Page 28 of The Matchmaker’s Mistake

Darcy felt as though he had been attending this dinner for years. He bowed. “You are very good, Lady Honoria.”

It was a courtesy he might have offered any lady at any door, but Lady Honoria, gratified, gave him a warm parting smile and joined her mother. His mother, across the room, met his eye briefly before leading the ladies out.

The men did not linger over the port. Lord Lansdowne and Lord Matlock spoke for twenty-five minutes about something to do with petitions, and then his uncle, who had been at his sister’s small dinners often enough to keep an eye on the clock, stood and proposed they rejoin the ladies, as he understood that Lady Honoria had been asked to play.

Lady Honoria’s selections included two Italian airs and one of Mozart's better known lieder. Between pieces she observed, to the room, that the modern fashion for sentimental ballads was certain to be short-lived.

Darcy found himself recalling another lady whose execution, though less exact, had possessed more spirit and had given her listeners a great deal more pleasure. Miss Elizabeth Bennet had never approached the pianoforte as Lady Honoria did, with a cold determination to conquer every difficult passage; there had been mistakes enough, heaven knew, and liberties taken with the tempo that would certainly have offended more fastidious ears. Yet her playing had warmth, humour, and feeling. She conversed with music instead of attempting to subdue it. One forgot the imperfections almost immediately but remembered the enjoyment of hearing her long afterwards.

The clock struck a quarter past.

Darcy waited as Lord Lansdowne kissed his mother’s hand. Lady Lansdowne smiled at everyone. Lady Honoria paused on the threshold to assure Darcy that she hoped to see him again very soon.

“Lady Honoria,” Darcy said.

The door closed.

Lord Matlock, who had remained behind in the hall, was the first to laugh. He did so only briefly and quietly after the front door was safely shut. Darcy’s mother sent her brother a look that warned him she had not yet decided whether she would be laughing.

“Anne,” he said, recovering his composure. “I shall leave you to it. Goodnight, Fitzwilliam.”

“Uncle.”

Lord Matlock paused at the door with his gloves half on. “I trust your mother will be merciful in her next selection. I do not believe even Anne can produce three such candidates in a row.”

“You give her more credit than I, sir.”

The earl pressed Darcy’s shoulder once and went out to his carriage.

Darcy and his mother returned to the drawing room.

She seated herself near the fire and rearranged a fold of her shawl. “That was not what I had expected.”

“Was it not?”

“It was not. Lady Lansdowne has been telling everybody for two years that her daughter is a credit to her education. When I spoke with her, I thought there might be something in that.”

“There is a great deal in it. Lady Honoria is so well educated that she considers it ungenerous to keep any of it to herself.”

His mother did not laugh. She merely considered him. “She is knowledgeable, and she does speak well.”

“She speaks beautifully. And at impressive length.”

“She is still young.”

“You told me that she is twenty-five.”

“That is young, Fitzwilliam.” His mother paused. “She does have opinions.”

“In abundance.”

“I did not think her wholly without wit.”

“Lady Honoria possesses fluency. Wit is more demanding.” And wit, Darcy realised, was what he wanted. He wanted the quick turn of thought that caught him unprepared. The arch look that made him suspect he had been mocked and actually hope that he had. A woman who could laugh at folly without imagining herself exempt from it.

He wanted Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Which was unfortunate, as Miss Elizabeth Bennet could not possibly want him. He would be fortunate if she did not hate him.