& Moira Bianchi: junho 2019

quinta-feira, 27 de junho de 2019

9 ways to live Pride and Prejudiciously - chapter 10

hi, there.
Am a bit late with the update, but here I am.
As Bertha dives deeper into the belladama business, she messes up with forces beyond her comprehension - it's a witch thing after all, isn't it?

We're entering the last part of the story, the last third. Wait big revolutions and revelations ahead...

As I finish and revise, I notice small changes such as 2Ts in every Bennet... I'll let you know when I update all the previous posts.
For now, enjoy this chapter.

Nine ways to live Pride and Prejudiciously
WIP, modern (mostly), adult (you know me...), fun, fluff, heart healing stuff.
read chapter 9- part II

Direct line

BUY Bertha's mug on Amazon 

The movie on the TV was so boring Lottie started to roll her eyes backwards. Maybe she should get up from the sofa and cook dinner, even though it was too early to eat. Or maybe do laundry…


‘Vinegar for clothes to smell like summer day, I know, Gran…’

‘Tarnation, girl! Yeens always tired! Go find ye a job!’

A grumble.



‘Ah, now ye see me!’

‘Visiting me out of a Belladama dream… It’s about Bertha, I know.’

‘Darn tootin' it is her. That purdy girl has horse sense, keeps in our stuff and all the time bringing up the same man. Who is that?’

‘Don’t think I know him. But now that you said it, the tall, dark and handsome man… Yes, he is always the same. Bertha must know the guy, right?’

‘She is calling him, that’s what purdy is doing! He will start to hear her dreams.’

‘What you mean?’

‘This hankering of hers…’ A chuckle from the old witch. ‘And how come she has so many lickety-split dreams that come and go so fast?’


‘How much have yeen give her?’

‘Enough for two trips.’

‘And she has been around...’


‘How many times, Carlota?’


‘Carlota! Yeens make me fit to be tied!’

‘Bertha says it’s a cat she’s mourning.’

‘Cat! It’s a man and he is hot on her heels. Purdy is calling, the man will hear! Trouble coming, storm forming.’

‘Funny, Grandmamma, we just had the biggest storm here. Several counties were on alert, roads closed, trees broken, it was unbelievable!’

‘It was the work of Belladama, Carlotta. Yeens will see, smart ass, wait…’

~ continues ~

quarta-feira, 19 de junho de 2019

9 ways to live Pride and Prejudiciously - chapter 9 _ PART II

hi, there.
If in the previous part of this chapter Bertha had a kind of revelation, in this she goes... urgh! What the heck!
What can we say to her? For every Darcy there's always a Collins, right? And a Lydia. And a Wickham.  *wicked grin*

Since last week, I started to compose a crazy idea of making this story cross boundaries, don't know what goes in my head sometimes. Silly M!

Anyway, Bertha is completely, irrecocably in the hands of a charming strong-minded MP. Or is it Lizzy? Who knows at this point?...

Nine ways to live Pride and Prejudiciously
WIP, modern (mostly), adult (you know me...), fun, fluff, heart healing stuff.
read chapter 9- part I

VI- Price is right _ PART II

‘Lizzy!’ He raised his voice. ‘Wait for me, prepare yourself for what is to come.’

Once her skirts had disappeared inside his house, he took a deep breath, ran a hand over his hair, pulled on his shirt and opened the door. ‘Yes?’

The two policemen stood up straighter. ‘Sir!’

‘Good morning.’

‘Good morning, Mr. Darcy.’

‘Why do you want to break into my home?’ He took a step aside and waved inviting the men to his hallway. 

The policemen took off their hats, stepped inside and hid their batons behind their backs as if in a rehearsed movement.  ‘I'm sorry, sir, but as you know, today is the day of the Pankhurst woman rally at Hyde Park and we have orders to clean the streets before they gather, the women activists.’  

‘Even you, the Parliament police, were assigned for this diminishing job?’

‘For the surroundings of the MPs houses, sir. 10 Pemberley road is a very famous address. Some of the women might want to attack your windows or worse.’


‘They have started a fire last week.’

‘In a golf course.’ The thin older policemen spoke for the first time.
Darcy shot up his eyebrows.  ‘I wasn't informed of that.’

‘But you should be careful, sir. You published a chronicle against them, have been known to speak the truth about the silliness of this idea, it is very likely you will be a target.’

‘Maybe one could pretend to be your friend but in reality, want to stab you on the back.’ The older one pressed his eyes.

‘We're not in Rome, sir, and I am not Cesar.’

‘We saw a woman enter your house.’

‘No, you didn't.’

‘Yes, we did!’ The older one took his baton out and held it against his chest.

‘We had been chasing her from the other corner, she is going to be sent to Holloway to learn about respect and rights!’

‘You didn't see because no woman entered my house today.’ Darcy insisted.

The policemen smiled. ‘Oh, I see. She is not a woman, but a bawd.’
‘What did you say?’ Darcy's raised voice mingled with a cat's meow. 

‘Fitz?’ Lizzy called from inside the corridor. ‘Is everything ok, dear?’

The three man eyed each other with the most diverse reactions on their faces.

‘Fitz, you're taking so long to come back and I heard you speak with someone but there's so much noise outside-’ She stopped short at the doorway. ‘Oh.’ She blinked furiously.  ‘I'm sorry, dear.’

‘It's fine, darling.’ Darcy extended his hand and she took it. ‘Meet the policemen in charge of guarding the street today.’

‘Churchill, m’am.’ 

Boston Daily Globe, 1912 - frick pittsburgh
‘Thorpe, good morning.’ Said the older one who, in spite of keeping his head down as the other, ogled the beauty in under dresses covered only by a man's expensive silk dressing gown, no shoes, an equally expensive man's hat on top of her lush hair provocatively loose down her back and a very fluffy cat in her arms. Those politicians knew how to live, he thought. Ugly, enraged women gathering to protest and he has a goddess of femininity at home playing dress up with the clothes he undresses... for her, probably. 

‘Gentlemen, meet Elizabeth Bennet, my fiancé.’  Darcy smiled at Lizzy. ‘We are engaged to be married soon, she comes from a family of good name. You never saw her in this house today.’

‘Of course, sir.’ Both policemen answered at the same time. ‘Never, sir.’

‘I can understand if you prefer to leave and care for your duties.’ Darcy waved to the door.

A policeman nodded. ‘At this moment.’

Another policeman waved. ‘Sorry to… errr... interrupt, sir.’
‘Good day, gentlemen.’ 

‘Actually!’ Lizzy gasped, the men turned to her. ‘I fear you policemen will go too far on the streets to tackle the, the…’

‘Activists, madam.’

‘Yes, activists.  I'd feel safer if they posted guard at the door, Fitz. To make sure no harm comes our way.’ 

She finished in a whisper with pleading eyes that seduced even Darcy who imagined that ought to be some sort of scheme. ‘They can't neglect their orders, darling.’

‘Oh, how dreadful...’ She pouted. 

‘We'll be glad to keep your house safe, sir.’ The policeman said. ‘Good morning.’  Both put their hats on and left.

As soon as the door was closed, she let go of his hand and dropped the cat. ‘Did they leave?’

‘You asked them to stay.’

‘Good! Two less mongrels attacking us today.’ Lizzy pivoted on her toes already opening the big dressing gown's sash. 

‘You will stay as well.’

‘No, I'm not!’

‘I recall you recognizing the cost of this.’

Eye to eye, he silently demanded an answer.

‘Today is a very important day for the cause, Fitzwilliam. Mrs. Pankhurst will speak to all of us. Women's Social and Political Union need me and all women to show our force at Hyde Park.’ She pointed at the general direction of the place.

‘She can be married, but not you.’

Her fine eyes widened. ‘Your feelings and wishes are still what they were last April, you are unchanged!...’

‘You are too generous to trifle with my affections, Lizzy. When you knocked on this door searching shelter from the police force exposing me to a potential scandal, you could simply leave using my back door. But what did you do, Lizzy?’ 

His eyes roaming her figure made her feel naked, even though her white cotton princess slip handsomely designed with lace and silk drawstrings was covered with his richly colored dressing gown. ‘I only appeared in such a dishabille because I was afraid of you.’

‘Such a charming liar...’ He said in a mocking tone. ‘If you knew what moves me, this mode of dressing, or under dressing, wouldn't be what you would have chosen.’

Disregarding his cryptic words, she shook her head. ‘I feared you might turn me in. And as I know the policemen avoid manhandling activists, this seemed appropriate.’

‘Yes, that's what I would do.’ A sneer. ‘Give another my heart’s desire.’ He mumbled. ‘Quit the half-truths, darling.’ Darcy continued in his normal voice. ‘While I distracted the policemen, instead of an easy solution, you staged an intimate situation presenting yourself in such a manner to leave nothing to imagination.’ He paused. ‘At least their imagination is satisfied, Lizzy, because mine is full with what my life should have been since you refused me. One word from you would silence me on this subject for ever, instead, you do this.’ He gesticulated. ‘What is the order you keep shouting; actions are better than explanations?’
vote 100 kirklees

‘Deeds not words.’ 

‘Perfectly said, perfectly done, my darling. Now these two policemen will spread the word that I had my unchaperoned fiancé in a very appealing situation.’

‘You misunderstood what I said, Fitzwilliam. When I mentioned the price, I admit that for you, a former liberal MP who is openly against the suffragists, to offer shelter to woman would show incongruous. I didn’t mean to offer myself in sacrifice.’

‘To you, marriage is a form of suicide? A great sacrifice to be taken, but too great for this cause so dear to your gender.’

‘Don’t try to be uncivil with me, Fitzwilliam. A woman is not to marry a man merely because she is asked, or because he is attached to her.’

‘Genuine attachment is the best, most trusted reason for a woman to accept a man.’ He pressed his eyes showing the feelings he mentioned but also… hurt. ‘And you had that.’

‘Oh, pray! The young man is determined not to lose anything for want of asking. He will connect himself well if he can-’

‘Your mother is very worried about your ideals.’ He interrupted her trifling with heavy artillery. ‘She fears you’ll decide to live alone even though this form of living will result in destitution for both of you.’

‘What you know about my mother?’ Her eyebrows knitted together.
‘Your cousin works for my aunt, have you forgotten that? When in London, you are hosted in his house. I know everything about you, darling.’

‘Am I being kept under surveillance?’ She shouted.

‘Shsh!’ He looked to the door as if the men outside the door could hear them. ‘Let’s go inside.’ With a hand on her back, Darcy pushed her towards the dining room where the windows faced the side garden giving them privacy. ‘What are your plans, Lizzy?’

‘For today I want to go to Hyde Park and join WSPU on the protest.’ She raised her nose defiantly, arms crossed under her boobs. ‘Then I’ll keep fighting in all manners possible to me.’

‘In the streets like nameless women suffering attacks and risking imprisonment?’

‘If it is necessary.’

‘Don’t say what you don’t mean, I know you and you’re better than empty words. You consider marriage a great sacrifice, but pretend facing a dirty jail, hunger strike and forced feeding a trifle risk? No, you don’t.’

She blinked repeatedly. ‘I can fight in other manners. My father has connections. Aunt Charlotte’s father, Sir Lucas, says he can lobby at the Parliament. Convince reasonable politicians that this is the right path of history; women have the right to vote. Men do not know what we suffer. We can produce life, we can speak for ourselves, choose who can rule over our lives.’

‘And you think nothing is being done?’

‘I know, we know. Mrs. Pankhurst says so.’ She took off his hat and rested it on the table. His cat, a big black feline with white spots jumped on the table and rested between the two of them to observe the spectacle.

‘We are discussing possibilities, but this is not to be decided in a month.’

 ‘You politicians say there are important questions being revised but in truth, you drown in hypocrisy. A few months ago you needed to leave the city in a hurry, wanted to take me with you, I can only imagine it had something to do with your dealings up North. The man you hire on your mines, do you consider them incapable of voting as well?’

He held the answer inside vowing to calm his nerves before speaking. It was necessary to spend a few moments observing the feline lick itself on the table or else he’d say awful words. ‘Those men work hard to provide comfort for your easy living, darling. The coal they extract provide your warm nights. Their labour sustain this nation and for that I fight in the parliament, to secure dignity and better life conditions to those who are not fortunate to work at Pemberley estate. There are far worse situations in Great Britain, far more pressing than women's right to choose rulers. Have you ever had any interest, have you ever investigated the ideals of the Eugenic Society breeding the working class as though they were cattle?’

She had no answer simply because she had no knowledge of what he was talking about. ‘Why would I believe in you, Fitzwilliam?’
‘You do not have reasons to mistrust me.’

‘I do! You proposed to me in such an offending and insulting manner that made it impossible for me to accept, even if I had the inclination of letting your handsomeness move me.’

He smiled in spite of his state of aggravation.

‘You spoke sense of my inferiority, of the supposed social degradation you would face because of the obstacles my family’s pecuniary estate, the will tying Longbourn to a mere servant of your aunt which would make you oddly connected to the help.’ She chuckled without humor. ‘The balls of the season last.’ She twirled on the dining room making the big dressing gown fly around her legs. ‘I danced here, dreamed about sweet romance, stupid me. Instead of speaking of love, you listed reasons which made your suit very unlikely.’ Lizzy pointed at him with hurt on her face. ‘How could any woman’s pride accept such humiliation?’

‘I was humiliating myself, Lizzy, sharing my fears with you and confessing I still didn’t know how to solve those doubts. But my adoration for you recommend this inclination, the warmth of my heart.’

In spite of her deeply-rooted dislike, a spot in her core ached for his touch, to feel his lips once more on hers in a sweet kiss such as the few they shared on the balls attended the previous season. ‘I never desired your good opinion, even though it much flattered me, I admit. You certainly bestowed this adoration most unwillingly, proposed a married life with so evident a desire of offending and insulting me as if you were obliged to it, moved against your will, reason, and even your character! I don’t want a husband I won’t be able to admire.’

Ire boiled inside the tall handsome man. ‘That is why you cannot vote!’ He pointed a long finger at her as if it were a weapon. ‘You are creatures of emotions; reasoning evades you whenever your pride is menaced.’

‘How am I wrong? You wanted to hurt the pride of the woman you adore?’

‘You would rather I lied to the woman I chose as companion of my life?’ 

‘Never!’ Bursting with altered nerves, she breathed in fast gasps, burned from her cheeks. ‘Many men prefer not to strange quality company, they recognize the importance of women’s opinion. Mr. Wickham, the assistant to the chief of staff-’

‘You take an eager interest in that gentleman's actions, to my deep disappointment in your intelligence.’ Darcy had almost totally lost his tranquility, face was colored and he felt warm.

‘Insulting me won’t erase the misfortunes Mr. Wickham has been through trying to help suffragists, all because of the way you politicians insist on rendering the progress of times.’

‘His misfortunes!’ Repeated Darcy contemptuously. ‘You should first say the women’s misfortunes; the ones he harasses when they accept a meeting alone with him. I doubt any of them has ever given a true account of what happened after they were left alone with him.’

She gasped. ‘If that is true, how does he keep doing it?’
‘He can’t. Wickham is forbidden to enter the Parliament but still works against the suffragists, planting the seed of doubt. Mental violence is not something I condone and I will never take part in any practice of this sort.’

‘I…’ She paced. ‘I don’t know.’

‘More than hindering the cause, he is interested in his own pleasure alone. Wickham would have deflowered you if I hadn’t discovered his foul actions supposedly in behalf of his master.’

A chill ran down her spine, she tried to disguise her fright.
‘And this is your opinion of me; you doubt me but believes a low-live!’ Darcy shook his head. ‘I value your opinion; your help to solve the problem that is your mamma’s constant tirade about your particulars. She speaks of the children she could not bear before and after you, the male heirs not produced, the failures you have when all I see is perfection in a young Oxford lady graduate.’

Her mind in tumult, Lizzy held strongly the traitorous tears of gratitude that threatened to escape her eyes. It was a lovely compliment intertwined in a horrible account about her mother’s antics. 

‘I am of the opinion, Lizzy, that you are only so interested in the suffragist movement because it is a manner to oppose your mother.’

‘Fitzwilliam!’ She balled her hands, his dressing gown already opened showed her curves with more accuracy than her maiden modesty allowed. ‘It is a fair fight; you know it is. Do not pretend to be a patronizing mongrel.’

‘I despise the spiral game being played, Lizzy.’ He twisted his index finger in the air. ‘Both in the Parliament and between us. As I told you, there are conversations in development, but nothing will be achieved from day to night with acts of violence or menaces to disrupt the daily life of every woman in the nation.’ He raised his finger so she’d allow him to speak. ‘We live in male aristocracy, my darling, we have a king and a prime minister.’

‘We could have a woman prime minister!’ She interrupted.
An actual shudder ran through him. ‘In our model of living, women of aristocracy’s job is to stay at home, bear children, care for the husband who adores her.’

‘You speak a man of century past.’

‘I speak my heart as a man in love offering you this life-’ He gesticulated around them. ‘My adoration and the possibility of lobbying in favor of your cause with insider privileges.’ One of his arms reached for her.

Tentatively she caught his hand. ‘Your soul would certainly find a place in heaven for saving my father’s estate with proper administration and investments. Also my mamma’s nerves. Mine too, for she would stop whining.’ 

‘If you must thank me let it be for yourself alone, and do it following Pankhurst.’ A smile and he pointed his lips.

She could deny, but a kiss was something she craved for months. So, she allowed his arm around her waist, went up her toes, held his neck, caressed his lips with hers. ‘Deeds not words.’

‘A genius that woman is.’

They chuckled.

‘How, Fitzwilliam, how can I be so seduced by a man who despises my family but adores me so?’

‘Be that man alive, I shall see to his demise. Adoration of your person is my attribution alone and your family does have my respect. If not for much, simply and specially because of my wish of giving happiness to you, I think only of you.’

‘That is something a lady wants to hear from a gentleman promised to her.’ She giggled. ‘Moments such as this teach me to hope as I scarcely allow myself to. A life such as my mother lives frightens me, Fitzwilliam, what if nothing changes in another half a century?’

‘I can only guarantee that I am of the disposition to make you happy. Had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would never hear of me again. But I have been told that you talk of me with fervor, even if in despicable terms, with great frequency.’

‘You speak of me in your newspaper chronicles!’ She tried to leave his arms, he tightened his embrace. 

‘A siren’s call, my darling. One day you would come to confront me about it.’

‘Insufferable, stupid man!’

He chuckled against her ear. ‘I adore you, have dreamt of having you here with me for so long.’ In a simple movement, he turned to sit her on the table and shamelessly eased himself between her legs. ‘You insinuated to the policemen we were intimate…’ a kiss on her neck.

‘And you said we were engaged to be married soon.’ Her voice was little over a whisper. Her insides melted in such a manner that only happened when that man commanded. Lizzy was colored in the face and had an easy laugh on her lips.

‘My frankness to speak my wish, my belief of seeing us capable of that.’ His hands roamed her shoulders, she winced. His anger boiled for the attack she suffered, the risk she had put herself into. Carefully he caressed her arms, sides of cleavage. ‘There is something you ought to see in my study.’

‘Can’t I see it here?’ On fire, she imagined he wanted to initiate her on the art of love. The prospect was curious. She had left the house decided to experience great emotions in a suffragist rally but, maybe, would live them in the privacy of a liberal MP’s arms.
‘Before abusing you so abominably, I could have scruples and see to our relations, my darling.’ His big hand reached her thigh, squeezed, she moaned. ‘Please, do come.’

She nodded, he left the shelter of her legs, pulled her to her feet.
‘The cat?’

‘We don't really need him.’ Darcy gave the animal a side glance. 

‘The poor thing… It's your cat!’

‘It's supposed to be yours. I only bought it because I heard overheard you say that you dreamt that a happy home has to have a handsome man and an adorable pet.’

She bit her lip. ‘When?…’

‘Once your aunt Charlotte urged you to take a turn around the gardens of my aunt's. I happened to be walking along a parallel path, had close enough distance to notice your melodic laughs.’

‘Oh, Fitzwilliam, you mock me!…’

‘As soon as I arrived back home, I bought this cat hoping to attract you.’ Hands caressed her hair off her shoulder, she winced, he kissed the sore area, then her neck. Next he asked for her lips.

They shared a passionate kiss, the kind that communicated more than physical promises. But he needed to maintain his focus, couldn’t allow her loveliness seduce him. Yet.

And hurried her to his study. For a moment, he feared the noise from the riot on the street could distract her, but all was quiet outside the window. The policemen turned when they noticed movement, waved to Darcy avoiding to look closely because it was clear by the man’s estate of undress that he had been involved in pleasurable activities.

Curtains closed, Darcy first held Lizzy by her neck with both hands for a big kiss, one that put her again in warm anticipation, and then opened the cupboard adorned with his family’s crest. From inside he took a leather file case and a jewel box. ‘This one you refused, this one you haven’t seen yet.’

The ring, a beautiful jewel that resembled a crown of sticks holding small diamonds, she remembered. Sometimes even regretted not feeling it weight on her finger. But the document…

‘A marriage license?’

‘Your father gave me permission to procure it.’

‘Against my will?’

‘Awaiting your decision.’ 
ancestor's hunt

His voice came from behind her, in her ear, invading her sensibilities, making it impossible to reconcile with her former self of ignoring the fire burning her chest. 

‘What did you say of me that made him believe in you more than in me?’

‘I spoke of my love.’ His hands found her chest, from behind as he was, over the fine silk of his dressing gown. ‘Allow me repeat all of it for you, my darling, for I shall say more.’

She nodded, speechless. Had had so many words minutes before when he fought her in equal terms; once in love battlefield, she was a willing apprentice.

‘But first.’ He leaned aside, big hand on her waist, chest on her back, and put pen to paper.

I, Fitzwilliam Darcy, accept freely, the terms of this marriage certificate that shall be signed in a proper ceremony in the near future.

Then he gave her the pen.

‘Can’t we sign the license?’

‘We would only make it null. Declare your inclinations, my darling, so I can take you as my own now.’

I, Elizabeth Bennet, accept freely the terms, with a few minor changes, of this marriage certificate that shall be signed in a proper ceremony in the near future. 

‘Which changes?’ He complained.

‘I cannot say now because your handsomeness around me is a big distraction. Once I can control the riot inside me, I shall say.’

‘Riot?’ He smiled sideways.

She turned in his arms and put her lips to his. ‘You signed, cannot revert your word, even if my behavior to you deserves the severest reproof.’ He raised his brows, she bit his lip. ‘Be it unpardonable, impossibly curious, impertinent, full of abhorrence.’

‘Mrs. Darcy shall not see her husband complain of such abuse of his person.’

‘We will not quarrel for this.’

‘Absolutely.’ Chuckling, he grabbed her buttocks to bring it to his frame so there was no space between them.

A moan and a gasp, together. ‘That felt… Good.’

He had dreamed and planned how and when to deflower his wife, the woman he adored and refused him because he had had the misfortune to overlook her independent manner of thinking and intelligence. When finally, in his arms in an impromptu marriage, the bed should it be, his bachelor bed.

But to his bedchamber there were over twenty steps and Lizzy already dropped his dressing gown. Her lovely bare shoulders’ skin marred by an angry reddish bruise extended to arms long and thin with fingers that caressed his face giving him a glimpse inside her décolletage.  Breasts he dreamed were offered in a hide-and-seek between lace and cotton as she breathed, a curve, a nipple, a curve. He drooled. His arm moved for its own, his hand reached the lovely feminine form, fingers closed around a breast. She gasped. ‘Open your buttons.’ He commanded, she complied. Sweet, lovely, adored, beautiful Lizzy opened all the buttons showing him all of her chest, her waist, her drawers. The bedchamber was suddenly too far away, impossibly far, he needed to sit her on his desk, over the marriage license, stand between her legs, hear her moans, imagine what went through her thoughts. ‘Tell me, darling, say what you feel.’ His fingers caressed a nipple with adoration but facing what the drawers presented, moved down and in a hurry, knocked a cup forgotten between books. ‘Oh, damn, our marriage license!...’

Bertha was even irritated to lose that dream at that point. Oh, what a pity, the moment she was about to be invaded by a loving man obviously entranced on her person.

What did she remember about her first time? Not much. Second boyfriend, where they were, the care he had with her, pain – of course. But no particulars. At that moment, how appealing would it be to feel it all again, now having the knowledge of all she had lived so far.

‘Shit, why did the Belladama had to wear off so quickly?’ 

Wait, was it quick? It did feel like fifteen minutes. She rolled over and checked her phone. A little less than eleven hours. A quick ride that was… Wow, suffragist.

Still in bed she researched the activists’ history on the net until voices reached her.

‘The storm is finally giving in; Junior will be able to come get us in the morning or at lunch time.’

‘You know you don’t have to leave so early, Gia. We love to have you here.’

‘You’re a dear, but we only feel at home when at home, right?’

A shared chuckle.

‘Would your daughter want a ride with us? She mentioned her worry at being late for work, the storm caught us all by surprise. Junior can take her home.’

‘I bet she’d like that. She’s always keen to save a few bucks.’



‘She’s single, right?’

‘Oh, yes… Single for a long while now.’

‘Junior too. He told his sister there was a girl he wanted to ask out on a date, but she is just a waitress. My daughter told him to think twice, he is a DDS after all!’

‘I thought your son was a dentist like Darrygh.’

‘Yes, Doctor of Dental Surgery.’

‘Ah!’ There was a pause. ‘Well, truth be told, a doctor dating an uneducated waitress is suspicious.’

‘Exactly what my daughter told my son.’

‘Twins have this connection, don't they?’

‘Yes, they are very close.’ Pause. ‘Imagine if Bertha and Junior…’ 


‘Bertha has a degree. Unfortunately, she also has a head full of ideas…’

‘Children keep us worried even when grown up.’

‘One minute of pleasure worth thirty years of worrying!’


‘Wouldn’t it be nice if they hooked up?

Long pause.

Bertha hid her face on her pillow. ‘Damn, here I go.’ 

A. N. This is a fun little P&P madness, as we well know and love, right? That's why HERE we let men think they won over us in this particular question. Women's space in society and ruling is something very important, much abused here in Brazil lately. I just want to make it clear that I do not take it lightly. See ya next week. M.

sábado, 15 de junho de 2019

Muitas mulheres em uma série só: Gentleman Jack

olá, preciso falar de Gentleman Jack!

twitter bbc one
A princípio fiquei curiosa pela série pela época retratada, 1832, bem na década que inicio o CUPIDOS EM DEVON. Sempre estou sedenta por fontes de pesquisa e uma produção BBC/HBO não seria errada. Claro, haveriam de haver licenças poéticas, eu imaginei isso, mas fui curiosa principalmente por nunca ter ouvido falar de Anne Lister.
Vivo fuçando arquivos e manuais e documentos históricos, mas essa mulher de vida tão interessante nunca tinha aparecido, nem em uma pista. Fiquei até magoada comigo mesma.
Daí tinha a característica da homossexualidade de Anne Lister e o fato de que ela não era a única na época. Esse detalhe eu já tinha visto, é da natureza humana experimentar e descobrir onde cada um se sente mais confortável. CUPIDOS EM DEVON fala disso e de outras possibilidades que a vidinha tão limitada das mulheres do século XIX permitia - ou não permitia.
Olha, aviso logo, vou falar demais e soltar muitos spoilers

placa histórica localizada na propriedade da família Lister, Shibden Hall - Halifax 
'Fundo cívico de Halifax - ANNE LISTER - 1791-1840 - diarista, mulher de negócios, proprietária de terras e lésbica que registrou bastante de sua vida pessoal em códigos secretos. Ela viveu em Shibden Hall de 1815 a 1840. 

Então, a série foi uma grata surpresa! 

Esta é a abertura da série, note o figurino de Anne que fantástico! Anáguas, saias e corset com camisa, colete, relógio de bolso, cravat, casaca e cartola! Ambígua! Híbrida! 
Ela é (era) lésbica, sim.
Tem cenas que insinuam relações sexuais entre mulheres, sim.
Ela seduz outras mulheres, sim.
Mas tem algo que ninguém pensa:

e isso é maravilhoso!

-A tia Anne, velha e doente, que vive através da vida aventuresca da sobrinha Anne;
-A irmã de Anne, Marian, solteirona e esperançosa, que faz força para casar e salvar sua vida;
-A criada Eugénie, saidinha e pateta, que se apaixona por qualquer homem que lhe aparece e é rejeitada;
-A criada Condingley, sabida e boa gente, que foi obrigada a virar cozinheira e parar de viajar com Anne por causa de uma doença;
-A vizinha Mrs. Priestley, fofoqueira e preconceituosa, que faz intriga por não entender ou aceitar a sexualidade alheia;
-Ann Walker, pobre menina rica, que é explorada por sua beleza e riqueza por parentes, homens, criados;
-A irmã de Ann, Elizabeth, mal-casada e infeliz, que foi enganada por um marido que na verdade queria seu dinheiro e não sua companhia;
-A falecida Mrs. Aimsworth, infeliz e impotente, que deveria saber o quão vil era seu marido;
-A meeira Mary, amedrontada e espancada, que vivia sob o reino de terror do marido violento;
-A filha do capataz, Susannah, letrada e curiosa, que casa com o meeiro que assassinou o pai violento sem saber desse segredo;
-A amiga Mariana, rica e esperta, que decidiu casar com um homem por medo de enfrentar as sanções sociais da sua sexualidade;
-A heroína, Anne Lister, mulher à frente de seu tempo, aventureira, inteligente, culta, que fura os limites que a sociedade impunha às mulheres como todas as outras não conseguiam. A duras penas, claro.
twitter bbc one
Esta montagem veio de um thread da BBC one no Twitter comparando as mulheres de Gentleman Jack com sobremesas... Interessante, não é? Com tantas alegorias possíveis, escolheram comestíveis, indulgências, pecados até. 

Nos três primeiros episódios, fui ficando animada com cenários e figurinos, com as atuações bacanas, com os trejeitos de Anne. Ela é muito divertida e... Cavalheiresca. Na maneira de falar, de gesticular, de se portar na presença de damas que ela tem acesso por ser uma dama - se fosse um homem não poderia estar perto de moças com tanta facilidade. E por vezes está de mangas de camisa, sem a casaca, conversando e contando das viagens. 
hollywood reporter
E quando eventualmente usa vestidos femininos é quase caricato, hilário!
Eu ficava pensando e comparando, imaginando se fosse outro caso, se poderia acontecer, se, se, se... Daí fui olhar os diários dela e descobri que a autora Sally Wainright (que mandou bem demaisssssss) tirou VÁRIOS DIÁLOGOS das palavras que Anne Lister deixou, das cartas, 20 e tantos diários e 17 livros de viagem! 
Deixei para pesquisar depois que terminasse a série para evitar achar defeitos ou discrepâncias. Fiz bem!
hiccup broom
Assim pude aproveitar as sutilezas, om ombros sempre caídos nos vestidos da depressiva Ann Walker em comparação com as roupas acinturadas de Anne Lister, as estampas animadas de Marian, as roupas ricas de Mariana e os tons aguados da irmã entristecida.

E então chegou o episódio 4. 

Essa cena, esse ponto foi quando a serie me conquistou de vez. Veio de uma outra cena forte quando Anne Lister exige que Ann Walker se decida, se prefere ficar com ela ou casar com o viúvo da amiga recém falecida (já falei acima). Pressionada, a depressiva Ann envia uma cesta de frutas (coisa de gente rica) para Anne com uma carta onde pede que ela resgate um saquinho escondido no meio das frutas e sorteie 'sim' ou 'não' porque ela própria é incapaz de decidir sua vida. Anne fica desesperada, vai tomar satisfação, pergunta se Ann acha que os sentimentos dos outros são uma brincadeira. E aí, eu que achava a sequência muito legal, fiquei boquiaberta com isso. Assista.

Tradução livre (minha)
Anne Lister: Ann.
Ann Walker: *choro*
L: Ann, fale comigo, somos adultas. Nada pode ser tão ruim.
W: Eu nunca mais te verei.
L: O que? O que quer dizer?
W: Se eu te contar a verdade, você não vai mais querer nenhum contato comigo. 
L: Posso te surpreender. Hmm?
W: É ele.
L: Ele? Ele quem?
W: O reverendo Ainsworth. Eu fui… Indiscreta com ele.
Ele disse que estava apaixonado por mim e que queria casar comigo e que ela não viveria muito e eu não queria, mas eu não sabia como dizer 'não'. Por isso fiquei tão alterada quando ouvi que ela tinha morrido porque eu sabia que isso ia acontecer. Eu sabia que não se passariam 5 minutos até que ele me escrevesse. E Anne… Eu nunca o encorajei. Eu lhe disse que eu não queria, mas então ele passou a conseguir situações em que ficava a sós comigo, aqui ou quando eles visitavam ou lá na casa deles. Você entende? Você entende o problema? Ele teve… conhecimento da minha intimidade. 
L: Intimidade, como?
W: *choro*
L: Beijos?
W: *balança a cabeça*
L: Ele fez… Tocou em você?
W: *balança a cabeça*
L: Vocês estiveram conectados?
W: *choro* Uma vez. *choro* Esse é o problema. Isso não me coloca em obrigação para com ele, com Mr. Ainsworth?
L: Espere aí. Ele se impôs a você. Você estava na casadele, visitando sua amiga, esposa dele. Estava sob a proteção dele. Na casa dele. E ele tirou vantagem de você. 
W: Quando ela saiu da sala. Ainda assim, moralidade não…
L: Oh, meu Deus, não,  é claro que não.  Você não está sob obrigação alguma, ele era casado, pelo amor de Deus!
W: Você está gritando. Está irada.
L: Não estou gritando com você,  não estou irada com você. Estou aliviada- aliviada que me contou, Ann. Ann, você não tem obrigação alguma com ele.
W: Mas, vê? Você vê agora a razão porquê eu não podia dizer 'sim' para você porque eu estou tão preocupada que- todo tipo- que você ficaria chateada e que me exporia e que eu nem era livre ou digna de dizer 'sim' para você e por isso eu não poderia te mostrar a carta. E é- a carta está aqui- e está  muito claro pela linguagem que ele usa que ele já pensa que pertenço a ele. "Para a toda minha pequena Annie, do todo seu Thomas Ainsworth." E eu não consegui contar a ninguém porque ele disse que refletiria tão mal em mim quanto nele. *choro* Sei que me considera fraca. Estúpida. *choro* Seria mais fácil se eu tivesse alguém como você na minha vida. Isso nunca teria acontecido, porque eu teria alguém com quem conversar- para contar. Alguém que teria me ajudado. 
L: Tudo que me contou é absolutamente verdade?
W: Sim.
L: Você sabe que eu a teria livrado desse problema, não sabe? Não importa se tivesse me dito 'sim' ou 'não'.
W: Teria?
L: Sujeitinho sujo e desprezível. De coleira.
W: Ele ainda virá tentar conseguir o emprego aqui, nessa reunião do conselho da igreja. A coisa toda, sem dúvida,  é somente uma desculpa para chegar perto de mim.
L: Shhh. Você não tem nada a temer vindo dele. Me entende?
W: O que você vai fazer com ele?
L: Ainda não decidi.

Percebe as nuances da vida feminina? 

As muitas camadas das amarras sociais?
A rica herdeira era abusada constantemente pelo marido da amiga doente que estava no cômodo ao lado. Será que ela sabia e permitia por ser mais velha que o marido (é dito que era 15 anos mais velha e brincava que quando morresse, seria de Ann a responsabilidade de cuidar do seu marido)? Será que era enganada? Será que esse fato era real ou foi inventado para a série? Não tive coragem de pesquisar...
Essa olhada para a câmera, cumplicidade com o expectador, é muito bacana. Geralmente é divertido, mas nesse foi assim de cortar o coração...

A partir desse ponto passei a prestar mais atenção às outras personagens femininas da série e me descolar da curiosidade pela  'vida lésbica naquela época'. Anne Lister mostrada é muito mais que sua sexualidade, que na época era considerado 'uma coisa que as pessoas faziam' e não 'o que elas eram'. Ela era dona da porra toda, cuidava da propriedade, fazia investimentos, decidia, comprava, vendia, contratava... Como fazemos hoje e como muitas de nós ainda não conseguem fazer. É muita bolinha!

Na vida real elas recebiam cartas anônimas mais cruéis que na serie, trolagens como anúncios de jornal em que procuravam maridos; na serie Anne é espancada e humilhada. Também sua irmã em uma cena muito comovente. Ann sofre de depressão e sucumbe à pressão social. Elizabeth se arrepende de ter-se feito refém do marido o aceitando em casamento.

A vida é dura em qualquer época, acredito.
annelister co

Acredito que Anne Lister não teve a intenção de nos deixar lições de moral, ela escrevia para fazer catarse. Diz-se que começou quando foi exilada em um quarto no sótão do colégio interno onde estudava quando pequena. Nesta época desenvolveu o código que usou até o fim quando morreu de repente aos 49 anos, talvez devido a uma mordida de inseto em uma viagem pela Rússia.
annelister co

Como Jane Austen, ela também escrevia cartas longas e por vezes cruzava as linhas para usar o papel ao máximo. 


Mas, mesmo sem querer, seus diários nos deixaram pistas incríveis da evolução feminina através dos tempos. Você não precisa ser lésbica para gostar da serie ou admirar os incríveis feitos dela. Na verdade, pode até correr as cenas mais risqué se quiser, pular totalmente. São poucas. 

De qualquer forma, veja. 
Vale a pena.
look out point tv
Eu vou esperar a 2ª temporada!


>> outras curiosidades & pesquisas históricas, aqui

pesquisei aqui, aqui, aqui, aqui, aqui, aqui, aqui, aqui e parei porque tinha que fazer mil coisas. Mas perderia mais tempo pesquisando.
Todos os videos são do Twitter da BBC one. Agradeço muito.

quarta-feira, 12 de junho de 2019

9 ways to live Pride and Prejudiciously - chapter 9 _ PART I

hi, there.
This chapter is a turning point for Bertha. She starts to realize what the heck is going on. And with that, her mind loops even more.

For me, it was a lovely chapter to write. Edwardian London is such a modern elegant place to visit, isn't it? Wish I could make it longer and more eventful... Maybe some other time. 

Anyway, Bertha is each time more aware of her surroundings...

Nine ways to live Pride and Prejudiciously
WIP, modern (mostly), adult (you know me...), fun, fluff, heart healing stuff.
read chapter 8- part II

VI- Price is right _ PART I

After five rides, Bertha was starting to find it a bit more difficult to emerge from a belladama dream. Always relaxed and light-hearted, she felt sluggish – almost reluctant to face reality. That was probably what drove Lottie, coming to think of it.

A long shower and the last clean clothes she had taken with her to her parents’ fueled in Bertha her naked determination to reach out for her Belladama sponsor.

As she reached the kitchen, the big cat at her feet, Bertha found her father with an elder man sharing laughs and a drinks.

‘Isn’t it a bit early for booze, dad?’

‘Hey, Bertha!’ Her father waved. ‘Meet Darrygh, our friend from Highbury.’

‘Hello, how are you doing?’

‘Fine, and you, girl?’

‘Fine, too. Craving a cup of coffee.’

‘Have a dose of whisky with us, Bertha.’ Her father pointed the bottle at the counter. ‘We’re cooking the sea food I found defrosting in the fridge. Darrygh can prepare a great pasta.’

‘My children love it.’ The old man smiled. 

‘He's quite a cook, my friend!’ Bertha's father patted the other man's back.

‘Had to learn!’ He laughed. ‘My kids had a soft spot for summer vacations at the Keys, we used to go sailing and brought fish we caught ourselves.  Sea food is my specialty!’

‘I have some aprons custom made, will send dad some and he can give you if you want.’ She offered.

‘That is nice, girl. I would like it very much.’

Bertha smiled. ‘The Florida Keys, you said? Wow, from all the pictures and TV shows I’ve seen, it must be a wonderful place.’ 

‘Never been there?’

‘No. Too far, too expensive.’  She shared a sad smile with her father.

‘Nah.’ He waved his hand dismissively. ‘Whenever you'd want to go, stay at our place at Islamorada. My daughter lives at Big Pine Key, she'd be happy to show you around.’

‘I'd love that, thanks!’ Bertha walked to the coffee machine and served a big cup. ‘I took the sea food from the freezer, but ended up not eating it.’ She tasted the coffee and twisted her nose in disgust.

‘Did you eat anything at all, child?’

Mmmm… Actually, she hadn’t eat much. ‘I drank tea.’

‘You look thinner, Bertha.’ Her father accused.

‘I took up running.’

‘My daughter is always on a diet.’ The old friend said. ‘But my son is very athletic and he doesn’t need do much.’

‘Funny because they are twins, right?’ 

‘Yes.’ Darrygh smiled. ‘Twins but not identical.’
litter robot


Bertha spit out coffee. ‘Ouch, Ginger! I’m sorry for stepping on your tail but you keep in front of my feet.’ Bertha grumbled.

‘Watch out for my cat, Bertha, poor thing!’ Her mom yelled. ‘Come here, Fitz! Zeez, zeez, zeez!’

Bertha raised her shoulders and shook her head at the men. ‘I didn’t do anything, you saw it!’

‘You know he is always curious when you’re here.’ Her father pointed a finger. ‘But you ignore the animal.’

‘I do not!’

The friend chuckled.

‘She does.’ Her father joined the good humor. ‘When she was little, we had a big black cat who ran away. She was devastated for months. Ever since, she has been cold hearted for pets.’

‘Oh my God, dad!’ Bertha rested the coffee mug on the counter. ‘I had completely forgotten about this. What was the name of that cat? I loved him!... A male, right?’

‘Fitz, he was a Fitz.’

‘Isn’t this one Fitz?’ Darrygh pointed where the big cat had left.

‘Yes, all our cats are called Fitz. Fitzgerald, Fitzsimmons, Fitzroy, Fitzwilliam.’


‘Places we have visited, actors, authors, characters. Maureen O’hara was Fitzsimmons, our first date we went to the movies to watch McLintock. We once visited a bar in the Fitzroy neighborhood of Victoria when in Australia, great booze. Fitzgerald wrote the Gatsby. Fitzwilliam is the great Mr. Darcy.’

‘Have the Austen hero makes sense if you had the Gatsby man.’


That she remembered from school, how hard she crammed over the classics. Really understood it. Was that why she kept dreaming about Darcy and Fitzwilliam and Lizzy? Bertha was flabbergasted. ‘I need to…’ She pointed the door.

‘Are you insane, child? A storm is coming our way!’

‘It’s not raining yet.’ She opened the door, looked outside. ‘Not even heavy wind.’

‘Where do you need to go? See someone? Janet? Your mom has her on the phone, go talk to her.’ 

‘No, not Janet. Lottie.’

‘A friend.’ He told the friend. ‘Don’t take long, come back quickly.’


How long did she take to walk the five blocks to Lottie’s, Bertha couldn’t tell, but there she was in front of the little old house that was conspicuously similar to the grandma’s house of little red riding hood tale.

On the porch she took a deep breath, knocked on the door and waited. Then again. As she had no answer, Bertha glued her lips to the corner of the door and whispered. ‘Lottie, are you tripping?’

Silly thing to do. If she was, she wouldn’t hear.

‘Lottie!’ She yelled. ‘It’s me, Bertha. Come on!’

‘What do you want, B?’

‘Open up.’

‘Don’t want to.’

‘What do you think I am? The wolf from Three little pigs? Do you want me to blow your house away? Belladama don’t give me this power!’

The door flew opened. ‘Shut it!’


‘What came into you to talk about it out loud?’

Bertha smiled. ‘Hello, how are you doing, Lottie?’

‘You kill me, Bertha. Damn the IRS for making me visit your place. Should never have seen the mess you made of your life and given you my gran’s tea.’

‘Of course you should, it is so interesting, isn’t it?’ 

Lottie pressed her eyes.

‘But it has been making me think so much about myself. Almost more efficient than any shrink I could ever see.’

‘Of course, B. We know ourselves better than anyone else. We are our best advisers if we only hear our own reasoning.’

‘And belladama helps so much…’

‘Shshsh!’ Lottie put her index finger to her lips, looked from side to side and pulled her friend inside. ‘Please, don’t speak of ancient wild belladama with strangers. Have you?’


‘Bertha.’ She pressed.

‘No. I didn’t.’ She kissed her crossed fingers. ‘I swear.’


‘New couch, how big!’

‘I need to talk to you about what you’re doing.’ Lottie shook her head. ‘Gran is unhappy with your use of Belladama. Have you finished the dose I gave you?’

‘How come…’ Bertha blinked stupidly. ‘Your gran is dead, how come she’s unhappy in heaven?’

‘Answer me, please.’

With a weird sound coming from her throat, Bertha moved her head from side to side. ‘Almost. I didn’t use it all.’ Lottie gasped. ‘I was suspicious, so I used a pinch. A bit more than a pinch.’

‘That is so wrong!...’ Lottie pressed her fingers over her eyes.

‘You said the thing was very strong and hybrid, I feared it would make me grow another arm!’

‘Shut up, Bertha! And still you use it and get into my dreams and stop me from living a love story.’

‘What I remember was that the guy was gloomy and had a funny eye towards the naïve girl. I had to help or else I’d allow harassment and man power-’

‘It was the 19th century, silly! We go back and live that reality to experience different lives so we can improve our own!’

‘I’m starting to figure things out; you know? Like I must be dealing with grief.’ Bertha twisted her lips. ‘Please, don’t be so cross with me. I need your help. Just found out that my dreams are all centered in a single problem.’

Lottie sat down, breathed slowly. ‘You’re dreaming about something your mind is trying to solve, desires. Who are you grieving?’ She frowned. They’ve been friends for a long time, she’d know if someone close had passed away. 

‘A pet, when I was seven or eight.’


‘Fitz, the cat. I made some convoluted connection with his name and literature and my parents’ weird pet naming issues.’
They were silent for a while.

‘Oh!’ Lottie smiled. ‘That fat fur ball you used to carry in a basket!’

‘Fitz…’ Bertha smiled. ‘I had forgotten about him; thought he wasn’t important anymore.’

‘Mmmm… Your subconscious may be sending you a signal. Something silly could be simply a way to call your attention. Belladama opens your mind to help you think. Give your life a chance, Bertha.’

A sassy smile stretched Bertha’s lips. ‘Sounds so much like pot…’

‘Huh! Good thing you don’t have much anymore. You don’t deserve it!’ Lottie rose and walked inside. ‘Do you want something to drink?’

‘Coffee.’ She said still chuckling and saw from the corner of her eye a little bag of leaves. Belladama! Her heart raced. It’d be so lame to steal. But her friend wouldn’t give her anymore, she wouldn’t find it in regular shops… It was a small bag. ‘Gold in leaves’, Lottie had once said.

The wind whistled outside, a window banged, the trees danced, Lottie cursed from the kitchen, Bertha pocketed the bag.

‘Forget about the coffee, Lottie. The storm is arriving; I’d better get home.’

‘First help me lock the windows, it’s the least you can do.’

As she entered her parents’ house, drenched and chilled to the bones, Bertha heard her mother’s voice coming from the dining room.

‘She has always been too independent, ever since she was a little girl. Janet still needs me, but Bertha is her own woman. She lives by herself since college, works at the awful coffee shop, refuses our money more times than we care to offer. I felt useless as she grew up, you know.  There was a year, sophomore I guess, she got in deep trouble, such low grades; but I didn’t know until the English teacher called me to compliment the great work she had done for extra credits. What book was it?’

‘Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen.’

‘Ah, a favorite of all times.’

‘Yes, everyone’s passion!’

‘So you have it. She worked on it alone, didn’t ask for help or opinion, composed a long essay, all very inspired and adult- like. So good it was that she was guaranteed excellent grades, all on her own. I felt so proud of her and also very… useless! After that, I learned how to deal with her spirits.’

‘She learned her lesson that year. My poor daughter was in big trouble, Austen really made an impression in her life.’ Her father chuckled.

‘I fully understand you. My children are very independent as well.’ Gia said. ‘They both left the house for college and never returned. Junior is over thirty and still single, maybe will die a single man. Giovana is as good as married but… we have to learn to accept their lives.’

There was silence.

Bertha considered if she should announce her presence. Darrygh, Junior, Gia, Giovana; what an unusual family. 


‘Oh, Ginger!’

‘Bertha, is that you-’ Her mother walked in the kitchen. ‘Good Lord, look at that!’

‘Poor dear! Wet as a pet!’ Gia gushed. ‘Go take a warm shower and I’ll have Darrygh prepare your bowl of pasta.

Well, that was a nice change, Bertha thought eating at the kitchen counter dressed in old flannel pjs eating hot pasta with sea food as the old folks chatted clearly inebriated. Wine, that was what they had. Plus the men had whisky before she left. Hmmm…

The dishes were left for her because the storm presented a funny entertainment for the boozed elders. Reassured by her stealing, as fowl as it was, Bertha lost her pity of spending one more pinch of Belladama and prepared a nice warming cup of tea. Small, half the cup because she didn’t want to mix the sources.

But a few sips were better than no sips at all.
The loud noise of the irate winds, rain and thunders lulled her into a deep slumber.

The streets were loud, on fire, and Lizzy was locked inside the house as caged bird! She bounced on her legs, all ten fingers on the glass panels, groans in her throat.

‘Stop these noises, girl, and listen carefully.’ 

‘He is an insufferable, insufferable man. Stop reading that, aunt Charlotte.’

‘I cannot, he used our good name in vain.’

‘He didn’t say Bennet or Collins. He didn’t even mention the name of father’s estate cousin will inherit. Let him be and help me escape mom.’

‘You cannot take part in another rally, Lizzy.’

‘I am a suffragist.’

‘He says here you are a suffragette!’

A loud groan escaped her. ‘Mr. Darcy of Pemberley road is the worst kind of politician there is, you know it. He is lord of a huge estate up North, it is said he explores a coal mine, but here in London, in the House of Commons, he is the symbol of all things proper. Single still, over thirty. I bet he has Lord Byron’s inclinations. Or even Oscar Wilde’s!’

A gasp expressed the horror of Charlotte Collins, actually married to a cousin of Lizzy’s father but considered aunt. ‘You do not mean it.’

Lizzy waved her shoulders. ‘He speaks his mind, I speak mine. Maybe I should send my thoughts to the paper as well.’

‘Don’t you dare!’ Mrs. Bennet yelled entering the morning room. ‘And get out of this window!’

‘Oh, mamma! Look, they are marching to the Statue of Achilles. And I am here… It is preposterous, we all should be there, protesting, fighting for our rights!’

‘Our right is to have a home, a husband, children, security.’ Mrs. Bennet bristled. ‘I dreamt of having this reign of my own.’ She waved around the over decorated room. ‘To have a pretty daughter like you, smart enough to accept the proposal of a prominent man of politics and connections.’

She groaned and sat heavily on a chair.

‘I dreamt my husband would be able to provide for me even if I didn’t present him a male heir. But dreams are not always meant for every woman.’ Mrs. Bennet complained. ‘Don't gloat, Charlotte. It does not become you.’

‘Oh, Agnes! You know I'll never throw you out of Longbourn. Not even when I conduct all the renovations the house needs.’

‘You'll never renovate anything, aunt Charlotte.  You hate changes.’

‘That's right.’ Charlotte shrugged her shoulders.  ‘That's why your mama will always be welcomed there.’

‘You get wrinkles around your eyes when you gloat.’ Mrs. Bennet pointed her own face.’ Definitely not becoming on you.’

Lizzy whined her impatience. 

‘If I had called her Jane, she'd be a sweet a compliant girl. Now I could say my daughter was Mrs. Darcy, wife of the most promising MP in the House of Commons. Instead, I allowed her father give her the name of the spiteful queen Elizabeth who refused husbands; married to the throne, the woman was.’ Mrs. Bennet despaired.  ‘A simpleton for a daughter, spinster!’

‘A suffragist!’ Lizzy corrected.

‘He wrote about her on the paper, Aggie.’ Charlotte waved the newspaper. ‘Broken hearted rant, it seems to me.’

‘Stupid words from a stupid man.’ Lizzy grumbled.

‘Shsh!’ Her mother ordered. ‘Enough independence from you, child.’ She turned to Charlotte. ‘Read it to me, please.’

Something must be done to correct the ideas and ideals of young ladies these days or Britain may suffer extinction in the upcoming decades. The history unfolds in front of our eyes as we witness the straying of brilliant girls capable of happy productive marriages and even careers in household help, education or literature – who could tell? – waste their forces in the pathetic loneliness militancy. Marred with the ignominious Suffragette movement, they try to stop the verdict of time in a series of misadventures that sully names and dreams giving evidence that the feminine mind is not fit for responsibilities as big as deciding the ways of the nation. I have come in contact with one particular case of a promising young lady who dismissed a spectacular connection that would save her family’s legacy for the prideful need to join the militant ranks.  Once more it rests on our shoulders the necessity to correct what is being withered like Dead Sea fruit under the malignant influence of militancy. Using my influence, I keep describing my efforts to render assistance to the women unconscious of their actions and how much guidance they need to find reason.’

‘Oh, no. He is really broken hearted.’ Mrs. Bennet whined. ‘He will never speak to her again.’

‘Probably not.’ Charlotte shook her head.

‘Not something you might want to happen to a pathetic militant anyway.’ Lizzy stood to gawk at the window again.

‘Well,’ cried Mrs. Bennet, ‘have it as you choose. He shall choose another woman and you shall die a spinster.’

‘A spinster with the right to vote!’ She raised her fist moving in marching steps around the room.

‘Headstrong, foolish girl!’

‘So I may be.’ By then she was close to the doorway which was side by side with the front door and she escaped outside before her mother could stop her.

Dressed in white with a thin green and purple belt around her slim waist, Lizzy walked the streets bearing a proud smile fueling her brave spirit. It was a big fight to be fought, women knew it wouldn't be easy, but united they'd win. Not all men voted, women's voices were ignored as the insane, poor and criminals. What gal did an elite of men have to compare women to convicted criminals? Or demented!
Portrait of a lady, 1910 - christie's

They shall be heard, they shall make more noise, be louder, speak to whomever they could. That day, that Sunday, was going to be the day!

Each corner she turned, more women joined her. Soon, a small march was formed and kept happily engorging. Unknown, they only had in common their gender and the color in their attire: white, purple and green. Purity, loyalty and hope. One had to show great bravery to wear those colors in public, specially that day, even in little details such as buttons, hat feathers or scarfs.  Lizzy felt a bit ashamed of her thin belt, of her meager efforts for the cause.

‘Votes for women!’ Someone shouted. The others answered spurred by the urge of the fight. And on they walked towards Hyde Park, the rally was surely going to change the views of women such as her mother and aunt who still saw suffragists as ugly impolite creatures.

The policemen also knew that was the day and Hyde Park would be the place. Orders had been given to stop militants before they gathered, identify more incendiary elements, lock up in prison the ones prone to cause more damage. 

What are women to batons and manhandling? 

Under heavy attack of brutal force, they scattered and ran as cockroaches searching for shelter, Lizzy shouted calling out other women to stay together, to form a turtle as the Roman fought, to resist! But, a heavy blow hit her shoulder from behind. Frightened, she ran as well. 

Eyes shiny with tears of pain, the nearer address she could find was of Hades. At any other moment, the option was unthinkable, but at that moment, she punched the blood red door with her fist, it opened almost immediately and in an instant she was safe in the arms of the greatest evil she could face.

‘My darling!’ He pressed her to his chest. ‘My fool, fool darling.’

‘Ouch!’ She winced. ‘My shoulder.’ A whine.

‘Did you get hit?’

‘Just once, but it hurts very much.’

There was loud banging on the door that startled them.

‘Open up!’ An angry male voice shouted from outside. ‘I know you're inside, I saw you entering!’

‘Please, don't turn me in.’

‘Why would I take this risk?’

‘Open up!’ More banging.

‘I know the price for you and for me.’ She whispered cowardly. 

Her dear face brightened by the exercise and fear twisted his heart. He undressed his silk dressing gown and extended to her. ‘Go to my study, you'll find everything that pleases me.’

Lizzy nodded at the tantalizing vision of the tall handsome man in his shirt and pants, no tie or any formality in his dressing. If her face could get redder, it would.

‘Open this door! This is the last warning before we break in!’

‘Go, you know the house, you've been here before.’

She knew he meant the ball in which they first shared a kiss, her first kiss. Or maybe he meant the dinner party when he proposed intending on a hurried union before whisking her away because of his need to leave the city.

‘Lizzy!’ He raised his voice. ‘Wait for me, prepare yourself for what is to come.’