Music Monday: Hide Away – Period Drama Music Video

Janeaustenbooks. “Hide Away – Period Drama Music Video.” YouTube. YouTube, 19 July 2015.

CONNECTION BETWEEN MUSIC AND STORY: 

Finally Mrs. Darcy goes “live” this Wednesday.  So, that must mean I am working on something new, right?  Absolutely! I am always working on some story.

Right now, I am several thousand words into Waking to Mr. Darcy, and I am going to share the first bit of that first draft with you because it answers the question “Where do the good boys go to hideaway?”

 

EXCERPT FROM Waking to Mr. Darcy: 

“Rude! That is what my sisters are.” Bingley placed another piece of wood none too gently on the pile he and Darcy were making near the fireplace.  “They were barely civil to Mrs. Bennet and spoke not word to any of the Misses Bennet, save Miss Elizabeth.”  He gave a harsh laugh.  “And they only spoke to her when absolutely necessary and with such a superior air!”  He stomped out the door, to the wood pile, and back into the cabin.  “I have a mind to send them both off with Hurst.  Let him deal with them. Not that he would know much of what they were about since he is constantly in his cups.” 

Darcy closed the door to the small hunting cabin and shrugged out of his overcoat.  “Have you considered that their lack of civility is not fully unwarranted?” 

“Out!” Bingley pointed to the door.  “I have escaped to this cabin to be rid of such sentiments.  You may go spread your vitriol with my sisters. Caroline would be delighted.” 

Darcy winced at the thought of spending time with Caroline and grimaced a second time as he realized that his friend was comparing him to that very lady.  “Let me explain,” he began. 

“I have no desire to hear about the Bennets being of low standing.”  Bingley knelt before at the hearth applying himself to the starting of a fire.  The November evening air was cool and damp.  “Mr. Bennet is a gentleman.”  He turned his head to look at Darcy.  “A gentleman ─ born that way.” 

“He is married to trade.” 

Bingley growled something at the tinder and was then silent. 

Darcy watched him work for a moment and then satisfied that the fire was about to start, went in search of two cups and a bottle of brandy.  “How many days worth of supplies did you have them deliver?” 

“Five.” Bingley took the bottle of brandy from Darcy and doubled the amount Darcy had poured for him. “I am not certain how long it will be before I am willing to see my sisters again.”  He peered over his cup with raised brows.  “The same will be said for you if you continue with your disparagements of the Bennets.” 

“You are determined to have her?”  Darcy joined his friend in reclining in the chairs in front of the fireplace. 

“I am.”  Bingley sat with legs extended toward the fire.  “I love her.” 

“You know so little of her.  Are you sure it is not just her beauty and pleasant manners that entice you and cause you to think you are in love?”  It would not be the first time his friend had thought himself in love when in reality it was mere infatuation that faded as quickly as it sprang up. 

“I know enough.”  He leaned forward, staring intently at the flames.  “I have never been so consumed with a desire to be in anyone’s presence.” 

“That does not equate to love,” Darcy muttered.

Bingley shot him a sidelong glare.  “Allow me to finish.” 

Darcy nodded and motioned with his hand that Bingley should continue. 

“You know how you worry when a friend is ill?”

“I do.” 

“And you know how you worry when a dearly loved family member such as a sister, cousin, father, mother is ill?

“I do.”  Darcy knew that both he and Bingley, having lost both parents, were well acquainted with that sort of worry.

“You worry for a friend, but you move on with life, aiding where you can, visiting and inquiring, but never having your mind completely consumed with worry, your work never stops. However, when it is a member of your family, focus on anything but his recovery is impossible.”

“That depends on the friend or relation.” 

Bingley shrugged.  “It might, but my point is the same.  Your concern deepens proportionately to the amount of affection you have for the individual.  Would you not agree?” 

Darcy wanted to refute the argument for he knew exactly where it was headed, but he could not. What Bingley said was true.  “Very well, you care for her deeply as you would a sister.”  

Bingley laughed.  “Not like a sister. Not even if mine were as lovely as Miss Bennet.  I am  quite certain a brother’s thoughts should not run along the same line as mine have for Miss Bennet.”

Darcy chuckled.

“I love her, Darcy.” 

“It will not fade when you return to town and there is a new flock of debutantes?” 

Bingley shook his head.  “I do not even wish to return to town.” 

Darcy’s brows rose at that.  “But what of her feelings for you?  I have not noticed any particular partiality on her part towards you.” 

Bingley smiled into his drink.  “You were not very attentive while she was at Netherfield were you?” 

“I beg your pardon.  I most certainly was attentive.” 

Bingley laughed.  “To Miss Elizabeth, perhaps, but not to me or Miss Bennet.” 

Darcy scowled at Bingley.  He had been distracted by Miss Elizabeth, that much was true, but he had also watched Miss Bennet and had not seen any indication of partiality toward Bingley. 

“Did you see her face light up when I carried her tray to her room?” 

“I was not in her room.”

Bingley nodded.  “When she joined us in the evening, did you see her slip her hand into mine for a brief moment?” 

“She did no such thing,” snapped Darcy.

“I assure you she did,” said Bingley with a smile.

“Neither of those things indicate that I was inattentive.” 

“But they do prove you wrong.”  A smile of satisfaction spread across Bingley’s face as he settled back into his chair.

Darcy rolled his eyes.  Why did so many find it so delightful to prove him wrong?  He was about to say as much when a loud clap of thunder rattled the shutters and rain began falling heavily against the roof. 

“I was right about that,” muttered Darcy. 

“Large ominous clouds and a brisk breeze make prediction of a storm rather easy.” 

Darcy shrugged and lapsed into silence.  This morning, he had been considering trying to persuade his friend to return to London before the end of the month, but that seemed unlikely now.  He bit his lip. He really could not afford to remain in Hertfordshire.  First, there was the chance of meeting with George Wickham once again, and he was not certain he would be able to hold his tongue or his hands in good regulation at their next meeting.  The man was without doubt the most reprehensible of his acquaintance. He sighed softly, and then there was the danger to his heart.  He was entirely convinced that much more time spent in the delightful company of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and his heart would be completely and utterly lost.  He peeked at Bingley who was swirling his drink and smiling.  Perhaps Bingley could afford a connection such as Miss Bennet, but Darcy could not.  At least, he could not if he wished to keep peace within his family, and he prized peace. He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair.  He could return without him.  He thought on that for a moment and then said, “I will need to return to town in a fortnight, since I cannot bring Georgiana to Netherfield as planned.” 

Bingley, well aware of the way Wickham had preyed on Georgiana’s sweet spirit in an attempt to win her dowry, nodded.  “Will you return?” 

Darcy lifted one shoulder and let it drop.  “Georgiana might wish to return to Pem ─” His comment was interrupted by a loud pounding at the door. 

Bingley jumped to his feet and rushed to the door.  “What fool would be out in this weather?”  He muttered as he swung the door open.