Page 20 of Attempted Compromises
Elizabeth merely smiled, though she felt a small thrill at the idea that Darcy might actually enjoy their conversation. Rather than indulge the thought, however, she focused her attention back on Mary and Darcy, steering the topic back toward interests they could share.
As the evening wore on, the conversation turned to music, and Charlotte, always eager to showcase her friend’s talent, suggested that Elizabeth play something for the room. “Lizzy, do play for us. I know we would all enjoy it.”
“Oh, Charlotte,” Elizabeth began, modestly protesting, but seeing the expectant looks from those around her, she relented. “Very well, but only if everyone promises not to judge too harshly!”
Darcy’s eyes met hers, and he nodded. “I am certain we would all be delighted, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth made her way to the pianoforte, her fingers settling on the keys as she thought of a piece that would lighten the mood in the room. She chose something lively, something full of energy, and as she began to play, the notes filled the air with a joyful cadence. She let herself become absorbed in the music, allowing her emotions to flow freely as her fingers danced across the keys.
Darcy found himself transfixed by her performance. There was a radiance in her expression, an honesty in her movements that captivated him completely. Her playing was more than just skill—it was a glimpse into her character, her spirit, and the joy she found in the moment. He could not look away; drawn into the brightness she exuded with every note.
Miss Bingley, who had been watching Darcy’s movements the entire evening, scowled at Darcy’s rapt attention with growing annoyance. Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned over to him with a practiced sigh.
“I believe I know what you are thinking,” she purred near his ear.
Darcy leaned away from her. “I doubt it.”
“You are thinking about how absolutely abhorrent it would be to spend your lifetime in company as tedious as this backwoods gathering.”
“You are mistaken,” he replied coolly, “as it reminds me very much of those in Derbyshire.”
She blanched, and he continued, “I was, in fact, meditating on the pleasure of spending time in good conversation with someone whose eyes are so fine.”
“Might one inquire who inspired such reflection?”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s.”
Miss Bingley’s mouth fell open, and she gaped at him for a full thirty seconds before sniffing disdainfully and moving away to whisper furtively with her sister. For his part, Darcy returned his focus to the bewitching sight at the piano.
The piece ended, and the room broke into applause. When she finished, Elizabeth turned back to the room, her cheeks flushed with the energy of the performance. Darcy found himself clapping with genuine appreciation. She offered a graceful nod and returned to her seat beside Mary, who whispered a quiet compliment.
Elizabeth felt a lingering warmth from Darcy’s reaction, his attention more intense than she’d expected. For once, she saw him not as a distant acquaintance, but as a man capable of deep feeling and care, even if he kept it carefully guarded. She looked at Charlotte, who raised an eyebrow with a knowing smile.
Later that evening, as everyone bid their farewells, Elizabeth gave him a warm smile. “I hope my company this evening was tolerable, Mr. Darcy,” she said, a hint of teasing in her voice.
Darcy met her gaze, and for a moment, he seemed on the verge of saying something more personal. He quickly masked his expression, however, offering a polite nod. “More than tolerable, Miss Elizabeth,” he replied softly. “It was… exceptional.”
Elizabeth felt her heart flutter at his words, her earlier impressions melting further away. She watched him leave, a faint warmth lingering in her heart. She still did not fully understand him, but the evening had left her with an impression she could not quite shake—that perhaps Mr. Darcy, beneath his reserved exterior, was far more than he appeared.
Chapter 6
One week later…
The morning’s calm at Longbourn was shattered when the maid brought in a note addressed to Jane, its elegant seal unmistakably from Netherfield. Mrs. Bennet’s eyes lit up as soon as she saw it.
“A note from Netherfield! How delightful,” she exclaimed, ripping it from Jane’s hand before she had a chance to open it.
“I believe, my dear, that letter is not addressed to you,” Mr. Bennet said, raising his eyebrow at his wife’s behavior. “Unless, of course, you’ve been lying to me about your name these last twenty years.”
Mrs. Bennet huffed and passed the envelope back to her daughter.
Jane opened the note carefully, her cheeks coloring slightly. “It’s an invitation to dine at Netherfield this evening,” she said, her soft voice pleased. “Miss Bingley has asked that I join their party, as the gentlemen will be dining with the officers.”
Mrs. Bennet’s hands flew together in excitement. “Oh, Jane, this is perfect! Such an opportunity— if only the men were there! Of course, you must go—and you must look your very best.”
Jane smiled gently, though Elizabeth noted the flicker of unease on her face. “Mama, may I take the carriage? It would be the easiest way to arrive without—”
“Nonsense!” Mrs. Bennet interrupted. “The fresh air will do you good. You shall go on horseback—it will give you such a fine, healthy glow when you arrive.”
