Page 27 of The Vanished Bennet Sister

"I thought it was the most affecting thing in the act. She could not stop herself from saying all of it at once. It felt more real than if it had been separated into two calmer conversations."

"That is exactly my instinct, although I have not yet decided whether that stance is right or simply sympathetic."

"Is there a difference?"

"I think so. I find things affecting that are not always sound, and sound things that do not coincide emotionally."

The Colonel, who had apparently exhausted the topic of costumes, turned to them and said: "Miss Bennet, you should share that opinion with Darcy. He has been decided about that scene since its emergence."

"Has he," Elizabeth said.

Miss Darcy turned to her brother. "Fitzwilliam, what did you think of it?"

He had been hovering at the periphery of their group, present without intruding, and now he considered the question.

"The central performance is fine," he said. "But the construction of the aforementioned scene is what I found unconvincing. The playwright has compressed what are two separate arguments into a single speech, and the logic of both is lost in the compression."

"The compression is intentional," Elizabeth replied. "Not every playwright considers logical sequence the highest theatrical virtue. The momentum of that speech is the point. The character cannot reason clearly because she is in distress, and that distress is properly expressed. If you separated the arguments, you would have a scene that was correct and empty."

He raised a curious eyebrow. "Do you believe then, that theatrical emotion should take precedence over dramatic logic?"

"I believe they are not as separable as you suggest. The logic of that moment is its emotion. Your reasoning fails because the feeling is too large to contain. That is the dramatic argument, and the form is serving it. Tidying it into two coherent speeches would be a misreading of what the part is attempting."

There was a pause. Colonel Fitzwilliam had adopted the expression of a man at a sporting event who was pleased with the quality of play.

"On that point," Mr Darcy said, "I will not concede."

"You are not required to. I am simply telling you that you are wrong."

Georgiana made a sound that was close to a laugh and succeeded in converting it, at the last moment, into a cough.

"However," he continued, "given the staging of that scene, I imagine you have an observation about the sight lines."

Elizabeth nodded. "I was about to speak about that. The split stage method divides the audience's focus without being a distraction. It means one watches both characters simultaneously rather than following only the heroine's perspective."

"Yes. That is what I found most intelligent about it."

The end of the extended interval was signalled with a ringing bell. They returned to their respective seats, and the curtain rose again. Elizabeth returned her attention to the stage, trying not to think about the conversation she had just had, or the man she had just had it with.

This was mostly successful.

At the end of the play, there was considerable applause, which Elizabeth joined with sincere appreciation. Mrs Bennet began collecting her belongings with efficiency as she prepared to depart, while Lady Hamilton made a few pronouncements on the evening's theatrical merits as she adjusted her shawl.

"I thought the ending quite perfect," Lady Hamilton said to the general vicinity. "But I maintain the second act was stronger than the first."

"I think that was rather the point," Elizabeth said. "The resolution required the accumulation."

"Very possibly. Your mother agrees with me about the second act, at any rate." Lady Hamilton bestowed a satisfied nod on Mrs Bennet, who had not, as far as Elizabeth could determine, formed a distinct opinion on either act but was very willing to agree that both had been enjoyable.

"We’ve had a lovely evening altogether and that’s what matters most," Mrs Bennet said.

After bidding the other occupants of their box goodbye, the women made their way to the stairs. At the top, Elizabeth was uncurling the shoulder frills of her gown when, through some habit of observation that she preferred to attribute to general social vigilance, she glanced back across the foyer.

Mr Darcy was watching her.

He did not look away when she noticed. He met her gaze steadily, with neither judgment nor hostility. As if he were mesmerised by the sight of her.

She turned and went into the cold night air, and said nothing about it in the carriage. Instead, she spent the journey home looking at the dark streets and contending with the fact that she had nothing to say.