HAYAT → pride and prejudice

00 | The Rich Mr. Bingley

               SWIRLS OF STEAM rose from the warm tea, scents of the peppermint wafting through the room. Sounds of paintbrushes clanging against the vessel they were being washed in filled the silence in the room. Hands splattered with paint curled around the tea mug, staining the China so beautifully. Framed canvases were spread across the room, the painter sipping his tea in satisfaction. 

               AUGUST DARCY adored art. It wasn't a known fact, mostly because he wanted to keep it to himself. The intricate strokes of lead, the colorful blotches of paint, the finished piece staring back at him: it felt like home. Home was his safe place, and he would be damned if he shared it with anyone but the one he was supposed to spend his entire life; if he chooses the one willingly, that is. If he was to be arranged to marry someone else because of his aunt, he was sure he would lose his passion entirely. 

               HE WAS AN IDEAL LAD: average height, acceptable manners, charming smiles, conversation skills. Suitors often came and went, not getting a 'yes' from the boy. Lady Catherine was all pride when it came to talking about his nephew's qualities: give her hours, days, and she still won't stop. The only trait she despised about August was that he wouldn't marry: no matter how many girls offered.

               ARRANGED MARRIAGE was a curse he didn't want to inflict upon himself, or the poor lady who was sought out to start a life with him. He had seen how miserable his older brother seemed to be with Caroline Bingley (though, if he were honest, anyone could be miserable with her with how controlling she was). It wasn't like he was spared, however. He was already arranged to marry a woman he didn't know the name of the moment they were born. 

               DARTING HIS WARM EYES around the room, he decided that it was enough for the day. Placing the now half empty mug on his bedside table, he got up to wash his hands off before washing his brushes again with clean water. Next, he splattered water on his face, feeling the cool hit his flushed cheeks from the warm air in his room. 

               TO THE RESIDENTS OF THE MANSION, it would seem simply another day. It wasn't like many people lived in the house: only the three maids, two servants, his little sister and his older brother. Each day began with him painting for a few hours, sketching for a few more — while being drunk on tea —and finally, he would take a shower and bid a good day to his family: well, his sister. His brother was long gone each morning, meeting up with Bingley. The only thing that could distinguish this day from any other was the eerie silence: each morning, Georgiana Darcy would play different pieces on the piano, filling the silence with calming, classic music. 

               IT WASN'T ANY OTHER DAY, for both the brothers were to leave for Netherfield Park, and neither of them were happy with the idea of leaving their sister behind. Georgiana had insisted that she didn't want to be a burden on her already 'busy' brothers, and that she would stay with Aunt Catherine, but August was aware that she secretly wanted to meet with one of the Colonels' who was stationed for their aunt's safety.