skip the females and stick together. But I really like Linnet. And Elizabeth Bennet is my favorite female character ever, so if I have to choose between her and William Bush, as much as I like him, I'm going to award Darcy to my Lizzy. I would, however, give permission to the military boys to marry deserving females on land and still have "special friends" on ship or on campaign. As long as they are all fictional and adorable. Funny how my fictional morals are so very different from my real-life marriage morals...
(no subject)
Date: 2016-07-30 07:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2016-07-30 11:57 pm (UTC)