Today, I’m cheating. My designated day to blog at AuAu snuck up on me while I was neck deep in preparations for my daughter’s First Holy Communion, functions related to it, Teacher Appreciation Week, my niece’s 1st birthday, homework, and continuously redirecting a head-strong child covered in poison ivy who did not want to cooperate and do any of it this week.

Rather than throw something together at the last minute, my post today is one that recently appeared on Darcyholic Diversions, a blog belonging to fellow Austenesque author and friend, Barbara Tiller-Cole. For those of you who may not be familiar with her site, it’s a great place to congregate and – what else – talk about our admiration of Mr. Darcy. I had the pleasure of being Barbara’s guest over the weekend, and she was a fantastic hostess!

 

 

I first met Fitzwilliam Darcy on a rainy Saturday afternoon when I was in my early twenties. While he did, as a matter of fact, happen to sport a wet shirt for a brief moment that day, the sheer lawn of the fabric against Colin Firth’s chest wasn’t what sparked my initial attraction to the master of Pemberley. Sure, he was certainly easy on the eyes, but there is so much more to Jane Austen’s most beloved hero than his tall stature or his purported ten-thousand-a-year. Have you ever heard the old adage, still waters run deep? Well, that’s pretty much it in a nutshell, at least for me.

There’s no denying that Mr. Darcy is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, but he’s also careful, quiet, methodical, and complex; certainly not the type of man who acts on impulse or throws caution to the wind. Elizabeth Bennet, however, with her fine eyes, her rapier wit, and her vivacity, took him completely by surprise. Needless to say, the master of Pemberley didn’t like it one bit!

It’s always been so easy for me to imagine Mr. Darcy putting forth what must have amounted to an incredible amount of effort to resist the lure of Elizabeth Bennet’s intelligence and playful nature, to say nothing of her light and pleasing figure. When all of his carefully orchestrated resistance unravels as he paces the sitting room floor of the Hunsford parsonage, I can’t help but rejoice. Mr. Darcy, with his careful mask of indifference and his practiced reserve, has come completely undone!

Elizabeth Bennet called his arrogance and presumption insufferable, and maybe they were; but this is Mr. Darcy we’re talking about, and I can’t help but look at it a little bit like this: Even though the woman he loves refuses him, accuses him, and turns the tables on him after his [insulting] proposal; even though his fury with her is acute and his indignance great, Mr. Darcy’s admiration and affection for Elizabeth doesn’t wane over time. He becomes introspective, decides not to take her harsh chastisement for granted, and actually sets out to change his ways. Even though he believes it unlikely he’ll cross paths with her again, Mr. Darcy still strives to become a man who Elizabeth would be proud to know; a man who she might have, at one time, even come to admire.

Can you imagine the effort it must have taken such a man as Fitzwilliam Darcy, not only to overlook Elizabeth’s ill-opinion of him while nursing a broken heart, but to also put his pride and prejudice aside and take it upon himself to search for Lydia Bennet after she had run away from Brighton with Mr. Wickham, a man Mr. Darcy loathed more than any other?

In my opinion, it doesn’t get much better than Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire. I guess, after all is said and done, my fate is sealed. Yes, I’m a Darcyholic, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it!

 

And now a tasty little morsel to snack on. The following passage is another brief excerpt from my current work-in-progress. I should point out that the working title (A Means of Removing All Doubt) has recently been changed to In Doubt of Mr. Darcy. I’m trying to finish it up as fast as I can (so you’ll have another shiny, new cover to look at), but sometimes certain characters we all know and love have other ideas. Maybe someday I’ll get them all to behave all the time, but that’s not very likely, is it? Until then, I’ll continue to let them lead me wherever they insist I go. Enjoy!

 

 

Excerpt, In Doubt of Mr. Darcy, Chapter Fourteen

With one last, teasing look, Elizabeth curtsied and took her leave without uttering another word.

Darcy watched her go, his heart lighter than it had been in ages. His eyes studied her graceful movements. The natural sway of her hips as she negotiated a path through the throng of people gathered in Bingley’s drawing room made his pulse quicken. A footman stepped forward and pulled the door open and the alluring beauty was gone. Good God, Darcy thought, but I am a fortunate man!

The sound of a throat being cleared just behind him drew his attention to William Ellis. “She is not a classic beauty like her eldest sister,” Ellis said softly, “but she is very pretty in her own right; at least I have always thought so.”

“Mr. Ellis,” Darcy muttered stiffly, unable to repress a frown, “I did not hear your approach.”

“I suspect that is because you were distracted, Mr. Darcy. It is a simple enough affliction; one we are all destined to suffer sooner or later. In this case, however, I strongly suggest you find another distraction to occupy your time, sir. She is not for you.”

Darcy’s irritation with the man increased ten-fold. “Mr. Ellis, I realise you care for Miss Bennet, but I must insist that you refrain from involving yourself in my personal affairs. This is hardly a matter that concerns you.”

Ellis’ expression hardened. “Do you imagine me blind,” he said lowly, “to the looks you have bestowed upon Miss Elizabeth in weeks past and again tonight during supper, or to her reaction to them? I do not know what game you are playing, but I am not a simpleton. I promise you, my affection for the lady and her family is of long standing. I will not tolerate you trifling with her, or smearing the Bennets’ good name in order to sate your appetite for carnal pleasure.”

“You are out of line,” Darcy growled. “I have never trifled with any lady, sir, and I resent your implication.”

“As I resent you, Mr. Darcy, for ever returning to Hertfordshire. She does not need her heart broken a second time!”

“A second time?” Darcy parroted sharply before recalling himself and glancing about the room. To his embarrassment, several of Bingley’s guests had turned their heads in curiosity, their necks straining to see beyond those of their neighbours. Darcy noticed Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner amongst them, identical expressions of concern upon their faces as their eyes met his.

“Perhaps we ought to continue our discussion elsewhere,” Ellis said with forced congeniality, inclining his head to the room in general. “Surely, we need not include the rest of Mr. Bingley’s party in our…discourse.”

 

Best wishes and many thanks,

Susan