Chapter 8
Elizabeth Bennet was not one to accept defeat easily. Very well: her sanguine hopes about beginning to subdue the rumours even with a first meeting had proved to be disappointed. That did not mean that their plan was impossible, only that it had not yet succeeded.
Where their walk in Hyde Park had failed, a concert might do better. The planned recital was one Elizabeth would have been glad to attend regardless of their efforts to combat the rumours, for the pianist was considered to be particularly good. That it would provide another chance to show the cream of London society that she viewed Mr Darcy with neither interest nor disdain added only another benefit.
Elizabeth had not intended to treat the event as being of any special importance. It was an outing like any other, with its pleasures and its trials, and required little of her beyond the manners and good sense she would have exercised even had she not been attending with a hidden intention. Yet on the morning of the recital, she found herself uncomfortably aware that she had risen earlier than usual and had given more thought to her appearance than strict necessity required.
She resented this awareness at once.
It was not for Mr Darcy, she told herself firmly. She would not indulge the vanity of imagining otherwise. That notion was absurd. Whatever confusion he had introduced into her mind of late, whatever unsettled impressions lingered from their last conversation, he remained a man whose conduct toward her family had been questionable at best. She would not be so foolish as to dress with any thought of pleasing him.
It was only sensible to be well turned out in public, particularly when one expected attention. London assemblies, concerts included, were not forgiving of carelessness, and Elizabeth had already learned that she was being noticed more than she liked. If eyes were to follow her, she would at least ensure that they found nothing to criticise.
Mrs Gardiner observed her preparations with a degree of quiet amusement.
“You look very well,” her aunt said when Elizabeth at last stood ready. “That colour suits you.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I am glad of it. I should hate to discover that I had chosen badly after all this deliberation.”
“All this deliberation,” Mrs Gardiner repeated lightly. “You would think you were preparing for something momentous.”
Elizabeth laughed, though it came a little too quickly. “I am preparing to sit still and listen attentively, which I find requires more effort than it ought.”
Mrs Gardiner studied her for a moment, then said nothing more. Elizabeth was grateful for that restraint. Her aunt possessed an unfortunate talent for seeing too much whilesaying very little, and Elizabeth was not certain she could endure any pointed observation just then.
By contrast, Jane was absent from the morning’s preparations. She had elected to remain at home, pleading a prior engagement that Elizabeth suspected did not exist. Jane had been brighter of late, more animated than she had been for weeks, and Elizabeth would not press her. If her sister wished to sit quietly and arrange her thoughts, she deserved the peace to do so.
Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner set out together, chatting comfortably as the carriage moved through bustling city streets. Elizabeth watched the passing shops and houses with only half her attention, her thoughts drifting despite her best efforts to anchor them elsewhere.
The plan was simple enough. They would attend the recital, listen politely, allow fashionable London to observe them. And at some point, quite by accident, they were to encounter Mr Darcy. Nothing more was required of her than politeness and composure. She would greet him coolly. He would respond in kind. Anyone inclined to read meaning into their meeting would find little to sustain their interest.
The plan had been agreed upon. It was sensible. It was safe.
All the same, Elizabeth could not bring herself to trust it. She did not consider herself to be superstitious, but she had begun to suspect that London possessed a talent for mischief.
When they arrived, the recital room was already half-full. The space was elegant without being ostentatious, the sort of place designed to flatter both the performers and their audience. Rows of chairs faced the raised platform where the pianofortestood, polished to a high gleam. The conversation hummed softly, restrained by the shared understanding that the music would soon demand their full attention.
Elizabeth took her seat beside Mrs Gardiner and allowed herself to relax for a moment.
From the first notes, Elizabeth found herself drawn in despite her earlier restlessness. There was confidence in the playing, a balance of precision and feeling that held her attention and refused to let it wander. Despite the hidden undercurrents of her situation, which ought to have prevented enjoyment, it was easy to lose herself in the soaring, beautiful music. Where she might have spent the performance listening with only half an ear, her mind alert to movement and murmurs around her, she found herself listening in earnest.
The music unfolded with measured, deliberate grace, refusing to be hurried. Elizabeth felt the familiar loosening in her chest that always accompanied such moments, when thought gave way to sensation and she was permitted, however briefly, to feel without analysis.
It was only at the interval that the world reasserted itself.
Mrs Gardiner leaned toward her and spoke in a significant undertone. “Shall we take a turn about the room?”
Elizabeth hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. I had quite forgotten.”
They rose together and joined the slow circulation of guests. Elizabeth was conscious once more of glances, though she could not say with certainty whether they were more or less numerous than before. Her attention was divided, her senses sharpened by an anticipation she refused to name.
She scanned the room without appearing to do so, telling herself she was merely observing the company.
She did not see him at first.
The absence surprised her more than she liked. She had expected, unreasonably perhaps, that he would be there already, positioned where he might easily be noticed. That he was not in immediate view unsettled her, though she could not have said why.
Mrs Gardiner seemed to read the question in her silence.
