The Adventures of Margaret Dashwood

A/N:FYI I called Fanny their “Aunt Fanny” when in actuality she is Margaret sister-in-law. I think it would make sense for Margaret to refer to her as 'Aunt Fanny' just because of the age gap, after all her mother is only a few years older than Fanny and it will also help the plot of my story. If this confuses you let me know and I'll try to clear things up. Also I hesitate to add original characters but alas I must. I promise that they will be minor characters and infrequent as possible. Anyways hope you like : D

Disclaimer: I own the majority of the plot and all original characters, the rest belongs to Jane Austen.



----Of Dancing Cards and Rendezvous----


“Mrs. Jennings was a widow with an ample jointure. She had only two daughters, both of whom she had lived to see respectably married, and she had now therefore nothing to do but to marry all the rest of the world.” Sense and Sensibility


Mrs. Jennings flattered herself with complete credit for both Eleanor's and Marianne's matches.

She fancied that without her help they would have ended as old maids. A lady of status and a good sized fortune, Mrs. Jennings favorite occupation, with her husband deceased and both daughters married, was to meddle in her neighbors lives.

With no other eligible bachelors in the area, Mrs. Jennings was quite alarmed that she had no one left for her to pair up with the last Dashwood sister, Margaret.

Thus three months ago Mrs. Jennings decided that nothing would suit but that Margaret would have her season in London, and nothing and nobody would change her mind. When Mrs. Jennings set her mind on something there was never any other options.

So despite her many objections and protestations, Margaret found herself attending a soiree with London's high society on the eve of her twenty second birthday. It was to be her grand introduction to society and thus far it had been a complete disaster.

Unlike the other young misses on the marriage market Margaret was not dressed in a pale hue or virginal ivory, she had worn a deep navy blue frock despite Mrs. Jennings insistence that it was not proper protocol.

Neither apparently was her current behavior. She could see Mrs. Jennings shaking her head and frowning at her beyond Mr. Felton's slightly balding head.

Instead of taking her place alongside the docile, simpering misses waiting for their dancing cards to be filled, she had been discussing with Mr. Felton, and several other gentlemen, trade and economy.

She herself had made small investments, using portions of her meager inheritance of one thousand pounds, and thus far had made a profit, albeit small.

At first they had laughed at the thought of any female knowledge on the subject, but they soon were engaging her in debate and her opinion on current ventures and speculations. The circle of men around her were all elderly or married, all men who had made their fortunes and entrance into gentility through trade, and none, she knew, that Mrs. Jennings would find as suitable matches for her.

Not that she was looking for a match, she neither wanted not needed one. That being said, she knew it was highly unlikely any young bachelor would seek an alliance with her, she had neither connections nor a fortune, and at twenty two was considered nearly an old maid compared to the young, fresh out of the school room chits of sixteen or seventeen.

As she gave Mr. Felton her opinion, on a venture he was considering taking part in, she could see the yellow feather lodged in Mrs. Jennings coif bobbing as she made her way through the sea of swirling gowns to where Margaret stood.

“If you would forgive me gentlemen, I must steal Ms. Margaret away from you”.

Grasping her wrist, Mrs. Jennings dragged her along through the waltzing couples, chattering energetically. Margaret caught snatches of what she was saying over the the jaunty music filling the room, as she was yanked about.

“You'll never guess who is here dear...”

“...old acquaintances...”

“....after your father died...”

“...family, you were just a girl but you surely remember...”

They came to a halt in front of the very person Margaret had hoped to avoid during her stay in London.

Besides the small lines creasing her brow and eyes, and around the edges of her lips, Fanny Dashwood looked just as Margaret remembered. Her tall thin figure was resplendent in a low cut peach gossamer gown, with heavy jewels dripping over her exposed bosom.

“Mrs. Dashwood how delightful, here is Ms. Margaret Dashwood, a relation of yours I believe” Mrs. Jennings crooned enthusiastically.

Gesturing, with an elegant hand encrusted in diamonds, to the tall man at her side, Fanny Dashwood, nose high in the air, snidely replied, “Ah yes, Ms. Dashwood. You remember my son, Harry, heir of Norland Park”.

It wasn't a question, but a cruel reminder of their possession of Margaret's childhood home.

She of course remembered Harry, but the man who stood before her looked nothing like the short pudgy boy of her past.

He was big, not in the same way as his youth though. No, his tailored expensive jacket was tight at the seams for a different reason all together.

His broad shoulders incased in forest green velvet exuded raw power. She herself was uncommonly tall for a woman at five feet nine inches and he was at least a head taller, towering over everyone in the room. The snide cubby face she remembered was now all chiseled angles and a strong square jaw. If it wasn't for his head of tousled, still shockingly red hair, the only feature she still recognized, she would have never believed the awkward, restless giant in front of her was Harry Dashwood.

If possible he seemed more out of place than her in the crowds of elegant ladies and refined gentlemen. He looked like he belonged behind a plow or lifting loads at the docks.

She curtsied before them. “Mrs. Dashwood, Mr. Dashwood”.

Fanny sneered at her condescendingly,

“Your frock is so... quaint. How delightful to live in a small cottage as you do, I'm sure your mother was so ecstatic to be relieved of the responsibilities of managing an estate. I tell you there is always something demanding my attention, what with managing the servants, upkeep to the house and the parties I throw, I tell you its almost unbearably exhausting. You have no idea how tiresome it is, always trying to find ways to spend one's income, I dare say I wish I had your small annum to just not have to worry about what to do with excess”.

And so she went, on and on. Margaret thought wildly to herself how much longer she would have to bear the torment of Fanny's superiority even as she smiled politely and nodded. She could feels Harry's eyes fixated intently on her, and she desperately wanted to run.

“I was so surprised when I heard of your youngest sisters marriage. Well older men will be enticed by a pretty face and a female with determination.”

Her laugh was grating on Margaret's ears.

“Marianne and the colonel are both very happy.”

“Of course they are dear, and his six thousand a year have nothing to do with that.”

How dare this women insinuate that her sister married Colonel Brandon for his money. She knew she should keep her mouth closed but she couldn't help but gleefully remind Fanny of her other sisters union.

“Had you heard, Edward and Eleanor are expecting again, I'm so glad they will soon give my nephew a sibling”.

Fanny's lips tightened further in displeasure at the mention of Edward, and what she considered her brothers very unadvantageous marriage to the eldest Dashwood sister.

“Indeed, I had heard”.

Harry spoke for the first time. “Please send them our best wishes Ms. Margaret”

Even his voice had changed, low and deep. She did not know what to make of this new Harry, was he mocking her? His eyes were too intensely settled on her, making her skin crawl.

In the end it was Mrs. Jennings that saved her. Making abundant apologies, she excused herself and Margaret for just along the way was the illusive Lady Middleton of Barton Park and neighbors must go and greet neighbors.

Margaret didn't want Fanny to have the pleasure of driving her away and was determined to stay. But after another hour of hearing Fanny's cacophonous laughter, as she sashayed around the ballroom, and feeling Harry's piercing eyes following her across the room she couldn't take it anymore.

Telling Mrs. Jennings she had a headache was not entirely a lie. In the few moments it took to retrieve their cloaks the throbbing pressure in her skull had grown exponentially. But soon they were in Mrs. Jennings carriage on their way to her town house.

That night, before Margaret closed her eyes, her last thought was a fervent hope that she would never have to see that woman and her son ever again.



Currently I am primarily working on my Hermione/Draco fic but the plot bunnies attacked, and also requests for this fic to continue, led me to write chapter 2. Updates will be whenever I can get to it, or if insomnia strikes :O

So if you enjoyed what you read let me know! Reviews always motivate me to update sooner!