Page 49 of The Matchmaker’s Mistake

Miss Darcy released Elizabeth’s arm as they stepped into the music room and she took up her place. Elizabeth returned to her aunt and uncle, and as she took her chair, she noted that Mr. Darcy was now standing against the back wall with his cousins. Miss Darcy laid her hands on the keys and glanced up at Elizabeth, who offered her an encouraging smile.

She began. The first notes were tentative, but the melody grew stronger with each measure, wrapping itself around the listeners. Miss Darcy’s expression eased as she played, and within a few minutes she appeared less a timid girl performing before company than someone fluently speaking a second language.

To her right, from the front row, came a soft observation, addressed to Mrs. Hurst but pitched to carry: “I am so pleased she has at last conquered the trill in the second variation. We worked on it together. You will recall, Louisa, that I suggested fingering that would suit her better. She has taken the advice quite to heart.”

Mrs. Hurst, who seemed to know her cue, murmured agreement.

Elizabeth glanced at the back of the room just in time to catch Mr. Darcy casting his eyes to the ceiling.

She pressed her lips together.

Then his eyes found Elizabeth with such directness, such sudden intensity, that she forgot the music for the space of a note. There was nothing improper in the look. He neither smiled nor stirred, and the look was gone almost as soon as it had come. Elizabeth had no idea what it meant, but neither could she forget it.

She turned back to the front of the room and kept her attention strictly on Miss Darcy.

When the last note faded away, the room was silent for the space of a breath and then was immediately filled with applause and hearty approbation.

When the congratulations died down, Lady Anne stood. “Very prettily done, Georgiana.” She smiled at her daughter before turning to the rest of the room. “We must not let the instrument stand idle. Who will oblige us next?”

Miss Bingley rose almost before the invitation had been completed. “I should be most happy to do so, Lady Anne.”

There was a little shifting then. Compliments were offered and places exchanged. Miss Bingley sat at the pianoforte as Miss Darcy, released at last from notice, came directly to Elizabeth and sat beside her, still flushed.

“There,” Elizabeth said quietly. “You see?”

“I do,” Miss Darcy whispered. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth.”

Miss Bingley played a fashionable piece with technical skill and the clear expectation that her audience would be impressed.

Across the room, Mr. Darcy stood as before, his attention apparently on Miss Bingley’s performance. Yet Elizabeth had begun to suspect that Mr. Darcy’s apparent attention and actual attention were not always the same thing.

She wished she understood him better. No, that was not quite it. She wished that she did not wish to understand him better.

Miss Darcy whispered, “Miss Bingley plays this piece so well, but I fear I have never preferred it.”

“You must play what you love,” Elizabeth replied. “At least when no one has commanded otherwise.”

“My mother commands Haydn,” Miss Darcy said in a tone of mock distress.

Elizabeth chuckled. “Then I am afraid that Haydn must be borne.”

Miss Darcy laughed a little. Elizabeth thought she heard Colonel Fitzwilliam saying something, although certainly she could not have from this distance. Still, she looked over her shoulder.

Mr. Darcy was not smiling, but there was something in his expression that unsettled her more than a smile would have. He regarded her with grave, quiet pleasure—though he had probably only seen his sister laugh and been pleased by it. But upon seeing himself observed, his gaze turned back to his cousin.

Miss Bingley finished at last in a flourish of sound and expectation. The applause was immediate, and if it was not as heartfelt as that which had followed Miss Darcy, it was sufficient to satisfy her vanity. Miss Bingley rose, accepted Lady Anne’s thanks, and contrived, in the act of leaving the instrument, to send a meaningful glance in Mr. Darcy’s direction.

Elizabeth refused to turn around again, and so she did not see whether Miss Bingley had hit her mark.

Mrs. Hurst played a concerto after that, and although Elizabeth was applied to, she noted the lateness of the hour and declined. Miss Darcy extracted a promise that she would play another time, and Elizabeth agreed.

All the little currents of society resumed their natural course as the guests stood to make their farewells. Elizabeth stood with her aunt while Miss Darcy was claimed by Lady Anne, who kissed her cheek.

“You must come to me tomorrow,” Miss Darcy said to Elizabeth. “If you are not otherwise engaged, I mean—if you would like it.”

Elizabeth’s heart went out to Miss Darcy. “I should like it very much. Have we any engagements tomorrow, Aunt?”

“None that would prevent a visit.”