“I had hoped,” said Elizabeth, “that we had exhausted such plans in Brinmouth.”
“Not at all. There are the modistes, and the milliners—”
“Which I have already visited with my aunt before we departed,” said Elizabeth quickly.
Mrs. Gardiner reached for her tea.“You see now where our difficulty lies. Elizabeth has no patience for ribbons when there are books within reach.”
“I do not object to ribbons,” said Elizabeth, “only to the time required to choose them.”
Lady Matlock set down her cup.“And yet,” she said, “one cannot always be guided by inclination alone.”
Elizabeth looked toward her.“I begin to understand that, ma'am.”
“I think you do.”
Lady Ashford took up her tea again.
“You shall be rewarded for your patience. We have secured the bookseller.”
“That is something,” said Elizabeth.
“And Gunter's,” said Lady Ashford.
Elizabeth considered.“That is a great deal.”
“I thought you would think so.”
“And nothing more?” asked Elizabeth.
“Nothing,” said Lady Ashford, “that cannot be justified.”
“That is a dangerous assurance.”
“It is a very convenient one,” said Lady Matlock.
Before Lady Ashford could enlarge further upon her plans, the opening of the door interrupted the conversation.
“The gentlemen,” said Lady Ashford.
Lady Matlock rose.
“Then we must not keep them waiting. Miss Bennet, you play, I think?”
“A little, ma'am.”
“That will answer perfectly.”
The gentlemen entered as she took her place at the pianoforte. Darcy joined the others with his usual composure, though he was not insensible to the advantage of the moment; he had hoped she would play. Her manner was unstudied, neither arranged for effect nor seeking to command attention, and the first notes, simply given, were enough to secure it nonetheless. There was a steadiness in her touch and a lightness in her execution which made even a familiar air seem her own. He remained where he could hear her distinctly, though without placing himself so near as to invite notice. He had listened to her at Brinmouth, in quieter circumstances, when she had played only for those immediately about her; and it had given him great pleasure then. Her voice had neither the force nor the compass which might satisfy a formal critic, but it possessed a sweetness and an expression which rendered criticism beside the point. There was feeling in it, not displayed but conveyed, and it was this, rather than any perfection of execution, which held him.
Lady Ashford applauded warmly when she concluded. “You do not play amiss, Miss Bennet.”
“I am glad you think so, ma'am,” said Elizabeth. “I should be very sorry to be thought otherwise.”
“There is no danger of it.”
She yielded her place without reluctance, and the evening resumed its easy course. Cards were proposed; conversationcontinued; and the company remained together with all the comfort of long familiarity.
Before the party broke up, Lady Ashford renewed her plan.
