Posted on Friday, 19 January 2001
For my TA Fred's Wool Coat, because it's beautiful (though Fred does justice to the coat by being quite pretty as well, but not as beautiful as the coat)
Oh fine, I'll humor you: Jeremy Northam can be in this story too, if he really wants.
So let's set it somewhere believable; Northam's alma mater, because where else would you find the illustrious and gorgeous Jeremy Northam than at his beloved academy?
We shall set the story in black and white. Because I've never done a story in black and white before. (There could be other reasons for this daring, bold move on the part of the authoress, but they probably are not half as amusing.)
In which the men are introduced
The story opens in the fencing room of JNAM (Jeremy Northam's Alma Mater, or we could just write London University, but that's just not half as fun).
Two figures fence on a strip, one obviously much better than the other. In fact, within the first three minutes of the reader's encountering the story, the better fencer has just feinted to the six side, disengaged, and lunged to the four side, and to make it fancy, transferred it to eight gaining the touch.
Being a black and white story, the sound is of poor quality but we can imagine heavy breathing and some grunts. Very full male grunts because the fencers are men.
Both are epees.
Now if the very male-sounding breathing and sexy lines of the fencing whites don't clinch the female reader's heart, the fact that they are epees just did it, because men epees are obviously the most beautiful, gorgeous men on the planet.*
*Note: the authoress has seen the light and has been successfully brainwashed of all memories of saberisms; she is a loyal pawn to the epee cause! (It works out: I'm somewhat tall, bounce entirely too much, and am VERY full of myself =) )
The one pinned now acknowledged with a nod of his head and the opponents drew off their fencing masks, revealing strong, captivating faces, both of which are grinning to each other. The men walk to each other, and shake hands. "As usual Jeremy, you slaughtered me," the defeated one sighed in resignation.
"Henry, you can't help you're fencing with your left arm," Jeremy said, sympathetically.
Henry Tilney, one-time a great epee champion fencer, now checked his bandaged right wrist, and squelched the urge to growl very angrily. "If only that goof Thorpe had been paying attention when he was just tossing around his stupid sabre!"
Sabre men: you couldn't take them anywhere.
Jeremy nodded sympathetically, and tossed a bottle of mineral water to his friend, and took his own bottle, devouring half of it within a few gulps.
Henry took a few gulps from his own bottle and pondered his fencing shoes, and looking up at the various trophies and plaques on the walls, all engraved at least once before with his name.
And of course, the mouthwatering description of Henry Tilney: Well his form was excellent; one could tell that he worked out to maintain his agility and finesse on the strip. He had gorgeous gray eyes, a very dark shade, I might add; almost black. Thick lashes made his eyes startlingly gorgeous. The sensuous smile made his face dangerously enchanting. His black hair was now wet with sweat, and in disarray, but the scruffiness did not take anything away from the raw beauty of his features.
Henry was a sophomore majoring in physics; as he was rich he was not particularly concerned with getting an occupation that actually would earn him money. Now of course, everyone knows that physics majors aren't always ahem all there, but that's all right; they possess this ethereal charm, for as absentminded and lacking in common sense as they are, aren't they just adorable anyhow?
Jeremy followed the direction of Henry's gaze, scanning the walls. " 'Tis a pity, what that despicable Thorpe did, but you'll recover, and fence to win more championships, trust me."
Jeremy Northam...oh who am I kidding. Everyone knows what Jeremy Northam looks like, and because this is a black and white story, imagine him in various shades of gray. Furthermore he was a senior and (this is when Crysty broke out the big guns and researched) he majored in English.
Jeremy had taken Henry in under his wing from the first day he'd entered the fencing room, and decided to make the young frosh into the next epee captain.
There was a legacy of epee men at JNAM...for the past twenty years, the University turned out brilliant epee men, with stunning skills and unbelievably sexy, rakish smiles. And don't forget the delectable accents!
Henry was from Toledo, Ohio, but Jeremy was working on his protégé's British Accent.
Speaking of America... Was he not to meet with the American soon? Jeremy now winced.
"What's wrong?"
"I just remembered; I'm meeting with someone at five."
"Why the wince? Is the meeting to be unpleasant?" Henry now enunciated in his newly acquired accent; he, however, still needed practice. The speech had not the lilt that English accents do.
"No, she's delightful; it's just the time."
Henry checked his watch. "She's late." He now tried to get his friend to concentrate once more; he wanted a rematch.
"Women of fashion are always late, Henry," Jeremy told his companion didactically. "More importantly, I'm late. I'll be showering. She'll be here in about five to ten minutes. Try to entertain her..."
Jeremy started to walk out of the room.
"Wait!"
Jeremy turned around.
"Is this person with whom you are meeting young and beautiful? And more importantly, is she available?"
Jeremy laughed and left his friend to guess for himself.
In which two ladies are introduced, and Isabella shamelessly pursues Henry
Henry proceeded to practice footwork at the mirrors, letting his body fall into a gently relaxing rhythm, before jetting off a sequence of footwork in incredible speed and (of course) perfect form. As he finished with a jump lunge, the door opened, and curiosity over his mentor's guest had him turning to the door a bit quicker than he probably would have otherwise. Two ladies entered, one much stupider than the other, both tittering and giggling. Henry now grinned. "Eleanor! Isabella!"
Eleanor rushed forward to kiss her brother on the cheek; Eleanor, a mere first year student, and not a great athlete, was resigned to being active on the campus's quiz bowl team. She was a short girl, with short hair and short sight. But she was adorable in those plastic frames, and had a sound sensible and brilliant mind, and a wonderful personality (i.e. she was much unappreciated by men currently and would proceed to make over herself by getting contacts later and embark on the traditional young nerd to prom queen teen flick storylines).
Isabella Thorpe was the most skillful of the women epeeists. It almost made up for her brother's blunderings on the sabre squad. She had perfect fencing form, and the speed she possessed was something to be envied by many a fencer; indeed her attacks would mostly be over before her opponents would even begin to think about strategy. It was her first year on the team, but she was already destined for greatness...(even though the prospects of her intellectual awakening and growth were rather dim).
Isabella Thorpe was also beautiful. Next to Eleanor, Isabella was a raging beauty, which probably explained why Isabella remained friends with the young nobody. That and the fact that Eleanor was a Tilney...
With her sparkling eyes and silky hair (which never was mussed up, despite her having to wear that darned fencing mask all the time) and her fine figure and toned muscles, Isabella was quite a sight to behold. Alas, she did not own a wool coat, which was why Henry did not like her.
Henry was wild about wool coats. And it was indeed a pity that Isabella did not know of this, for she had been after Henry since she'd met him earlier this year.
Sure, she was going out with Henry's older brother now, who was a junior and too much of a buff at finger painting to be of use on the fencing strip. But as all people know, artists can be very fickle, and she knew that there was no way on this Earth that she would be able to keep a relationship going with the eldest Tilney...
So she aimed at this one. (As she was no great archer, she missed often.)
Isabella now took off her coat. "So Henry, shall we have our match?"
Henry smiled that good old Midwest wholesome smile of his, and asked, "Pardon?"
"Silly, pretending you have no idea what I'm talking about. We're going to fence. And if I win, you have to take me to the spring formal," she approached him, tracing patterns up his arm.
As he was a mere man, who was not particularly dating anyone at this moment in time, and therefore free, he allowed himself to consider Isabella's eyes, jewels that seemed to sparkle him into an obsequious stupor.
In Which Catherine Saves Them All (Save Henry who is a Dolt and therefore almost ruins his chances at future conjugal felicity by behaving stupidly)
The door of the fencing room now burst open, and if there were a musical score to this story, something as glorious and golden as "Rejoice" from Handel's Messiah would probably have been cued.
The first to look at the door was Eleanor, and upon that look, she promptly decided she needed to drop Isabella as a friend. Furthermore, she had a great craving for a Nutella and strawberry crepe.
The next to look at the door was Isabella, whose jaw dropped in awe.
The last to look at the door was Jeremy Northam, who just arrived at the other door of the fencing room, leading to the locker rooms.
Henry couldn't look at the door to see who had come in, as Isabella was blocking his view.
"Catherine!" Jeremy came forward to take the newest entrant's hand.
The entrant was all that was clever in the world.
Indeed she was quite the intellectual, in her wire-framed glasses and scholarly outfit that bespoke of preppiness. Her light hair was pulled back primly in a low bun.
Jeremy now turned to see that Isabella (cringe) and Eleanor were both arrived, and so smiled at both in greetings. "Henry, Eleanor, Isabella, I would like for you all to meet a friend of mine. This is Catherine Moreland. She is now in the country to study for a term."
Eleanor, very interested in the chic young woman, approached her. "Hello, my name is Eleanor. You are studying abroad?"
"Yes, I'm a sophomore majoring in Aeronautics and Astronautics; I attend a very spiffy and cool engineering school in America." (So she didn't say that, but if I mentioned a certain school in Massachusetts, another certain school in California might argue that it was spiffier...)
"And what are you doing in England?"
"Double majoring in English." Catherine answered, eyes warming to the young woman.
Henry was paying attention, but by no means interested. She wasn't that gorgeous, and not only was she preppy (ew) she was an aeronautics and astronautics major, and that breed of woman did not quite interest him.
However, at that one moment, Catherine knew.
In which Catherine Falls in Love, and Isabella's mouth is too wide
She was head over heels in love. This was the one moment in her life she had been waiting for; had she not only told her friend Fanny Price that the moment she'd meet the person she was meant to be with, she'd just know she'd want to be with him, no questions about it?
The one Jeremy called Henry; yes, she knew. She loved him, would always love him. No real reason why, she just did.
But she was almost convinced it was because of those fencing shoes. Maybe it was the way he wore them. Maybe it was their brand. Maybe it was the small patterns he was tracing on the floor with the points...
She had no idea, but she was in love, and we shall leave her to her musings to offer her privacy and save her embarrassment, for who knows if this will actually work out. (the authoress herself does profess a propensity to allow nice characters who deserve each other to get together, but who knows how the characters will feel at the end of the story, and currently the authoress does not feel that Henry truly deserves Catherine...but alas, many a woman has fallen for a man who does not deserve her.)
Isabella, determined to direct attention back to herself, and seeing that Henry wasn't overly interested in the possible competition, went back to shameless flirtation. "So?"
Henry considered. Well, it'd been a while since he'd been shamelessly pursued by a woman, and yes, being a man, any boost to his ego was wonderfully welcomed at this point (so many months in Jeremy Northam's shadow can have that kind of an effect on a man).
"Um. Sure."
Eleanor's face paled. "Um..."
Isabella smiled, and excused herself to change into her whites.
Jeremy moved to take Catherine's arm, but Catherine gestured for him to leave it be for a minute, that she wished to stay. "I would like to see how they fence."
Eleanor joined the elegant preppy young woman, and they moved to the side of the strip. Momentarily, Isabella reentered the fencing room in her whites, ready to do battle and steal a man's heart, or least one of his evenings. Jeremy watched, amused.
"Jeremy, direct?"
Jeremy stepped forward and announced the rules. "First to five. Fencers in en guarde, ready?"
Henry nodded. Isabella smiled coyly, letting her wide smile penetrate through the mask.
And Henry wondered what in the world he was doing. Her mouth was so...wide!
No, he had to win.
Five straight flesches to her six side (which was depressingly weak) and he was free of her clutches.
Isabella pouted, but Henry smiled with relief as he shook her hand after.
Jeremy patted his protégé on the back. "Congratulations."
"Looks like I win, Isabella. No date."
"Might I have a go?"
All the members in the fencing room turned around, trying to find the source of the challenge. Jeremy, however, smiled knowingly. "Catherine?"
In Which Catherine stuns them All, save Jeremy
"Yes, I'd like to challenge" *gulp* "Henry."
"Are you trying to catch yourself a man?" Jeremy asked teasingly.
Catherine looked placidly at Henry. "Why don't we let him decide if he wants to be caught? I'd like to fence."
Henry smirked, "Sure."
"Are there some whites?"
"Sure, we have some extras. Let me get you some," Jeremy smiled.
Isabella smiled smugly. As if a little prep from Nowheresville, USA, would be able to defeat Henry Tilney, when he just so soundly defeated her, Isabella Thorpe!
Catherine went to change. Jeremy approached his friend. "Look, Henry, about this match..."
"Don't worry, Jeremy," Henry laughed, "I'll be gentle. She won't have any visible bruises when I'm done..."
Jeremy withheld comment and backed away.
Catherine soon came into the room, in whites, hair still pulled back, earrings not even removed, and pushing up her glasses.
"Those are going to slide," Henry warned her, gesturing to the glasses.
Catherine smiled softly at him. "I'll manage."
"Catherine..." Jeremy pulled her to the side.
The two conversed in secret, and Henry laughed to think Jeremy was so protective of the young woman. At length, Catherine nodded her head and said, "Jeremy, thank you. I don't need any more instruction."
Jeremy once more set to direct. "Again, first to five."
The two opponents caught each other's eyes, and the gaze held. Henry's grip on his leftie epee tightened. Catherine was his mirror image, epee in her right hand.
His form was relaxed.
Hers was stiff.
The first touch was swift and to the point. He wasted no time on feints or fancy footwork. She wasn't even worth it.
The second touch got her before she could do anything.
Henry triumphantly settled himself into rhythm.
The next two touches were tipped off rather quickly and elegantly.
But as he got into en guarde for the fifth touch, he noticed something on the other side of the strip.
She was in perfect form, relaxed, eyes assessing his posture.
"Fence!" Jeremy announced.
She came forward with a soft bounce, the rhythm settling into his stomach; he ticked it off on his memory, and went for her.
At that moment, she quickly jumped back, parried, and lunged.
The next four touches were easily picked off his head, shoulder, knees and toes, all done to of course the childhood melody, sung in Spanish as she was practicing her language.
She giggled as she took off her mask, and Jeremy came forward to kiss both cheeks. "Stunning, Catherine."
She turned to Henry, and offered her hand.
Instead of shaking it, he took it, and raised it to his lips. He knew he was defeated.
"Catherine is also a great epeeist; she won NCAA in her region, and did third in the state, and has a long career ahead of her," Jeremy smiled.
Isabella's mouth had long before dropped open, and she approached Catherine, face pale, shock written across her features. "Jeremy doesn't normally fence leftie...he's only doing it because his right wrist is injured."
"I know; Jeremy told me, so I fenced rightie. I'm a leftie myself."
Struck by her sense of fairness and (finally) his recognition of the simple fact that she was simply awesome, Henry approached Catherine, took her hand once more. "I'm enraptured and intrigued."
"Well that's nice. I'm besotted," she smiled.
Jeremy laughed. "Always one for frankness, aren't you?" He turned to Henry. "Well what are you going to do? Don't tell me you're going to stand there. As her out."
Henry cleared his throat. "Um..."
"Yes!"
"She speaks Henry-ese!" Eleanor gasped, clapping her hands. "How perfect!"
How perfect indeed.
The End of It
As for Jeremy, well we all know what fate was in store for him. Embodying one of the coolest, most noble, and one of the richest Jane Austen characters did indeed do well for him, and he proceeded to live a prosperous life, sadly leaving the fencing world for the one of glitz and glamour.
As for Henry, who has been horridly neglected this story, he proceeds to be shamelessly ignored. Let the reader invent a fate for him.
As for Isabella, well she felt a more noble stirring inside her heart, not even a year after the fencing escapade. She gave up fencing, and went to Tibet, where she undertook a long rigorous study of Buddhism, and came back rather...at peace. And she stayed at peace until she died.
Well, as she did look like a preppie, Henry and Catherine took some time before falling in love and being cute, etc., but it was all aided by the counsel of the great Jeremy, who was quite content with the fact that his cousin-in-law and a man that he thought of as his younger brother were getting along quite nicely. Catherine had an excellent semester in Britain, moved back to the States, finished up her degree, all the while keeping in touch with Henry. (At this point, they were good friends and had not fallen in love yet, as that would have been a source of ANGST.) She eventually returned to England to be around her friends Jeremy, and Eleanor, who at this point proceeded to follow through on the aforementioned makeover. Henry and she soon after started flirting, and one day, while sharing a Nutella and strawberry crepe, they found out that they were indeed in danger of falling in love with each other. And so they proceeded to do so at a pace so slow that Eleanor was already married by the time they declared that indeed, falling in love was not injurious to one's health, and they married. (Despite Catherine's never owning a wool coat.)