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fan_flashworks2014-02-01 10:33 am
looneyngilo2) wrote in fan_flashworks2014-02-01 10:33 am
Entry tags:
Literary RPF: Fanfic: Mint
Title: Mint
Fandom: Literary RPF (Daphne du Maurier)
Rating: PG
Length: 1055
Summary: Ellen’s lost her favorite pair of gloves...
Daphne stood before the mirror, pulling down her waistcoat, adjusting her blazer, brushing her long copper hair out of the way. She bit her lips and looked at the makeup kit on her dresser, a gift from her mother, who’d never accepted that Daphne did not care for makeup - even after marrying Ducky, her mother felt this was a “bad sign,” that she wanted to pretend to be a boy again, like she did when staging her childhood plays.
She did. She wanted to be a boy, if only so she could thrust pale flowers into Ellen’s hands, run around outside with the dogs and the horses, climb trees and throw stones and -
She didn’t want to be a man and take Ellen - she didn’t want to tie her up in a marriage and children. She just wanted to adore her, bring her offerings of cakes and jewels -
She heard her melodic voice out in the hall, and rushed out of her bedroom.
She smiled gently at Ellen, who smiled back in the same way, her eyes radiating a kindness and happiness that always warmed Daphne.
“Good morning, my dear,” said Daphne.
“Oh, it’s a terrible morning, actually,” said Ellen, starting to descend the stairs. “It seems I’ve lost my favorite pair of gloves. Now I know that’s a bad thing to be upset about, but they were so beautiful.”
“Which were they?” asked Daphne, genuinely distressed for her.
“The leather ones, mint colored with lacing in the back?” said Ellen, her face a mix of amusement and sadness.
“Oh, yes,” said Daphne. She agreed that the gloves were beautiful, though she’d never wear anything of the type. “Are you sure they’re lost?”
“Oh, yes, my dear, I’ve looked everywhere for them.”
“I wish I could get you - I could get you all the ones you like. But I wouldn’t know how to choose something beautiful. Do you like ice blue and lilac and -”
“You talk to me more sweetly than my husband,” smiled Ellen, stopping at the bottom of the stairs, and she took Daphne’s hands. “I could use gloves like yours, all worn brown leather, full of scratches.”
“Oh, my gloves? They’re so ugly, but I always forget to get pretty things - and to keep them decent.”
“No, but they are lovely. And they protect your wonderful hands, without which we wouldn’t have Rebecca, or any of your wonderful works.”
Daphne laughed in embarrassment, and watched her walk to the flower vase in the entryway, rearranging the flowers. And again she wished she could give her her gloves back, and all the flowers and sunshine and... everything.
She wished she could give everything to Ellen.
If Ellen would only notice her - if she would only feel the flutter and pain and love she did.
Daphne’s face was flushed. She’d been looking everywhere - and rather hurriedly - for Ellen’s gloves. Ellen was out at the moment and what better surprise? Ellen would laugh and... and fall into her arms and -
Daphne closed her eyes, tried to control her breathing.
She considered opening the white French doors and looking through Ellen’s closet - touching the pastel color silk and cool glass beads and soft furs, the scent of lavender in the air - when she remembered Mrs. Danvers looking through Rebecca’s undergarment drawer.
Was she just like her? Obsessed, with muddled thoughts, dirty and unnatural?
But how could this be unnatural? To be in love with Ellen’s sparkling eyes, her sweet smile, her soft pale skin, her intelligence and cheerfulness and patience, the way she accepted Daphne as she was - it seemed the most natural thing in the world. It seemed entirely unnatural that the whole world wasn’t in love with Ellen.
She hadn’t found them.
It was near dinnertime now, and there was a dull ache in her heart.
But Ellen had called her to her room.
When she entered - slowly, knocking on the door gently, the dimly lit room glowing amber, she saw Ellen sitting at her makeup table, her hands busily moving over the mirror top, touching the mercury glass vase, the blue glass bottles of perfume, the little powder puffs of makeup.
“Oh, there you are, my darling. I’m sorry I have neglected you all day,” said Ellen, now pulling on one of her gloves.
“The gloves! Oh, you found them!” Daphne exclaimed.
“Oh, yes, I did, they were in my gold brocade coat pocket, I don’t know how it slipped by me or Anna.”
Daphne kneeled next to Ellen and took her hands. “I, I wanted to find them for you.”
“Did you want to?”
“I searched all over.”
“Oh,” laughed Ellen, pressing Daphne’s hands. “Well, we’ll pretend you found them, then, as I’m sure you would have.”
Daphne then kissed Ellen’s rosy fingertips, which made both giggle.
“Oh, now,” said Ellen, still laughing, and now stroking Daphne’s cheek. “It’s time for dinner, and we can’t be giggling like schoolgirls all night, can we?”
“Yes, we can. Why can’t we? I want to recite you a poem, like Christian would.”
“Does your son recite poems to you, the darling?”
“He does... ‘Whenever I say “joy,” you thing of joy, you will understand that I speak of you, for you are a joy of joyful beauty.’ ”
Ellen laughed again, her eyes wandering around Daphne’s face.
“Joy in which so much loving joy is seen that it is a joyful joy to wonder at it. Joy of will and joy of thought, and joy of speech and joy of making joy, and joy of every moment full of joy.”
“Ok,” she said, still laughing. She leaned in and whispered, “I thank you so much for that, it is beautiful, and so untrue.”
“It’s not.”
“I nearly fell apart today over my gloves. You’re the thing of joy.”
Daphne didn’t know how to respond - what to say when her heart was beating so loudly, surely Ellen could hear it.
“But I’ll save my lovely poems for cards and tea, when it’s just the two of us, then we can laugh all we want. But for now, we must control ourselves.”
But how could she, when her heart was laughing, when Ellen was her joy, when her joy over Ellen was only calmed and at home when she was with Ellen?
Author notes: Written to fill the “If only you'd notice me: Yearning and obliviousness” square on Ladies Bingo, the “Laughter” square on Cotton Candy Bingo, and for Tumblr’s #femslashfebruary.
Rhapsodic sonnet is Guittone d’Arezzo’s Sonnet 31.
Inspired by Daphne, in the film, saying she felt “like a young boy, thrusting flowers into his mother’s hands.”
Fandom: Literary RPF (Daphne du Maurier)
Rating: PG
Length: 1055
Summary: Ellen’s lost her favorite pair of gloves...
Daphne stood before the mirror, pulling down her waistcoat, adjusting her blazer, brushing her long copper hair out of the way. She bit her lips and looked at the makeup kit on her dresser, a gift from her mother, who’d never accepted that Daphne did not care for makeup - even after marrying Ducky, her mother felt this was a “bad sign,” that she wanted to pretend to be a boy again, like she did when staging her childhood plays.
She did. She wanted to be a boy, if only so she could thrust pale flowers into Ellen’s hands, run around outside with the dogs and the horses, climb trees and throw stones and -
She didn’t want to be a man and take Ellen - she didn’t want to tie her up in a marriage and children. She just wanted to adore her, bring her offerings of cakes and jewels -
She heard her melodic voice out in the hall, and rushed out of her bedroom.
She smiled gently at Ellen, who smiled back in the same way, her eyes radiating a kindness and happiness that always warmed Daphne.
“Good morning, my dear,” said Daphne.
“Oh, it’s a terrible morning, actually,” said Ellen, starting to descend the stairs. “It seems I’ve lost my favorite pair of gloves. Now I know that’s a bad thing to be upset about, but they were so beautiful.”
“Which were they?” asked Daphne, genuinely distressed for her.
“The leather ones, mint colored with lacing in the back?” said Ellen, her face a mix of amusement and sadness.
“Oh, yes,” said Daphne. She agreed that the gloves were beautiful, though she’d never wear anything of the type. “Are you sure they’re lost?”
“Oh, yes, my dear, I’ve looked everywhere for them.”
“I wish I could get you - I could get you all the ones you like. But I wouldn’t know how to choose something beautiful. Do you like ice blue and lilac and -”
“You talk to me more sweetly than my husband,” smiled Ellen, stopping at the bottom of the stairs, and she took Daphne’s hands. “I could use gloves like yours, all worn brown leather, full of scratches.”
“Oh, my gloves? They’re so ugly, but I always forget to get pretty things - and to keep them decent.”
“No, but they are lovely. And they protect your wonderful hands, without which we wouldn’t have Rebecca, or any of your wonderful works.”
Daphne laughed in embarrassment, and watched her walk to the flower vase in the entryway, rearranging the flowers. And again she wished she could give her her gloves back, and all the flowers and sunshine and... everything.
She wished she could give everything to Ellen.
If Ellen would only notice her - if she would only feel the flutter and pain and love she did.
Daphne’s face was flushed. She’d been looking everywhere - and rather hurriedly - for Ellen’s gloves. Ellen was out at the moment and what better surprise? Ellen would laugh and... and fall into her arms and -
Daphne closed her eyes, tried to control her breathing.
She considered opening the white French doors and looking through Ellen’s closet - touching the pastel color silk and cool glass beads and soft furs, the scent of lavender in the air - when she remembered Mrs. Danvers looking through Rebecca’s undergarment drawer.
Was she just like her? Obsessed, with muddled thoughts, dirty and unnatural?
But how could this be unnatural? To be in love with Ellen’s sparkling eyes, her sweet smile, her soft pale skin, her intelligence and cheerfulness and patience, the way she accepted Daphne as she was - it seemed the most natural thing in the world. It seemed entirely unnatural that the whole world wasn’t in love with Ellen.
She hadn’t found them.
It was near dinnertime now, and there was a dull ache in her heart.
But Ellen had called her to her room.
When she entered - slowly, knocking on the door gently, the dimly lit room glowing amber, she saw Ellen sitting at her makeup table, her hands busily moving over the mirror top, touching the mercury glass vase, the blue glass bottles of perfume, the little powder puffs of makeup.
“Oh, there you are, my darling. I’m sorry I have neglected you all day,” said Ellen, now pulling on one of her gloves.
“The gloves! Oh, you found them!” Daphne exclaimed.
“Oh, yes, I did, they were in my gold brocade coat pocket, I don’t know how it slipped by me or Anna.”
Daphne kneeled next to Ellen and took her hands. “I, I wanted to find them for you.”
“Did you want to?”
“I searched all over.”
“Oh,” laughed Ellen, pressing Daphne’s hands. “Well, we’ll pretend you found them, then, as I’m sure you would have.”
Daphne then kissed Ellen’s rosy fingertips, which made both giggle.
“Oh, now,” said Ellen, still laughing, and now stroking Daphne’s cheek. “It’s time for dinner, and we can’t be giggling like schoolgirls all night, can we?”
“Yes, we can. Why can’t we? I want to recite you a poem, like Christian would.”
“Does your son recite poems to you, the darling?”
“He does... ‘Whenever I say “joy,” you thing of joy, you will understand that I speak of you, for you are a joy of joyful beauty.’ ”
Ellen laughed again, her eyes wandering around Daphne’s face.
“Joy in which so much loving joy is seen that it is a joyful joy to wonder at it. Joy of will and joy of thought, and joy of speech and joy of making joy, and joy of every moment full of joy.”
“Ok,” she said, still laughing. She leaned in and whispered, “I thank you so much for that, it is beautiful, and so untrue.”
“It’s not.”
“I nearly fell apart today over my gloves. You’re the thing of joy.”
Daphne didn’t know how to respond - what to say when her heart was beating so loudly, surely Ellen could hear it.
“But I’ll save my lovely poems for cards and tea, when it’s just the two of us, then we can laugh all we want. But for now, we must control ourselves.”
But how could she, when her heart was laughing, when Ellen was her joy, when her joy over Ellen was only calmed and at home when she was with Ellen?
Author notes: Written to fill the “If only you'd notice me: Yearning and obliviousness” square on Ladies Bingo, the “Laughter” square on Cotton Candy Bingo, and for Tumblr’s #femslashfebruary.
Rhapsodic sonnet is Guittone d’Arezzo’s Sonnet 31.
Inspired by Daphne, in the film, saying she felt “like a young boy, thrusting flowers into his mother’s hands.”