Page 79 of Her Whole Heart
Chapter Twenty-Three
After the opera had concluded, they all travelled to Darcy House for supper. Elizabeth had been here to visit Georgiana before, but only during the day. This late in the evening, the candlelight glinted off the crystal and silver, casting a warm glow over the room and their assembled party.
Mr. Darcy was an attentive host, though his gaze often returned to linger on Elizabeth. She wondered if the others noticed.
As the food arrived, Lord Milton was regaling those assembled with tales of his operatic adventures, including a recounting of his favourite singers.
“I must say, the way Miss Catalani can traverse three octaves without losing any quality of sound is something very rare indeed. If I recall correctly, Darcy, your mother had nearly as good a range.”
“It seems musical talent runs in your family, Mr. Darcy,” Jane said.
“My mother was musically gifted, and my sister has inherited her talent." Darcy glanced over at the viscount before saying, drily, "Milton has only inherited an appreciation, for his voice is dreadful.”
“My voice is wonderful,” Lord Milton protested, but he could not maintain his composure. “It is better than yours.”
“It is not,” Darcy replied. “However, unlike you, I have never claimed to have a decent singing voice.” He turned to the table to explain. “Fitz is the only one of the men in our family who can carry a tune.”
“Yes, very useful on a long march,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a roll of his eyes.
“I pray you are not returning to long marches on foreign soil anytime soon,” Lord Carlisle said.
“I hope you are correct,” the colonel said. “I am rather fond of England and am in no hurry to leave it again.”
“You have been mentioned in several dispatches, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Lady Ashford said. “Surely you have done more than your part. Will your father request that you remain at Whitehall?”
“My father is too wise to attempt to guide my career in such a way,” the colonel said amiably, though Elizabeth thought she noted a hint of pride in the words. Despite his reliance on the earldom for an allowance, something Georgiana had let slip and Elizabeth had gently warned her to guard more carefully, Colonel Fitzwilliam was his own man. She thought it likely that should it come to that, he would give up his funds before he allowed himself to be dictated to, even by his own father. She respected him for that.
Their arrival had been anticipated, and the food was brought to the table as soon as they were seated. Elizabeth gazed at all the plates, for everything smelled wonderful. There was ham, sliced incredibly thin, fish with a wine and mushroom sauce, and a venison dish in a deep brown sauce. Another plate bore a simple vegetable pie of leek, carrots, turnips, and onions in white sauce, the pastry golden brown. Another set of dishes held asparagus, salad, and beetroot. On a table that stood against the wall, there was a plain cake with apples, pears, and almonds to dress it with. Wine, tea, and coffee were on offer.
It was a feast on a small scale, perfect for a late evening repast.
Mr. Darcy finally took his seat, which was next to hers.
“It will be the Regent’s Canal next, mark my words,” Lord Ashford said, and Elizabeth turned her attention to the conversation the lords were holding while Mr. Darcy spoke to his butler.
“Do you think it will ever be built, my lord?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said as Mr. Yardley left the room. “My sister has informed me that you play the flute. Is that true?”
She nodded.
“How did you come to play the flute?” Mr. Darcy appeared fascinated by this bit of information. “I do not know anyone who plays that particular instrument.”
“It has fallen out of fashion, but that is precisely why I like it,” Elizabeth answered.
“When did you begin playing?” he asked.
Elizabeth flushed and began to wonder if Mr. Darcy would ever see her without a vexing ruddiness in her cheeks. “To be perfectly honest . . .?”
“I would prefer that, yes,” Mr. Darcy said lightly.
“When my father told me it was a terrible idea and that I did not need a second instrument when I already played the pianoforte.”
Mr. Darcy nodded once. “I see.”
“I give you fair warning, Mr. Darcy—I can be a terribly recalcitrant creature. You may want to effect an escape before it is too late.”
“It is already too late, I am afraid,” he said, and the tenderness in his voice made her sigh a little. “Besides, you are a rational woman. All I need do is not set myself against you, and you will determine on your own whether or not something is a good idea. I would not seek to control your decisions, I would only reserve for myself the right to see to your comfort and safety.”
