The problem with returning to an old fandom is that I’m instantly overwhelmed by old pet peeves. One of them is the insistent argument that P&P is told exclusively from Elizabeth’s point of view, as if Austen confined herself to third-person limited ever, and particularly that we never hear Darcy’s thoughts.
This one usually has an extra layer of patronizing to it—oh, she knew how SHELTERED and LIMITED she was, she couldn’t possibly know how men think, poor dear, so she knew better to try and inevitably fail at exploring the psyche of a MAN. So that, of course, is why we have to rely on Darcy’s dialogue—we’re never allowed to see what he’s thinking or feeling about anything.
Well, there’s this:
He began to find it [her face] was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes.
He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step toward conversing with her himself, attended to her conversation with others.
Truly a flawless—and not at all socially inept!—approach to flirtation.
(I’m sorry, I will never be able to wrap my brain around smooth, charismatic, alpha male romance hero Darcy.)
And Darcy partying:
Mr Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at such a mode of passing the evening [dancing], to the exclusion of all conversation
…for a certain value of “partying.” Damn it, why do dances have people dancing at them? It should be more like a debate club!
He listened to her [Caroline] with perfect indifference.
The former [Darcy] was divided between admiration of the brilliancy which exercise had given to her [Elizabeth’s] complexion, and doubt as to the occasion’s [Jane’s illness] justifying her coming so far alone.
He really believed that were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he should be in some danger.
(The same connections, in fact, to whom he will later be eternally grateful for his marriage. Just saying.)
Then taking the disengaged arm of Mr Darcy, she [Mrs Hurst] left Elizabeth to walk by herself. The path just admitted three. Mr Darcy felt their rudeness
He was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter [from Caroline] as Elizabeth herself could be
And Darcy after a spat with Elizabeth that (contrary to pretty much ever adaptation ever) he seems to have thoroughly enjoyed:
the pianoforte was opened; and Darcy, after a few moments’ recollection, was not sorry for it. He began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention.
He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration shouldnowescape him, nothing that could elevate her with the hope of influencing his felicity; sensible that if such an idea had been suggested, his behaviour during the last day must have material weight in confirming or crushing it. Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke ten words to her through the whole of Saturday, and though they were at one time left by themselves for half an hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her.
Okay, he doesn’t want to lead her on. Of course he puts it in the most arrogant way possible, but … he’s actually trying to do the decent thing here. In his deluded way.
Aaaaand Darcy at the Netherfield Ball, after Elizabeth not-very-subtly interrogates him about Wickham (in crossover land, you just know she’d be in Gryffindor in about half a second):
In Darcy’s breast there was a tolerable powerful feeling towards her, which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against another.
That’s just flipping through the first third of the book, people, and not even looking at all the OTHER men, whose thoughts we also hear, because we hear everyone’s. Where did this no-dudes-allowed nonsense even come from?
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