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. 

               PROCRASTINATION AND ART took bigger place in his heart, and thus, he had to pack up everything last minute. By everything, he meant he had to pack up three fancy suits and some pants and shirts for everyday. It wasn't like he had to choose anything, since almost all his cloths were tailored to look the same. 

               THREE KNOCKS SOUNDED on his bedroom door, and soon, his sister's sweet voice called: "August, are you awake?"

                A 'YES, GEORGIE' was spoken in reply, and soon, Georgiana pushed the white door open, walking in with a grin on her pink lips. 

               "ARE you excited?" she laid on August's bed.

               "WHAT for, Georgie?" chuckled the boy. 

               "YOU'RE going to the countryside!" Georgiana exclaimed. "You know I've always wanted to go there—" 

               "THEN come along."

               "—AND so have you!" the little girl sat up, clapping her hands. To most, she seemed shy, but when with her brothers, she was an energetic soul: hard to control. The same could be said for Fitzwilliam, on most occasions. 

               "WHEN in heaven's name did I ever say that?" 

               "OH, do stop being so formal." Georgiana pushed August's chest. "You might meet some pretty lady, you know. Maybe you can elope and never come back." 

               "NEVER going to happen." August grinned sadly, shaking his head. "Aunt Catherine would have my head on a spike." 

               "WHO says we have to tell her?" she grinned back. When August gave her no response but a dead stare, she pouted: "Oh, come on! Get your. . .'romantic' soul out, will you?" 

               "SIR?" a knock sounded on the door, the voice of sweet lady Debby sounding through the room. 

                "YES, Debby?" 

               "MR. Darcy wants you to be ready in 30 minutes, sir. The carriage leaves in an hour and he wants you to have breakfast before you leave." 

               "ALRIGHT, Debby." 

               FOOTSTEPS WALKED away, and August shut his bag after placing the last shirt in: "No time for discussing, eh Georgie? Go, I have to take a bath."

*

               THE SWEET SCENT of petrichor was addictive, drawing the young lady in, like bees attracted to nectar, or a songbird attracted to trees. The chirping of birds felt like music to her ears, her petticoat sinking in the mud as she pranced around in a flower field. Her smile shone with giddiness, her brown hair turning a black from the water. Her boots were soaked from dirty water as she jumped from puddle to puddle, her dress clinging to her body. Luckily, her red dress looked brown, and not transparent. 

               CATALINA BENNET loved the rain. The aftermath of a storm attracted her rather than pushing her away, the smells and sounds making her drunk on happiness. The sky enveloped in clouds was her favourite sight, the rain clinging to her windows her favourite scene. 

               HER BLUE EYES matched the thunderous sky, her dark hair: the fresh ground. The songs sung by the universe in the rain were her favourite, the laughter of Mother Nature's pelting water were wonderous. 

               "CATALINA MARIANNA BENENET!" screamed her mother from their house. "Get inside the house, now."

               DECIDING SHE'D HAD enough fun for the while, she obliged, a surprise towards Mrs. Bennet's poor nerves. 

               "TAKE a bath," commanded Mrs. Bennet, "then come downstairs for supper." 

               "YES, captain," Catalina saluted her mother, giggling when she received a painless slap on the back. 

                "NOW, Caty," Mrs. Bennet repeated, and the young girl skipped up the stairs, leaving a trail of water and mud behind. 

               PLAYING IN HER FAMILY'S FIELDS, though she was the one who planted the flowers, took care of them, and watched them grow like her own children, was her dearest activity. Her sisters often reprimanded her for it, but she could guess the Elizabeth and Jane wanted to do the same.  

               WET, TANGLED HAIR, sparkling blue eyes, and a long, warm bath later, Catalina skipped down the stairs once again.

               "MY DEAR Mr. Bennet, have you heard?" she heard her mother shriek. "Netherfield Park is let at last."

                MR. BENNET replied that he had not. 

               "BUT IT is," returned her mother, "Mrs. Long has just been there, and she told me all about it." 

               HER FATHER made no answer.

               "DO YOU not want to know who has taken it?" cried Mrs. Bennet impatiently. 

               "YOU WANT to tell me, and I have no objection in hearing it."

               THAT SEEMED to be invitation enough for Mrs. Bennet to rant on, and for her younger daughters to listen in to their conversation. 

               "KITTY, LYDIA," she heard Elizabeth hiss. "Kitty, what have I told you about listening at the door." 

               FINALLY PUTTING a stop to listening from the stairs, Catalina hopped down, leaning beside her sisters. Watching from the crack between the doors, she saw that her mother looked on the verge of a heart attack, and her father seemed to be passive about everything she spoke. 

               "THERE'S A Mr. Bingley arrived from the north!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. 

               "FIVE thousand a year!" Lydia spoke in a hushed exclamation. 

               "AND he's single!" continued Kitty. 

              "WHO'S single?" Jane came over behind her sisters, placing her arm around Catalina and Elizabeth's shoulders. 

               "A Mr. Bingley, apparently." replied Elizabeth, getting shushed by her sisters immediately. She let out a little giggle, shaking her head at herself. 

              "HOW can that possibly affect them?" oblivious to his daughters, Mr. Bennet questioned. 

               "MR. Bennet, how can you so tiresome?" sighed his wife in exasperation. "You know he must marry one of them!" 

               "THAT is his design in settling here?" 

               ELIZABETH and Catalina let out a little giggle. 

               THE DOOR swung open soon, revealing a very calm Mr. Bennet: "Good heavens, people!" 

               NORMALLY, MRS. BENNET would usually be furious at her daughters' curiosity and lack of manners, but at the current situation, she couldn't care less. She wanted to convince her husband to talk to Mr. Bingley. 

               "FOR we may not visit, if you do not, as you well know, Mr. Bennet." Mrs. Bennet rushed after her husband, into the living room. 

               "ARE you listening?!" cried the wife again. "You never listen!" 

               "YOU must, papa!" Lydia exclaimed, throwing herself against a wall dramatically. 

               "AT once!" continued Kitty, repeating her little sister's actions. 

               "THERE'S no need," Mr. Bennet replied calmly, "I already have." 

               "YOU have?" the mother shrieked. 

               "WHEN?" questioned Lydia. 

               MEANWHILE, CATALINA had herself on the couch, snug against Elizabeth as they laughed at their family's silliness. 

               "OH, MR. Bennet, how can you tease me so!" Mrs. Bennet kissed her husband. "Have you no compassion for my poor nerves?"

               "YOU MISTAKE ME, my dear." Mr. Bennet flipped his book open. "I have the highest respect for them. They've been my constant companion these twenty years." 

               HIS STATEMENT fell upon deaf ears, for the women in his family were already making a ruckus: 

               "IS he amiable?"

               "WHO?"  questioned the father, before realizing they were still on the topic of rich Mr. Bingley.

               "IS he handsome?" 

               "HE'S sure to be." 

               "WITH 5,000 a year, it would not matter if he had warts!"

               "WHO'S got warts?" 

               "I WILL consent upon marrying which ever girl he wishes."

               "SO will he come to the ball," Catalina finally spoke. "The ball tomorrow?" 

               "I believe so." replied Mr. Bennet. 

               AND SO, chaos erupted once again, Catalina Bennet left laughing at the circus that her family was. 

NISH SPEAKS!
hi ig
i got my report card yesterday and i did better than expected ngl