It must’ve been so easy to avoid an awkward crush in the 19th century. They’re talking to you at the garden party…lots. They avoid the games room and keep joining you in the library. You excuse yourself, they come and find you again. Take the hint, Mr. Darcy-but-he’s-actually-just-a-jerk-and-not-a-hottie!

Take heart you Austen-y, Brontë-esque heroine: once his visit is over, you won’t see that loser for months. And when next you meet, oops! You’ve got the vapours and have to convalesce at a seaside town.