Feeling a Bit Missish, Pride and Prejudice Fanfiction
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Feeling a Bit Missish By Joanie Section I, Chapter One - My Life So Far Posted on Thursday, 21 July 2005 Oh! how many torments lie
in the small circle of a wedding ring! The Double Gallant (1707), by Colley Cibber There are many distinct advantages to being a gentleman of a certain age and a little property. One of these is the leisure to sit in the shade of the immortals on a too-bright day - while the farm is farmed and the house is kept, somewhere beyond - digging deeply into fertile memory, hoping to gather a few fat tubers of bright and reasoned thought for nourishment and sustenance during leaner moments. And leaner moments there inevitably are, for one finds too soon the disadvantage of engaging in such activity. Good soil nourishes indiscriminately the nettles as well as the blooms. Is there an honest gentleman anywhere who is willing to pluck a rose shrouded in thorns? Nay, such is woman's work, to be undertaken by man, if at all, only rarely and under protection of a good bottle of spirits. And so, I begin this account of my life as head of a household of six women well fortified, and sustained by the knowledge that it is my wife's fault entirely. Every last bit of the misery I am presently enduring is her blasted fault! All of it. It is true that, had I not married her I suppose none of this would have happened in the first place, but that is searching too far back in history for the source of my present state of loneliness and longing. The plain matter of fact is, the thought of the occasion of my marriage actually brings back some pleasant memories... I was six and twenty then, lean of body and sound of mind, having not yet endured three and twenty years of the brain-numbing chatter of a woman obsessed with gossip and appearances and the senseless prattle of - dare I say - three very silly girls. But I spoke of pleasant memories. Being, therefore, in possession of most reasonable faculties, as well as a comfortable estate, I naturally looked to people that estate with more than tenant farmers and milking maids, deer and partridge. I, as all young men lacking the inclination for self-preservation that comes with the years, hoped to meet a woman lovely of countenance, elegant of carriage, witty of mind, light of heart and bright of spirit. I wished for love, companionship, and a warm soul in my bed. Would that I had procured a hound! I spied my beloved at an assembly, a vivacious, bright-eyed beauty, not one-and-twenty, with golden hair and a pleasingly rounded pair of - er - shoulders holding up her dress. Oddly, I do not remember the dress. I could hardly credit that this was the same scrap of a girl who had peered at me from behind an open door as I passed her father's shingle in Meryton as a youth. How odd and yet delightful she should turn up years later in London, looking utterly grown up and yet still very young, bright, chattery, round and full of feathers? I fancied myself pleasantly pursued, the happy victim of fate's generous hand. She laughed at me while dancing, looking up through wonderfully impertinent lashes. She teased me mercilessly, calling me the young master of Longbourn, first in the eye of all the young ladies. I felt the most attractive and powerful man in the room. She had a way of doing that, you see, making men feel indispensable, omnipotent, worldly and wise. True, I was wise enough in my own right, having lately benefited from all the 'wisdom' sprung from the banks of the Cam that my mind and body could happily endure.(1) The rest I owed to her adoration. I cared not a whit that her father was merely a country attorney and that her mother made not-so-subtle inquiries about the state of my financial health over the obligatory punch betwixt reels. I was smitten. We were both smitten. We have continued to smite each other, figuratively at least, for the last three and twenty years. To our wedded bliss we added a daughter, and another, and three more after that. All daughters - a rapid succession of them. It is a truth not commonly acknowledged that in a house with six females, one must either possess the comfort of deafness or find a means to simulate it. My means was to install a heavy oak door between my library and the rest of the house, and an even heavier assortment of gentlemanly libations within it. Consequently, for two decades my books have been my sons and brandy my mistress; I enjoy the former as much as possible, and the latter more moderately but with relish and discretion. My wife, who for nearly as long has dwelt but in the suburbs of my regard,(2) also dwells in a house that will be entailed away upon my death to a distant cousin. Her determination to misunderstand this matter was rivalled only by her resolution to triumph over its inevitable effect. And so she had made it her office to sell off our daughters in marriage to the highest bidder who should happen to set unfortunate foot in Meryton. Failing that, it would appear that she hoped to attract any hapless bidder of means at all. Mrs. Bennet was, with all due pride and praise attending, candid and relentless in her ambition for our daughters, and paraded them about with that singular purpose. It put me very much in mind of a trip to Tattersall's.(3) Not that attracting suitors was necessarily a difficult task; but keeping them was somewhat more difficult. My daughters are nearly all agreeable, though truth be told, some are more easily agreed upon than others. Indeed, how could they not be, having such a beauty for a mother? But I was not blessed with those most necessary of all things in a gentleman, barring foresight -- unencumbered cash and an estate not entailed away from the female line. Since my marriage has been a history of encumbrances and entailments of one form or another, why should my wealth be any different? So it is my inescapable lot that, after years of dashed hopes and punctual and laborious nocturnal visits, my poor daughters faced the prospect of spinsterhood or, to my greater horror, inferior marriages. Even beautiful Jane and my own clever Elizabeth. I must confess that I did not share my wife's mercenary ambition for our daughters quite so ardently, at least for the two elder. I was, of course, aware that having more wealthy connections would be a comfort to our overall welfare, but I would not purchase them with the youth and vitality of my two dearest girls. I was happy to have them share my house and grace my life for a long time yet to come. The three younger girls might have benefited in time from a proper disposal, and I had no doubt that my life would have benefited accordingly. But, as the enjoyment of my estate need not require me to concern myself with daughters and marriages and whatnot, I did not. Nevertheless, there came to our vicinity more than a year ago two gentlemen who possessed the most promising attributes to be found in potential suitors: good teeth, good breeding, good fortune and, well, goods. Oh yes, and no parents. The latter was a most important consideration - although never spoken of aloud by my wife for obvious reasons of delicacy - as it meant that there could be no intervening and contravening dictums from that quarter concerning each gentleman's choice of wife. The field lay empty, the objective was clear. My little general marshalled her troops, with almost ingenious vision and purpose, and led the charge. I was to make the first sally as the advance guard. However, reluctant to play the role she envisioned for me, I questioned whether or not it was necessary to make the obligatory first social call at all. I suggested that the business could be conducted much more quickly if we simply sat the girls out in the garden with signs over their heads. True to her utter and regrettable lack of a sense of humour, she failed to find any amusement in my suggestion. So to prolong my own, I failed to enlighten her when I made the visit after all. I arrived at Mr. Bingley's door still amused. Netherfield was a venerable but ill-starred estate. It had seen a procession of unsuccessful tenants after the original owner died childless. Years of management worse than my own, I am sorry to say, had all but destroyed its arable land, leaving it quite a handful for whomever next took on the burden. My visit was interesting, to say the least. I met Mr. Bingley, my new neighbour, and his friend, a Mr. Ravenport, in the drawing room. Young, fashionable, useless creatures, I was certain. Mr. Bingley stood immediately and walked toward the door with hand outstretched. He seemed an eager, pleasant enough fellow, with an open face and demeanour and wide eyes that tempted one to perpetrate a mischief just to see the dawn of understanding light up that artless visage. I could have quite a bit of amusement at the expense of such a guileless and trusting fellow! I wondered if his friend, who did little during my visit but perfect the art of looking jaded, might have indulged in a bit of such easy amusement at times. We spoke of sport and game, of which Mr. Bingley seemed especially fond. We spoke a little of the previous management of the estate, and Mr. Bingley's attempts to hire servants to bring the house to habitable standards once more. Though he seemed quite happy with the place, I could not help but doubt his comfort should the chimneys prove unserviceable. It would be a draughty old heap on a wet day! "I am pleased with the game-room and billiards table, and profoundly glad to have an "east morning room"! I find it is all just as it was described, and pleasantly close to Town." "Yes, close it is. Have you a place there?" "My brother has. And I have many friends there as well." "Bingley has many friends everywhere," spoke the bored one. I eyed him curiously. "Indeed." "My word, but there can be nothing so delightful as a place in town, and a place in the country, and an easy skip between the two!" "And a brace o' birds in both, eh Bing?" I did not like the way Ravenport's eyes crinkled at the edges. I no longer wondered on the young man's eagerness to lease without first seeking knowledge of the merits and drawbacks of the place. These boys' minds were far from chimneys! "Did you visit many estates in your search, Mr. Bingley?" "I say, nothing so frightfully gruesome as all that! No not at all! Though certain friends suggested it, I couldn't see making so many tedious trips from town when Ravenport here assured me of the merits of this place." "Infernally tedious trips." "It will be a lark! We shall have some fine shooting this season. Shall you stay for the partridges, Corb old boy?" He looked to his vacant companion with an earnestness that I decided was genuine. Corb old boy shrugged, and stared in a decidedly un-amused manner at the air just to the left of my left ear. I turned around to inspect the source of his disdain, but encountered only the flawless flocking on the walls. Aware of every tick in the coffin of an old clock out in the hall, I shifted. Fops and gamesters, both. No benefit to the neighbourhood at all. I saw it clearly before me -- gossiping matrons, joyful mamas, marriageable maidens all a-tingle - and for naught. "Mr. Bennet, have you many sons ... er, daughters?" Mr. Bingley's eyes sparkled. "I am both blessed and cursed, sir. Five offspring. All daughters. I dare say you shall set eyes on one or another of them soon enough - they seem never able to get enough of society." "Indeed, sir!" Did his smile just get wider? Mr. Bingley seemed thrilled. I fancy my wife could not have hoped for a more enthusiastic discussant on the subject of young ladies; though Ravenport, it appeared, was on his way to Newmarket the next day and so took himself out of all conversation concerning the neighbourhood. No loss, that. I did, finally, learn the information for which my wife had fervently hoped and planned - the young gentleman was to attend the Assembly in a fortnight, with an intimate party of friends from London. I determined to keep it to myself as long as possible. Glad was I my cellar had recently received augmentation by a shipment from my brother in London. I would soon need to fortify myself against the inevitable aftermath of the public airing of that piece of news. From one party, at least, I understood myself to have risen in importance somehow from the fact of having so many daughters, all out. Having gained a stature not usually accorded to middling-aged country gentlemen with a handful of penniless dependents, and having endured a long visit already at ten minutes, I thought it wise to take my leave then, and so give this unexpectedly favourable impression the added weight of finality. I made my journey homeward, crossed a trickling stream bed and wondered that a few months before it had rushed, teeming with life, past the estate of my friend Arbright, dead two years that month. He'd had no daughters to vex and delight him, but he'd had fish, and had shared them with me many a silver spring morning. The lustrous leaping bounty of his stream had put my own to shame, and he had nagged me relentlessly about new methods of crop management. I missed him at that moment; I always thought of him this time of year, when we compared harvests. The dry, golden autumn under my horse's feet then crunched a memory of a country ramble with my daughter. Lively of disposition and fresh of face, she had accompanied me on an errand to the farm. We both preferred solitude and the land, and indulged our preference along the paths and hedgerows that meandered between the borders of my estate and those of my neighbours. She had a mind that deserved cultivating, a spirit that required care. I was happy to do both. But Newmarket?!(4) Racing, drinking, gaming, whoring. What could Mr. Bingley possibly want with Netherfield? I shook my head for bored young men with too much time and money to spend, forgetting entirely that I used to be one of them. That young man was not for her. He could never make her happy, nor she him. "Well?" bleated my beloved the following morning. "Yes, two" I replied, "One behind the kitchens and one near the stables. Pray my dear, why do you choose this late moment in our marriage to become interested in the source of our drinking water?" "Oh Mr. Bennet! You know very well I am not talking of any such thing! What say you to going visiting this morning? Perhaps you might call upon our new neighbour. You must recognize what a fine thing it would be for our girls!" "A fine thing for our girls if I were to go out visiting this morning?" "Yes! Oh - no! A fine thing to have young men from town, a more elegant society for our girls to become known in!" "More elegant society than this? I can hardly imagine it." "Oh, do not talk so! Yes, elegant, he must be elegant to afford Netherfield even on lease, you know." "He must have money, certainly." "Oh! I make no doubt he has chosen to settle in the country in order to find a wife, Mr. Bennet!" I thought of those two young men of the turf.(5) Neither looked eager to trade his freedom for a noose, or a high open window. Indeed, no more than the usual madness of youth was in evidence at Netherfield that day.(6) "If you insist, my dear." "Oh! You wonderful, teasing man! You will visit him then?" "Good heavens, no. I merely defer to your superior knowledge of men. If you insist that he desires to be married, then I will not decry you." "But you must visit! I am dying to know all before my sister tells me of it! Is he as handsome and agreeable as everyone claims? I must know if he will do for our dear Jane!" "Dying, my dear? Of curiosity about a young man who less than a fortnight ago meant nothing to you or to anyone else of our acquaintance?" Would that it were so simple... I was certain this handsome and agreeable young man would do anything at all for our Jane - or for any other young lady who asked, for that matter. Except possibly the only thing my wife had in mind. No, with friends such as that carrion-eater, I could not believe anything of benefit to Longbourn would come from the leasing of Netherfield. News of Mr. Bingley's intention to attend the Assembly had already made its way to Longbourn, thanks to Mrs. Long, our bothersome busybody of a neighbour. My peace at an end, I therefore divulged the fact of my secret visit, relishing the response. Such raptures of gratitude and self-congratulation, the like of which I hope never to hear again, were heaped upon my head! Mrs. Bennet could not have been more shocked, though she knew it all along. I was pronounced to be the kindest, cruellest, most obliging and vexing of husbands. Though her astonishment answered my last wish, her volume somewhat surpassed it, so I edged toward my library door to escape the maelstrom of joy. I almost made it. The man himself returned my visit a few days later, clopping up the drive to the sound of a great scurrying above-stairs. I wondered if he was aware of the many curious women under my roof, all straining mightily for a glimpse or a sound. I knew even as he arrived that his fine black horse was being vetted with some enthusiasm, tempered by disappointment that he had not arrived instead with matched greys pulling a smart curricle. I knew also that the merits of blue coats were being enthusiastically extolled, as were the demerits of hat brims for obscuring young gentlemen's features from above. He was announced, and when he entered the room it lightened visibly in response. He gazed around at my collection of prized folios on the far wall. "My, what a lot of books." "Certainly not compared to Netherfield? Your library once enjoyed some local fame, in the past. Is it still?" He shifted, looking vacant. "Full of books?" "Why, I hardly know. I haven't given it a look but one, when I saw that there were far more than I would ever need." "Too great and glittery an assortment of friends, eh?" "Sir?" "A library, young man, is a most agreeable society of companions."(7) "Ahum, yes. Well, you see, my friends are not -- except for one, that is --." "I see." Silence ensued, during which he appeared to search for meaning among the coals in the grate. "Well, there are always the birds." "Yes, indeed! I say, I have got the nicest little pointer - most delightful! She is as eager as anything and has an exceptional nose - or so I am told. I was smitten right away - never saw a finer specimen, or a silkier coat, in my life!" "Ah, who needs books then?" I smiled in spite of myself, squinting a little. The room was really extraordinarily bright. Quite soon he rose to take his leave. "I shall hope to see you at the Assembly, Sir. And all your daughters, of course. Upon my word, I do love a ball!" "Then I hope you shall not be disappointed. Good day to you." His departure was accompanied by the expected clatter down the staircase. A barrage of insistent questions from all quarters was then unleashed, which it was not my good fortune to long deflect. Far be it from me to discourage such great and varying sources of diversion with the trifling amount of information I might possess! Lifting my head above the din, I caught the eye of my second daughter as I ducked into the library and shut the door. She dutifully followed seconds later, undisguised curiosity upon her face. "Father, you have that look, have you something to tell me?" Thus began my favourite part of the day. Over a rousing game of chess, I regaled my Lizzy with all that had struck me as worthy of note or amusement. "Our new neighbour of wealth and consequence - has he any substance?" "My dear, two short visits are hardly sufficient to ascertain the substance of a man. To make out his character one needs much more leisure and opportunity." "Does he seem to you a stupid fellow, then?" "I would not say stupid, but rather lazy." I began to wish for some solitude so I might rest my feet upon the settee, and wait in repose for the evening meal. But Elizabeth's eyes led me a merry dance. "Has he come to repair our fortunes, then?" "Ah. I fear not, my dear. Your mother's hopes will not easily be met in this one." "Oh? Does he not care for society? Is he one of those who love nothing but sport?" "I think rather he cares a little too much for society, and for sport. But an interesting character nevertheless - young, wealthy, eager to please, possibly easily led. He might provide some amusing moments." "Well then, is he as wonderfully handsome as the report?" "I shall allow the neighbourhood to ascertain that. Never you mind, my dear," I said to her look of disappointment, "with such a judge, if you dislike the finding at first, another will follow directly." Author's Notes: (1)"It is not my occupation to read lectures on politics to statesmen just sprung up from the banks of the Cam or the Isis; I have really no such time to waste." Man As He Is, by Robert Bage, 1792. (2)Portia at II, I, 285-286, in The Life and Death of Julius Ceasar, by William Shakespeare (1599). (3)Tattersall's, the London horse auction mart, founded in 1766 by Richard Tattersall (1724-1795). (4)A market town in the English county of Suffolk, famous for its connection with race horses and racing. (5)"Men of the turf," slightly derogatory reference to young men who spent their engaged in buying and betting on horses. (6)"What! Postumus, are you, you who once had your wits, taking to yourself a wife? Tell me what Tisiphone, what snakes are driving you mad? Can you submit to a she-tyrant when there is so much rope to be had, so many dizzy heights of windows standing open, and when the Aemilian bridge offers itself to your hand?" Decimus Iunius Iuvenalis (Juvenal), The ways of Women, from Satire VI. (7)Petrarch, "I have friends whose society is extremely agreeable to me; they are of all ages, and of every country. They have distinguished themselves both in the cabinet and in the field, and obtained high honors for their knowledge of the sciences. It is easy to gain access to them, for they are always at my service, and I admit them to my company, and dismiss them from it, whenever I please. ... In return for all their services, they only ask me to accommodate them with a convenient chamber in some corner of my humble habitation, where they may repose in peace; for these friends are more delighted by the tranquility of retirement than with the tumults of society." Chapter 2 - Fruit of the Vine Posted on Tuesday, 26 July 2005 Wine gives you joy, Love grief and tortures;
... Wine makes us witty, Love only Sots;
Wine makes us sleep, Love breaks it. ~ William Wycherley, The Country Wife (1675), Act 1 Over the next day or two, I was waylaid at every turn by importunate females, all in an uproar over the devastating news that Mr. Bingley was that very moment returned to London! My wife was in such straits over her thwarted dinner menu that only Mrs. Lucas's comforting report that he would bring back with him a crowd of friends in time for the Assembly Ball could rouse her spirits. The night in question, whilst I relaxed in my library, my little general and her troops set upon the unsuspecting males of Meryton and its environs. I relished the evening quiet, and read long into the small hours, of weary warriors beguiled by misty sirens, sent to a happy doom on fatal shores, while stoic spouses suffered in forgotten lands.(1) I braved the commotion of their return, expecting to be entertained by tales of dashed hopes and failed campaigns. But news of the ensuing battle was somewhat less dire, although Mrs. Bennet's expectations of a large party of friends from town had gone unfulfilled. Mr. Bingley and his friend, a Mr. Darcy, stood out in everyone's judgment as opposites in temperament and popularity. In fact, none of the party, which turned out to be quite small, escaped enthusiastic character dissection. My wife, enamoured of silks and lace, declared excellence of apparel indicated equal excellence of character. My brightest offspring begged to differ, but was overruled by her younger sisters. Like most of the gentler sex they all saw what they wished to see and were unlikely to suffer much for any misapprehension. I was relieved to learn that our girls had acquitted themselves as expected. Kitty and Lydia danced with everything in breeches, and Mary followed the advice of Reverend Villars(2) so well that she utterly frightened off all potential partners. Jane, always much admired, appeared to have charmed the boy of the hour, Mr. Bingley, but Lizzy was unimpressed by the enviable attributes of his friend Mr. Darcy, a man evidently of great fortune and even greater self-regard. In point of fact, according to all reports, the arrogant young coxcomb slighted my daughter! In favour of some unknown ideal of vapid femininity among Town ladies, I imagined. I could not but believe it, given the shallowness I had observed in his friend Mr. Ravenport. More fool he then, for not recognizing her superior qualities. But I did not begrudge him for he thus effectively removed himself from consideration as a potential son-in-law, and from my wife's tedious repertoire. Once she claimed to have no more to say on the matter, had done with pronouncing him the most disagreeable man in Meryton to all who would listen, and finished repeating her complaints to the servants, she appeared finally to have exhausted her capacity for speech. For that I could only rejoice. The girls soon exchanged calls with Mr. Bingley's sisters, but I was able to glean little more than that they had left differing impressions. Jane, always cautious in her opinions, seemed pleased overall with these charming new neighbours. Elizabeth, however, expressed concern for the sincerity of their manners. Since open and agreeable manners were certainly very much in evidence in the brother, I began to look forward with eagerness to the next social occasion, when I could satisfy myself on all points of interest. The next fortnight threw us much together with the party from Netherfield, for our great and diverse society of four and twenty families was much in competition for their favour. I owned to more than a little curiosity about Mr. Bingley's guests, and endeavoured, as much as four evenings could allow, to make out their characters. One evening, Mrs. Bennet's most cherished wishes were answered in an invitation to dine at Netherfield. Long did she consult with the girls over Jane's attire, and even longer over her desire to get a good look at the great house's private rooms. The carriage she ordered washed twice, the horses she lamented for lack of smartness, and Jane she tutored relentlessly in ways to achieve more than an half hour of Mr. Bingley's attentions. She need not have worried on the final point. Netherfield's occupants were artfully arranged in the drawing room when we arrived, unfashionably early and accompanied by the usual noise and disarray. I was conscious of being subjected to a thorough inspection, so I set about to make one of my own in return. For what else are kind neighbours for? The ladies and gentlemen of Netherfield comprised such a diverse and compelling set of personalities as I have rarely found within the same four walls! Compelling, that is, to a connoisseur of the absurd such as myself, for immediately upon entering the room I was struck by the wealth of eccentricity available to the curious mind at this handsome house. The first to catch my eye was Mr. Bingley, who rose to his feet eagerly and welcomed us with nary a look at anybody except for Jane. My wife began an insistent humming under her breath that signalled her whole-hearted approval of this singularity of notice. I braced for a long evening, then turned to meet our hostess Miss Bingley, and her sister, who stood hurriedly and greeted us with a distant warmth. One, tall and well-formed, appeared to falter after the second or third welcoming of daughters, at length moving gratefully on to a new set of arrivals. I understood completely. The other offered me a languid, bejewelled hand, expressing her delight that my entire family had come. I doubted, but admired the effort. Having been hurriedly introduced to the rest of the party, and conscious of little more than my wife's incessant ingratiating chatter, I was unable that evening to distinguish one from another. It was not easy at first to tell which of Mr. Bingley's companions was Mr. Darcy, for both men looked equally disdainful of nearly everyone there, and both appeared to prefer other engagements to a gathering of country nobodies. More fashionable fops, of course, addicted to their clubs and indistinguishable from one another. But in this one instance, I can honestly praise wives for being of some use, for before too long my own hissed toward the taller one, "that disagreeable-looking gentleman there is Mr. Darcy!" while the married sister distinguished the other with a familiar look of proprietary disapproval. Ah, marriage, a lamentable condition, inescapable by gentlemen everywhere! Later evenings in the same company allowed me to continue gathering impressions of the Londoners, which I must admit made for a diverting pastime for an old gentleman of few worldly pursuits. A week after our dinner at Netherfield found me in my own drawing room, surrounded by the best and most fashionable beings my wife was able to assemble from the neighbourhood. Detesting card-playing as I do, I stood aside and watched the proceedings. Without the distractions of a long table groaning with dishes calculated to please and impress the eye and palate, and a crush of admirers of the furnishings of house and hostesses alike, I found myself at more leisure to observe. But a new guest stole my attention at first. My lovely neighbour Mrs. Evelyn Arbright, widow of my old friend Miles and recently returned from an extended stay in London herself, displayed an elegant self-possession and liveliness of nature that her subdued evening dress seemed only to throw into high relief. She drew the eye of more than one gentleman, but seemed interested in none of them. I watched her for a moment, drawn quite against my will, standing aside and observing us all. Our eyes met briefly, and I looked quickly away, as one does when caught gazing. I had never really noticed her before, and wondered now why not. Aside from Mrs. Arbright, there were none so worthy of extended observation that night than the party from Netherfield, and once she had departed, deplorably early in my estimation, I watched the card players with a more eager interest. At one table sat the Bingley sisters with Mr. Hurst and Mr. Darcy. Since it has been my studied opinion over the years that the height of ladies' fashion is also the height of ridiculous discomfort, I was forced to conclude that Miss Bingley enjoys breathing a rather more rarified and somewhat constricted air than the rest of us.(3) And, though I do not pay attention to cloth and ribbands and such, rarely had I seen a nicer-fitting bit of stuff and lace on a woman. The covetous looks cast in her direction by my wife and daughters indicated they recognized the newest plates out of London. She wore both plates and looks with pleased aplomb. ...
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