Posted on: 2009-03-31

Somebody's Natural Daughter, Chapter the Last!

rated PG-13 for mild innuendo

Lizzy was shocked when Darcy told her the news. Shocked but pretty happy all the same. "A Viscount, huh? Not bad, not bad at all."

All of a sudden, Charlotte Collins came out of nowhere. Lizzy, who had been cuddled up with Darcy up on the sofa, cried out in embarrassment, and leapt off him. Luckily, as this is the DWG and not some other sites, she was fully clothed.

Charlotte looked at Lizzy with tears in her eyes. "I know it's upsetting. I know you wanted to turn out to be the Earl's daughter. Or at Lady Catherine's at the very least. At least I wanted you to. Me and an inordinate number of readers!"

"I don't understand," said Lizzy, when she had recovered. "Why would you want us to be cousins? It's a little odd, don't you think? I don't read Harry Potter fanfiction all the time wishing for Harry and Ginny to turn out to be cousins."

"Or Hermione and Snape."

Lizzy whipped her head around and stared at her non-cousin fiancé. "You ship Hermione-Snape? That's so gross."

He shrugged. "I'm into dark-snark."

"The point, Lizzy, as we always have to explain to the first-time readers of Mansfield Park," interrupted Charlotte, who was only interested in HP slash, "is that in Austen's day it didn't matter if you were cousins. In fact, scientifically speaking, first-cousin incest isn't always a bad thing, though it can increase the possibility of certain genetic diseases. It is still legal in many parts of the world, including several American states."

"Just one reason why I am confused by federalism," said a new voice.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam!" cried Lizzy. "It's about time you showed up, you sexy thing."

"Oh goodness, don't start with that," laughed the Colonel. "I'm genial enough, I suppose, but I'm pretty hideous. Especially given that I only have one arm."

"Really Richard? You only have one arm? I've never noticed," said Darcy.

"My name isn't Richard. For God's sake, why do you always call me Richard?"

"Oh, sorry about that. What IS your name?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam shrugged. "I really have no idea. Besides, we joked about this at the same time last year. Now, let me greet the ladies. I already know Miss Smith, of course, and Mrs. Collins. Say, Mrs. Collins, why are you wearing black?"

"My goodness, I didn't even notice," said Lizzy. "Did Mr. Collins die again?"

"Yes, and a durned shame too. I've always been into ugly men with either major dysfunctions and/or malformations. Not that there is anything wrong with missing an arm. In fact, I think it's very sexy when it's missing because of service to one's country." She eyed the newly arrived character. "Hey, Colonel, what are you doing later tonight?"

He smiled. "You know Mrs. Collins. I've always had the idea that the plain girls are the most fun. What do you think about that?"

She smiled back in what she hoped was an alluring manner. "What do you think of HP fanfic? I ship Harry-Draco."

"Hmm, freaky…"

"For muggle's sake!" shouted Lizzy. "Harry ends up with Ginny. Hermione ends up with Ron! You can't just throw out the epilogue! It's part of the Rowling canon, whether you like it or not!"

"Somebody's cranky," sing-songed Colonel Fitzwilliam to Charlotte. "I guess it's because I didn't turn out to be her brother. Who wouldn't want to be my brother? I'm so genial and vanilla, but people always see hidden darkness in me."

"I know! You're like the Remus Lupin of Pride and Prejudice."

"It's a full moon tonight, baby…"

"That's it. Out! Out!" Lizzy pointed toward the door.

"Fine," mumbled Charlotte, as her three-limbed paramour escorted her off the premises. "Have a lovely life being rich."

"He may be rich, but I'm the freaky one, right baby?" said the Colonel.

"Hey! I'm freaky! I already said I ship Hermione-Snape," whinged Darcy, as his cousin walked off, leaving behind the stunned couple.

"Well, they fell in love fast," smiled Lizzy.

"Darling, that's not love."

"Speaking of correcting assumptions, we were talking about being cousins, and the fact that we aren't."

"Yeah, I got to say that kind of pleases me too. I mean, had I wanted some cousin action, I could have married Anne. Speaking of Anne…"

"Oh, don't go there making fun of the fics about her being healthy and cool after all. We made fun of that last year too.
Come up with some new jokes."

Darcy grimaced. "It's so hard to do this, this year. The first time through was so much better. You know what readers? Give up now. Go ahead and read Particular Attachments, Chapter the Last! It's so much funnier."

"I know. Maybe the author would have been more creative if she hadn't waited until March 29 to think of some new jokes. But we might as well finish out the fic now."

Darcy grimaced. "Why am I always grimacing in this story? Do I need more bran in my diet? Now, what else are we contractually obligated to do before this fic is over?"

Lizzy looked at the script. "Um, is Caroline anywhere around here?"

"Hold on a moment." Darcy flexed his arm. "Hey," he said loudly. "Did you know there was going to be a gun show around here?"

"They ain't small arms, Mr. Darcy!" shouted Caroline, out of breath, as she had just spent the previous half-second running some two-hundred miles from wherever she had been. "Oh. The ugly, penniless, slutty, French girl is here."

Lizzy stamped her foot. "I'm not French!"

"But I'm xenophobic. I'm also racist, sexist, and ageist. I eat puppies for breakfast. I'm as horrible as you can make me. To the point that I do completely illogical, pathetic, and desperate things. Now, why am I in this story again?"

"To do something illogical, pathetic, and desperate," said Darcy.

"Um, OK." Caroline pulled out a small, ivory handled revolver. "Look, Mr. Darcy. That trollop tried to shoot me! But you saved me. Now I am going to fall into your arms and take off your pants. And then you'll be forced to marry me!"

"Yeah, that will do it," said Lizzy. "Fitzwilliam, do you see that mud puddle?"

"Hey, where did that come from?"

But Lizzy didn't say anything in reply. Instead, she pushed Caroline into the mud puddle. But this was no ordinary mud puddle. This was the mud puddle from the first of the two episodes that were the finale of Vicar of Dibley. As it was such, Caroline came out many minutes later head to toe in mud. But instead of Richard Armitage there to greet her in his awful but adorable accountant-ish sweater, there was only the ghost of Mr. Collins. Except he looked Indian.

"Hey, Kiran, what's happenin? No death without wife, hey?"

"Death?! I died in a mud puddle!?"

"Kind of. But you were immediately reincarnated into your equivalent character in Gurinder Chadha's Bride and Prejudice. Call me Kholi."

Caroline sighed. "Do I get Darcy at the end of this version?"

"Nope. But there's way more dancing!"

Caroline closed her eyes and willed herself to die again. But Mr. Kholi shook her. "No, no, no. You don't want to do that. At least in this one, you get to hang out with that guy from Lost. If you end up in Kam Haskin's version, you'll need a working knowledge of modern LDS culture or you won't get all the jokes."

She sighed. "Let me go back! I've been known to reform."

He laughed. "You're out of the flexible world of fanfiction now, my friend, and into the unforgiving world of modernized adaptations. Come on. Put on this sari. You have a wedding to attend."

Meanwhile, back in fanfic land, Darcy and Lizzy were fulfilling the rest of their fanfic contractual obligations. At the moment they were kissing. Their roundish, pinkish lips (Darcy's a slightly less round and a slightly darker pink than Lizzy's) met in a moment of slightly damp delight. Lizzy pulled back. "This doesn't feel right. That's the worst description ever. It always feels better when kissing is left up to the reader's imaginations."

Darcy pulled her towards him again. "I disagree. I like the descriptions. I read fanfiction as an escape. Why can't we kiss?"

"This is a particularly bad description. Besides, we never kiss in the original!"

"You don't have cleavage in the original either."

Lizzy's chest heaved. "Stop that!" she cried. "What the heck happened to the top two inches of my dress?"

"Don't blame me, blame Jennifer Ehle, and her beautiful, beautiful…"

"But Keira Knightley has the body of a little boy!"

"A beautiful little boy… wait! that didn't sound right! Fine. You win."

Lizzy felt the comforting material in its familiar place. "I wonder if I can I do that too." She wiggled her nose.

Darcy squealed at the sudden change in temperature. "Why am I so wet? And what happened to my jacket and cravat?"

Lizzy laughed. "Don't blame me. Blame Colin Firth and his pond."

"Matthew MacFayden did not jump in a pond."

"There WAS a rainstorm, if I recall."

Darcy crossed his arms. "Lawrence Olivier did not jump in a pond. And David Rintoul did not propose in a rainstorm."

"David Rintoul? You're citing David freakin' Rintoul? Least. Sexy. Darcy. Ever."

"He's aged really well," said Darcy defensively. "I think he looks better now than he did then."

"Fine, you're dry again. Happy? I even gave you your jacket back."

"Lizzy, where's my cravat?" asked Darcy. "I feel naked without it."

Lizzy sighed in frustration. "Have you even SEEN the train station scene at the end of North and South?"

"First, I don't even know what a train is. Second, you've used up your one Richard Armitage reference already. Get over it. He's not showing up at your front door and whisking you away."

(The authoress pauses to cry in disappointment.)

Lizzy sighed again. "Fine, your cravat is back on. Happy?"

Darcy put his hand to his neck. "It's a little tight actually." Lizzy glared at him. "Fine, fine. I guess I'll have to get used to letting you order me around. Now, what else is on that list?"

"Um, wet shirt, check, kissing, check, descriptions of heaving bosoms, check. That just leaves an adorable child and/or animal."

"We did that a bunch of chapters ago with those little kids in front of the cottage where you grew up."

"Lame, but I guess it counts. As much as I am tempted to have the authoresses' dogs star in the story. OK. Everything's done now. I think."

"Good."

"OK. Um, now what do we do?" Lizzy looked around in boredom. "I've never really thought about it. Perhaps a sequel about me on the 'ton?"

"Honestly, you really shouldn't have signed up with Allison OM, if that's what you wanted. There are a lot of authors that do that really well, but she's definitely not one of them."

"Allison OM? Frak. No wonder this April Fool's Day fic has been so snarky. Can't she develop a more mature and subtle sense of humor?" asked Lizzy. "I don't know what Jane Austen would do, but it's certainly not this."

"I agree," said Darcy. "Let's just end this fic and be done with it."

"Ok. Um…Soprano's ending?"

Darcy grimaced. "Absolutely not."

"Are we on prehistoric earth? Am I actually HeadLizzy? Will I disappear when it finally looks like we'll get together?"

"No! No sci-fi, I beg of you. It's bad enough you said 'Frak' just now."

"Um, it was all a dream?"

"Lizzy, please! Can't you find something better to steal from?"

His intended smiled wickedly. "OK, but you'll have to go with me on it. And some of the younger folk may not recognize it. They might have to Google the reference."

Darcy smiled. "I trust you honey."

"OK." Lizzy smiled too. "Cone here, Mr. Darcy. I've something I want from you."

---

The innkeeper shook his head. His wife nodded. "Odd couple, aren't they?"

"Yeah."

"If you ask me, I don't believe they're married."

"They're married all right. I just seen the license. I bet it's a special license too."

His wife rolled her eyes. "They made me get them a rope and a blanket on a night like this. What do you reckon that's for?"

"Blamed if I know. I just brung 'em a trumpet."

"A trumpet?"

"Yeah, one of them toy things. They sent me to the store to get it." The innkeeper shook his head. "Not a common thing in Regency England. I had to steal one off a cavalry regiment."

"But what in the world do they want a trumpet for?"

" Dunno."

Trumpet sounds!

The End!

Hope that was fun and that all the links work! The little grey schnorkie dog is Jane Austen, Janie for short, and the red and white cocker spaniel is Atreides (the Maud' Pooch). They are both eight-year-old female rescues. I have cuter photos of them but they don't often like to pose together. If you don't get the final reference at all, it's from (highlight to see) It Happened One Night. Oh, yeah. April Fool's!