It makes for a good book club discussion and brings in men and women of all ages. I even got my mom to join us for this one.
But for some reason, we’re forty-five minutes in, and Dorian isn’t here.
Mom crosses her legs, flipping through the hardcover copy on her lap. She’s in her element tonight and might have led the discussion more than I have, but I give it to her. She hasn’t taught a class in years. “Should we discuss the terror that is Mr. Darcy in the first half of the book?”
A man across the circle makes an irritated sound. “He didn’t know any better. He’d been raised to believe himself better than everyone else.”
“He ends the book the same way,” another woman says.
What variation did she read? “I don’t know,” I hedge. “After Elizabeth’s rejection, I think Mr. Darcy sees his faults and consciously changes for the better.”
“As does Elizabeth,” someone adds.
My mom steps in again. “What makes this such a timeless story of hope and romance is the way both characters were willing to grow. Elizabeth didn’t tell Darcy that she’d marry him if he improved—she wasn’t trying to change him. She just turned him down. On his own, Darcy recognized his personal failings and improved himself, as we should all strive to do.”
“Speak for yourself,” a guy calls out.
“I do,” Mom says firmly. “His character growth is unparalleled, which makes him one of the best heroes in literature. There’s a reason this book is such a phenomenon.”
“Should we compare him to Heathcliff?” Shauna, Mom’s friend, says from the seat on her other side.
“Thatis not a romance,” Mom says icily. “Which you well know.”
“Moving on!” I say quickly. I don’t need theWuthering Heightsgothic die-hards sharpening their pitchforks. “Any other thoughts on Mr. Darcy’s character development? Or on any of the other characters?”
The man who seems to have made it his mission to argue with my mom tonight goes off about Mr. Wickham beingmisunderstood and Mr. Collins being a better option of marriage for a Bennet daughter, but I only half listen because Dorian opens the front door in the middle of his monologue.
Even Shauna won’t let this slide. She comes to Austen’s defense, explaining the character motivations in a way that ninety percent of readers see them, while Dorian catches my eye. He nods his chin toward a vacant seat.
So I nod back, like,yes, please sit down and put this man in his place.
“We’re going to ignore the elephant in the room?” the man presses. “When Elizabeth sees Pemberley for the first time and makes her snide remark. Let’s face it, she was an arrogant gold digger.”
Mom groans quietly, rolling her eyes.
Dorian’s brow lifts in surprise, and his dark brown eyes cut to me.
Yep, this is what I’ve been dealing with tonight.
“If I may?” he says, lifting his hand. “I know I’m late, but I can’t help feeling that you’ve misunderstood the point of the book entirely. Austen was witty and sharp, which is why that line is a bit sarcastic. If Elizabeth were a gold digger, she would have accepted Mr. Darcy the first time he proposed. Everyone knew he made ten thousand a year, which was an absolute fortune back then, but she waited until he recognized his faults and became a better man. She fell in love with him first.”
“Bravo,” Mom says, clapping.
“You must know each other,” the man grumbles.
Mom looks smug when she replies, “Never met him before.”
She’s wrong, but she must not remember graduation.
The conversation is fairly mellow after that and only lasts another twenty minutes before the group collects their coupons for fifteen percent off in the store and leaves to shop.
I hand Dorian his last.
“I don’t need this, but thanks,” he says. “I wasn’t here the whole time.”
“You earned it for giving that self-righteous man a set down,” Mom says. She’s shorter than I am, with a cute little bob and a lot of spunk.
“This is my mom,” I tell him. “And her friend, Shauna Yancey.”
