"He calls her a 'storm in a teapot'," Tepper provided helpfully. "He also claims she has opinions on turnips."
"She understands trade routes!" Bingley insisted. "She respects the wool industry!"
"Well," the Colonel said, pulling up a chair and pouring himself a glass of brandy from the tray Tepper had silently provided. "Let us assess the battlefield. You have the mud. You have the Broadwood. You have a purpose. Why is the instrument silent?"
"I cannot just ask her to play!" Bingley cried, pacing the rug. "It would be presumptuous. It would reveal that I listened at the door in London. I need an excuse. A social manoeuvre. I cannot simply say, 'Miss Bennet, please come and touch my ivory keys because I think you are the only person who understands my very soul.'"
"That would indeed be forward," Tepper agreed. "And alarming."
"You need a dinner party," the Colonel decided, taking a sip of his brandy. "And you need me."
"You?"
"I shall be your distraction. I shall charm the mother. I shall listen to the serious sister. I shall distract the village." The Colonel pointed his glass at Bingley. "And you, my muddy friend, will take Miss Bennet to the music room. You will tell her that the instrument is new, and tragic, and requires a scholar's touch to ensure it is not defective."
"Defective?" Bingley blinked. "But it cost a fortune!"
"Mr Bingley has a great talent for drama when he wants a biscuit," Tepper noted from the corner, holding up a gleaming boot. "I imagine he can apply the same technique to Mozart."
Bingley looked between them—his valet and his best friend, his two torturers, his two guardians.
"Actually, there is a card party where you could be invaluable," Bingley said rubbing his jaw pensively. "A circular attack. You think it will work?"
"I think," the Colonel said, standing up and clapping Charles on the shoulder, "that you have dug enough ditches, Bingley. It is time to stop playing with the dirt and start playing the music. To the Campaign."
"To the Campaign," Bingley whispered, staring at the door where the silent pianoforte waited. "And to the depth."
