Georgiana was next. Her skills were practically perfect. The notes were all correct, and there was enough dynamics to the music, both in volume and in pace, to give it feeling and interest.
Throughout the first two performances, Mary’s nerves grew as she pondered which piece she would play. She was very much aware that this was the first time Lord Matlock would hear her performance on the piano, and she wanted it to be perfect.
As Georgiana’s playing drew to a close, Lord Matlock, who was sitting next to Mary on the sofa said softly, “I would dearly love to hear you play your favorite song.”
Mary realized suddenly that she had somewhat fallen into her old habits of thinking. She had been trying to decide which piece would be most impressive, but that didn’t matter. It never had. As he had said early in their acquaintance, he valued honesty more than technical perfection. With that in mind, Mary knew exactly which song she would play.
When Georgiana was done with her piece, Mary approached the piano and pulled out a piece she had discovered just last year. It was one of Mozart’s lesser-known works, but Mary found it oddly compelling. Its title was Sonata Quasi Una Fantasia or Sonata in the Manner of a Fantasy, but Mary always thought it sounded like moonlight on water.
She placed the music on the stand and began to play. Soon she was lost in the flow of the music, and she forgot she was performing. She allowed herself to sway and nod as if she was floating on the water along with the moonlight.
When it was done, she came out of her trance only to see the other inhabitants of the room staring at her. The sight brought back memories of the day of Elizabeth’s wedding when everyone had been so shocked at her performance they couldn’t say a word.
Mary felt tears come to her eyes. She reminded herself that this was exactly why she was never herself when she performedin public. She could not bear such shock, such unspoken censure.
She opened her mouth to apologize, but Elizabeth spoke first. “Mary, that was wonderful. I knew you had improved immensely, but I can honestly say I have never been more moved by a piece of music in my life.”
“Yes,” said Georgiana. “I only wish I could play with such feeling. It was stunningly marvelous.”
Apparently, their shock had not been due to displeasure but rather the reverse. Mary’s gaze went to Lord Matlock, whose opinion she valued the most. He still seemed stunned, much like a rabbit who has been caught in the light of a lantern.
With a great deal of trepidation, she returned to her seat beside Lord Matlock. As she moved his gaze followed her, though he was still apparently too shocked to speak.
It wasn’t until Elizabeth had begun to play again that he found his voice, but what he said once he had found it shocked Mary to her core.
“Mary Bennet, I beg you to marry me.”
~~~~~
John had never witnessed such perfection in his life before this moment. There before him, playing the piano with a perfect combination of passion and discipline, was the most beautiful woman in the world.
He had known he loved her since he forced himself to leave her more than two years ago, but he had not allowed himself to dwell on the feeling. There had always been so many things keeping them apart: his marriage, his lack of confidence, his betrayal and lies.
Now, however, none of it seemed to matter. What mattered was that he spend the rest of his life listening to and watching her play the piano. What mattered was that he never wanted to leave her again. What mattered was that he knew he must marry her.
He knew she was far too good for him. He knew he was not worthy of her and would likely be a burden on her over time. Even so, he could not let this chance pass without at least attempting to acquire that which he desired more than life itself.
John was so overwhelmed by the beauty and emotion Mary had put into her performance that none of these thoughts were clear to him, at least not in words. The only thing he could think, the only thing he could say once she was seated next to him was, “Mary Bennet, I beg you to marry me.”
So many expressions flashed through her eyes and across her face that he could not discern any of them. The one that lingered, however, was censure. “My Lord, for you to say such a thing when we are both surrounded by others leads me to only one conclusion, that you must be teasing me. I must say it is cruel of you to treat such a sacred subject so lightly.”
She was correct, as she always had been. John looked over to where Darcy was sitting, mesmerized by his wife’s performance.
“Darcy, I am going to take Miss Bennet out into the hall for a few minutes. We have something that needs to be discussed.”
Darcy did not answer immediately. He looked over at the two of them sitting together on the sofa. “As you will,” he said. “Do not linger for too long.”
Taking Mary by the hand, John gently pulled her to her feet. Then he led her out into the hall. Once they were there and thedrawing room door was closed behind them, he turned to look at her. Her expression showed an odd mixture of fear and hope.
John lifted his hand and with his thumb, he smoothed the tension from her brow. As he did so, he said, “Mary, I have never been more serious in my life. There are a few reasons why I have not spoken, but I assure you that the idea has lingered in my mind since shortly after Natalie’s death, though a part of me is ashamed to admit it. I didn’t even admit it to myself.”
“Even before you saw me again in London?” she asked.
“Even before then,” he assured her. “You cannot guess at the strength of my feelings for you which have lingered in my soul since I was forced to leave you in Hertfordshire. Only the knowledge that I was betraying my wife and the certainty that I would only bring you pain could have wrenched me away from you at that time. Though I repressed my feelings and my memories of you to attempt to be a better husband, still your memory slumbered within me, awakening once again once my heart was free of my obligations.”
“I have trouble believing this,” she said, though her eyes said otherwise. She was full of light and hope, and only the merest shadow of doubt still lingered within.
“I can well imagine you would struggle,” he said. “I am aware that you believed yourself to be unlovable at the time. Let me assure you, however, that you were quite the opposite. I loved you then, and I love you so much more now. I can picture our lives together perfectly. In the evenings you will play for me. Then when I am thoroughly distracted by your beauty and your passion, we will play cards together where you will trounce me soundly every night. We will spend our days exploring the nature that surrounds us at Matlock. Then, as our children grow we can teach them everything we have learned together.
