Page 7 of Mr Darcy Bets on Love

"Well," said Charlotte, at her shoulder. "That lady has declared war."

"On Mr Darcy?"

"On you, Eliza. Do not pretend you did not notice."

Elizabeth did not pretend. She had noticed at the assembly, and in the Netherfield carriage as it passed Longbourn on Thursday, when a face at its window had looked at her garden with frank disdain.

The battle, when it came, came at the pianoforte.

Sir William begged for music after dinner, and Mary, who never needed to be begged, was forestalled by Charlotte, who pushed Elizabeth firmly onto the stool. Elizabeth played two Scottish airs, badly, and sang them rather well, and when she finished there was the kind of warm applause a neighbourhood gives to a girl it has known since she was in leading strings.

"Charming," said Miss Bingley, into the pause that followed. "Quite charming. So natural. One can always tell when a young lady has not been spoiled by masters."

The room did not go silent, quite. But it went careful. Elizabeth saw Lady Lucas's smile freeze, and Jane's colour rise.

"You are very kind, Miss Bingley," she said pleasantly. "I have indeed been spared the masters. My father says it is the one economy he has never regretted."

A ripple of laughter. Miss Bingley's smile grew teeth.

"You must let me give you the direction of my own master when you come to town," she went on. "Signor Bassi. He is quite the most sought after in London, and very patient. I am sure in a year or two he could make something of you. Though of course," she added, with a delicate little frown, "he is very dear. I forget that not everybody can afford such things."

This time the silence was complete.

Elizabeth rose from the stool. She was aware of her cheeks burning, and of her mother drawing breath to say something that would make everything worse, and of Jane's anxious face, and she thought, very clearly: I will not give her the satisfaction.

"How thoughtful," she said. "But I think I should only waste Signor Bassi's time. I play for my own pleasure and my friends' patience, Miss Bingley, and I have always found both inexhaustible." She smiled at Charlotte, who grinned back. "Perhaps you will play for us instead? I am sure we should all learn a great deal."

It was neatly done. Miss Bingley could not refuse without seeming spiteful, and she could not accept without seeming vain. She hesitated one moment too long.

"Miss Bingley plays exceedingly well," said a deep voice from beside the fireplace. "But I would rather hear Miss Elizabeth sing again, if she will. The second air. I did not know it."

Every head in the room turned towards Mr Darcy.

He stood with his hands behind his back, looking at nobody but Elizabeth, as though he were quite unaware that he had just publicly preferred a squire's daughter with no master to the sister of his closest friend. There was not the faintest flicker in his face. He might have been asking for the salt.

Miss Bingley's colour rose in two sharp spots.

Elizabeth sat down again, because her knees had gone oddly weak, and played the second air. She sang it to the keys. She did not dare look up, but she did not need to. She could feel him listening, the way she might feel the sun on her back, all the way to the last verse.

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Miss Bingley did not speak to him in the carriage. It was the most restful journey Darcy had made in Hertfordshire.

Bingley, however, knocked on his door an hour after they reached Netherfield, still in his evening coat, with two glasses of brandy and an expression of unusual determination.

"I have come to apologise for Caroline," he said, and put one glass into Darcy's hand. "She was abominable. I have told her so. She cried, and then she threw a slipper at me, and then she said you were bewitched." He sat down on the end of the bed without being asked. "Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Bewitched. By Miss Elizabeth."

Darcy looked at the brandy. He could deny it. He had spent eight-and-twenty years being reserved, and it had become a habit so deep he no longer noticed it. He had never discussed a woman with Bingley in his life. Bingley discussed women with him every week, generally a different one, and Darcy listened and advised caution and privately thought his friend a fool.

"I defended her against your sister tonight," he said slowly, "in front of the whole neighbourhood. I did not think about it first. I did not think about it at all. I heard Caroline say she could not afford a music master, and I was on my feet before I knew it."

"I saw."

"I have never in my life done anything I did not think about first."