( the pounding of his heart deafens him, but he was able to catch what mrs. wickham spat out well enough. atticus rubs his ear and his fingers curl into the palm of his hand. miss bennet's tears glisten in the dim light when he peers at her and he takes in a couple of calming breaths so he does not stand up and demand an apology from mrs. wickham. his eyes shift across the room, and the realisation comes to him at once that no one will speak in miss bennet's defence. they are all content to keep the peace under the guise of propriety when it is evident that this brings peace to no one. from what he has heard, it should not be surprising, but it's unacceptable nonetheless. fools, the lot of them. they share the blame for the humiliation mrs. wickham has brought upon miss bennet. no matter how much guilt they experience and how many tears they spill, they are just as cruel as mrs. wickham — nay, more so. because they do not have the excuse to claim witlessness as she does.
but it is not his place to say something. as much as he'd desire to stand up and call out their hypocrisy. anyways, would that help miss bennet? he worries it would only worsen her mood, and he cares more for her than for his anger. but if he cannot reveal his true feelings, what other option is there? distraction, which is what mrs. darcy chooses as she tries to engage her mother in another topic. but, although that may also pull mrs. wickham's attention, it does not dry miss bennet's tears and mend her hurt feelings. there is, however, a third option which combines the previous two.
a cold fierceness enters his gaze as he regards mrs. wickham. his voice is calm and still like the air before a tornado. ) Yet Miss Bennet performed wonderfully tonight. That should be commented upon; not one of long ago. Anyways, I believe, whether a performance is good or bad, it should be commended. For what other arena is there where one offers themselves and their soul for judgement? It should inspire us all to do better and try the same. ( his composure breaks a little as a wicked idea appears in his mind. )
In fact... ( trailing off, he stands and walks towards the pianoforte, confident in his step and expression. his violin rests atop the instrument but instead of picking that up to play, he sits down at the pianoforte. everyone watches him and holds their breath. if mr. cartwright is so talented on the violin, he must also possess some skill for the pianoforte, right?
he begins and his fingers, which are elegant on the violin, are awkward and uncertain across the ivory keys as he plays the opening chords. and then he sings, and it becomes immediately apparent that his voice is out of tune and rhythm, and will remain so for the entire song. it hardly takes any effort on his part. atticus is a violin virtuoso, but singing and the pianoforte are beyond his talents. it's a tale of two songs — the tune is the harpsichord portion of a vivaldi concerto, while the lyrics are a scottish drinking song about a man, a woman, and the sea. mrs. bennet and mrs. wickham burst into laughter when atticus pitches his off-key voice higher for the woman's verses while the others cringe. but they seem to understand his reasoning for this spectacle and tamper their grimaces during his performance.
when he finishes a blessedly two minutes later, everyone claps, most not for the music but out of gratitude for the gesture. mrs. wickham brays that it was a horrid performance and mrs. bennet vigorously nods in agreement. "much worse than mary's, good lord," mrs wickham mutters.
atticus bows and returns to his seat, still confident in his step and expression. he takes comfort in knowing that, despite what he did, he is not the greatest fool in the room. fortunately, by the time he sits back down, mrs. wickham's attentions have turned elsewhere and she and her mother are prattling on about some inane subject. the latest fashions from paris or whatever. the others have also moved on to other topics.
"that was um..." miss darcy stops and shifts in her seat, trying to think of a polite way to describe what happened. "an entertaining performance, mr. cartwright."
the corner of his mouth curls into a slight smile. ) That's very kind of you to say. Thank you. But I admit my skills on the pianoforte are lacking. Perhaps after the new year, Miss Bennet can provide some instruction. ( his smile widens when he looks at miss bennet. ) If you think me worthy of your time, that is. ( a chuckle bubbles in his words. )
no subject
but it is not his place to say something. as much as he'd desire to stand up and call out their hypocrisy. anyways, would that help miss bennet? he worries it would only worsen her mood, and he cares more for her than for his anger. but if he cannot reveal his true feelings, what other option is there? distraction, which is what mrs. darcy chooses as she tries to engage her mother in another topic. but, although that may also pull mrs. wickham's attention, it does not dry miss bennet's tears and mend her hurt feelings. there is, however, a third option which combines the previous two.
a cold fierceness enters his gaze as he regards mrs. wickham. his voice is calm and still like the air before a tornado. ) Yet Miss Bennet performed wonderfully tonight. That should be commented upon; not one of long ago. Anyways, I believe, whether a performance is good or bad, it should be commended. For what other arena is there where one offers themselves and their soul for judgement? It should inspire us all to do better and try the same. ( his composure breaks a little as a wicked idea appears in his mind. )
In fact... ( trailing off, he stands and walks towards the pianoforte, confident in his step and expression. his violin rests atop the instrument but instead of picking that up to play, he sits down at the pianoforte. everyone watches him and holds their breath. if mr. cartwright is so talented on the violin, he must also possess some skill for the pianoforte, right?
he begins and his fingers, which are elegant on the violin, are awkward and uncertain across the ivory keys as he plays the opening chords. and then he sings, and it becomes immediately apparent that his voice is out of tune and rhythm, and will remain so for the entire song. it hardly takes any effort on his part. atticus is a violin virtuoso, but singing and the pianoforte are beyond his talents. it's a tale of two songs — the tune is the harpsichord portion of a vivaldi concerto, while the lyrics are a scottish drinking song about a man, a woman, and the sea. mrs. bennet and mrs. wickham burst into laughter when atticus pitches his off-key voice higher for the woman's verses while the others cringe. but they seem to understand his reasoning for this spectacle and tamper their grimaces during his performance.
when he finishes a blessedly two minutes later, everyone claps, most not for the music but out of gratitude for the gesture. mrs. wickham brays that it was a horrid performance and mrs. bennet vigorously nods in agreement. "much worse than mary's, good lord," mrs wickham mutters.
atticus bows and returns to his seat, still confident in his step and expression. he takes comfort in knowing that, despite what he did, he is not the greatest fool in the room. fortunately, by the time he sits back down, mrs. wickham's attentions have turned elsewhere and she and her mother are prattling on about some inane subject. the latest fashions from paris or whatever. the others have also moved on to other topics.
"that was um..." miss darcy stops and shifts in her seat, trying to think of a polite way to describe what happened. "an entertaining performance, mr. cartwright."
the corner of his mouth curls into a slight smile. ) That's very kind of you to say. Thank you. But I admit my skills on the pianoforte are lacking. Perhaps after the new year, Miss Bennet can provide some instruction. ( his smile widens when he looks at miss bennet. ) If you think me worthy of your time, that is. ( a chuckle bubbles in his words. )