Work Text:
first impressions
"What do you think of Miss Woodhouse?" Jane asks, all sweet innocence, and were it anyone else, Lizzy might well roll her eyes. But of course, it is Jane, and Jane cannot help but be sweet.
"She is entirely dreadful," Lizzy opines.
Jane is scandalised. "Lizzy!"
Lizzy smiles mischievously. "Do you not agree? Dear Jane, you cannot fail to have noticed that she is arrogant, proud, and very, very silly."
Jane cannot entirely stifle her small smile at this assessment. "I should have thought you might at least find her amusing, then."
"Dreadful people can be very entertaining," Lizzy concedes.
Miss Woodhouse is rather dreadful, but Lizzy finds herself admiring how she takes care of her father, who may well be more insufferable than she. He fusses and frets and makes a nuisance of himself at the dinner table; Miss Woodhouse spends considerable effort calming and soothing him, softens his admonishments to those around them, and distracts him from his frequent worries. It shows much more patience than Lizzy would have ascribed to Miss Woodhouse on first impression.
It is surprising to see her be so kind. Maybe she is not quite as silly as she had at first appeared.
She did not expect Miss Woodhouse to be funny. It is quite irritating.
Lizzy prides herself on her quick wit, on being able to entertain, to provoke laughter, to turn a tale. She is not used to being the butt of a joke; to find herself in such a position at Miss Woodhouse's hands is unconscionable.
Miss Woodhouse looks at her archly, and Lizzy blushes as she hasn't since she was Kitty's age.
No, it is settled. Miss Woodhouse is entirely insufferable, and her treatment of her own father is merely pride reluctant to allow her family to appear ungracious.
The last person she expects to find by herself is Miss Woodhouse; much less does she expect to find Miss Woodhouse dabbing at her eyes.
"Are you quite well, Miss Woodhouse?" Lizzy asks before she can stop herself.
Miss Woodhouse looks up; her face is twisted into an unhappy expression she cannot quite chase away with her usual smile. "My father is not well," she says. "I am trying to convince him to see the doctor, but he will not hear of it."
Lizzy has never imagined her so... human. "I am sorry."
Her face softens. "Thank you, Miss Bennet."
Lizzy does not expect anything to come of it, but the next time they meet, she inquires after Mr Woodhouse, and is surprised and gratified that Miss Woodhouse responds as if it is quite the kindest gesture she could imagine.
She is no less surprised when Miss Woodhouse quietly asks to be called Emma; too surprised, in fact, not to extend the same intimacy in return.
Lizzy is unexpectedly flustered, and more so when Emma takes her hand and presses it between her own, repeating her thanks. "You are very kind," she says.
Lizzy almost regrets her previous uncharitable thoughts.
The first time she calls Emma by her given name, Emma gives her the gentlest smile Lizzy has seen her give anyone. Lizzy flushes again, but this time the self-consciousness is more pleasant than embarrassed.
Emma leans in and kisses Lizzy on the cheek, soft and terribly tender. "I should very much like us to be bosom friends, Elizabeth," she says, voice low, eyes gleaming with something Lizzy cannot quite name. "I should like it very much."
Lizzy could easily be quite annoyed by how flattered she is. Instead, she finds herself hoping they might become very close friends indeed.
~ fin ~