Mr. Darcy’s P&P POV (the abridged version)

Part 1

Greetings, folks. Jack Caldwell here. For this and future editions of the Cajun Cheesehead Chronicles, I’m going to do something new and different. I’m going to tell a little story.

What was Mr. Darcy really thinking during the events of Pride and Prejudice? Miss Jane Austen certainly let us know what Elizabeth Bennet was thinking and feeling, but not so much her dream man. Let’s cut out all the speeches and get to the nitty-gritty! What follows is a chapter-by-chapter breakdown of P&P from Mr. Darcy’s point of view. All sixty-seven chapters (some may be combined, so don’t panic). The thoughts below are from the fevered brain of Fitzwilliam Darcy, Esq.

The completed story will be eventually posted in its entirety at Austen Authors’ The Writers Block and at my own Ramblings of a Cajun in Exile. But you don’t want to wait until then, do you?

Comments are required. You have been warned.

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Mr. Darcy’s P&P POV
(the abridged version)
by Jack Caldwell

PART 1

Chapter 1 –

Relieved that I am returned to Town from Ramsgate. Good God, what was Georgiana thinking? That is just it, she was not thinking.

No, no, that is unfair. Youth must be her excuse. The fault lies with Mrs. Younge and Wickham. Wickham! How I hate that name! Well, I have seen the last of the reprobate. He now knows better than to cross my path again, no matter what my cousin Fitzwilliam says.

Hmm, a note from Bingley. Lord, cannot a man of wealth and education write a blasted letter without smudging half the words? So, he has found an estate for lease in Hertfordshire but wants my approval before he signs the final papers. I suppose I can help him with that. I certainly am useless with Georgiana. I hope I am not deceived in the character of her new companion, Mrs. Annesley, as I was with Mrs. Younge.

I must make preparations to join Bingley in—where is it? Meryton.

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Chapter 2 –

I cannot get any work done, yet I must. I am for Netherfield in the morning. But I cannot but dwell on how much I am to blame for Georgiana’s distress. If only I told her of that ungrateful rascal’s manifest deficiencies as a gentleman. If only I had better investigated Mrs. Younge’s credentials. If only I spent more time with my dear sister.

I must shake off this black mood. But I doubt I will be successful in Hertfordshire. After all, Caroline Bingley will be there with the Hursts. How tiresome.

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Chapter 3 –

A country assembly? What was Bingley thinking? Just look at the bumpkins—a collection of people with little beauty and no fashion. The men hoped-up on their supposed importance; that is, them that are not already half-way into their cups. And the mothers! Each one sizing up my fortune, and Bingley’s too, I shouldn’t wonder. We will both of us be married off in many a matron’s mind before this evening is through.

Miss Bingley making a cutting remark. Now there’s a rare occurrence. I feel a headache coming on. Chin up, old boy. Do not make eye contact and the locals will not bother you.

Oh God, Bingley is trying to impress every family in town. Lucas, Golding, Long, Bennet. Not a name among them. Gad!

All I want is peace and quiet. Let Bingley make a fool of himself if he wishes. Hmm, he’s found another angel, I see. Miss Bennet, if I recall correctly. Very pretty, I must admit, but she smiles too much.

What’s that? Ten thousand pounds? Gad, I hate being the subject of such speculation, especially as the locals are unable to moderate the volume of their speech! Good thing they have undervalued me; if they knew my true worth, the mothers themselves might try to compromise me! If I wanted to stand about in a pit of vipers, I could have remained in London. My headache is getting worse.

Leave off, Charles! I’m not to dance tonight! I only danced with Louisa and Caroline because they are among my party. I am done. I do not care if it is with your new angel’s sister. I just want to leave. Besides, the music stinks.

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Chapter 4-5 –

A letter from Georgiana. She asserts better sprits, but I do not know. Mrs. Annesley claims progress; I hope she is right.

Gad, Miss Bingley again. Only my good breeding prevents me from setting the baggage in her place. I must get out. A ride—the very thing. At least the countryside is handsome.

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Chapter 6 –

A party at the Lucases’—how wonderful. If I were a lesser man, I would drink myself into oblivion. Hold—there is Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You know, she has quite grown on me. At first, I scarcely allowed her to be pretty, but now I find her face rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. Yes, there is no perfect symmetry in her form, yet her figure is light and pleasing. Her manners are refreshingly easy and playful, far superior to those of the fashionable world. I cannot keep my eyes off her.

Ah, there is a sauciness to her tone, asking me about balls. I could listen to her for hours, instead of the insipid sycophancy I hear from Miss Bingley. Her performance on the pianoforte, while not technically proficient, is very pleasing.

Oh God, Miss Mary Bennet is a different creature altogether. I wonder the dogs outside do not howl. Hmm—her younger sisters demand that Miss Mary play music for dancing. Well, it certainly cannot be worse. Oh, here is Sir William Lucas. Again. How’s that—dancing?

“Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance.” There—that ought to shut him up. Oops, no joy. Enough about St. James’s Court, man! Just tune him out Darcy; you can do it. You’ve done it before—

What? Dance with Miss Elizabeth? Badly done, Sir William—you’ve trapped her, but I can do the gentlemanly thing and accept—

Whoa. She extracted herself from that very well. She needs no help from me. Extraordinary woman.

Gah! Miss Bingley, making a catty remark. You wish to know the subject of my reverie, do you? “Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.” Now, be quiet.

All right, Miss Bingley, you asked for it. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” Now tune her out, Darcy, and drink in your fill of the surprising Miss Elizabeth.

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TO BE CONTINUED…

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 It takes a real man to write historical fiction, so let me tell you a story.