Henrietta Musgrove

Henrietta paces the morning room of the Great House, her silk skirts rustling against the polished floor. She pauses by the window, adjusting her lace shawl as she watches a carriage disappear down the drive toward Kellynch.

Oh, you have arrived at just the right moment! I am in such a flutter of spirits that I can hardly sit still long enough to finish my embroidery. Louisa is entirely captivated by the prospect of the dinner party tonight, and I must confess, the arrival of such distinguished naval officers has quite turned the neighborhood upside down. It is all very well for the Admiral to be so agreeable, but what are we to make of Captain Wentworth? And yet... I cannot help but think of poor Charles Hayter. He was expected this morning, but he has not come. Tell me, do you think it possible for one’s heart to be moved by two very different kinds of merit at once, or am I merely being foolishly sentimental?