Elizabeth appeared at his side. "She is magnificent," she whispered.
"She is," Darcy agreed, keeping his voice low. "She is finding her voice again."
"Thanks to you," Elizabeth pointed out. "You protected her. You gave her a safe harbour."
"I tried. I fear I was too strict at times."
"You were a guardian," she corrected. "And a brother. And looking at her now, I think you did a very good job, Fitzwilliam."
The use of his name made his breath catch. He turned to look at her. In the firelight, with the music swelling around them, she looked ethereal.
"Thank you," he said. "That means a great deal, coming from you."
Georgiana finished with a flourish. The room erupted in applause. Robert shouted "Brava!" and Richard whistled, earning a reprimand from Mrs Gardiner.
Georgiana turned on the bench, her face flushed with pleasure. "Thank you. It... the action is a little lighter than my instrument at home, but the tone is lovely."
"And now," Robert announced, "I believe we were promised a duet? A Bennet special?"
"We promised no such thing," Elizabeth laughed.
"I distinctly remember dreaming about it," Robert countered. "And since it is Christmas, you are legally obligated to make my dreams come true. It is in the Magna Carta."
"I am fairly certain it is not," MissBennet smiled.
"Come, Jane," Elizabeth held out her hand. "Let us humour him. Otherwise, he will start reciting Shakespeare, and no one wants that."
Jane Bennet rose with a grace that made Robert sit up straighter. She joined Elizabeth at the instrument. There was a brief, whispered conference between the sisters, a shuffling of sheet music, and then Elizabeth settled onto the bench while Jane stood beside her, one hand resting lightly on the wood.
"A simple ballad," Elizabeth announced. "Since we lack the vocal gymnastics for the theatre."
She began to play. It was a folk melody, sweet and melancholic—"The Last Rose of Summer."
Then, her sister began to sing.
Her voice was not powerful like an opera singer's. It was soft, clear, and pure as crystal. It was a voice made for lullabies and love songs, carrying a sweetness that pierced straight to the heart.
'Tis the last rose of summer, left blooming alone...
Darcy watched Robert.
He had gone very still. The teasing smirk was gone. The casual slouch was gone. He was staring at his Goddess with an expression of such raw, undisguised longing that Darcy almost felt he should look away. Robert wasn't just charmed. He was dismantled. He looked like a man who had finally found the missing piece of his soul and was terrified it might vanish if he blinked.
Darcy turned back at the women. He watched Elizabeth's hands moving over the keys. She wasn't looking at the music. She was watching her sister, her eyes filled with love and pride.She was supporting Jane, harmonizing with her, letting Jane shine while she provided the foundation.
It was a perfect metaphor for their relationship, Darcy realized. Elizabeth the protector, the foundation. Miss Bennet the light, the melody. He fell in love with her a little more in that moment. He loved her loyalty. He loved her strength. He loved that she could play the piano with such feeling, even if she claimed she didn't practice enough.
All her lovely companions are faded and gone...
Miss Bennet hit the high note, soft and unwavering. It hung in the air, a silver thread of sound. When the song ended, there was a moment of absolute silence. Then Robert let out a long, shaky exhale.
"Well," he said, his voice unusually husky. "I am ruined. Completely ruined. I shall never be able to listen to another woman sing again. It would be an insult to my ears."
Miss Bennet blushed, looking down at her hands. "It is just a simple song, my Lord."
"It was perfection," Robert said, standing up and walking to her. He ignored everyone else in the room. He took her hand. "You are perfection."
Mrs Gardiner cleared her throat delicately. "What about a carol next? Something more cheerful?"
