She blinked and lowered her eyes to study the pattern of Lady Lucas’s rug. Confused by his sometimes cold then sometimes warm manners, she decided to take each day as it presented itself and look no further. Today saw a congenial Darcy at her side. Tomorrow he may revert to the gentleman who had no time, nor patience for the citizens of Meryton.
It was exasperating, these attempts to discern his moods. She was beginning to believe it easier when she thoroughly disliked him. Black and white. No gray areas to blur the lines, especially when he smiled, as he was at this very moment.
Vexing man!
Then… with the smallest of touches, his hand brushed hers. Her startled gaze flew to his face only to find his full attention focused completely on Jane and Mr. Bingley. Had she imagined the feather-like graze of his fingers? She shifted her attention back to their small gathering, only to feel the back of her hand being touched once more. Glancing down, she caught him ‘red-handed’ in the act, so to speak.
With a subtle flick of her wrist, she took her fan and tapped him smartly on the fingers, while clearing her throat so no one would hear the soft ‘whack’ of her fan.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said, not missing a beat. “Would you care for a glass of punch?”
She leveled a stern look, reminiscent of her first governess in his direction. He had the grace to gift her a small smile, confirming he was very aware of his flirtatious behavior.
“A glass of punch would be welcome. Thank you.”
“Allow me to escort you to the refreshment table. Then you may choose which punch you prefer.” As they walked away, her hand lightly resting on his forearm, he said in a low voice only she could hear. “I hope you choose the liquid punch and not a solid left hook to my jaw.”
She could not help herself; she laughed out loud. What was she to do with this most frustrating man?
Later in the evening, Charlotte opened the instrument and teased Elizabeth into playing. Much to their surprise, Miss Bingley hastened before them and began performing a complicated piece with great flare. Content to stand beside Mr. Darcy and listen to such exquisite playing she shivered when he leaned in to whisper, “I would rather have listened to you, Miss Elizabeth.”
About to tap his arm again with her fan, the discordant bang of the pianoforte keys drew their attention back to Miss Bingley, who glared over the instrument at them. No one, other than Elizabeth and Darcy, discerned the reason for her abrupt finish and no one wanted to ask. Miss Bingley had not made any friends within the environs of Meryton, so its citizens were willing to let her stew in her anger without offering comfort.
To the surprise of many, Elizabeth’s next youngest sister slid in beside Miss Bingley and began playing the piece exactly where she had left off. In her quiet manner, Mary said, “When I first began playing this song from memory, this exact passage gave me some difficulty. When I reach the third movement, can you resume playing or would you like me to continue?”
Miss Bingley slowly turned and stared at Mary, then down to where her fingers moved across the keyboard. It was plain to everyone that while Miss Bingley had been near perfect in her technique, she exhibited no emotion. Mary, on the other hand, caressed the keys, coaxing them into revealing their secrets and the increasing drop in conversation levels showed Miss Bingley the guests were aware of this fact.
“If you would please continue, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth thought the pernicious lady might leave her sister’s side, but she did not. Miss Bingley shifted on the seat to give Mary more room, seemingly content to let the music wash over her. All too soon, the song was finished and Mary simply clasped her hands on her lap and smiled at the light applause her playing had garnered. She rose from the bench and turned to face Miss Bingley.
“Thank you for beginning such a beautiful song. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed playing it.” Mary cast her gaze around and then said, “There is a lovely grouping of chairs and I would be delighted if you and your sister joined me.”
Unconsciously, Elizabeth held her breath, waiting for the cut Miss Bingley was sure to give her younger sister, then softly gasped when that lady also stood and smiled.
“My sister and I would gladly sit with you.”
Together they turned and strolled to a small alcove, Mrs. Hurst soon joining them.
“If I had not seen it, I would not believe it,” Mr. Darcy murmured.
“You and I both.” Elizabeth continued to watch the three ladies, chatting quietly. “What do you make of this?”
“The one thing Miss Bingley loves more than herself is music and your sister’s playing is exquisite. Her time with Senor Giovanni was well spent.”
Chapter Seven
ThenextmorningtheBennet family gathered around the breakfast table, a time-honored tradition whereupon they discussed the previous night’s entertainment and upcoming events. Because Hertfordshire’s weather was not conducive to easy travel during November, their social calendar was quite bereft.
“Mamma, before I forget to tell you,” Lydia said quite unexpectedly. “My aunt says the officers of the ____shire militia do not go as often to Miss Watson’s as when they first arrived. For some reason, they are often standing about outside Clarke’s library.”
“When did you see my sister, Lydia?”
“Papa went to the bookseller to pick up an order. Because he likes to browse the shelves for longer than we care to wait, he dropped me and Kitty off at Aunt Philips. She fed us the most delicious scones.”
“Your great aunt Tilly’s recipe, I dare say. ‘Tis the best in the whole of Hertfordshire.” Mamma smiled in remembrance of her aunt, then turned her focus on Lydia. “Do you remember us discussing the militia after Lady Lucas visited?”
Lydia nodded and said, “I do.”
