Suzanne, I agree whole-heartedly. The difficult thing about Fanny is that she's a very young character. As much as I'd sometimes like to see her lash out at, say, Mrs. Norris, mostly I'd like to see her just stand up for herself: "No, Aunt Norris, I'm sorry, I can't walk down to your house and fetch that. Yes, I realize that must be frustrating for you. Now I have a letter to write, please excuse me." Fanny's diffidence and submission were considered something of a feminine virtue at the time, but I don't think they are, though they may grow into them. She submits to people's faces and then resents them for it, and scolds herself for resenting them. That's simply not healthy. Respect for herself, and a capability to serve others lovingly rather than resentfully, as the older Anne Eliot does, may come in time, but for now Fanny is being buffeted by life and is decidedly not on top of it.
The difficulty is that a modern audience expects a hero to strive, to stand up for him or herself, and do something. The fashionable virtues, and especially feminine virtues, have altered. We are, however, quite sympathetic to exploited persons, and that would be a different way to approach it. Fanny as the sort of Cinderella, remaining meek and sweet despite her frankly abusive aunt and her neglectful uncle, aunt and cousins. Suzanne, if that's what you're suggesting, I think that would make for a more appealing and sympathetic character.
On a different note, it might also help to dispel this notion that everybody who lived in a large house and had servants wait on them lived a life of privileged command. The actual power of choice was frequently very restricted, and I think that it is in that power that real luxury and privilege consist. Fanny was, in one sense, "rich," but nobody could mistake her for privileged.
The difficulty is that a modern audience expects a hero to strive, to stand up for him or herself, and do something. The fashionable virtues, and especially feminine virtues, have altered. We are, however, quite sympathetic to exploited persons, and that would be a different way to approach it. Fanny as the sort of Cinderella, remaining meek and sweet despite her frankly abusive aunt and her neglectful uncle, aunt and cousins. Suzanne, if that's what you're suggesting, I think that would make for a more appealing and sympathetic character.
On a different note, it might also help to dispel this notion that everybody who lived in a large house and had servants wait on them lived a life of privileged command. The actual power of choice was frequently very restricted, and I think that it is in that power that real luxury and privilege consist. Fanny was, in one sense, "rich," but nobody could mistake her for privileged.