It is a truth universally acknowledged that a wizard in possession of great magical power must be in want of trouble. Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, first son of stage magician Malcom Dresden, had established himself in the town of Ch---, where he made a small living practicing as a Wizard specializing in missing items cases. It was not the most glamorous life, but it was a life all his own, and he felt the freedom greatly preferable to the bondage the previous years had cast upon his soul. Indeed, each day dawned in him a small contentment, a sense that he was where he ought to be, doing what he ought to do.
The young lady that graced his doorstep one fateful morning did not seem to be a harbringer of doom. In fact, she appeared pleasing to the eye, accomplished, and indeed, everything that a young woman ought to be in order to awaken interest in a single man. Alas, the ring on her finger spelled doom for that potential courtship before it could begin. As it happened, Monica Sells was there to request his aid in finding her missing husband, one Victor Sells of the Ch---- Sells.
Upon hearing of her charge, Dresden struggled to control his shock, to avoid alarming the lady. "Ma'am, I'm not really a missing-persons specialist. Have you contacted the police, or a private investigator?"
"I have not," she replied, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief. "They cannot help me. La! This is all so complicated, I cannot -- I apologise for imposing upon your time."
"Wait, forgive me. We have not been properly introduced." For, at this time, they had not.
Rather than make the introduction, as was proper, the lady paused, gathering her thoughts. "Perhaps, if it pleases you... you might simply call me Monica." Right away Dresden knew the trouble: wizards such as himself could harness the power in knowing someone's full name and station. But for this lady to know that, she must be privy to secrets that he would not have suspected her privy to. Indeed, she must have sought him out because of his power; but how did she come to know of it? And, if she knew what he could truly accomplish, why had she not simply gone to the person who had told her of such things in the first place?
That's Storm Front in the style of Jane Austen: omniscient, but heavily present narrator, commenting on the events rather than letting us deeper into the character's feelings at the moment. Plus, emphasis on titles, stations, and courtship; Austen had a lot to say about society, while Butcher's more interested in the noir genre. And, just for fun, the redaction of placenames that was common at the time.
