Going back to Handel for this Tuesday Tunes, though there is a reason I’d use this particular composer again. In 1738, Handel resented the opera Serse (Xerxes, based on the Persian king–the name is the Italian form) in London. The opera was, unfortunately for Handel, a failure, lasting only five performances, for various reasons we won’t go into now. After a revival in the 1920s, the opera rose to prominence and is now Handel’s most well-known.

The opening aria from the opera is titled Ombra Mai Fu, which translated means “Never was a Shade,” sung as Xerxes is admiring a plane tree. It is also known as Handel’s famous Largo, despite the music being labeled Larghetto. (For those who are interested, Largo means “a very slow tempo” while Larghetto is slightly faster than largo.) The music is one of Handel’s most famous pieces and has been arranged for organ, orchestra, and even used with different words in hymns, though originally it was sung by a countertenor, or a man with the vocal range of an alto. I love this piece, being one I have listened to since I was a kid.

Where this has a bearing on today’s post is from one of the versions of Pride and Prejudice, specifically the 1995 A&E version. At the ball at Netherfield Park, when Mary delights(sarc) the company with her brilliant talents, this is the first song she mangles. I’ve included a video of it below, along with a couple of videos of the music, an orchestral piece for those who don’t appreciate opera (I can take it in limited doses and composers) and an operatic version. Unfortunately, the poster of the first video has not allowed it to be played on other sites, so you’ll need to go to YouTube to see it.

Finally, tomorrow is release day, with my next release Something More Substantial set to hit Amazon, Amazon Kindle, and Audiobook. Check out the Facebook page tomorrow for the link to the formats! Please see below for the description and an excerpt.

https://youtu.be/eOMZngHTdSY

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In Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth Bennet meets Fitzwilliam Darcy in Meryton, where Mr. Darcy’s concern for his sister and general reticence leads him to insult her. But what if Mr. Darcy did not meet her there, instead making her acquaintance in other circumstances more favorable to their understanding?

When she visits Rosings Park and her friend, Charlotte Collins, Elizabeth does so with no notion that Fitzwilliam Darcy even exists, for Netherfield Park remained empty the previous autumn. As is his custom, Mr. Darcy comes to Rosings in his cousin’s company, and there he meets a young lady unlike any he has ever met.

Rosings itself is not a place where he can conduct any sort of campaign to win the fair maiden’s heart, for his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is watchful and determined Darcy will marry her daughter. Despite this interference, Darcy eventually leaves Kent, secure in the knowledge that Miss Elizabeth is a woman he would like to come to know better. The question he is unable to answer is when he can meet her again, for their positions in society are oceans apart, and there is little opportunity for chance meetings.

But fate has other plans, for not only do they meet again, but they also encounter each other in a place that allows their love to blossom. Only the small matters of his family expectations and her condition in life stand in his way. Yet Darcy is determined to pursue Miss Elizabeth, certain in the knowledge she will make him the happiest of men.

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“Mr. Darcy! Colonel Fitzwilliam! Welcome to my humble abode.”

The depth of his obeisance matched the excited tone of Mr. Collins’s greeting, setting Elizabeth’s highly honed sense of the absurd afire with amusement. This was what she had spared herself when she had rejected his proposal; never had the rightness of her decision hit her with such power, as the nattering parson lavished praise and servility on the visitors in equal parts, each statement sillier than the last. What good fortune was hers that she was spared the embarrassment of being the wife of the ridiculous man!

A glance at Charlotte informed her that her dear friend watched the proceedings, no hint of mortification evident, though Elizabeth knew it must be present. It affirmed her observation that Charlotte, ever practical, wisely did not hear her husband’s more effusive comments, a necessary skill when dealing with Mr. Collins. Charlotte had chosen her situation with her eyes wide open, and she did not appear unhappy, so Elizabeth pushed the matter to the side and focused on the two visiting gentlemen.

The first man, she noted, was tall and broad-shouldered, his head covered with wavy brown hair. He was not, she noted, the most handsome man she had ever seen, but a gleam of good humor in his eyes and the smile that graced his lips enhanced his visage. Instinctively, Elizabeth knew he was a cheerful man, a man with whom conversation would never be dull.

By contrast, his cousin endured Mr. Collins’s greetings behind a countenance, not quite a frown, but not a smile either. He was perhaps an inch or two shorter than his companion, his frame more slender, but still strong and upright, his hair straighter and a shade darker. What struck Elizabeth about the gentleman was the gleam of intelligence that shone from his very person, how his eyes appeared to catch everything in the room at a glance, taking it in for later contemplation. Elizabeth was certain that little escaped this man’s attention.

“Thank you, Mr. Collins,” said the taller man, interrupting the parson when it appeared he would go on forever, “for your enthusiastic welcome. Perhaps we could ask for your indulgence and request an introduction to your family?”

“Why, of course!” exclaimed the parson. “How silly of me to have forgotten that you are not yet acquainted with them. Charlotte, Elizabeth, Maria, if you will step closer, I shall attend to it directly.”

Elizabeth caught the exact moment when the taller man’s eyes caught those of his companion, and she understood the understated hint of a smile that appeared on his face. Both men already comprehended the manner of man Mr. Collins was, and the first, at least, was amused by it. What the latter thought Elizabeth could not say, for he was inscrutable.

“If you will allow me,” said Mr. Collins, as if the gentleman had not just requested the introduction, “this is my wife, Charlotte Collins, her sister, Miss Maria Lucas, and her dear friend, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. They are all from Hertfordshire, where Miss Elizabeth also has the distinction of being my cousin’s daughter.”

As the ladies curtseyed, Mr. Collins turned an extravagant gesture on the gentlemen and said: “Ladies, I present to you Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy, Lady Catherine’s nephews and visitors to Rosings Park.”

Mr. Collins indicated each in turn with a gesture, and Elizabeth was surprised that the taller, more open gentleman was the colonel, while the other was Mr. Darcy. She might have assumed that the son of an earl might be more reserved among new acquaintances for the simple fact of his position. Or at least until he took their measure and learned whether they would pursue him for his position in society.

“Miss Bennet, Miss Lucas, Mrs. Collins,” said the colonel, bowing to them. “It is a distinct pleasure to make your acquaintance, for you cannot know how much of a relief it is to find sensible company at the parsonage.”

Elizabeth thought this a curious statement, and even more when Mr. Darcy cleared his throat, though softly enough that it made her wonder if she heard it. Colonel Fitzwilliam, however, was of an irrepressible temperament, sitting with them and conversing as if he wished for nothing more. Within moments, lively conversation filled the parsonage, flowing far more easily than Elizabeth might have considered possible.

“What part of Hertfordshire do you call home?” asked the colonel after they had exchanged pleasantries for a few moments.

“Near a little town called Meryton,” replied Elizabeth.

She thought to continue, to inform him of its location, but Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke first, saying: “Ah, is that not south and west of Stevenage?”

“It is,” said Elizabeth. “I am surprised you know of it, sir, for it is of little consequence, except to those who live nearby.”

“Yes, I suppose it must be,” replied the colonel. “I have not visited, you understand, but being a colonel, I am somewhat familiar with the communities that ring London.”

“But you are not in the militia,” replied Elizabeth. “Or do you take an interest in the defense of the homeland?”

The colonel chuckled and shook his head. “No, I leave that to our excellent militia companies. But only a fool does not familiarize himself with terrain that may become the site of a battle.”

Elizabeth looked at him with feigned shock. “Do you suppose the tyrant will cross the channel and bring war to our doorstep?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head, amused by their conversation. “No, I do not suppose it, Miss Bennet, for the channel is a significant obstacle to his mad desire for power. But given the way his armies have swept all before them, we would be foolish if we did not at least consider the possibility.”

“Perhaps it would be best to avoid such topics,” said Mr. Collins, his look in Elizabeth’s direction slightly censorious. “Such conversation is not for gentle ladies, and you should ‘remember how tender a thing a woman’s reputation is, how hard to preserve and when lost, how impossible to recover . . .’”

“On the contrary,” said Mr. Darcy into the silence that met the parson’s outrageous statement, “it is the mark of an intelligent woman to understand the world in which she lives. I commend you, Miss Bennet, for speaking on such subjects, for it shows a curiosity about the world which cannot go amiss.”

While Elizabeth had been considering some stinging retort to the parson’s quote—she had listened to Mary enough to recognize Fordyce when she heard it—Mr. Darcy’s response took the air out of her sails. Mr. Collins appeared shocked Mr. Darcy would support her, but he only nodded his head, unwilling to contradict her ladyship’s nephew.

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “In fact, I was simply asking Colonel Fitzwilliam’s opinion on the subject, since we strayed to it.”

“But you clearly understand it,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. “But I believe your cousin is correct—such weighty subjects are for those who are better acquainted. For now, I believe I would prefer to know you better. Can you tell me something about your home?”

With that, the conversation turned lighter, Elizabeth, with Charlotte and Maria’s help, speaking something of their home and a little of their families. The colonel responded with brief mentions of his army service, the Fitzwilliam family home in Derbyshire, and other such topics. The most surprising of all—or perhaps it was not so surprising, given what she had seen of the gentleman when he came in—was the degree of Mr. Darcy’s participation. Or rather, that he allowed Colonel Fitzwilliam to carry the conversation, only interjecting a few comments at odd moments.