A concept: Bingley buying Darcy a golden retriever because once upon a time Darcy had called him that. So now whenever Darcy has to return to Pemberly after tedious work, a golden retriever greets him with enthusiasm just as Bingley would.
Golden retrievers didn’t exist during the Regency, but I see your point.
Oh but that makes it even better, because that means at some point Darcy despairingly referred to Bingley as “a cross between a water spaniel and a Highland retriever, with as much boundless energy and trusting affection as lack of good sense” and Bingley, far from being offended at being referred to as being a good natured fool, goes out of his way to find such a dog, presenting it to his oldest friend with a wide, open smile– a wriggling bundle of gold fur, enthusiastic tail wagging and an over abundance of licking.
Darcy merely sighs, resigned to his fate, and spends some considerable time teaching it not to jump up quite so much. By the end of the evening it’s sitting obediently by his heels, panting loudly, tongue lolling in a lopsided smile as it gazes up longingly at his seemingly indifferent master who is otherwise engrossed in reading. But if more biscuits go missing from the tea tray than usual, all others present are wise enough not to make note of it. Aloud.
If you’re trying to sell me on the idea that Charles Bingley invented the golden retriever in his later years, I am completely on-board.
Now that my head has run off with the thought, I can’t help but feel it probably happened quite by happy accident. He and Jane are up north visiting friends for a season. He’s not much for hunting these days, but he does so enjoy the freedom of riding out. One day he’s waiting for his horse to be brought around, and happens to overhear his friend lamenting to the groundskeeper, how unfortunate it was that his retriever got into the spaniel house, but at least the pups are pleasing enough, and who knows, they might make a fine hunting dog after all.
It’s not until later that night when he’s lying in bed that the words clang together inside his head and he sits bolt upright, a bright grin splitting his handsome features. Jane doesn’t even move, they’ve been married for years and she’s used to his excitability and knows the difference between alarm and Charles having a thought. But she knows that grin and she knows it means mischief. Usually to the cost of poor Darcy.
She writes a letter to her sister before breakfast, advising her that she’s not quite sure of Charles’ intentions, but she’s fairly certain it’s benign, and—as she glances out the window to the front courtyard below, watching as Charles throws a leather hand ball for the benefit of several, delightfully shaggy golden haired puppies—quite probably adorable. Hugs and kisses, give our best to the children. And try to remind Darcy that he and Charles are friends, and an abundance of shedding ought not come between good friends.
1. Joy’s tags, becuase they’re beautiful:
#Lizzy merely cackles and doesn’t say anything #waiting for it to unfold#the look on Darcy’s face is priceless of course#when Charles presents him with the wriggling puppy#managing to convey complete and utter exasperation without uttering a single word#all emotion communicated clearly through the merest raise of an eyebrow#and a deep heartfelt sigh #but those closest to him see the twitch of a smile#barely suppressed under his severe demeanor#he has a reputation to maintain after all#when the puppy ends up sleeping at the end of their bed #Lizzy says nothing#letting Darcy fill the silence with firmly committed espousals to the logic of his reasoning#eventually dwindling down to awkward declarations of worry and concern#for the poor little thing #I mean look at it Lizzy #look#how can you say no to that face #my god it’s only survival trait is adorability#and it’s happy erratic tail #look see #he knows we’re talking about him#he’s a clever boy #yes he is #yes he is he’s such a good boy #stop laughing#I’m quite serious #this is serious Elizabeth
2. The dude who originally started breeding Goldens was Dudley Marjoribanks, 1st Baron Tweedmouth, which REALLY sounds like a character from a Jane Austen Novel.
Oh my god it totally does hahaha
