Page 22 of A Question of Character

“I believe he intended it,” Elizabeth replied.

Her aunt, who had been trimming a bonnet for one of the children, paused with a pin between her lips, removed it, and said, “Yes. I think perhaps he did.”

During the following days Elizabeth became aware of little remarks she could not easily explain. Mrs. Long wondered aloud why Mr. Wickham had never received a respectable living. Mrs. Philips mentioned that a client had chosen another solicitor without giving a reason. At first, each observation appeared insignificant. Together they formed a pattern Elizabeth disliked without comprehending why.

Elizabeth pretended to study the ribbon selection.

The musical evening was held at Lady Matlock’s house on a Thursday, after a day of changeable weather that left the streets shining beneath the carriage lamps. Georgiana came with her brother, and though she remained close to Mrs. Gardiner for the first quarter hour, she soon found courage enough to sit beside Elizabeth while a young lady in white prepared to sing. Mrs. Younge stood at a distance near one of the older ladies, elegant and detached, with the look of a person who fulfilled every social requirement and disliked most of them.

“You are very brave,” Elizabeth whispered to Georgiana, as the singer arranged her music.

Georgiana’s fingers worried the edge of her glove. “I am not doing anything.”

“You are here. In London. Among several terrifying ladies wearing feathers.”

A reluctant laugh escaped Georgiana before she could prevent it. “Lady Matlock is kind.”

“Then she is the least terrifying of them.”

“She frightens my brother.”

“Does she?” Elizabeth asked with interest.

“Oh, yes, a little. He never admits it.”

“I shall treasure the intelligence.”

Georgiana’s eyes widened. “You must not tell him I said so.”

“I shall be discretion itself.”

The singer began, saving Elizabeth from promising more than she could faithfully perform. The room arranged itself into suitable attention, though not all attention was equally sincere. A gentleman near the mantel inspected the singer through his quizzing glass with more interest in her figure than in her Italian pronunciation. Two older ladies behind Elizabeth discussed a recent engagement in whispers that carried shamefully well. Lady Matlock sat in regal approval, occasionally acknowledging some excellence by a movement of her fan.

Darcy stood near his uncle, but his eyes found Elizabeth often enough that she began to wonder whether he heard a note of the performance.

When the song ended, applause rose around the room. Georgiana praised the singer’s execution with real feeling, and Elizabeth, who had enjoyed the performance if not the gentleman with the quizzing glass, agreed. Before they could say more, Lord Hensley, a young man with fair hair, excellent teeth, and confidence enough for three gentlemen, approached with a bow.

“Miss Bennet, I believe I have not yet had the pleasure of being introduced.”

Lady Matlock, who missed very little, supplied the introduction from her chair. Lord Hensley sat himself near Elizabeth with alarming readiness and began to speak of music, though his knowledge appeared chiefly confined to declaring every lady’s performance divine.

Georgiana shrank half an inch toward Elizabeth.

Lord Hensley did not notice. “Do you perform, Miss Bennet?”

“A little.”

“Then you must be persuaded tonight.”

“I am seldom persuaded by gentlemen who have just learned my name.”

He laughed rather more than the remark required. “A charming rebuke. I must work harder for the privilege.”

Across the room, Darcy excused himself from his uncle.

Lord Hensley had scarcely completed his observation upon Italian music when Mr. Darcy appeared at Elizabeth’s side.

“Hensley,” Darcy said with easy civility, “my aunt has been asking whether you ever discovered the score you borrowed from Lady Dorrington.”