She laughed. “What? Who would cherish one of those?”
“But you see, it was my father who gave it to me. Jane had one, and I wanted one, though Mama said I was too young to be bothered with that sort of thing. One morning, Papa woke me early and called me down to his library, and after that we spent an hour every morning, before the rest of the household awoke, working on my primer. He even brought me to London with him when business called him to Town, so we could work on it together.”
“So, it wasn’t the gift itself,” Jane murmured, “but time with Papa.”
“Exactly.”
Miss Darcy frowned speculatively. “I have an idea. I believe Fitzwilliam really does love it when I play the piano for him. He will cease whatever he is doing and come to turn the pages for me. Perhaps if I found a piece of music that I do not already have—something that he would particularly like—perhaps that would be something he would cherish above all other things I could find for him.”
“There’s a lovely notion, Miss Darcy. Let us go to the music shop. I believe there is one just a few streets from here—we can return your parcels to the carriage and then walk, if you like.”
Miss Darcy grinned. “I would, thank you.”
“Whataboutthisone?”I asked. “Beethoven’s ‘Waldstein’ Sonata. Oh, this one is lovely—or, it would be, if someone more expressive than my sister Mary played it.”
Miss Darcy’s eyes flicked over the notes. “I know this one, and I do not already have it.” She turned through the pages, and I could see her counting the measures, her fingers ticking at her skirts as she read. “It sounds heroic,” she murmured. “See, this section here… and here.”
“Is that suitable for your purpose?”
“Oh, indeed. Fitzwilliam has been my champion—why, last summer, I…” She swallowed and put the music back. “Well. Yes, the piece would suit. But now that I think of it, I believe Miss Bingley told me in one of her letters thatshehad played this in company at Netherfield.”
“Yes, that is where I first heard it,” I agreed. “When Jane was ill, I stayed there, and she entertained us.”
“And did my brother appear to like it?”
I scoffed. “He never once looked up from his book.” Well… that was not true. He glanced up to stare at me several times, with that look that seemed at once curious and disapproving. But it was the same expression he had looked at me with at the Bingleys’ party, and I had not precisely sensed disapproval there. I could not say what itwas, though.
“That settles it,” Georgiana decided. “This is not the right gift. If he likes it at all, it will only remind him of something else.”
“Well, what do you not already own?” I scanned the selections laid out for us by the shop owner. Miss Darcy had already set most of them aside. Finding something she did not already have seemed to be the greatest challenge. “Excuse me, sir,” I asked the man behind the counter. “Do you perhaps have anything new?”
He frowned in thought, then held up a finger. “There is this, but it is not popular. A young composer from Vienna—I was sent a sample of his work when I made a larger order. Rather promising, but we shall see if aught is heard from him again.”
“Who is the composer?” Miss Darcy asked.
The clerk looked down at the page. “Franz… Schubert. They say he is a prodigy, but that is said about many, you understand.”
Miss Darcy held out her hand. “May I?”
“Of course.” He offered her the page. “Not your traditional concerto. A ‘Fantasy,’ he calls it, in G Minor.”
“‘For Four Hands.’ It’s a duet,” she murmured. Her eyes scanned the page a little farther.
“A duet?” I wondered. “That will not serve unless your brother would be inclined to playwithyou.”
“He does not play.”
“Well! A pity. But perhaps if we keep looking—“
“I will take it.”
I blinked and said nothing while Miss Darcy withdrew the coins from her reticle. The shop owner carefully bundled her purchase against the winter weather, and she tucked it under her arm. “Shall we?”
I shrugged and joined her, but when we were outside on the walk, my curiosity overcame me. “I do not mean to pry, Miss Darcy, but how ever do you intend to make use of that piece if Mr. Darcy does not know how to play? I thought your intent was to find something you and he could enjoy together. Would he be willing to learn?”
“Fitzwilliam?” She laughed. “He always said his fingers were too clumsy for the keys. But I am sure that I will find someone else who will be willing to oblige and play with us.”
“Miss Bingley?”
