Page 72 of A Prudent Engagement

Her mama shrugged and picked up her embroidery. “I dare say that it will turn out well in the end. That gentleman is besotted with you. He will not allow you to go off without making a greater effort.”

“As I believe nothing of the sort,” Elizabeth replied, “that is hardly a comforting reply.”

Her mother smiled a little tearily at her. “You are so very like him.”

Elizabeth replied with confusion, “Like Mr. Darcy?”

“No, Mr. Bennet—but yes, like Mr. Darcy a little as well.”

Elizabeth sat down. “Mary, might you play one of your most complicated pieces? I have a desire to distract myself with listening.”

Her sister complied. But Mary had scarce begun to play when her fingers stilled and she asked, “Shall we now need to leave Longbourn?”

“Certainly not at present,” Charlotte said. “Mr. Darcy has already paid Mr. Collins for a two-year lease. If matters with Elizabeth remain in such a state as at present, I doubt he would continue to pay for the servants—”

“I shall not let him,” Elizabeth said quietly. “I have some dignity.”

“Quite right,” her mama said complacently. “But when you tell him that you will not let him, do it kindly. Men can become touchy when their gifts are refused.”

Elizabeth stared at her mother with some surprise.

Her mama just smiled.

The consideration that they would hold Longbourn for two more years was a matter of relief. And feeling relief at present gave Elizabeth a sense of guilt. “You do not think that you could return the money to Mr. Darcy and seek a different tenant?”

Charlotte laughed. “You certainly are in such a state. The money is a trifle to him but not to me and Mr. Collins. We could but will not. Complain as much as you wish. My ears are stuffed up.”

“Lydia and Kitty will be most happy as well,” Mary said.

“And you will be happy to keep the house for two more years, I hope,” Elizabeth said.

“I am determined to consider matters of a material nature as not being of such great importance,” Mary replied primly.

Elizabeth rose and went to the instrument. “If you will not play, give me leave to pound out a piece myself.”

Mary stood. “I have practised today as much as I had planned to.”

Elizabeth sat. She began to play something without thinking, and she started to sing.

Her mind turned to how Darcy had always spoken of his eagerness to introduce her to his sister.

She thought about how Miss Darcy was supposed to be an excellent musician.

And she thought about how Darcy had told her that he wanted to hear her play again, and that nothing had brought him greater pleasure than seeing her perform at Lucas Lodge.

Elizabeth realised that she was singing the same light song that she had sung then.

Her heart ached with the words, and passion poured into her voice.

By the time she had finished, tears dampened her face.

Jane hesitantly moved towards her.

Elizabeth embraced her sister.

“Lizzy, I am so, so, so unhappy that I caused this. I was wrong. I thought I was doing right, but I was wrong.”

“No, you were not. Or maybe you were. I do not know. I simply do not—but I…I suppose I should have said everything to Mr. Darcy when he asked me to marry him. It was a mistake to ever hide anything from him. Perhaps if I had then explained that I both liked him but that I could not yet be certain…oh, I hardly know. It all was so tangled, so mixed together, and oh—”