It’s become a bit of a tradition for me to spend New Year’s Eve with a bottle of wine and yet another screening of Pride and Prejudice. The result is an emotional cocktail blended with varying ratios of romantic hopefulness and hand-wringing melancholy. So much self-reflection, so little time. Eh, who am I kidding? I’ve got all night.

Often, the fretting takes the shape of wondering if I’m a Charlotte after all, who should stop pining for a Darcy already and settle for a stable if uninspired ...