Page 83 of The Slipper Scandal
"That you engineered our compromising situation in the garden?"
"Yes," Elizabeth admitted, her distress evident. "She will present it as a clever strategy rather than the unfortunate sequence of events that it truly was. And then she will take credit for teaching me."
“I must beg your pardon,” Darcy replied. “It was neither you nor I, but Lord Ellington who devised and disseminated every bit of gossip that led us here.”
They were quiet for a moment, but when he finally puzzled out why her mother’s gracelessness would hurt her, he stepped closer. "Elizabeth," he said softly, forgetting his promise to maintain formality with her, "no words your mother might utter could possibly persuade me to think ill of you."
The sound of her Christian name brought her eyes back to his face, widening with surprise and something deeper, moreprofound. Before she could respond, however, the door swung open to reveal Fitzwilliam.
"Ah, there you are!" the colonel exclaimed with poorly feigned surprise. "Lady Spencer has been searching everywhere for you both. The final portion of the evening is about to begin, and she particularly wishes to see Miss Bennet before it does."
“Your brother said that it was Lady Jersey who wished to speak with me,” Elizabeth said sweetly. “Are you certain it was Lady Spencer?”
Fitzwilliam was surprised at the question, that much was clear, for he glanced over one shoulder before responding. “Yes,” he said uncertainly.
Darcy bit back a curse. "We shall rejoin the company momentarily," he said, making no attempt to conceal his annoyance.
"I am afraid she was most insistent," Fitzwilliam replied, his expression suggesting he was aware of Darcy's frustration. "Some distinguished personage has arrived unexpectedly, a foreign ambassador, I believe, and she wishes to present Miss Bennet without delay."
“How can you fear my reaction to your mother when you have metmyfamily?” he muttered.
Elizabeth smiled almost imperceptibly. "We should not keep Lady Spencer waiting," she said. "Particularly not for a foreign ambassador."
Darcy had no choice but to accede, offering his arm once more to escort her back to the drawing room. As they followed Fitzwilliam, he leaned down slightly to murmur in her ear.
"This conversation is not concluded. I shall find another opportunity to speak with you privately, even if I must lock my relatives in a closet to do so."
Her soft laughter was her only reply, but it pleased him nonetheless.
True to Fitzwilliam's word, something Darcy had entirely doubted, Lady Spencer was indeed waiting to present Elizabeth to a dignified gentleman with an impressive array of medals adorning his chest. Darcy was relegated to the periphery of the conversation, forced to watch as Elizabeth charmed the elderly ambassador with her natural grace and quick wit.
By the time Lady Spencer announced the final performance of the evening, Darcy was more determined than ever to assure Elizabeth that her mother could not frighten him away. He might have to wait and call on her tomorrow, provided his aunt did not intend to form a barricade across the front steps.
The remaining performers were adequate at best, nothing to Elizabeth.
When the final young lady completed her song, Lady Spencer rose from her gilded chair and clapped her hands lightly, the sound carrying with effortless authority. “My dear friends,” she called, her eyes sweeping the gathering, “surely among so accomplished a company, there might be someone prevailed upon to offer a final entertainment before we part for the evening?”
A hush followed—polite, expectant, and entirely unproductive. Guests glanced at one another with the strained smiles of those hoping someone else would be moved by inspiration or vanity. A few fans fluttered nervously; several gentlemen stared determinedly at their shoes. Lady Spencer’s smile remained serene, though her eyebrows lifted by a degree that suggested growing impatience.
Every one of the Matlocks turned their gaze upon Darcy.
Every moment he had tried to speak with Elizabeth had been deftly, infuriatingly interrupted. A sudden flurry of well-placed guests, a spontaneous musical interlude, a new introduction at just the wrong time. While he could not fault his family’s intentions, he resented their interference. He hadtoldthemhe needed no grand tactics, no manufactured encounters. He needed Elizabeth to seehim, without embellishment, without distraction, without half the room standing in the way.
But if his family insisted on tactics, then he would claim the stage they had cleared for him. They had wanted him to play, and if words could not reach Elizabeth through the wall of polite society and their stupid, orchestrated diversions, then music would. He had played only for himself for years.
Tonight, he would play for her. And she would know.
No one else had volunteered, which was just as well. He would not like to steal attention from a lady.
"I should be honoured to offer a modest contribution on the violin," he said, rising to his feet, "though I confess I have not brought my instrument."
Whispers rippled through the gathering. Lady Spencer was delighted, but Darcy knew she could not be surprised.
"How fortunate that Lord Spencer has several fine violins in his collection," she replied, gesturing to a footman who hurried from the room. "We shall be most gratified to hear you play, Mr. Darcy."
After a brief wait, Darcy accepted the violin presented by the footman and plucked the strings until the instrument was in perfect tune. He was acutely aware of the gazes fixed upon him, each pair of eyes staring, each whisper pricking his ear.
The silence in the room deepened. He could not write a sonnet or draw a picture, but he could play. And in playing, perhaps he might finally make her hear what his heart longed to say.
