Page 37 of Miss Bingley’s Return

“It will be a few moments before dinner,” said Miss Darcy.

Elizabeth noticed they did not offer a tour of the house, and after a moment she understood why. They were visitors, friends invited for dinner—a tour would have implied more intimacy than the situation demanded. But Miss Darcy was eager to show them her pride and joy, the pianoforte that sat in an adjacent chamber with a set of double doors between them that could be opened for performances.

“This is a lovely instrument,” said Elizabeth, her fingers caressing the keys, knowing it would produce sound far superior to the old pianoforte at Longbourn. “I will remind you that I have heard you play very well, indeed.”

Miss Darcy’s shyness was on display as her cheeks colored, and her eyes found the floor. A moment later, she summoned her courage and looked up, a soft smile on her lips.

“Whether I do is not for me to say,” said she, her statement a little bolder than Elizabeth had expected. “But I enjoy it very much.”

“That is clear,” said Elizabeth with a warm smile. “Shall we hear you play this evening, or are you still uncomfortable playing before guests?”

Gratitude lit up her face, recognition that Elizabeth had allowed her an escape if she chose.

“I am not accustomed to playing in front of anyone,” replied she. “If you will oblige me in turn, perhaps you may persuade me.”

Elizabeth laughed and touched the girl’s hand. “Yes, I remember our agreement. I suspect, Miss Darcy, that this pianoforte is far too fine for my clumsy efforts, but if the price is hearing you play, I shall not hesitate.”

When they returned to the others, Elizabeth noted Mr. Darcy regarding her with deep sincerity, a gratitude she did not think was feigned. Elizabeth nodded to the gentleman, but she did not dwell on it. For a time, they spoke of various matters of interest, and for a time, all thought of Mr. Bingley, Miss Bingley, and Miss Whitcombe disappeared in favor of enjoying the company.

When the call to dinner came, Mr. Darcy invited them to the dining-room. He offered his arm to Mrs. Gardiner, then turned to Jane, though his gaze lingered on Elizabeth. Jane, seeing this, laughed, her tone becoming more teasing than she usually allowed.

“Do not concern yourself with precedence, Mr. Darcy,” said she. “It is clear that you prefer to escort my sister to dinner, and I do not blame you. I am content with my uncle’s escort.”

Elizabeth could not have supposed that such a self-possessed man as Mr. Darcy would show such discomposure, but Mr. Darcy was almost blushing at Jane’s saucy comment! Rather than make an issue of it, he extended his free arm to Elizabeth, then led them from the room.

“I must own that I am most curious, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy in a low tone. “While there is a certain resemblance between you and your elder sister, I have never seen it so clearly as I did just now.”

Elizabeth allowed herself a quiet chuckle—Mrs. Gardiner did not restrain her laughter.

“Oh, Jane can tease with as much facility as Lizzy does,” said she. “Jane, however, is much more judicious in releasing her wit.”

“Thus, it is more treasured when she does,” said Elizabeth.

“Yes, I can see that,” murmured Mr. Darcy.

The dining-room was large and imposing like everything else in the house, but the table they used was small as befitted a party of only six. Unlike a larger party, where those present settled into small groups for conversation, they shared the burden between them. Mr. Darcy was pleasant, gracious, and even personable as a host, asking after their comfort and carrying his share of the conversation.

In time, Elizabeth noticed her aunt was fixing her with more pointed looks the longer they were there, and her uncle looked on with a pleased amusement that said nothing but noticed everything. Even Jane watched with contentment Elizabeth had rarely seen these last months.

As for Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth sat next to him, her position on the long side of the table such that conversation was effortless. Several times when he addressed her, his gaze lingered as if he wished to say more, then moved to someone else, as if duty propelled him.

After dinner, Elizabeth played the pianoforte as promised, and listened with pleasure as Georgiana reciprocated, proving that Miss Bingley’s comments were not entirely intended to ingratiate herself with a young girl.

“Thank you, Miss Darcy,” said Elizabeth after she stepped away from the instrument, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “That was beautiful.”

“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” said she, grateful for the praise but self-conscious because of it. “I enjoyed your performance too.”

Elizabeth smiled and nodded, knowing that excessive praise or deflection on her part would only make the girl uncomfortable. Instead, she introduced the subject of favorite composers, and they spoke agreeably for some time.

Later, when Miss Darcy was engaged in conversation with Jane and her aunt and uncle, Mr. Darcy took the opportunity to address her.

“You have a deft touch, Miss Elizabeth.”

“In what way, Mr. Darcy?” asked she, though she had a notion of what he would say.

“The way you handled Georgiana.”

Mr. Darcy sat back, a darker expression crossing his features, though he shook it away.