Page 26 of The Briar Bargain
"Civility!" Elizabeth exclaimed with a laugh. "If that is what he calls civility, I am loath to think what excesses he might resort to when in love. Perhaps he shall build you a temple in the garden!”
A small smile played about Jane's lips despite her efforts to maintain her composure. "You are determined to tease me."
"I am determined to see you happy," Elizabeth corrected gently. "And if Mr. Bingley can contribute to that happiness, then I am very much in favour of his doing so. But I must know—do you still find his attentions welcome? Does his company give you pleasure?"
Jane's response was barely audible. "It does."
Elizabeth's heart lifted at this admission, small though it was. To anyone else, Jane's response might seem tepid, but Elizabeth knew her sister well enough to recognize the depth of feeling contained in those words. Jane's very reticence on the subject spoke volumes about the strength of her attachment.
"Then I hope," Elizabeth said warmly, recalling something her friend Charlotte Lucas had once said, "that you will not allow excessive modesty to prevent you from encouraging his regard. A gentleman of Mr. Bingley's temperament might easily mistake reserve for indifference, and that would be a tragedy indeed."
Jane shook her head, but Elizabeth could see that her words had given her sister much to consider. There was a brightness in Jane's countenance that had not been there before, a hope that she was trying very hard to suppress but that showed itself nonetheless in the softness of her expression.
"You changed the subject very adeptly," Jane replied with an arch look, perhaps hoping to deflect attention from her own feelings, "but I think that this is quite enough discussion of gentlemen. Drink your tea, Lizzy."
After another night’s rest, Elizabeth was allowed to join everyone after dinner in the music room. It was an elegant chamber dominated by a magnificent pianoforte that gleamed in the candlelight. Elizabeth took herseat carefully and accepted Mr. Bingley's solicitous inquiries about her health with good grace.
Mr. Darcy greeted her. "You are looking much improved, Miss Elizabeth."
"Thank you," she replied, surprised by how much his simple reassurance meant to her. "I am feeling considerably stronger."
"I am pleased to hear it" was his serious reply.
Miss Bingley had positioned herself near the pianoforte with obvious intent, her fingers already tracing idle patterns across the keys. "I thought we might enjoy some music this evening," she announced with bright enthusiasm. "Nothing too taxing, of course, given that we have an invalid among us."
Elizabeth felt her spine straighten, but before she could respond, Miss Bingley had launched into her next observation.
"Miss Eliza," she said with that particular smile that never failed to put Elizabeth on guard, "I recall your charming performance at Lucas Lodge—such spirit! And though I daresay you have not the advantage of regular instruction with a master, I should be delighted to share one or two little refinements that my sister and I have picked up in Town."
Mr. Darcy frowned slightly.
"How very generous," Elizabeth replied politely. "I shall certainly keep your kind offer in mind."
Miss Bingley's smile grew more predatory. "Perhaps you would favour us with a performance this evening? I am sure we would all be most . . . entertained."
The pause before “entertained” was so slight that only Elizabeth seemed to catch it, but it was enough to engender a bit of mischief. "I should be delighted," she replied, imagining a deliberately dreadful rendition of somesimple country air, played with such theatrical incompetence that Miss Bingley might actually swoon from the horror of it.
“Lizzy,” Jane said quietly. “Are you certain? I thought you might simply sit by the fire and have some conversation.”
“I am well enough for one song,” Elizabeth replied.
"How lovely," Miss Bingley purred. "Though perhaps I might begin. I have been practicing a particularly challenging piece that I think you might find instructive."
As Miss Bingley settled herself at the instrument with obvious satisfaction, Elizabeth caught Jane's concerned glance. Her sister disliked the undercurrents of the exchange, though she could not intervene without creating a scene.
Miss Bingley's performance was technically flawless, as Elizabeth had expected. Every note was precise, every rhythmic flourish perfectly executed, every passage delivered with the mechanical perfection that came from years of expensive instruction. It was also utterly devoid of feeling, a showcase of technical skill that left Elizabeth wondering why anyone would bother to learn music if they intended to drain it of all emotion.
The applause that followed was polite. Mr. Bingley praised his sister's accomplishment, while Mr. Hurst grunted and Mr. Darcy offered the mild compliments expected of a gentleman.
"I beg you, do take a turn, Miss Eliza," Miss Bingley announced, rising from the instrument with obvious satisfaction.
Elizabeth approached the pianoforte with outward calm, though she was acutely aware of every eye upon her. She was too tired and her back ached too much for her to do credit to one of the more difficult pieces she had mastered, but it was no matter.
Her fingers found the keys with surprising steadiness, and she began a gentle Scottish air that her father had taught her years ago. The melody wassimple but haunting, and as she played, Elizabeth felt herself relaxing into the music. This was something she understood, something that required no artifice or social manoeuvring, only emotion and honesty.
As the last notes faded, she was gratified to hear applause. While Miss Bingley frowned, her brother was beaming, Jane looked proud, and Mrs. Hurst appeared surprised. Mr. Hurst grunted, which she decided to accept as his usual expression of approbation.
When Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy, she found him watching her with an expression that made her breath catch. Only a few days past, she would have said it was disapproval.
