Dear readers you are in for a treat! I have been so excited about having Stan Hurd as my guest and looking forward to this post greatly. When I first heard about his books and then read his posts on the lovely Meredith Esparza's site, Austenesque Reviews, I have wished to have him visit. Well, today he is and we are fortunate indeed. Please join me in welcoming Stan Hurd to More Agreeably Engaged.
When I
began writing Darcy’s Tale, I was comparatively new to Austen, and had no idea
that JAFF was even a genre. I was first introduced to Austen by Keira Knightley’s
Pride and Prejudice, which, at the time, I found quite engaging. But after I
read the novel, and her other novels, and I was pretty seriously hooked. Then a
friend gave me the Colin Firth series, and introduced me to the Pamela Aidan
books. The first time I read Aidan, I was delighted just to be back in Austen’s
world. But a second reading started to expose what were, to my mind, flaws in
her interpretation, and I couldn’t finish a third reading. It felt like a
friend of mine had been maligned in print, and I wanted to set the record
straight. I personally don’t think people make fundamental changes in who they
are, so I believed that he had to have been a good guy from the beginning. How,
then, to reconcile his actions with that belief: that was my starting point.
What I
required of my attempt was that I adhere strictly to the original, explain how
he could have misrepresented himself and misinterpreted Elizabeth, and examine
the changes he really underwent. I also hoped to emulate the writing of the
period, although I had no thought of real success. I immersed myself in Austen,
reading almost nothing else for months on end; the result was as close as I
could make it to P&P and Regency English; as I read and re-read it, at
least nothing really jarred. Of course, I had the help of some seriously
knowledgeable Janeites. I will say that I made three flubs that I know of. One
was that I had Elizabeth sit in the wrong spot at the Netherfield dinner at
which Mr. Hurst enquired into her enjoyment of the ragout. Perhaps some of you
true Austen fans can spot others? :-)
But the
capacity of a man to change himself for the love of a woman is, of course, a
matter of debate. I have chosen two parts of my book to share: one where Darcy is
usually thought to be uncommonly arrogant, and another where her misreads
Elizabeth pretty thoroughly; I’d like to offer them as stepping off points for
discussion. Was Darcy really the jerk he seemed at the Meryton assembly? And
then, at Rosings, Elizabeth was puzzled, and a little offended, I think, by his silence when he walked with her in the
park; so how could moments like that lead him to believe she was “wishing,
expecting his addresses”? So I will give you my interpretation, in hopes that
it will lead us into a lively discussion of what is right and what is wrong
with men…no! I mean what is right or wrong with the idea of men changing deeply
through the love of the right woman.
First,
let’s look at possibly the most famous incident showing his arrogance: the
Meryton assembly. Now, in my mind, he must have had a bad day, and he clearly
didn’t like to dance, and I had Miss Bingley managed to annoy him as they set
off. The key phrase for me was when he said, “…I am in no humour at present to
give consequence to young ladies who have been slighted…”: he was in a bad mood.
And I have never been able to believe he said what he said knowing that
Elizabeth could hear him, as that would make it nearly impossible for him to
believe she would be well-disposed towards him; and Bingley clearly didn’t
think she could overhear them. So this is how I see it:
The appearance of the
newcomers naturally caused a stir and a wave of whispers to spread through the
room. And certainly Darcy, given his stature, his fashionable attire, and
well-featured face, received his full share of the attention. Unfortunately,
that very attention, which for most persons would have been a welcome sign of
consequence and notice, served to fix in him the dark mood he had carried in
with him; he felt like a caged bear being paraded at a country fair for the
peasantry to gawk at. And, even more regrettably, the scrutiny he received
created among the revellers a general awareness of his marked lack of
enthusiasm for his surroundings; this was soon interpreted as scorn for the
company in which he found himself. Such was his mood that when the early smiles
and flutterings turned to blank stares and cold shoulders, it brought him, not
a sense of his wrong-doing, but a perverse sense of vindication. That they
should dislike him was proof of his acuity and insight. Society was the same
every where, thought he with some bitterness; well enough, let the cats say
what they would—it mattered little. Here, at least, he was not compelled to
cater to it. He would never see any of them again in his life, so what did it
signify? He was vaguely aware that he was behaving churlishly, and the better
part of him felt it, but not so strongly that he was minded to break from the
manner of his beginning.
While his friend was
dancing, Darcy spent most of his time drifting about the room, having been
introduced only to the family of one Sir William Lucas, whose conversation he
found less than captivating. Under the circumstances, his strict sense of
propriety would not allow him to enter into conversation with the others
attending—even if he had had a desire to. But he was aware that his neighbours
at the assembly looked at him with little approbation, and he allowed his
sentiments to mirror theirs, leaving him with little reason to seek
acquaintance with any of them. He watched with scant enthusiasm as his friend
led his third, or possibly his fourth, partner down the dance, while he was
left to amuse himself. Looking about the room he saw a number of young ladies
without partners, and more than one whose countenance would satisfy all but the
most exacting critics of female beauty; but in Darcy’s present state of mind,
their presence served only to remind him of how ill-suited he was to his
surroundings: while he might in certain circumstances find himself able to
enjoy their company, these were decidedly not such circumstances. The truth of
the matter, not often admitted even to himself, was that Mr. Darcy was slow to
feel comfortable with new people, and the force of will it would take on this
occasion, to seek introduction and enter into conversation with a strange young
woman, was simply not within his compass this evening. Nor did he wish to
converse with either of Bingley’s sisters, given how things stood, and so he
was left with no alternative but to simply wander about the place, trying to
stay out of people’s way, and, quite irrationally, becoming more and more
provoked by the situation. At length Bingley left the dance to fetch his
partner of the moment a refreshment, and found Darcy standing near the table of
drinks. He took the opportunity to persuade his friend to enter into the spirit
of the evening: “Come, Darcy, I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing
about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”
“I certainly shall
not,” replied Darcy irritably. Here Bingley had left him to his own devices for
well over an hour, and now spoke to him only in passing—and to persuade him to
dance, of all things. His glance travelled around the room, seeing again the
same collection of strangers’ faces; not a few of them turned coldly away from
his gaze. “You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with
my partner. At such an assembly as this it would be insupportable. Your sisters
are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a
punishment to me to stand up with.”
“I would not be so
fastidious as you are for a kingdom!” cried his friend. “Upon my honour, I
never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and
there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty.”
“You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room.” said Darcy,
though this was certainly untrue; Bingley was merely dancing with the most handsome girl in the room. But his
present mood was such that Darcy was ready to disagree on any and every point.
“Oh! She is the most
beautiful creature I ever beheld!” exclaimed Bingley. “But there is one of her
sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very
agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.”
“Which do you mean?”
He turned around and saw a young woman seated nearby, happily engaged in
watching the dance. He had noticed her earlier, and had resisted the
inclination to let his eye linger in her direction more than once during his
wanderings, but he would by no means admit as much to Bingley. Her dark eyes,
alive with mirth and yet at the same time showing an astute appreciation of all
that was passing, had caught his attention particularly. Now, sensing his
observation of her, she turned to meet his gaze. Not wishing to see her eyes
harden as she recognised who it was that beheld her, or perhaps because his
more gentlemanly side felt his general incivility during the evening, he
quickly withdrew his own glance. To Bingley he said, “She is tolerable, but not
handsome enough to tempt me. I am in no humour at present to give
consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better
return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with
me.” Bingley left him with a smile and a shrug of the shoulders. Darcy then
glanced cautiously back over his shoulder for fear he might have been
overheard; but the young woman had turned away and did not appear to have paid
them any attention. He was relieved: ill-humour he would allow himself—open
discourtesy he would not. However, had he been able to observe her while he was
speaking, he would have seen the young lady’s eyes widen at his ill-mannered
and disobliging description of herself.
OK, that
was the dance. Now his confidence as to her willingness to accept him. Was it
his overweening arrogance, or was it cluelessness? Could it really be arrogance,
when he thought she was wishing and expecting his proposal? We’re at Rosings;
he saw Elizabeth going into the park, and set out to follow. (I admit the
humour is too heavy-handed for Austen, for which I apologize.)
“Miss Bennet, good
morning!” he called.
She looked round in
surprise. “Mr. Darcy!” she cried. “How you startled me!”
“I beg your pardon,”
was all he could think to say; she was very lovely this morning, framed by the
fresh green of the new leaves on the trees behind her, and the sun washing her,
too, with the fresh glow of youth. He approached, and they stood together, but
neither spoke for a moment. Hesitantly, he asked: “Do you return to the
Parsonage, or do you stay?”
“I should have gone
back shortly,” she said briefly.
“Shall I accompany
you?” he asked: always correct, he wished to ensure that she would not be
uncomfortable in his company; they were, after all, alone and unchaperoned.
“If you wish,” she replied.
There was a slight emphasis to her tone as she said this, and in this
particular response Darcy saw more than acceptance: her answer was actually a
tentative invitation that, depending on his answer, would tell her whether he
truly wished to be with her, or would as soon go on his way alone.
“I should be very
happy to,” said he, answering both the spoken and unspoken question. He smiled
at her and turned back the way he had come. She gave him a momentary smile in
return, then cast her eyes down at the path.
They walked together
some minutes in silence, enjoying the morning and the fresh spring air. Darcy,
conscious of her every movement, was careful to observe her silence; she
clearly had come out to enjoy a quiet walk, and he did not wish to draw down
her disapproval by disturbing her morning with chatter.
“Do you come this way
often, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked after a time.
“Not now, but Colonel
Fitzwilliam and I used to play here as children,” Darcy smiled at the memory.
“We were hunters, castaways, pirates—mostly the latter. All the things boys
will get up to when their elders are not there to scold them. I cannot tell you
how many sets of clothing I must have ruined.” He made an embarrassed laugh:
“In fact, this very grove is where I got my nickname. I was ‘the Dread Pirate,
Dirks-and-Daggers Darcy’. My cousin still calls me ‘Dirks’ from time to time.”
“You, Sir, are Dirks
Darcy?’ the lady asked in wonder; her face marked her incredulity.
“At your service,
Ma’am,” Darcy replied, bowing with a flourish.
Elizabeth stared at
him for a moment without speaking, then quickly cast her eyes down; a sound
like a stifled sneeze issued from her, and Darcy offered a “God bless you!”;
she repeated the noise twice again in rapid succession, to which Darcy added: “Goodness!
—and bless you again.” After walking a bit further without hearing the lady
speak, in an attempt at banter he asked, “What seek you here amongst the trees? Surely you do not come here to play out
your girlhood fancies?”
“No, indeed not,” she
replied shortly. There was a slight hesitation before she supplied with pointed
significance: “This grove is a favourite with me; the tranquillity, the
picturesque of the woods, the pleasures of nature without alloy of company—I
have enjoyed a great many hours here by myself. As it is inside the paling, I
feel secure from unwanted visitors.”
In this earnest
return Darcy could feel that she was sharing something of herself, in answer to
his admission of his childhood absurdity; but just what she meant was
equivocal; as he thought about it, though, it came to him that she might very
well be telling him how they might be together, without interference from
‘unwanted visitors’. He glanced quickly down at her; something in her manner,
or perhaps how near to him she walked on the narrow path, convinced him: she
was inviting his company, here in the grove. He tried to see her face, but her
eyes were modestly cast down, no doubt from the consciousness of her daring, in
offering such a bold suggestion.
Ok, now
it’s your turn. What are your thoughts?
~~~
You may find the three volumes of Darcy's Tales at Amazon
Darcy's Tale: Deluxe Edition (includes all three volumes, shown above)
~~~
Thanks so much Stan for sharing your thoughts and these fascinating excerpts. I'm hooked and can't wait to read more. Thank you most of all for being my guest.
Readers, what do you think? Will you take a few minutes to tell Stan Hurd your thoughts? He would love to hear them and as you know, I am always interested in hearing your share in the conversation. There is also a giveaway and it is worldwide! I know that makes you all very happy! Mr. Hurd is giving away two eBooks of Volume I, Darcy's Tale. Leave your email address in your comment to be entered in the giveaway. It ends on midnight, November 26, 2014. Good luck to all of you and happy reading!
