If fortunate, she would not be prevailed upon to perform. There were ladies enough to do so, and some more eager than she to share their talents. Those ladies would not recoil from a second or third selection if pressed. No. In that she had little doubt.
“Are you to delight us on that fine harp?” Elizabeth whispered to her sister, eyes drifting to the fine gilded instrument beside the pianoforte.
Leaning toward Elizabeth Jane answered softly, “As much as I have enjoyed the evening, I would rather be abed. If you, Mary, and myself do not offer ourselves up to entertain, perhaps Lady Charmane or some bold guest will remark at the greatness of all our journeys, prompting us to retire?”
“I rather thought that conversation beyond your sisters would prove stimulating enough to wipe all thoughts of sleep from you? Or that this performance might.”
“Nearly,” Jane smirked. “Days of travel, however, have not left me at my best. I would rather sleep first and then enjoy a fresh day filled with conversation.”
Nodding, Elizabeth returned her gaze to Miss Wordsworth, the young lady bashing the keys with fervor as the piece came to its close. Her audience, with all politeness, applauded, though no request for an encore proved forthcoming. Thus, Miss Edmund took her place at the harp; the light touch of the strings a stark contrast to the previous performance.
Blinking rapidly as the quiet, melodious playing continued for some minutes, Elizabeth sought a more comfortable position, her bleary eyes catching those of Mr. Darcy.
Pointing with her head toward the harp, Elizabeth raised her brows, the slight pull of his lips answer enough.
With another round of applause as the melody concluded, Miss Edmund lingered on her stool until, with no requests for an encore, she pursed her lips and flitted to her seat amongst the onlookers. The room silent and wreathed in yawns, Lady Charmane at length stood and addressed her guests.
“I am certain many of you are in need of rest after your long journeys here. Any who wish to linger are welcome to; the decanters are filled with whatever the gentlemen–or ladies–might desire, and should you find yourselves hungry, various delights can be found in the dining room at almost any time of the day, breakfast included due to the renovations. With that I shall wish upon you all pleasant sleep; you can break your fasts whenever you awake.”
Without reply their host left the room, her guests watching her depart with astonishment, amusement, or disdain depending on the individual’s leanings. To Elizabeth, amusement fit most naturally, their host having promised informality and doing her utmost to stay wholly true to it.
Rising, Jane turned toward her sisters, each standing as she did and prompting the gentlemen within the room to do the same.
“It has been a lovely evening, though we too must bid goodnight,” Jane remarked with a light bow, her sisters following with awed grins.
Their eldest sister had been positively bold,Elizabeth considered with amusement as she gave a soft nod to Mr. Darcy, Jane pausing to do the same with Mr. Bingley.And… oh, was that interest she saw? From Mr. Bingley, yes–his eyes had kept to Jane most of the evening–but from Jane? She would have to keep an eye out.
Perhaps Mr. Darcy might let her know of the man’s character? Not that Jane could truly be serious. They had only met that afternoon, and plays and novels–her preferred ones in any case–even they gave a full day or more to fall in love.
Chapter 13
Staffordshire, England – 1812 – Day 2
Having failed to draw his curtains the night prior, the exhaustion of travel and hours of company with strangers worked together to permit the sun an occupation rarely had in the dark months of the season, that of awakening an early riser. Already the ice which had formed on the panes of his window began to thaw, and though the world outside glistened in the shimmer of a new layer of snow gifted as they slept, the scattered clouds above floated as if avoiding the sun.
If all went well,Darcy reflected as he stood before the chill of the window,his cousin would be able to content himself with a long walk or a ride. Miss Elizabeth would doubtless be equally keen. Perhaps he ought to offer his services as a companion? If the snow melted as quickly as it appeared there would be patches of slush and mud everywhere… it would not do to leave her to fend for herself, would it? And he would not mind the exercise.
Yes.
He would ask her.
In less than half an hour, dressed and anxious to see if he might be of some service to Miss Elizabeth, Darcy strode down to the dining room, his cousin, Miss Mary, and Lord Brayburn the only ones present.
“Mr. Darcy?” Lord Brayburn questioned politely from his place at the sideboard, a sausage speared in one hand and a plate held in the other. “I am correct I hope–with the informality of introductions at the table last evening, I fear I shall find myself mistaken on one name or another before the day is out.”
“You are correct,” Darcy answered stiffly as he procured a plate of his own; the man’s title enough to vex him. “And you are Lord Brayburn. I trust you slept well?”
“Indeed. Yourself?”
“Quite.”
“Darcy,” Fitz interrupted with perfect timing.
Another minute and the list of expected pleasantries would have been used up, what with Miss Elizabeth not yet arrived to steal his attentions.
An earl. He ought to have expected men of the Ton in the home of a countess, but he had been fixed on overcoming his objections to her position… too fixed, it seemed, to consider the inevitable. That he must endure three weeks with lords and ladies.
“Darcy,” Fitz said again, this time with a light shake to Darcy’s shoulders. “Whatever is the matter with you this morning? Come, sit and eat. Is that all you are having?”
