Highbury Inn
(My personal Tumblr blog will be left inactive to focus on @spockandsparkle, an MBTI blog me and my friend @sublime-starfish-banana made. But I’ll go out with a bang: the Jane Austen fanfic I made months ago, and will probably never finish)
Highbury Inn
Featuring:
Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy (INTJ)
Mrs Elizabeth Darcy (INFJ)
Mr George Knightley (ISTJ)
Mrs Emma Knightley (ENFP)
It was a delightful summer's evening; birds were blissfully chirping their final songs of the day towards the pink and golden sunset when Mr and Mrs Darcy's chaise-and-four arrived at the local Inn of Highbury. Their visit had been arranged by Mr Darcy months in advance– for he was not a spontaneous man, but loved his wife more than he could possibly articulate.
Mrs Elizabeth Darcy had been feeling not quite herself lately; skipping her daily walks and instead locking herself in the drawing-room for weeks on end, barely eating, barely speaking to Mr Darcy. She seemed rather obsessed with reading books she had read countless times before.
Her husband had quietly endured this behaviour, unsure as to what might ease her troubled mind. However, as calm under the circumstances as he might have seemed to an acquaintance, so very disheartened was he in spirits. And Elizabeth felt every bit of his distress as if it were her own.
When Mr Darcy desperately called on his best friend, – whom was more accomplished at resolving misfortunes concerning matters of the heart – he explained his situation hesitantly, and Bingley recommended a change of scene; a short holiday near the country, yet not quite detached of all civil society, and he knew just the place: the very agreeable Inn of Highbury he and Jane had so much enjoyed last autumn.
“After you, Mrs Darcy,” Elizabeth started from her thoughts, yet she was unsure as to what her mind was so occupied thinking about. When she saw her husband offering his hand to help her out of the carriage, she quickly recovered and produced a kind smile while taking his hand and stepping out onto the gravel walkway. The curtains had been drawn inside the carriage so its occupants could rest during the final hours of their long journey, and for a brief moment Elizabeth found her senses overwhelmed by the light, sounds and bright colours of the beautiful scene.
Accepting his arm, they steadily walked towards Highbury Inn.
Cosy wooden furniture laid with soft crimson cushions stood in a small reception area which sported a handsome fireplace; next to it stood a bookshelf which contained alluring editions of classic novels, and barely visible walls due to the many paintings, ornaments and plants inside the room gave the whole not a cluttered, but a friendly and intimate air. Time to sit down was however not granted to Mr and Mrs Darcy, for a young tall and attractive blonde woman came running down the stairs. “Mr and Mrs Darcy? Welcome to Highbury Inn! Delighted to have you, I hope you will have a wonderful stay!” She addressed herself to Elizabeth and smiled even more widely: “Although I do not doubt you will, since your husband has been corresponding with me for months to arrange everything to the very last detail.” Elizabeth observed the vibrant young woman with good-natured interest, and could not help but to let a genuine smile escape her lips. “I assume our room has been prepared then, and that our trunks have been safely deposited there?” demanded Darcy, who was still critically inspecting the reception area. “I assure you that only the utmost care and attention are administered in this Inn, sir, and since your assumptions concern those matters; you have assumed rightly.” said the young woman, a fierce defiance blazing in her eyes. Darcy was not used to anyone treating him with such sharpness of mind, apart from his wife. He did however not retaliate; the pride she took in the quality of the Inn was all the better, because he himself would only be satisfied with the best.
“You called, Emma?” a man now descended the stairs, not quite as young or attractive as the current hostess, but with a much more calm and stately air. “Called? Wh– Oh, no Knightley, I was having a conversation with our honoured guests and told Mr Darcy that he had assumed rightly when he enquired if their room was ready.” Still observing not the room itself but rather the people in it, Elizabeth saw to some surprise that it was indeed physically possible for Emma to smile even more radiantly, as soon as Mr Knightley made his entrance.
He joined their party and Emma teasingly held her hand in front of him. To this gesture he rolled his eyes, yet smiled ever so slightly, took it, and kissed it before addressing the Darcy's: “Welcome, Mr and Mrs Darcy. I am Mr George Knightley, and I beg you to excuse my wife; she can be a bit overbearing and informal at times, especially for such long-awaited guests as yourselves. You must be exhausted coming all the way from Derbyshire, so feel free to retreat to your abode and alert a servant whenever you are in the mood for dinner.” with this Knightley felt he had informed his guests enough, bowed, and strolled off towards the bookshelf next to the fireplace.
Emma would not give up the company of her guests so readily; she enquired after their journey and food-preferences for a little while, until Knightley reminded her – not very discreetly – to ring for a servant to see their guests to their room.
