“Perhaps,” she said as she drew her hands into her lap and wove her fingers nervously together. “But he is so good and kind and generous. He is devoted to his sister and does not seem to be impressed with the trappings of society. Besides that, he is so terribly handsome. He is just about the only man in the world I could ever consider marrying!”
Elizabeth let out an unwitting breathy chuckle. Rosalyn looked up abruptly.
“Do you think me foolish?”
“No, Rosalyn.” Elizabeth answered, chiding herself for her reaction. She recollected the words she lashed out at him when she refused his offer of marriage, that he would be the last man she could ever be prevailed upon to marry. “If he is as good as you say, I cannot think you foolish at all.”
On the day of the Willstones’ party, an early morning light rain dampened the grounds. But later in the afternoon the clouds were pushed north by a pleasant southerly breeze, allowing the sun to peek out intermittently. By late afternoon, the blue sky prevailed and the sun poured down its warmth on the Willstone household.
Due to the cool and wet weather, Elizabeth was forced to keep Emily entertained indoors. The excitement the girl felt about the evening gave her an abundance of energy, and it was all Elizabeth could do to keep her out of the way of the servants making final preparations for the evening.
Elizabeth had been given instructions to keep Emily upstairs again until she was called for. Guests would begin arriving in the late afternoon, and a supper would be served in the early evening. Emily would be asked to sing in the parlour just prior to the supper being served, before everyone proceeded to the dining room.
The two had been working together on their song rather diligently. They had practiced it over and over for the past two weeks until both knew it quite well. Emily had no qualms about singing in front of an audience, so Elizabeth did not have to fear that the young girl would suffer any nerves. She was confident her charge would perform splendidly.
Being a larger party, Elizabeth knew she would not be put in a position to have to speak to anyone. She and Emily would come out, perform, and then take their leave and return upstairs. If Miss Darcy and Mr. Bingley were there, she would not be required to converse with them. At least she was prepared this time to see them, and she would bear it admirably, although she still harboured lingering disappointment for her dear Jane.
She readied herself in her dark grey muslin gown before attending to Emily. The longer the little girl could remain in her everyday dress, the easier it would be. When Elizabeth began to hear voices coming from downstairs, she knew that people had begun to arrive. She went in and tended to Emily.
She took care to curl Emily’s long hair and weave it with ribbons. She helped her put on her dress, which was dark pink satin with lace sleeves and a bow at the neckline, which Emily insisted on tying herself. When they were both finally ready, Elizabeth took Emily by the hand and they sat down in the two chairs in her young ward’s room. Elizabeth had Emily pick out a book that she could read quietly to herself as they waited to be called downstairs.
Emily actually read through two books, only asking Elizabeth for assistance three times. Elizabeth was pleased with the girl’s progress, and her plan was to steer the girl to books that were a little more challenging during the summer months in the country.
At one point, Emily stopped, looking determinedly at Elizabeth. “I think you should put on a more colourful dress. You would look so much prettier!”
Elizabeth smiled softly. “Emily, I wear only grey or black because I am in mourning. When a year has passed since my father’s death, I will go back to wearing my other dresses.”
Emily’s lips turned down in a pout. “I wish you could look pretty tonight. Everyone downstairs will be dressed so finely.”
“Just a little while longer,” Elizabeth answered, surprised by the young girl’s comment.
At length, just as Emily was about to begin her third book, there was a tap on the door.
“Yes,” Elizabeth answered.
It was Lilia, and she peeked her head in. “They are ready for Miss Emily to sing now.”
Emily quickly stood up, and the maid clasped her hands together. “Why, don’t you look simply beautiful and all grown up!”
A smile graced Emily’s face, and in a very adult manner she said, “Thank you, Miss Lilia,” followed by a gracious curtsey. “Miss Bennet cannot look beautiful yet, for she is still in the morning.”
Elizabeth and Lilia chuckled at her innocent mistake. Elizabeth took the opportunity to gently correct her. “I am in mourning, Emily, not in the morning.”
“In mourning,” Emily repeated to Miss Lilia. She reached up for Elizabeth’s hand and the two walked downstairs.
As they came into the room, people were visiting with each other as they stood or sat around the parlour. This gave Elizabeth a few moments to go over some things with Emily, position her where she ought to stand, and then arrange her music at the piano. While she did so, her gaze swept quickly over the crowd. She let out a brief sigh of relief when she saw neither Miss Darcy nor Mr. Bingley.
Emily’s father walked over to his daughter and cleared his throat. Speaking to his guests, he said, “Our precious daughter, Emily, loves to sing, and we have asked her to entertain you tonight with one of her favourite songs.” He looked at Emily and then at Elizabeth, nodding for them to proceed.
Elizabeth played a short introduction, and then Emily began to sing. Her voice, mature beyond her youthful age, was clear and steady. Elizabeth was proud to see that the young girl remained poised, had a pleasant countenance, and seemed ever so confident.
Having completed the first verse, Elizabeth adeptly reached up to turn the page of her music. Her gaze was momentarily distracted by someone walking through the doorway. It was Miss Darcy.
Elizabeth forced her gaze back down to the music score to relocate her place; only a few errant keys brought her back nicely without doing the piece too much harm. But she did not have to look back up to see who had walked in with the young lady. As her eyes scanned the music, she could easily determine that it was not Mr. Bingley. It was Mr. Darcy!
As her gaze drifted unwittingly back up, their eyes met, followed by a slight jarring of the keys and an involuntary lowering of her head. This cannot be! As her heart raced, her eyes blurred, making the reading of notes very difficult. Fortunately for her, she had the song partly memorized, and once she had inwardly chided herself and turned her attention back to Emily, one would hardly know she had not played the piece precisely as written.
A look from Emily, however, displayed the young girl’s surprise at the sudden rearrangement of the piece.
When they finished with the song, Elizabeth collected herself and slowly closed the piece of music, taking it in her hands and forcing a smile upon her face before standing. It need not have mattered. The guests were all standing and clapping their hands in appreciation for Emily’s song. No one likely noticed Elizabeth’s blunder. Except Emily.
Elizabeth remained at the piano while the applause continued, allowing the young girl to receive all the adulation. It also gave Elizabeth a moment to gaze back over the crowd. She had not seen where Mr. Darcy and his sister went after she lowered her head, but she was curious to look upon him now that she was somewhat more composed.
Her eyes turned toward the left, sensing a pair of eyes upon her. He stood taller than those around him. She lifted her head, took in a deep breath, and acknowledged him with a brief, polite smile, as if she was merely seeing an old acquaintance. He was an old acquaintance! The fact that she had mercilessly refused his offer of marriage the last time she had seen him was another matter.
Mr. Darcy nodded slightly, causing Elizabeth to blush faintly. His eyes held hers, and she could only guess as to the meaning in his intense stare. She finally looked away and turned back to Emily.