Elizabeth sighed. “I must confess I found it wholly overwhelming when I first arrived.”
“Do not tell me you had never travelled here during your younger years, Miss Bennet?” Mrs Hurst broke in. “Did your mother never bring you for concerts, or the theatre? Or to be presented at court?”
“My mother would have loved the opportunity, but my father hated Town.”
“And I assume you hold to his views even still, hmm?” Miss Bingley remarked with mock-sweetness from the other end of the table.
“Not entirely. I admit I miss my family, as I have not been able to see them in over a twelvemonth. And I do tire of the endless noise and vapours at times. But I have come to appreciate the city for its diversions: the theatre, the libraries, and its museums. A society that values the arts will always have my praise.”
“How cultured you sound, Miss Bennet,” Miss Bingley remarked. Was that an ironic note to her voice, or was Elizabeth only judging her on the basis of her earlier rudeness? “I am sure you must be a very accomplished woman. Pray tell me, do you play?”
Elizabeth laughed lightly. “A little, and very ill, I am afraid. I dearly love music, but I have not practiced as I ought.”
“Oh, what a shame!” Miss Bingley remarked. “It is a terrible waste when a gift is not used, do you not think, Mr Darcy? How terrible it would be if dear Georgiana did not practice, talented as she is!”
Miss Darcy looked at her brother wide-eyed, obviously deeply uncomfortable. Discreetly, Mrs Annesley patted her hand in reassurance. Elizabeth bit her lip, furious at Miss Bingley. How dare she involve Miss Darcy in her games! Anyone could see that the young woman was too shy and gentle for them.
“Thankfully,” Mr Darcy said coolly, “Georgiana has practiced the skill of judging how she ought to spend her time; when it is best to play the pianoforte, when to read and study, and when to seek out society and refreshment. The ability to judge how one ought to spend one’s time is a most important skill.”
To such a reproof, even one so mildly and politely given, Miss Bingley could say nothing. Elizabeth looked at Mr Darcy with some confusion. She had expected him to reply in defence of Georgiana’s comfort, knowing her to dislike fulsome praise as much as he did.
But his response had been more than this. It had seemed equally a defence against Miss Bingley’s criticism of herself. At first, Elizabeth was surprised that he would take the trouble — but then, he was her host, and likely did not wish anyone to be made uncomfortable under his roof. Perhaps he considered himself responsible for Miss Bingley’s rudeness. That would explain it.
Routed, Miss Bingley attempted no more sorties against Elizabeth, but lapsed into reasonably pleasant conversation. For her part, Elizabeth preferred to speak to those members of theparty who had not shown themselves to be unpleasant. She spoke to Miss Bingley only as much as politeness required.
When the meal was concluded, and they had all gone through to the drawing room once more, Mr Darcy suggested the ladies take turns regaling them on the pianoforte.
The words were hardly out of his mouth before Miss Bingley was approaching the piano stool. Elizabeth chuckled silently to herself. She obviously wished for the opportunity for display, but if Miss Bingley so badly wished to catch Mr Darcy, she would have done better to ask Miss Darcy instead. Anyone could see how much love and pride he had for his sister.
Miss Bingley’s playing showed her impressive schooling.Shecertainly had not neglected to practise. And yet, though Miss Bingley was far more skilled, she put Elizabeth rather in mind of her sister Mary. She seemed to hit each not for the praise she hoped it might win her, rather than for any enjoyment in the music. The result was tuneful, to be sure, but it did not go to the heart.
Miss Darcy was a very different case. Though she chose a rather simple piece, far less technically impressive than Elizabeth knew she could play, she lost herself so joyfully in the music that her audience was very pleased to follow her. As the last note rang through the room, Elizabeth released a long breath, feeling the peace and relief of it all through her.
Hardly a moment elapsed before Miss Bingley began to praise her. “My dear Miss Darcy! How very accomplished you are. I daresay there is not another young lady in London — nay, the Empire — who can match your skill and passion.” She turned to Mr Darcy and caught his eye. “Your brother has done well to foster your gift.”
Miss Darcy shifted uneasily. “Thank you,” she said softly, obviously unnerved by the high praise.
Elizabeth approached the pianoforte and smiled at her friend. “Your playing is a joy to listen to, Miss Darcy. I am grateful that you shared it with us.”
Miss Darcy seemed far more at ease with her simpler praise. “Thank you, Miss Bennet. You must come and play for us now. It is your turn,” she beckoned. Miss Darcy rose from the piano stool and took Elizabeth’s hand, bringing her to the pianoforte.
Elizabeth’s throat suddenly went dry. She was not nearly as good as Miss Darcy, nor even Miss Bingley. She sat down, however, and tried to take heart. Surely it would be best to play briefly, giving the company whatever little enjoyment she was able.
As she looked through the music, however, Elizabeth quickly realised she would face a different challenge. None of the handful of pieces she knew were represented among the sheet music. Likely they were too simple for Georgiana. As she had not the least intention of playing a new piece for the first time before the company, she was left with only one choice. “You will be shocked indeed, Miss Darcy, but I am afraid I do not know any of these pieces.”
Miss Bingley seemed elated to find out her defect, and Miss Darcy looked horrified to think she might be discomfited before them all, but Elizabeth immediately went on, giving her friend a reassuring smile. “But no matter! If you will all be quite patient with me, I shall play a little ditty that I have learned quite by heart, instead.”
Elizabeth noticed Mr Darcy watching her with an expression she could only classify as approving. There could be no time or opportunity to say anything, for Elizabeth at once launched into her favourite of the Scottish reels Lydia had so often asked her to play. The song was well enough, she thought, if far behind what they had previously heard in sophistication. Yet as Elizabeth began to play, she noticed Mr Darcy moving closer to her until he stood beside her, looking at her profile. How grateful she was that she had stopped writing for the last few days, so she might clean her hands sufficiently of the ink stains! It was cause enough for anxiety to have Mr Darcy come to watch her play, without also worrying over them as well.
“That was very well-played, Miss Bennet,” Mr Darcy said at the conclusion of the piece.
Elizabeth laughed at herself, turning to him as she remained seated on the piano stool. “You are far too kind, Mr Darcy.”
“Mr Darcy isalwaystoo kind,” Miss Bingley remarked with poisonous sweetness. She walked away to rejoin her sister at the hearth, and they began whispering behind their hands. Mr Darcy looked angry, and Miss Darcy only stood there with her mouth agape, no doubt shocked into silence at the rudeness of Miss Bingley.
With far more good breeding than the arrogant Miss Bingley, Mrs Annesley spoke up to cover the awkward moment. “Shall we play cards, perhaps?”
“Yes, that is a wonderful idea,” Mrs Gardiner agreed.
