“Very well. Would any of you ladies wish to share this task with me?”
“I shall play with you, Miss Elizabeth,” Miss Darcy offered, and all eyes turned to her.
“That would be a great pleasure, Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth said genuinely. “Though, by comparison with your proficiency, my faults will be even clearer.”
“I am sure that is not true,” the girl replied, and they walked together towards the pianoforte. Elizabeth’s reluctance to play was mostly in jest, but her emotions when she felt Mr Darcy’s gaze upon her were real and overwhelming.
They began to perform — Miss Darcy played, and Elizabeth sang — timidly and clumsily at first but growing more confident and more coordinated. When they finished, they were rewarded with applause and cheers, so they played another song together, and then another one.
Elizabeth’s unease soon dissolved, Miss Darcy’s exquisite performance covering her own faults. Yet she was acutely aware of Mr Darcy’s attention. When, in a moment of daring, she allowed herself to meet his gaze, the intentness of it struck her, quickening her pulse and threatening her command of the melody. She fixed her eyes upon the music at once, lest a falter in her voice betray her.
“That was absolutely delightful,” Colonel Fitzwilliam declared when they had finished. “I was right to not believe your claims, Miss Elizabeth.”
“In fact,” Lady Amelia interjected, “although the entire performance was very pleasant, Miss Elizabeth was right — her skill cannot equal Georgiana’s. But then again, very few can. You two found a good harmony. One would assume you had performed together many times before.”
“It is easy to perform with someone as talented as dear Miss Darcy,” Miss Bingley said in another attempt to offend Elizabeth.
“And yet, you declined to do so, Miss Bingley,” Lady Amelia said sharply. “We look forward to listening to you exhibit at the next opportunity.”
Miss Bingley seemed unwilling to reply; the other lady’s superiority had sapped her courage.
Mr Darcy congratulated his sister when she sat down, and she whispered something to him. He smiled and glanced at Elizabeth, causing her cheeks to warm again.
Not long after that, the party came to an end. The Gardiners and their nieces took their farewells, then entered the carriage for the journey back to Gracechurch Street, a long drive that allowed them the chance to discuss the evening at length.
With general delight, they praised their host, Mr Bingley, as well as Lady Amelia, Miss Darcy, the colonel, and the viscount.
“There is something strange about Mr Darcy that I find more intimidating than pleasant,” Mr Gardiner said. “It is more difficult to address him directly or to engage in conversation with him than with his cousins, though they are all part of the same high society.”
“Mr Darcy is not as easy with strangers as his cousins,” Elizabeth said. “But this does not diminish his qualities, nor his worthiness. I have recently learnt that amiable men might appear better than they truly are.”
“I hope you do not mean Mr Bingley, Lizzy,” Jane said, and Elizabeth laughed.
“Not at all, dearest. Your Mr Bingley is as good, as amiable, and as handsome as he appears.”
“You, Lizzy, spoke to Mr Darcy tonight, did you not?”
“I did, Aunt, but only for a moment. He asked permission to call on us next time Mr Bingley comes.”
“Really? I wonder why he asked your permission?”
“I do not know, but I assured him we would all welcome him.”
“We would certainly be delighted to receive him,” Mrs Gardiner said.
They returned to Gracechurch Street very late and found the children safely asleep. Before they retired, a maid told Mr Gardiner that Mr Wickham had called.
“He said he would return to Meryton tomorrow and asked whether you had any letters to send. I told him you were having dinner at Mr Bingley’s house and hadn’t left any letters for him.”
“Very well,” Mr Gardiner replied with apparent indifference, and taking his wife’s arm, he led her upstairs.
Elizabeth followed Jane to their chamber, her heart gripped by a sharp claw again.
Chapter 7
Two days had passed since the enchanting evening at Mr Bingley’s home, and Elizabeth found her thoughts ensnared in a delightful web of recollections. The Gardiner household hummed with its customary cheer — her young cousins’ laughter echoing through the halls, Jane’s soft smiles hinting at a blooming hope with Mr Bingley — but Elizabeth’s mind wandered ceaselessly to Mr Darcy. How peculiar it was, she mused, that the man she had once deemed the epitome of arrogance now occupied her every idle moment with a warmth that both thrilled and bewildered her.
Seated by the window in the cosy parlour, Elizabeth gazed out at bustling Gracechurch Street below, her embroidery forgotten in her lap. Ardent, he had called his feelings, his voice a low caress that still sent shivers down her spine. In Hertfordshire, she had seen only his pride, his disdainful glances, his interference in Jane’s happiness. But now? The letter had revealed his vulnerabilities, the theatre his unexpected tenderness towards his sister, and that look they had shared as she performed with Miss Darcy — his gaze boring into her soul and igniting a spark she could no longer deny. Her prejudices had crumbled like autumn leaves, revealing a man of depth, honour, and, dare she admit it, an allure that made her pulse quicken. Was this affection? Or was it merely the novelty of seeing him anew, stripped of her misconceptions? She blushedat the thought, her heart whispering that it was far more than curiosity — perhaps the stirrings of something profound, a love she had never anticipated.
