Post by Mr Nicholas Goulding on May 25, 2013 4:59:53 GMT -5
MR. NICHOLAS GOULDING
FULL NAME AND TITLE: Mr. Nicholas Hammond Goulding
GOES BY: ... Mr Nicholas Goulding (by almost everyone). Goulding by his one and only friend.
AGE: 27
CLASS: Gentry (Middle)
OCCUPATION: Gentleman
POSITION IN FAMILY: Head of the family
FINANCES: £2000/Year
FACE CLAIM: Jack Davenport
EYE COLOR: Green
HAIR COLOR: Brown
HEIGHT AND BUILD: 6’, lean but athletic
DESCRIPTION: Nicholas is tall and walks proudly, though he leans purposefully into his stride. This may give him the appearance of being in a very great hurry, which, of course, he is. He dresses with the proper accoutrements for a man of his lifestyle and situation, though he tends towards drab colours which match the dourness of his disposition. When speaking with people his body language ranges from the clasped hands behind his back in a show of his bored indifference, to the briskness of his typical cold shoulder.
Physically, he is a rather pleasant-looking sort of fellow. He has an open countenance that could be called handsome were it not set in a scowl with some degree of permanence; his green eyes are clear and intelligent, and often express their judgement of the world in general. A straight-bridged nose is the legacy from his father’s family, while a wide smile (so rarely seen that it is something of a myth in Meryton) is the remnant of his mother’s.
PERSONALITY: Nicholas is that person in the neighbourhood no one wishes to socialise with but whom they cannot afford to slight. He delights in indulging himself in his own brand of erratic antisocialism, and is just as likely to mortify by accepting invitations with the intent of ruining a party as he is to decline and remain at home. Though he would never admit it to a soul he is a lonely man, who finds solace in being around other people even though he cannot summon the strength to recommend himself. He is serious in almost every particular, to the point where he will blatantly refuse to smile – even in politeness – at the attempted wit of others unless he finds something truly amusing (though it must be said that his humour may not be to everyone else’s liking!).
Once he forms an opinion of something he is rarely dissuaded from it, and even when he finds himself to be in the wrong he will cleave to his own conclusion as a matter of principle. The concept of apologising is foreign to him; he much prefers to blame others if they are offended by him for being ‘unnecessarily sensitive’. In a rather poetic twist of irony, he himself is very easily offended and his hot temper will see him incensed at the slightest provocation, while his pride ensures that his grudges suckle, leech-like, upon his resolve to maintain them. Claiming that the ‘fickleness of unguarded emotion is for weak characters in bad novels’, he wishes very much to portray himself as a man of high standing as his father was before him.
He does not like change, and will dig his heels in at every chance in an attempt to suppress it and keep things just as he likes them. Nicholas believes very firmly in ‘things’ (including people) each having their part to play in society and not seeking to rise above their destinies, which others may see as narrow-mindedness but which he maintains is ‘traditionalism’ and a ‘regard for the proper way of things’. Despite his blustering abruptness, however, there is a softer side to Nicholas that many may never see (if he has it his way). He is, at heart, a man who feels for the sad situation of his young cousin and though he complains about the hardship of being ‘lumped with her’ constantly, he is pleased that he can in some way lessen her suffering.
RESIDENCE: Haye Park, Hertfordshire
FAMILY MEMBERS:
Miss Felicity Cadwallader (20, Cousin)
HISTORY: Having lost his mother due to illness when he was quite young, growing up under the hard-nosed criticism of his father had much to do with forming the way Nicholas would tackle the world later in life. Little Nicholas idolised the parent he was left with, not realising that his father was despised by the good people of Meryton on account of his ruthless disregard for the welfare of others. Raised largely by his nanny (who was a hard woman hired by a hard man), Nicholas was taught to value money, learn how to manage an estate and to live like a gentleman – where it counted.
He was sent away for an education to Winchester College, and absorbed as much from his school masters as he could. A clever boy with a ready – if cutting – wit, he did very well with his lessons but showed little patience for topics which he felt were frivolous, such as French. He enjoyed debating and took to it with aplomb, displaying his argumentativeness from a young age. When he had completed his education he returned to Meryton which, at the time, did not seem so very bad a thing until he realised that everyone he had left behind in Meryton were still there. The mundane trivialities of their lives, the town gossip and the littleness in between grated on his nerves in the most profound manner, and he had been considering what options he could take when his father died.
If the indignity of losing the only person he had ever respected to dabblings at ‘Houses of Ill Repute’ was a hardship to bear, the shock that his father’s will required him to forever reside at Haye Park was the nail in the coffin. Learning that if he wished to remain wealthy enough to live his own life but that such a life was now cobbled to a sleepy town with insufferably nosy neighbours was enough to make Nicholas withdraw considerably. He had little to do with the people he had been forced to live amongst, and to this day only sallies forth when he chooses to make himself as disagreeable as possible.
The arrival of his young cousin is more radical change that he cannot abide; though his deep-seated compassion for her compels him to be her saviour he cannot bear her unnatural good-naturedness. He finds the addition of her to Haye Park the most unfortunate kind of accident, and every kind word about her he receives from the people of Meryton only makes him scowl with more pronounced disapproval.
YOUR NAME: Dash
YOUR AGE: Old enough
YOUR RP EXPERIENCE: 10+ years
YOUR SAMPLE:
Nicholas would forever be at a loss as to why the people of Meryton were so fond of assemblies. There was only one place where a public assembly could be formed in their little town, and it was a shabby little place with no air and little charm. Though these would have been marks against it enough, once all the local folk were crammed into it, it was made insupportable by the influx of strangers that seemed to think it their right to infringe on Meryton for an evening. Had they no consciences? Were they not aware that their presence in Meryton only lead the silly to become sillier, the vain to ratchet up their vanity and his temper to flare? He conceded -- as he stood apart and glowered at the lot of them from the least-crowded corner he could find -- that they were each of them selfish beyond reason and thus were hardly worth his consideration at all.
Perhaps the only saving grace of this gathering was the wine that was readily available. A drunkard by no means, Nicholas could appreciate the relaxing qualities that a very little wine could infuse. He held his glass delicately, in the manner of a man who would still be holding it thus some hours later, and found himself contemplating the quality of the musicians assembled for their entertainment. Country roustabouts, the lot of them, with their inferior fiddles and windswept looks! Though he had not the fondness for music that his good friend Delaford had, he attended the operas with that gentleman whenever he deigned to go into London. His visits to town were always short0lived and fleeting; like a crow, he would swoop in and caw his disapproval at the wanton displays of the hedonistic before leaving them all gasping for relief just as suddenly as he had arrived.
He really was at something of a loss as he nodded curtly to various revellers who greeted him out of habit, for certainly none greeted him out of joy. His nose remained aloft as the dancing begun, and some time later he decided that he could not -- in all good conscience -- allow himself to go home again until he had sought out Miss Delaford and done his utmost to torment her. It was a favourite pastime of his, for not only was she so full of herself that she was fit to bursting, she was also the only woman he knew who could at least attempt to take a shot back at him. The fact that his banter with her also amused her brother was simply a bonus, and he could not be sorry that those in town preyed upon by Miss Delaford’s pert opinion also seemed to smile slightly whenever he set her down.
Whereas before the crowd had been an insurmountable tide of wasted air, Nicholas cut through it now as though he were a shark on the hunt. He could smell one whiff of Miss Delaford’s brazenness on the wind, and like any true predator he wasted no time in ferreting her out. He sidled up to her where she stood, hands clasped behind his back and feeling justified in keeping his face just as dour as he liked. “I hear we are to expect an addition to the assembly this evening,” he mused, standing just behind her and slightly to her left. This enabled them to survey the crowd together – Charlotte because she would no doubt be curious and he because he was as ready for new people dislike as ever he was. “I do hope they properly attire themselves, for a gathering such as this, and do not disappoint your sensibilities with plain muslin.”
