Page 21 of One Good Sonnet

Elizabeth looked up as Mr. Darcy entered the west drawing room.

“Forgive me. I forgot to remove my scarf. The knot was tight.” Mr. Darcy greeted Mrs. Bennet and the other Bennet ladies.

“We are searching for Jane, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet said. “She left the room before your arrival and has yet to return.”

“I am here, Mama. I finally found the book I meant to show Mr. Bingley.” Jane held up a book of sonnets, well-worn from being read. She joined Mr. Bingley, who had taken a seat on the settee nearest the fire.

Mr. Darcy came to Elizabeth and sat beside her. “What are you working on?” he asked.

She held up the bookmark in her hand. “I am attempting to embroider this for my little cousin. She has lately learned to read and carries books everywhere.”

“A child after your own heart, then?” Darcy queried.

“I do like to read, but I cannot call myself a great reader. My father ensured I had a well-rounded education, and we chose a different book each week to study together. Still, I enjoy a great many things, and my attention can be seized at a moment’s notice. That is, perhaps, why my pianoforte performances lack technical proficiency.”

“Your playing is lovely, Elizabeth. No one who has heard you can say anything different,” Jane spoke from her position beside Mr. Bingley.

“Perhaps you will play for me someday,” Darcy added.

“Why not now?” Mrs. Bennet interjected. “Mary, move away from the instrument. Give your sister a chance to play!”

Mary did so without complaint, though Elizabeth saw displeasure and hurt on her sister’s face.

“Now you will all see how much better Mary is! No one asks me to play reels or jigs. It is always Mary called upon to offer up her talents.”

This cheered her sister, and for that, Elizabeth was glad. The poor girl was far too overlooked.

“I shall turn the pages,” Mr. Darcy said.

Elizabeth nodded and took her position on the bench. She selected a moderately difficult piece and reviewed the music briefly before placing her hands on the keys.

“Can you read music, Mr. Darcy, or shall I nod my head when it is time to turn the pages?”

“I can read music,” he replied. “I often turn the pages for my sister.”

Elizabeth began to play. It was a romantic piece, and one of her favorites. There were lyrics, but she did not sing.

When she had finished, the assemblage applauded.

“That was well done,” Mr. Darcy said.

“You jest. Surely you must have seen how I fudged and slurred my way through the difficult passages.”

“Perhaps I noted it, but the great feeling you imbued in the music more than made up for it. I hardly noticed.” Mr. Darcy’s smile made her heart flutter, and Elizabeth was unsure how to reply.

“Begging your pardon, Mrs. Bennet.” Hill appeared in the doorway. “I thought it best to inform the gentlemen that there appears to be a storm coming.”

“Ah.” Bingley stood. “Yes, we were quite distracted. Darcy, let us depart. We shall call again soon.”

“Perhaps you might join us for a family dinner,” Mrs. Bennet suggested. “Shall I send round a note?”

“Yes, that would be delightful,” Bingley replied. “Ladies.” He bowed, and Mr. Darcy followed suit. They followed Hill from the room, leaving the ladies alone once more.

Elizabeth’s emotions were tangled and confused. She liked Mr. Darcy, and his presence did not appear to discompose Jane. But how was she to feel about his attentions, knowing he had abandoned her dear sister?

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One Good Sonnet