Elizabeth turned to him, one eyebrow raised in a teasing challenge. “Oh? And are you an expert in pianoforte placement, Mr. Darcy?”
He chuckled. “Not an expert, simply experienced. For instance, it should not be positioned too near the window.”
“And why is that?” Elizabeth asked.
“The fluctuations in heat and cold are more pronounced there,” Mr. Darcy explained. “It causes the wood to shrink and swell. You would need to tune it more frequently.”
Elizabeth knew as much but was curious to hear what else this surprising man knew. “What else should we consider?”
“Direct sunlight,” Mr. Darcy continued, warming to his subject. “It can cause the finish to fade.”
They spent the next few minutes discussing potential locations, settling on a spot that met all their criteria.
“Here,” Mr. Darcy instructed the men. They all looked at Elizabeth, who nodded.
“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said as the men began their work, “I must say, I am impressed by your knowledge of pianofortes. Is this a particular interest of yours?”
His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Let us just say that the music room at Pemberley has seen its share of instrument rearrangements over the years since my sister began to play.”
Elizabeth stepped back as the pianoforte was placed, a bemused smile playing on her lips as she observed Mr. Darcy carefully measuring out the distance between the instrument and the nearest window. The sight of the usually reserved gentleman engrossed in such a task struck her as delightfully absurd.
“Mr. Darcy, when I imagined being courted by a gentleman, I never thought it would involve such intricate discussions about pianoforte placement.” She smiled brightly at him. “Is this a common practice in London society?”
Darcy looked up from his task, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I assure you, Miss Bennet, this is a highly sophisticated form of courtship. One must always gauge a potential partner's ability to arrange furniture.”
Elizabeth laughed, delighted by his willingness to play along. “Indeed? And how am I faring in this test of my abilities?”
“Exceedingly well.” Elizabeth relished the return of Mr. Darcy’s warm humour. “I daresay you will arrange a music room to rival even that of Pemberley.”
“High praise indeed,” Elizabeth said, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. “And what other domestic skills shall you be assessing during our courtship, Mr. Darcy? My ability to compose dinner menus, perhaps? Or my skill in directing the hanging of curtains?”
Darcy's eyes crinkled with amusement. “All vital qualities in a potential wife, to be sure. Though I must admit, just now I am particularly interested in evaluating your proficiency in selecting the perfect path for a morning stroll.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, enjoying their playful exchange. “And here I thought you might be interested in my conversationor my character. How fortunate that arranging rooms and morning walks have captured your attention instead.”
“Ah, but one's approach to the arrangement of furniture in a room reveals a great deal about one's character. Your choices here show practicality, aesthetic sense, and a consideration for the comfort of others. All admirable traits.”
His expression was so sombre, Elizabeth might have believed him serious had not she caught the gleam in his eye.
Still, she was touched by this odd compliment. “Well then, Mr. Darcy, I shall have to ensure every room in the house is impeccably arranged. I would not want you to doubt the strength of my character.”
He took a deep breath to say, “I assure you, Miss Bennet, I have no doubts whatsoever about the strength of your character.”
The intensity of his gaze made Elizabeth's heart skip a beat. She cleared her throat, acutely aware of how close they were standing. “Perhaps we might adjourn to the breakfast room for tea before our walk?”
“Do you think your father will still be there?” he asked warily.
Elizabeth did not laugh though she wished to. “Excellent point. Papa does have a habit of hiding behind his newspaper, ears perked for any material he can use in his jests.”
Mr. Darcy's eyebrow arched in amusement. “And here I thought Mr. Bennet was actually an avid reader.”
“Oh, he is,” Elizabeth assured him. “Particularly when it comes to discerning the follies of others in their words and expressions.”
“Then perhaps we should give him nothing to read at all,” Darcy suggested.
Before Elizabeth could respond in kind, her mother spoke from the doorway.
“Oh, Lizzy, it is beautiful. Will you play for us tonight?”
