( his eyes, shining with amusement like dewy grass in the early morning, catch miss bennet's brown eyes, flat and likely unamused with his scheme. but she will forgive him soon enough now that she is away from her sister's whinging. all of what has flowed from mrs. wickham's mouth is either bluster or a lament. her ability to maintain confidence despite her circumstances and lack of support is impressive.
meanwhile, miss darcy's skills at the pianoforte are truly impressive. the way she can easily play through mozart's piano sonata no. 16 is remarkable. it would not take much effort on her part to amaze a theatre full of people. that would be if she became determined to engage in the pianoforte as a profession, but atticus doubts that she would. for all her sense and grace, miss darcy lacks the defining trait needed for the world outside her sphere: independence. by that, meaning the self-sufficiency to build oneself up and the apathy to ignore opinions designed to tear one down. in many ways, miss darcy is still a girl — even now, her gaze flits from atticus's to her brother's as if she's seeking assurance or praise. it is a thought he never wanted to waste time entertaining, much less now when he should be enjoying and assessing her performance.
less than ten minutes later, miss darcy finishes the piece without any obvious errors and mrs. wickham finishes her grievance without any substance. when the room claps, they clap for miss darcy, not for mrs. wickham. and lest he forget miss bennet's skills at turning the page at the right moment. she performed her part well.
"you played very well, miss darcy. although the piece was a bit dry for my taste," mrs. wickham says, full of the gaucheness that so defines her. miss darcy forces a smile as she murmurs appreciation for the compliment and moves to rejoin atticus on the sofa. mr. darcy, who relaxed during his sister's performance, grounds his jaw while his wife grimaces. either from habit or willfully, the others appear to ignore mrs. wickham and converse amongst themselves.
atticus glances at mrs. wickham and shoots her a question intended to make her look foolish. not that she needs the help ) Do you play, Mrs. Wickham?
( she looks at him, smiling. "lord no. i have neither the temper or desire for it.")
no subject
meanwhile, miss darcy's skills at the pianoforte are truly impressive. the way she can easily play through mozart's piano sonata no. 16 is remarkable. it would not take much effort on her part to amaze a theatre full of people. that would be if she became determined to engage in the pianoforte as a profession, but atticus doubts that she would. for all her sense and grace, miss darcy lacks the defining trait needed for the world outside her sphere: independence. by that, meaning the self-sufficiency to build oneself up and the apathy to ignore opinions designed to tear one down. in many ways, miss darcy is still a girl — even now, her gaze flits from atticus's to her brother's as if she's seeking assurance or praise. it is a thought he never wanted to waste time entertaining, much less now when he should be enjoying and assessing her performance.
less than ten minutes later, miss darcy finishes the piece without any obvious errors and mrs. wickham finishes her grievance without any substance. when the room claps, they clap for miss darcy, not for mrs. wickham. and lest he forget miss bennet's skills at turning the page at the right moment. she performed her part well.
"you played very well, miss darcy. although the piece was a bit dry for my taste," mrs. wickham says, full of the gaucheness that so defines her. miss darcy forces a smile as she murmurs appreciation for the compliment and moves to rejoin atticus on the sofa. mr. darcy, who relaxed during his sister's performance, grounds his jaw while his wife grimaces. either from habit or willfully, the others appear to ignore mrs. wickham and converse amongst themselves.
atticus glances at mrs. wickham and shoots her a question intended to make her look foolish. not that she needs the help ) Do you play, Mrs. Wickham?
( she looks at him, smiling. "lord no. i have neither the temper or desire for it." )
Yes ( he agrees, nodding absentmindedly. )