Page 16 of Affectations of Candour

“Then you were fortunate, Miss Bennet. My own mother died when I was but sixteen, so I did not have her prudent guidance when I took on the responsibilities of mistress of Barleybrae.”

“I am truly sorry for your loss, Miss Wright. As for education, my father encouraged us to read extensively. We had all the masters that were necessary, such as for dance instruction. I dare say my sisters and I do not disgrace ourselves at neighbourhood assemblies, like some others have done.” Miss Elizabeth turned to Darcy. “Is that not your experience, sir?”

A hit, a very palpable hit! “What of private balls?” asked he, thinking of Netherfield. “Might members of one’s family not disgrace themselves there?” It was unpardonably rude of him to mention that wretched night, but had Miss Elizabeth not just done the same by bringing up his behaviour at the Meryton assembly?

“Peace, sir. Let us not debate the matter here and now.”

“Which reminds me—” Darcy paused to serve Miss Elizabeth a portion of stuffed and roasted capons. “I believe you and I have some other unfinished business.” At her look of wary confusion, he explained. “Yesterday you stated that further discussion would be required on a certain debatable word.”

“Ah yes. The word debate itself.”

Miss Wright would not be disregarded. “Speaking of debatable, I was contemplating something you mentioned earlier, Miss Bennet. I think it unlikely that a lady might achieve worthwhile talents from books, so I am curious. Which accomplishment are you able to claim as a result of merely reading?”

Darcy immediately answered, “The improvement of her mind. According to John Locke, education begins the gentleman, but reading, good company, and reflection must finish him. The same can be said of a lady, can it not? Or perhaps you would care to debate the matter, Miss Wright.” When that lady frowned but made no response, he addressed his hostess. “Miss Baker, may I apply to you for some after-dinner music this evening?”

“I shall be happy to ask the young ladies to perform. What better way is there for them to demonstrate their refinement and desirability as wives?”

Mr Baker, Mr Wright, and he being the only bachelors in attendance, Darcy thought the ladies’ pickings were rather slim.

“Perhaps I might even convince Miss Bennet to play.” Miss Baker had the audacity to give him a subtle wink.

Although astonished by her gesture, Darcy merely said, “There are many more important requirements for the future mistress of Pemberley than proficiency on the pianoforte, madam. But who can object to the charms of both young ladies and of music?”

After the women withdrew, Mr Baker reached for a bottle and poured liqueur into three small glasses. “Have you gentlemen tried kümmel? It is a digestif flavoured with caraway seeds. Your uncle took a liking to it, Mr Darcy.”

They slowly sipped the spicy, aromatic drink and conversed about this and that but not about Miss Hughes’s connexion to any royal court. While discussing foreign words and how certain ones were working their way into the English language, they enjoyed a second round, only for its digestive benefits, of course. Soon their glasses were empty again, and their host indicated they should join the ladies.

In the drawing room they found the women talking about, in Darcy’s opinion, nothing worth hearing. He was relieved when Mr Baker spoke up.

“As much as we enjoy hearing female voices conversing, we gentlemen look forward to some pretty music this evening. Which of you will perform for us first? You, Emma?”

“No, not me. Miss Wright, perhaps you will oblige us. Both Miss Margaret and Miss Althea have been praising your vocals.”

Having agreed, Miss Wright went to the pianoforte and applied to either Georgiana or Miss Margaret to accompany her. As Darcy expected, his blushing sister politely declined.

With alacrity, Miss Margaret moved to the instrument, seated herself upon the bench, and whispered with her elder sister awhile. “Are you certain?” Upon receiving a nod and appearing flustered, she announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, you are about to hear— Oh, you had best announce the piece yourself, Hannah, for I cannot do justice to even its title.”

“Gladly, Meg. I shall be performing Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen.”

While the performers practised scales, Mr Baker leant towards Darcy. “That is from The Magic Flute, and I know from our time in cultured Bath that the name of the piece translates to ‘Hell’s vengeance boils in my heart’.”

“I have attended a performance of that Mozart opera. If I remember properly, in a fit of vengeful rage, the Queen of the Night urges her daughter to assassinate the mother’s rival.” Egad. Why would Miss Wright choose such a menacingly grandiose aria for an intimate drawing room performance?

Mr Baker shook his head in what Darcy interpreted as disapproval.

Poised by the instrument, Miss Wright cleared her throat. “For those of you unfamiliar with this operatic piece, I am about to sing in German a fast-paced, coloratura soprano part memorable for its multiple upper register staccatos.”

“Hannah does not actually speak German,” Miss Althea told Georgiana. “She sings the foreign lyrics using phonetic mimicry.” Perhaps she had not realised how quiet the room had grown in anticipation of the song, but everyone must have heard her, including her eldest sister. Miss Wright’s fierce glare caused the poor girl’s face to turn an alarming shade of red.

During Der Hölle Rache, Darcy suspected that Miss Wright’s anger at Miss Althea might be enhancing her performance. He had often enjoyed the fair singer’s agile vocals, but never before had he heard her sing that particular aria, nor perform with all the fervour of a jealous rage. Looking about the room, he suspected everyone there was in awe of the performer’s incredible skill and the menace it imparted.

Although Miss Wright’s voice was awe-inspiring, his gaze often strayed to Miss Elizabeth. Both ladies had caught him looking that way, and he had been duly frowned at by the singer. She cannot know, can she? How could she possibly perceive his secret admiration of another? For the remainder of the performance he would watch only the auburn-haired beauty, not the brunette one. It was a novelty for him to think of Miss Elizabeth in that manner and a far cry from her being merely tolerable.

After the performance ended and Miss Wright and her sister were profusely bestowed with due praise, Miss Baker moved to Darcy’s side. “How thoughtful of Miss Wright. She must have chosen to sing in German for Frederick and me.” Catching her brother’s eye, she raised her voice. “My knowledge of the German language has unfortunately grown as rusty as the hinges on our gate.”

Unsure what he was supposed to make of the woman’s emphasis on her rusty hinges, Darcy hoped she was not expecting him to do aught about them. She was an unusual creature, as was, to a lesser degree, her brother. Mr Baker had mentioned an acquaintance with culture, but, speaking of rust, he and his sister seemed to have allowed their ‘town bronze’ to become tarnished.

“Miss Bennet, may we have the pleasure of hearing you play tonight?”