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Description
The Antagonist ~ Based on the Novel "Sense and Sensibility" by Jane Austen

Finding an Antagonist, in the way I perceive an antagonist to be, as more of a villain in nature than merely roughish, leaves me with the only one I could locate in the story so far, which would be Mr. John Willoughby, the alleged "suitor" of Miss Marianne Dashwood.

Considering the facts, that he was less than truthful with Marianne, was incredibly cruel in his letter to her after the party in which he attended with his fiancé, his concern more for his pocketbook rather than his innermost feelings, leads me to perceive him to be one less-than-admirable character in my book.

The Story:

Background Scene: Willoughby has just returned home from the party where he disastrously confronted The Miss Dashwoods and offended their very delicacy.

Willoughby slowly entered the suite of his bedroom. Facing the room, he pulled the heavy-laden, intricately-detailed double-doors closed behind him. His head tilted slightly forward and his eyes seemed focused on the elaborate, darkly-colored carpet. In all actuality, he wasn't seeing anything at all but replaying the scene from earlier in the evening through his befuddled mind.

Mr. John Willoughby was a man about town. Dashing and adventurous, he wooed women and desired their delicate natures until he managed to break down their very virtue. Before those women realized what was happening to their emotions, they had become entranced by his demeanor, good looks and daring nature. By that time, however, Mr. Willoughby was no longer interested.

Mr. Willoughby let go of the door handles and allowed his arms to slowly return down to his sides. He did not move. His thoughts were still at the party.

The party hall was filled to capacity. A fire roared close by and was not really needed, let alone desired by many of the patrons. The tables were full of game players who delicately wiped their brows with hand-embroidered handerchiefs. Drinks that were not quite refreshing were being served. The room was hot, unbearably so and Willoughby had tried not to show his discomfort in his best dress clothes. He had been chatting with Miss Grey when he heard the announcement of The Miss Dashwoods, Elinor and Marianne. He tried not to respond to the names but the flicker of recognition was surely reflected in the quickening of his eyelids and the twitch of his nose. His body betrayed him when he felt his pulse quicken and the sweat trickle from his forehead down his sideburns and into his properly-starched collar.

He did his best to concentrate on the conversation at hand but taking advantage of the quickest side glance he managed to make direct eye contact with Miss Elinor Dashwood, the sister of the young, very pretty and vivacious woman of Barton Cottage. He knew of their arrival in London from a brief note from Marianne after she arrived in London with her sister, Elinor and Mrs. Jennings, then made a brief attempt several days later to welcome them but deliberately waited until they had left for an excursion before making his presence known. He thought he was most crafty in doing so, but now he was beginning to regret it. If he had confronted Marianne alone, in the guest apartment of the winter home of Mrs. Jennings, he may have avoided this trying confrontation all together.

Willoughby brought himself back to the present. He strode over to the writing desk determined to write a conciliatory note to Miss Marianne explaining she must have somehow misunderstood his intentions. He thought himself ingenious for coming up with a way to defer blame from himself for the uncomfortable situation. His life was his own, after all and he needn't be compliant to anyone.

Willoughby flipped up his coattails and sat in the velvet-covered chair and pulled himself up to the desk. A light flickered at the corner creating a dank shadow across the parchment making it difficult for him to see properly. He pulled the lantern closer, dipped his pen in the ink bottle and rested his chin on his right fist as he thought how to begin the letter.

His face lightened and he wrote in a flourish. He was honored by knowing the family. He thought about the times with delight. Marianne misunderstood his intentions..... silly girl.... what could she have been thinking?

What indeed. Willoughby sat the pen down. He read over the note. His heart sank just a little bit. His head felt heavy. He was incredibly tired. He put his elbows on the desk thinking of admonitions of not doing so as a young lad. He placed his head squarely on his opened hands. What had he done. Oh, what had he done. After what seemed like hours, he lifted his head. He could hear Marianne's laughter, visualize her beautiful smile, smell her perfumed hair. She was gone from him forever. He stood up and folded the letter. He nodded to himself. He'll send it post first thing in the morning. After all it was her fault for having the audacity to show up in London the first place.

Description
The Antagonist ~ Based on the Novel "Sense and Sensibility" by Jane Austen

Finding an Antagonist, in the way I perceive an antagonist to be, as more of a villain in nature than merely roughish, leaves me with the only one I could locate in the story so far, which would be Mr. John Willoughby, the alleged "suitor" of Miss Marianne Dashwood.

Considering the facts, that he was less than truthful with Marianne, was incredibly cruel in his letter to her after the party in which he attended with his fiancé, his concern more for his pocketbook rather than his innermost feelings, leads me to perceive him to be one less-than-admirable character in my book.

The Story:

Background Scene: Willoughby has just returned home from the party where he disastrously confronted The Miss Dashwoods and offended their very delicacy.

Willoughby slowly entered the suite of his bedroom. Facing the room, he pulled the heavy-laden, intricately-detailed double-doors closed behind him. His head tilted slightly forward and his eyes seemed focused on the elaborate, darkly-colored carpet. In all actuality, he wasn't seeing anything at all but replaying the scene from earlier in the evening through his befuddled mind.

Mr. John Willoughby was a man about town. Dashing and adventurous, he wooed women and desired their delicate natures until he managed to break down their very virtue. Before those women realized what was happening to their emotions, they had become entranced by his demeanor, good looks and daring nature. By that time, however, Mr. Willoughby was no longer interested.

Mr. Willoughby let go of the door handles and allowed his arms to slowly return down to his sides. He did not move. His thoughts were still at the party.

The party hall was filled to capacity. A fire roared close by and was not really needed, let alone desired by many of the patrons. The tables were full of game players who delicately wiped their brows with hand-embroidered handerchiefs. Drinks that were not quite refreshing were being served. The room was hot, unbearably so and Willoughby had tried not to show his discomfort in his best dress clothes. He had been chatting with Miss Grey when he heard the announcement of The Miss Dashwoods, Elinor and Marianne. He tried not to respond to the names but the flicker of recognition was surely reflected in the quickening of his eyelids and the twitch of his nose. His body betrayed him when he felt his pulse quicken and the sweat trickle from his forehead down his sideburns and into his properly-starched collar.

He did his best to concentrate on the conversation at hand but taking advantage of the quickest side glance he managed to make direct eye contact with Miss Elinor Dashwood, the sister of the young, very pretty and vivacious woman of Barton Cottage. He knew of their arrival in London from a brief note from Marianne after she arrived in London with her sister, Elinor and Mrs. Jennings, then made a brief attempt several days later to welcome them but deliberately waited until they had left for an excursion before making his presence known. He thought he was most crafty in doing so, but now he was beginning to regret it. If he had confronted Marianne alone, in the guest apartment of the winter home of Mrs. Jennings, he may have avoided this trying confrontation all together.

Willoughby brought himself back to the present. He strode over to the writing desk determined to write a conciliatory note to Miss Marianne explaining she must have somehow misunderstood his intentions. He thought himself ingenious for coming up with a way to defer blame from himself for the uncomfortable situation. His life was his own, after all and he needn't be compliant to anyone.

Willoughby flipped up his coattails and sat in the velvet-covered chair and pulled himself up to the desk. A light flickered at the corner creating a dank shadow across the parchment making it difficult for him to see properly. He pulled the lantern closer, dipped his pen in the ink bottle and rested his chin on his right fist as he thought how to begin the letter.

His face lightened and he wrote in a flourish. He was honored by knowing the family. He thought about the times with delight. Marianne misunderstood his intentions..... silly girl.... what could she have been thinking?

What indeed. Willoughby sat the pen down. He read over the note. His heart sank just a little bit. His head felt heavy. He was incredibly tired. He put his elbows on the desk thinking of admonitions of not doing so as a young lad. He placed his head squarely on his opened hands. What had he done. Oh, what had he done. After what seemed like hours, he lifted his head. He could hear Marianne's laughter, visualize her beautiful smile, smell her perfumed hair. She was gone from him forever. He stood up and folded the letter. He nodded to himself. He'll send it post first thing in the morning. After all it was her fault for having the audacity to show up in London the first place.