Page 47 of The Matchmaker’s Mistake

Mr. Reed’s hearty laugh was not at all proportionate to the wit of the remark. This made her like him even more. It also made her wish, with sudden and unexpected sharpness, that Mr. Reed had not found it quite so amusing.

For Mr. Darcy was no longer beside Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was crossing the room.

It was at his own polite, steady pace, of course—he was a gentleman and knew not to dash over to an offending guest—but he was making his way over just the same.

Elizabeth had time to observe his progress. Miss Bingley turned her head, her sister’s gaze followed, then Mr. Darcy passed her uncle while adjusting the cuff of his coat.

“Forgive the interruption, Mr. Reed,” he said when he arrived. “Miss Elizabeth, my sister is in the music room and wondered whether you might join her. She has been hesitating to play for the company but thought she might be brave enough to play for an accommodating audience.”

It was not a thing Elizabeth had been prepared for. She hardly knew Miss Darcy.

Mr. Reed recovered first. “Your sister is just sixteen, I understand?”

“Yes,” Mr. Darcy replied.

“Then by all means, Miss Elizabeth, you ought to go. Pray do not stand upon ceremony with me.”

Elizabeth tipped her head slightly to one side to study Mr. Darcy. He was not looking at her. His eyes were trained upon a point slightly past her shoulder. “I should be pleased to assist,” she said.

Mr. Darcy walked beside her, his hands behind his back. They did not speak.

The music room lay down the hall and through an open door. The lamps and candles gave off a good deal of light, and she could see Miss Darcy sitting at the pianoforte.

She had not been playing, for the bench was turned slightly outwards. A sheet of music lay open on her lap, and her head was bent over it. She glanced up when she heard them.

“Miss Elizabeth,” she said, clearly happy to see her and just as clearly surprised. “How good it is to see you.”

“And you, Miss Darcy.” Elizabeth crossed the carpet to her, glancing at the open music.

She offered her brother a little smile. “Have you brought me a gentle listener, Brother?”

“I have,” Mr. Darcy said. He had come to stand a little behind his sister, near enough that his hand rested on the pianoforte. As Miss Darcy lifted the sheet, he leaned forward slightly, the way one might towards a quieter speaker.

But she was not speaking. She was placing the music in Elizabeth’s hands.

“I would be obliged if you would offer me your truthful evaluation. My mother is occupied, and my brother and cousin Milton are too kind to me to be believed. My cousin Richard heard the first movement only and pronounced it capital, which I am certain really means I was not listening.”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “Then I am to be the whole of the jury, Miss Darcy?”

“You are to be the only juror not previously prejudiced for or against.”

“My goodness. That is a position of unusual responsibility.”

“I promise there shall be biscuits afterwards.”

This wry bit of wit amused Elizabeth, but not as much as her brother’s confirmation when he nodded gravely and said, “I am authorised to inform you that the biscuits are excellent.”

The man had been concealing his sense of humour.

Elizabeth turned her attention to the page. She knew enough of music to read a score with confidence and judge a performance fairly. She could also admit when either skill had reached its limit.

“You have marked the dynamics very carefully,” she observed.

“I am still attempting to puzzle it out. I feel confident about the first and third movements, but not the second.”

“Will you play it for me?” Elizabeth asked. “Only the second movement, if you would prefer. It is impossible to give an opinion of a piece from the page. The notes are more like a receipt whereas the music is the meal.”

Miss Darcy nodded and placed her hands on the keys. “Thank you, though I fear I shall play it badly.”