AUSTEN HOUSE
Rule Number 6: It has been agreed that Emma will cover all extra expenses for takeout whenever she invites someone unexpectedly. "Fred!" Emma cried out cheerfully. "Sit over here," she patted at a patch of carpet between her and Anne. Fred smiled at the bouncy blonde and stepped over her friends, who he couldn't help but notice were exchanging exasperated looks or rolling their eyes, before he settled down between Emma and Anne. "Chip?" Emma offered sweetly. And this is what he loved about this house, apart from the fact he could spend time with Anne, none of them made him feel like an invalid. As much as he loves his older sister and appreciated the care she had given him, she had been so painfully obvious about his arm. She was constantly taking over and doing things for him citing his lack of a left arm to smother him. It did nothing but motivate him in order to become independent again. The first thing he did in his recovery period at the hospital was learn to wash himself one handed because there was no way he was letting his sister give him a sponge bath. He no longer wore button up shirts and therefore dressing became less of a difficulty, most things were easy to do one handed on a day to day basis, but eating was difficult, his sister used to purposely lean over and cut everything up for him….but at Austen House? It was either served to him cut up already in manageable bites or they served food that didn't need cutting, take out was a favourite but he loved Fanny's pasta bake and eagerly accepted an invitation for it whenever George issued one. "Thank you," he murmured taking a handful, "how was your exam Cathy?" The baby of the group sitting on Anne's other side flushed a little. She had been somewhat in awe of him when they first met, Chris reassured him that it was a mix of hero worship and shyness and she'll get over it quickly, but it was somewhat endearing in her where it would have been annoying with anyone else. "Oh!" Cathy said startled. "It was a good day I suppose, my last exam was today and I think I did well, and then I saw Harry-" "Oooooh!" the girls chorused. "Shut up!" Cathy blushed a deeper shade of pink. "He just wanted to know if I had a good Christmas and wished me good luck at the auditions this weekend." "Did you tell him about your boyfriend?" Lizzie smirked. "He's not my boyfriend!" Cathy shrieked. "And I cannot believe he is still telling people that! Harry asked all about it…" she trailed off with a moan and almost dropped her dinner on the floor if Ellen hadn't caught it in time. "Err…boyfriend?" Fred asked. "Don't ask," George advised him. "You know, Cathy if you're having a problem with a stalker you only have to ask and I will sort it out," Chris offered, "I know people." "Thanks," Cathy murmured now a bright red that matched the sauce all over Emma's chips, "but he isn't stalking me." "Yet," Lizzie said viciously stabbing a chip. "So erm…these auditions…?" "Ah, yes, the Drama Club had agreed on doing The Importance of Being Earnest for the March slot this year," Emma explained, "it's a smaller cast since most of us will be too busy with our mid-semester essays, and therefore it'll be more competitive." "It's a shame," Lizzie sighed softly, she seemed to have transformed completely from the terrifying person mere seconds before, "I do love a good Wilde play but with the essays and presentation coming up," she, Emma, Anne, and Ellen all shuddered, "I can only offer to give a hand with the set and costumes." "Do you like to act?" Fred asked Anne. He truly was curious, last time he had seen her Anne was more an audience member than a player on the stage, and nothing seemed to have changed in the last five years. "A little," Anne mumbled not looking at him, her eyes were down casted on her plate, her cheeks a faint pink, and her black curls covered the rest from view. "I prefer to write things to be acted on stage…and I enjoy helping backstage, I will help with the scenery for this production." "Anne's a good extra," Emma butted in cheerfully, "she blends in splendidly in the background – but not too much!" she added hastily. "She did a good comic act in the Panto." The rest of the evening continued in a similar pattern as the many evenings before. There will be a topic of conversation that everyone will be involved with and then somehow, some way, Emma twists it to make Anne the centre of attention, not to the rest of the room, just for him. Emma's piercing blue eyes would watch him carefully whenever he danced to her tune and paid the attention she demanded to Anne. In return Anne would flush in embarrassment and mumble to him shyly before one of the others change the topic and they repeat the cycle once more. "I am sorry," George said as they walked home, "she's got it in her head that she's this amazing matchmaker and she can't resist interfering." "Its fine," Fred reassured George for what felt like the hundredth time this week, "I think it's…well endearing of her." "You don't have to dance to her tune," George carried on, "you can just ignore her and not play along with it if it makes you feel uncomfortable, and I don't want you to feel that you have-" "But I do want to," Fred interrupted George. "Pardon?" "I want Emma to match make me with Anne," Fred said slowly but firmly, "I want to get back with Anne, and this time I don't want to lose her again." Fred didn't know what was more amusing about this situation. The fact that he was letting a virtual stranger try manipulate him into a relationship he so desperately wanted, or the facial expression on his new friend's face. Probably George's gobsmacked expression – it certainly made Fred wish he had a camera on him. JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA The first day of classes are never a favourite with Lizzie. After all, they were only introductory classes where the professor drones on about what the lectures and seminars will cover, what the reading material consists of, and what assignments are expected of them throughout the next thirteen weeks. Boring stuff that everyone already knows if they had actually read the class booklet beforehand. She wanted to get down to the good stuff discussing the evolution of the novel and analysing the satiric poetry of the eighteenth and early nineteenth century. Not talk about how much their essays were worth in the overall scheme. The door opened and everyone quietened instantly as they craned their neck to look at the new Professor. They had all heard about the previous Professor's heart attack and how this new, much younger, Professor was his replacement until he recovered. Lizzie must confess she was interested in seeing this Professor's teaching methods. After all have the class joined this class for the sole purpose of watching Professor Brown pace up and down the room and make the subject come alive for them. Not because they actually liked studying eighteenth century texts (and after the Henry Fielding disaster, who can blame them?). If this professor was unable to make the subject come alive for them then it will guarantee transfers within the first two weeks. It was five minutes into the lecture when the door opened and a new student Lizzie didn't recognise hurriedly made her way to the podium carrying files probably for the professor. Lizzie didn't think much of this pale, untidy, office-dressed girl, she seemed too meek and reserved but then so was Anne and Fanny, and even Ellen and Cathy on occasion, so how could she judge? The girl took a deep breath and turned to face them. "Hello," she said in a firm clear voice, "I am Professor Jane Fairfax and I will be teaching you this semester." Emma, whose arm had been leaning on the side table attached to the chair, suddenly, accidentally, knocked her books and pencil case off of it by accident. "Sorry," she flushed, "sorry, carry on, please." Lizzie raised an eyebrow but didn't comment as Professor Fairfax had continued as requested. "Now then, I assume you have all read your course booklets, if you haven't please do so before next week, you are third years and I am certain you all know what is expected of you. So now then let's dive right into Daniel Defoe…" Lizzie decided right there and then she had a new favourite teacher. JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA Emma was tapping her nails against the bar table. No one else noticed apart from George but then no one else but George was paying Emma any attention. Fred and Chris were sitting aside from the girls reminiscing the 'good old days' as if they were eighty year old men, Lizzie and Anne were excitedly telling Ellen and Fanny about their new professor, and George was sitting in between them and a sulky Emma who was tapping her nails against the bar table. Emma only ever does that when she was impatient. It was her little tick that went unnoticed by most or dismissed as boredom seeing as she was prone to tapping her nails against a hard surface when Miss Bates was rambling on about something or the other. On the top of his head George can only think that Emma was waiting impatiently for Cathy who was at rehearsal but then Emma had never before let a missing person affect her to this extent. "Isn't that right, Emma?" Lizzie suddenly cut in. "Hmm?" Emma raised an eyebrow. "Professor Fairfax, she really handled those idiots, didn't she?" Lizzie said admiringly, "and she made Daniel Defoe become so…so...incredible." "Yes," Emma said dryly, "it was so considerate of her to firmly put people that skive off reading the course booklet despite it never really being a necessary requirement since most professors can never be bothered to start the semester with a proper lesson. And if you didn't find Defoe incredible before this why did you sign up for this class?" Fanny and Anne looked mildly horrified at Emma's outburst while Lizzie raised an unimpressed eyebrow, and Ellen glanced over worriedly. "What's got your knickers twisted?" Lizzie retorted back. "Nothing," Emma murmured a little abashed, "I'm just fed up about hearing Jane Fairfax this, and Professor Fairfax this, she's a fantastic teacher and I loved her lecture." George didn't believe a single piece of that lie, all right the last bit he believed but only because it was the truth, the rest though…he knew there would be some difficulty when he had been introduced to Jane last week. "You should be proud," he said, "Jane Fairfax is a genius she is the youngest professor in England, and more importantly she is from-" "Did you just say Jane Fairfax?" They all turned to see that young man that had approached them for directions a couple weeks ago standing behind them. He was a good-looking and charismatic as ever, much to George's disgruntlement, as Emma smiled warmly at the interruption. "Oh I remember her, what a cold fish!" he pulled a chair from a nearby table and sat himself by Emma. "Is she here now then?" "Yes, she's our professor," Emma told him. She was still smiling at this stranger who had the gall to sit down without asking her permission. George didn't like rude, unmannered, and thoughtless people. "I'm sorry," Lizzie cut in, not sounding sorry at all, "but who are you?" "Ah, I'm Frank Churchill," the boy declared taking Lizzie's hand in his and kissing it, "a pleasure to meet you…?" "Lizzie," Lizzie said coldly, unimpressed. "Frank Churchill?" Emma questioned excitedly. "As in Taylor Weston's stepson?" The girls all turned in interest at that, even Lizzie's coldness warmed a little towards the young man, Fred and Chris were the only ones uninterested in him, and George wished desperately that one of the girls would have the same sensibility as them. It was a wasteful wish however. "Yes, I am, do you know my beautiful stepmother well then?" Frank asked. "I know she has taken a year off from her studies to set up a home with my father, were you in a class with her? "We were her housemates," Emma said indicating to the others. "Oh!" Frank cried out delighted. "So you must be the highly intelligent Lizzie Bennett, Taylor told me all about," he said to Lizzie. Much to George's disgust Lizzie looked rather pleased with that and smiled slightly at Frank – she was supposed to be the sensible one resenting him for his comments on poor Jane Fairfax! "So let me guess, you my lovely are the sensible Ellen Dashwood," he said to Ellen, Ellen looked a little displeased at being labelled sensible but it vanished when Frank took her hand and kissed it, "my stepmother failed to tell me how beautiful you are," he said with far too much charm, he then turned to Fanny, "Let me guess, you are either the pious and sweet Fanny, or the shy and ever-lovely Anne." "Fanny," Fanny squeaked out with a faint blush. "A pleasure to meet you," Frank took her hand and kissed it as well, and then he took Anne's hand and placed a kiss on it, "and you are as enchanting as my stepmother described you, the pair of you are." George was pleased to see that Fred no longer looked as indifferent to Frank's ever-charming attitude as he did before. Chris, as well, was frowning at the young man. "And that must mean," Frank returned his attention and eyes to Emma, "you are the amazingly charismatic and beautiful Emma Woodhouse, I must confess I have been dying to meet you the most. In another life we could have been the best of friends." "Yes," Emma all but purred, "I think we would have been." Err…hello? George wanted to scream. Your very best friend is sitting right here, have you forgotten I exist? "So how exactly do you know Professor Fairfax?" Lizzie demanded. "Ah she did her PhD in Weymouth which was where I happen to be the young naïve third year student in need of tutoring," Frank said dramatically, "I had been a little caught up on the fun side of Uni life and my grades suffered for it. She helped out for extra credit. She's good at what she does I'll admit that but I personally found her a little cold, she had no idea how to talk to a person, the tragedy of being a prodigy I suppose." George, who had personally found Jane Fairfax not only intelligent but a warm and welcoming person (if a little shy), felt very offended on her behalf. His ire was further incurred as Frank said all of this while leaning in towards Emma and grinning at her, and what was worse was that she was smiling back. She was smiling the smile she usually only shared with him at Frank. "Hi guys, sorry I'm late but I bumped into Harry and – oh hello, erm who are you?" George almost cried in relief that Cathy came in and broke seductive atmosphere Frank had been casting but much to his despair that quickly changed. "Oh," Frank stood up, "you must be the little beauty that Taylor hasn't met but heard so much about. I'm Frank Churchill," he kisses her hand and leads her to his chair, "please take my seat I'll find another." George stood up rather furious that even Cathy had now fallen under Frank Churchill's spell, but then again it was Cathy so it was expected, and said loudly, "I'm going to get another drink, do you want one, Cathy?" Cathy nodded too busy listening to whatever it was Emma was whispering excitedly in her ear. Probably how wonderful, and charming, and amazing Frank Churchill was, nothing that George wanted to hear. "I'll come too," Chris stood up. "Me too," Fred chipped in. George barely nodded to them as he marched off to the bar. He leaned against the bar, grunted his order, and was pleased to see there was a bit of wait since the barrel needed changing, and therefore he didn't have to put up with smarmy Frank – I'm so dashing – Churchill. "You're all right?" Chris prodded him. "Sure, why shouldn't I?" "Well," Chris nodded back to where Emma was. "We're just friends." "I'm just their friend," Chris said, "and even I don't like the way that little shit was flirting with them." George was mildly horrified and amused at the same time that his mentor, prefect, and now ex-military friend had sworn so casually. Chris used to be so well mannered – the perfect gentleman – that it was rather out of character. But then George glanced back to Emma and found much to his disgust and fury that Frank had taken his seat and was once again leaning in towards the girls and talking to them in low tones. Yes, little shit was the apt description for the boy. JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA "Miss Price! Miss Price! Miss Price! Miss Price!" Despite the shouting, the constant demand for her attention, and the general naughtiness that was in every child, Fanny loved her work. She loved her children, their smiles, their excitement, the eagerness to learn, their desperate need for her approval, and even their mischievous sides. She was always on her feet, always thinking, always talking, always inspiring…it was a vanity thing really. She enjoyed being the centre of attention for once in her life while also doing something worthwhile and good in the world. May God forgive her for being so selfish and vain. This afternoon she was assisting the main teacher in an arts and crafts lesson and about five different children were clamouring for her attention. Two for help, one to show off their new drawing, and the fourth was trying to get her attention in order to get the other into trouble. It was a fairly typical day for when she didn't have her own classes to go to. She was in the middle of helping one of her students, a precious little girl who was missing her two front teeth and had painted what looked like a yellow blob but was actually supposed to be Fanny herself, after having reprimanded the two squabbling children, and praised the young boastful boy on his drawing, when there was a knock on the door and the headmistresses secretary had popped her head round the door. "Sorry to disturb your class Mrs Smith," the secretary said politely, "but the Headmistress would like to see Miss Price." "Are you in trouble, Miss?" one of her children asked. "No," Fanny tried to smile, "it is very likely to be about my evaluation." At least that as what she hoped it was about. After all it could be something troubling. Maybe something had happened to her family, or one of the girls, or maybe she had done something so offensive that they no longer wanted her there, or perhaps she has been called back for her project, or a new assessment. She had no idea why the headmistress would want to see her, and it terrified her. Hesitatingly she knocked on the door. "Come in." with a deep soothing breath, Fanny obeys, and the headmistress greets her with a smile, "Ah Miss Price, do sit down, sit down dear." Fanny obeyed once more nervously. "Now I am sure you're wondering why I called you at this inappropriate time, oh don't look so nervous my dear, I'm sure you have heard about Mrs Smith's retirement, we're holding a collection to get her a farewell present." "Yes," Fanny managed to croak out, "I've already donated to it." "You are a dear," the headmistress said looking at her with fondness – or perhaps that was just wishful thinking? – Before she continued on, "then you know there is an empty position at this school, and you have such a way with the children." "Thank you, Ma'am," Fanny murmured. "Miss Price, I am offering you the job first."
Aren't I the only one who pays for takeout usually? - The Rules of Austen House by Ellen Dashwood with Commentary by Emma Woodhouse.