Guest Abigail Reynolds: Honor, Duty and Marriage in the Regency

Linda Banche here. Today I welcome Abigail Reynolds and her latest Pemberley Variation, Mr. Darcy's Undoing, in which Elizabeth accepts another marriage offer before Darcy can renew his attentions.

Leave a comment with your email address for a chance to win the copy of Mr. Darcy's Undoing which Sourcebooks has generously provided. Abigail will select the winner. Check the comments to see who won, and how to contact me to claim your book. If I cannot contact the winner within a week of selection, I will award the book to an alternate. Note, Sourcebooks can mail to USA and Canada addresses only.

And the winner Abigail selected is Christine Bails! Congratulations, Christine, and thanks to all who came over.

Welcome, Abigail!

Abigail Reynolds:

The Regency period presents novelists with all sorts of lovely plot complications in terms of society rules, trying to strike a balance between keeping our heroines respectable and having them fall in love. My latest Pride & Prejudice variation, Mr. Darcy’s Undoing, hangs on a variant of that dilemma. Mr. Darcy wants to marry Elizabeth Bennet, but while she returns his sentiments quite passionately, she has a broken engagement in her past, and this makes her an unsuitable bride for Mr. Darcy.

Unlike modern times when engagements are easily made and broken, Regency engagements were considered legally binding, and the wedding was just the church’s blessing on the legal contract of the engagement. While either party could cry off the engagement, there could be substantial repercussions to their reputations and, in the case of gentlemen, to their pocketbooks.

While keeping young women chaste was of crucial importance prior to engagement, the rules relaxed substantially afterwards. As long as an engaged couple was discreet, they could do pretty much whatever they liked, as can be witnessed by the number of healthy babies born five months after the wedding day. While that might engender a little talk, it wasn’t considered a serious matter as long as the couple had been publicly engaged. Unfortunately, this meant that a woman with a broken engagement was considered to be ruined, since her former betrothed could have made free with her charms to one extent or another. A man with a broken engagement would likely be considered unkind and something of a rake, but a woman with a broken engagement would deal with permanent repercussions and was unlikely ever to make a good marriage.

Jilted women did have one recourse apart from finding a man to defend their honor. A male relative could sue the man in question for breach of promise since the engagement was legally binding. Sometimes this would cause the gentleman to honor his commitment, though one has to wonder about how happy such a marriage would be. Unfortunately, the judgement against such a man was usually be a fine, rarely over 250 pounds, so a gentleman of means could choose to pay rather than honor his word, and 250 pounds wouldn’t go far to support a lady.

In Mr. Darcy’s Undoing, the situation is reversed, with Elizabeth choosing to end her earlier engagement after realizing that her heart lay elsewhere. Today this would open up the way for her to make a new marriage; then it turned her into a fallen woman, unsuitable to marry a gentleman. Elizabeth says as much to Mr. Darcy:

“Mr. Darcy, the rules for a woman in making a marriage are much like those at a dance. A woman may not choose her partner; she has only the right of refusal, and even that comes at a price. If she refuses to dance with a gentleman who has invited her, she must then refuse to dance with anyone else who asks, or be thought ill-bred and improper. When I chose to break my engagement, I did so with a very clear knowledge of the price I would pay. I knew it would mean I would be a scandal, that I would never marry, never have children of my own. It was not a decision I entered into lightly.”

There isn’t an easy way to solve problems like this. In my book, the HEA ending is reached by Darcy choosing to accept the loss in his social status that comes from marrying Elizabeth. Since he cared very little about his position in the ton, this was not a major sacrifice for him, though it would eventually have some impact upon their children.

MR. DARCY'S UNDOING BY ABIGAIL REYNOLDS
A passionate new Pride and Prejudice variation explores the unthinkable—Elizabeth accepts the proposal of a childhood friend before she meets Darcy again. When their paths cross, the devastated Mr. Darcy must decide how far he'll go to win the woman he loves. How can a man who prides himself on his honor ask the woman he loves to do something scandalous? And how can Elizabeth accept a loveless marriage when Mr. Darcy holds the key to her heart? As they confront family opposition and the ill-will of scandal-mongers, will Elizabeth prove to be Mr. Darcy's undoing?

About the Author
Abigail Reynolds is a physician and a lifelong Jane Austen enthusiast. She began writing the Pride and Prejudice Variations series in 2001, and encouragement from fellow Austen fans convinced her to continue asking "What if...?" She lives with her husband and two teenage children in Madison, Wisconsin. Visit her website at http://www.pemberleyvariations.com/

Regency Duels

In England, dueling was part of a long-standing code of honor, far beyond a mere tradition. Gentlemen took their dueling very seriously; they would rather die than be dishonored.

Does your heart go pitter patter just at the sound of that? Mine sure does. How many man that honorable do you know? Okay, maybe we'd call it misplaced pride, but hey, that was a different world with a different set of rules.

The procedure for issuing a challenge was very specific. A gentleman never challenged a social inferior. For instance, a gentleman of significance with ties to the aristocracy or nobility would never challenge a commoner, such as a blacksmith or a farmer. Also, if there was a significant age difference, the duel would not be extended.

If they were socially equal, or at least similar, the gentleman who was offended would tell the man who’d wronged him that he should choose his “second,” a close friend or family member who would look out for his best interests. If he was really incensed, he might slap him with his glove, but that was considered extreme and beneath gentlemanly behavior, as it was the ultimate insult and probably resulted in a fight then and there.

After the verbal challenge – or perhaps warning would be a better word – was issued, depending on the severity of the offense, the other might have a choice; he could either apologize, or he could accept. Sometimes, the apology would not be accepted, often if there were a third person who’d been wronged.

The next day, supposedly after heads had cooled, the wronged man who wished to duel would send his “second” with a written letter challenging the duel. The other may chose to apologize or accept the challenge. If accepted, he would choose swords or pistols and name the time and the place.

When the allotted day arrived, they met, probably in a remote place where they wouldn’t be caught by the law, and the seconds inspected the weapons to be used. A final opportunity for an apology could be given. If not, the seconds decided if the duel should be fought to (a) first blood, or (b) until one can no longer stand, or (c) to the death. Once that was decided, the opponents dueled and the seconds watched to insure that nothing dishonorable happened.

If one of the duelers becomes too injured to continue, occasionally the second would step in and duel. Sometimes, the seconds were hot-headed and ended up dueling each other as well.

By the Regency Era, dueling was outlawed. However, duels still happened more frequently than many people knew. The problem was, because courts were made up of peers, they were reluctant to charge another peer with murder as a result of a duel. There is a case where one nobleman was charged with murder and tried, but used the defense that his behavior was gentlemanly and honorable, meaning that he acted within the proper code of conduct. He was acquitted by his peers.

As horrible as it sounds to our modern selves, these gentlemen took their honor very seriously, and considered death preferable to living with the label of a coward, a label that would follow them and their families for years.

And, maybe it’s me, but there a certain romance about a gentleman brave enough and protective enough to be willing to risk death defending my honor from another man who’d besmirched it.

A duel is what leads to all the trouble for my hero in my newest book "The Stranger She Married" and causes events he wishes desperately he could change, especially when the duel goes awry and causes pain to an entire family.

I'm sure glad my husband isn't likely to try it...