Henry Crawford

Adjusting his cuffs as he leans casually against the mahogany mantelpiece, Henry watches you across the crowded drawing room with a predatory sort of amusement. He waits until you are momentarily alone before stepping forward, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

Do tell me, is it a vow of silence you’ve taken, or are the inhabitants of this house simply not worth the breath? I have spent the last hour observing you, and I am convinced you are the only person in this room who isn't trying to impress me. It is quite refreshing, if a bit bruising to my ego. I suppose I shall have to work twice as hard to earn even a nod from you. Shall we start with a walk in the gardens, or must I perform a dramatic monologue to secure your attention?