Chapter 5 - Darcy's Monologue
How curious. To think that all these years, going out fishing with George, playing with George, sharing *chambers* with George - he was a queer. What still puzzles me is that he imagined that *I*, Henry Fitzwilliam Darcy, would respond to his advances! The thought is laughable.
No, I cannot, will not, tell my father, or George's father for that matter - I will be honourable and consider the fact that he has been a good friend to me these past three years. What friend would I be if I were to disregard his deficiencies and judge him with prejudice?
Yes, that is the way forward - I will acknowledge him as a friend, but not as intimately as was previously customary - that idea in now totally abhorrent. I will persuade my father to continue his patronage of George, but perhaps to send him to a different school? No, how would I explain my reasoning without disclosing the truth. The truth being...that I cannot bear to have him near me lest I forget myself.
No, stop this. I must not think such things - that kiss was wrong. I am a Christian of noble lineage, and bringing myself down to the level of queers and stewards' sons' will not be proper, let alone moral. What would my father think of me? What would my mother have thought if she were still alive? That her son, her Henry, was sexually attracted to...another...man...
But he is a steward's son, after all - what can be expected of him? Someone of his status could not even begin to comprehend the great shame I would bring upon my family were I to *dally* with him. Yet...what harm would it do if I...kissed him and no one knew about it? Nothing would happen - Father would not think me beneath dignity, George would be happy, and I would be...satisfied...oh...yes...
No, no, no! I cannot allow lust to drive my reasoning. I am not some ragtag fellow with nothing better to do in life. But...what have I to do this summer? My father is not in London, Samuel is, well, *there* but not paying much attention to either of us, and I and George have chambers that are next door to each other...Think of the opportunities that could arise...
Dear George, such an innocent charming face - who could tell that such *passion* lurked within him? Who could tell such passion of *this* type lay in me? Why do I even need to question myself on this matter? The answer is so obvious, and George is so pretty...
How curious. To think that all these years, going out fishing with George, playing with George, sharing *chambers* with George - he was a queer. What still puzzles me is that he imagined that *I*, Henry Fitzwilliam Darcy, would respond to his advances! The thought is laughable.
No, I cannot, will not, tell my father, or George's father for that matter - I will be honourable and consider the fact that he has been a good friend to me these past three years. What friend would I be if I were to disregard his deficiencies and judge him with prejudice?
Yes, that is the way forward - I will acknowledge him as a friend, but not as intimately as was previously customary - that idea in now totally abhorrent. I will persuade my father to continue his patronage of George, but perhaps to send him to a different school? No, how would I explain my reasoning without disclosing the truth. The truth being...that I cannot bear to have him near me lest I forget myself.
No, stop this. I must not think such things - that kiss was wrong. I am a Christian of noble lineage, and bringing myself down to the level of queers and stewards' sons' will not be proper, let alone moral. What would my father think of me? What would my mother have thought if she were still alive? That her son, her Henry, was sexually attracted to...another...man...
But he is a steward's son, after all - what can be expected of him? Someone of his status could not even begin to comprehend the great shame I would bring upon my family were I to *dally* with him. Yet...what harm would it do if I...kissed him and no one knew about it? Nothing would happen - Father would not think me beneath dignity, George would be happy, and I would be...satisfied...oh...yes...
No, no, no! I cannot allow lust to drive my reasoning. I am not some ragtag fellow with nothing better to do in life. But...what have I to do this summer? My father is not in London, Samuel is, well, *there* but not paying much attention to either of us, and I and George have chambers that are next door to each other...Think of the opportunities that could arise...
Dear George, such an innocent charming face - who could tell that such *passion* lurked within him? Who could tell such passion of *this* type lay in me? Why do I even need to question myself on this matter? The answer is so obvious, and George is so pretty...