Mary sat down at the instrument in Matlock House’s music room and placed her fingers on the keys. Georgiana stood ready to move the sheets of music as needed.
Lady Matlock leaned close to Elizabeth and whispered. “It is always such a pleasure to have someone play for me. It is a vastly different experience to listen without having to remember which keys to hit at what time.”
“Do you play often?” Elizabeth asked as she tried to picture Lady Matlock at the piano.
“I would like to play daily, but life does not always make that possible.”
The first notes of the song Mary had been working on rang out in the room. Her playing, just like her appearance and disposition, had taken on a wholly different air. In town, she allowed herself to feel the emotion of the music. Here, she was no longer attempting to put off her mother or appear to be less than what any gentleman might want as a wife. Here, she was blossoming and becoming a proper and appealing young lady. Even with her heart feeling as if it had been ground to dust by a millstone, Elizabeth could not and would not regret her time in town simply because it had given Mary her moment to discover who she wanted to be. Who Elizabeth wanted to be had also been discovered, but it was never to be attained.
“Do you play or is it just your sister who does?” Lady Matlock asked. “She is doing well. A bit more practice and she will shine, absolutely shine.”
It lifted Elizabeth’s spirits to hear her sister praised for an accomplishment. Would not Mama be delighted to hear her daughter commended by the Countess of Matlock? That is, she would be delighted after she got over the shock of the fact that it was Mary who was being commended and not Jane or Lydia.
“I do play, but my playing is not so good as Mary’s is. It is most likely because I do not practice as I should.”
Lady Matlock chuckled. “I admire your honesty. Will you demonstrate your ability or lack thereof for me?”
“Only if I am forced. I am sure I would look like a very poor student indeed with three ladies in the room who can play far better than I.”
“I did not say I play well,” Lady Matlock replied.
“You do not play well?” Had she not just said she would like to play daily? Would that not make her an excellent pianist?
“I play from my heart and sometimes my heart causes my fingers to stumble in its exuberance over the swells and strains of the piece.” She smirked. “Not even practising so much as I do has fixed my inability to make it though a simple piece without fudging and fumbling. Still, I persist, for I am not easily thwarted. You and your sister strike me as being similar to me in that regard. I dare say you are one to not be swayed from your position without a bit of effort, and from what I have seen of Miss Mary, I would say she is even more of a challenge to depose.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Obstinacy is not in short supply at my home.”
“That is not so bad a thing if a lady’s headstrong nature is directed at the right things. For instance, my stubbornness was and is needed to survive my children. Richard is as immovable as a cranky old donkey at times. His brother is only slightly less stubborn, and you have met my nephew. He can be quite determined that he is correct, even when he is not. Your cousin, Master Gardiner, seems to be cut from the same cloth as my nephew.” She smiled as if remembering something. “He reminds me a great deal of Fitzwilliam when he was a boy.” She shook her head. “The number of times Fitzwilliam had to stop and redo what he was doing…” She laughed softly to herself. “He grew up to be a fine gentleman, however. Would you not agree?”
Oh, why did she have to talk about Mr. Darcy? Elizabeth forced a smile to her face. “I am sure I have not met a gentleman who is better.”
Lady Matlock’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed? I had thought you might have given up on him.”
Heat flooded Elizabeth’s face. “Given up on him? I was never pursuing him.” She was hoping he might come to love her, but she had not tried to draw him along.
“I did not mean you were pursuing. I meant that I thought you might admire him.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth did not know how else to respond to such a statement. She did not just admire him. She loved him. She blinked against the tears that gathered at the thought. She would not cry here. She would not. She would wait until she was tucked in bed. Then, with darkness hiding her sorrow, she would allow it to escape. The music room at Matlock House was not the proper place to dissolve into tears, especially when she could feel Lady Matlock’s eyes observing her.
“Do you sing, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Yes, I do.” She was certain she had never been happier for a change of topic.
“Then, you may choose which accomplishment you prefer to display for me: your singing or your playing.” She lifted a hand to signal Georgiana as the song Mary was playing drew to a close. “Miss Elizabeth must have a turn next,” she instructed before turning back to Elizabeth. “Which will it be? Singing or playing?”
“I suppose I shall sing?” Was that the best choice? Her voice was not dreadful, though it was not the sort that people paid to listen to at a concert hall either. It was easier to perform a piece vocally than to play anything without stumbling. Therefore, it was the right choice, was it not?
“Oh! What will you sing, Lizzy?” Mary asked eagerly. “I love listening to her sing,” she told Lady Matlock.
“You do?” Elizabeth had never seen any evidence of it. Mary had always appeared bored when listening to anyone sing.
“I could not let Mama know that I enjoyed it.”
“Why ever not? I do not see how that could have caused Mama to put your forward when you did not wish it.”
Mary’s brow furrowed. “I suppose you are correct, but I have admitted it was perhaps not the best-thought-out scheme.”
Lady Matlock looked between the two of them. “I admit to being consumed with curiosity. What scheme is this?”
Elizabeth was sure her eyes were as wide as Mary’s. In her surprise over Mary’s admission to liking to listen to her sing, Elizabeth had forgotten that Miss Darcy and her aunt did not know about Mary’s change from who she had been in Hertfordshire to who she was now.
“I apologize Mary. I was not thinking.”
“Think nothing of it. The whole thing is going to be revealed when we get home. I might as well confess to it now, especially since Lady Matlock and Georgiana will be joining us in Hertfordshire for Christmas.”
“This is only making me more curious,” Lady Matlock said.
“Me, too,” Georgiana added.
Mary took a seat next to Georgiana on a settee to Lady Matlock’s left. “Do you remember that I said it is possible to avoid being matched, my lady?”
“Indeed, I do, though I expressed my doubts about the possibility.”
“It is entirely possible,” Mary assured her. “I have done it quite successfully. At home, before I came to town, I dressed like a spinster. I swore I was not going to marry until I was twenty-five and then, only if I was unable to set up my own establishment or find employment I could tolerate. I complained loudly about having to dance. I read sermons – sometimes out loud to my sisters – and I quoted scripture and lectured. I taught myself to play the piano in a fashion that was technically correct but never heart-felt – that was not easy.”
“Oh, my.” Lady Matlock seemed to be at a loss for words.
“Such oddities were too much for my mother to overcome, and so she left me alone.”
“How long did you keep up this charade?” Lady Matlock asked.
“Three and a half years. I only just recently, when I began to long for a husband and family of my own, decided that it was a dreadful plan.”
“Three and a half years?” Lady Matlock stared at Mary in disbelief.
“Yes, my lady.”
“How did you do it?” Georgiana’s question was filled with incredulity. “I am sure I could never pretend something for so long.”
“It actually was only hard at first and then at last. The middle part where Mama was ignoring me in favour of putting forward my sisters was the easy bit.” She looked at Elizabeth. “I am so very grateful for this trip to town for giving me a place to change and for my sister’s help in making the changes I needed to make.”
“I do not believe I have ever met anyone, gentleman or lady, who has such resolve,” Lady Matlock said. “I am impressed. I suppose your transformation will come as quite the shock to your mother.”
Mary nodded. “I am sure it will. However, she will likely just think it was clever of my father to have sent me to town, and I suspect she will be eager to send me back to town since this trip wrought such wonders.”
Lady Matlock laughed and not lightly. Her laugh was a deep, all-encompassing laugh. “Delightful! Simply delightful.” She said when she could finally speak again.
“You do not find it to be a serious character flaw that I practiced such deception?” Mary looked anxiously at Georgiana. “I have been considering how wrong it was of me to be so deceitful. I promise I have repented of it in my prayers every night.”
Georgiana placed a hand on top of Mary’s folded ones. “We all make errors. Some are longer than others, but that does not mean they are greater.” She glanced at her aunt and then Elizabeth. “I made a grave error last summer and almost eloped with a gentleman who claimed to love me. However, he did not. He loved my money and wished to harm my brother since Fitzwilliam had refused to give him the living my father had left him in his will.” She shook her head. “But he had already refused the living and accepted money in its stead from my brother.”
“How dreadful,” Mary said. “Not that you nearly eloped,” she hurried to clarify, “but that a gentleman would be so scheming.”
“You will not tell anyone, will you?”
“Never.” The word sprang from Elizabeth’s lips only seconds before Mary said the same thing.
“He is the reason my brother did not want to go to Netherfield for Christmas because he is in Hertfordshire with the militia.”
A vivid memory came to the forefront of Elizabeth’s memory. “Mr. Wickham?” she asked in a whisper.
Georgiana blinked. “Yes, but how did you know?”
“The day before Mary and I left for town, my sisters and I met Mr. Wickham in Meryton, and we were speaking to him when Mr. Bingley and your brother came upon us. The look on your brother’s face…” The greeting or, more precisely, the lack thereof between the two gentlemen made a great deal of sense in the light of what Miss Darcy had revealed. “I thought your brother was just being rude again.” She shrugged. “Apparently, he was not.”
“What do you mean by rude again?” Lady Matlock inquired.
“Mr. Darcy said something at the assembly he attended when he first arrived in Meryton. It was unkind.” Oh, she did not wish to get into this. “He has since apologized.” It was not as if he had asked her forgiveness in words, but he had shown himself to be sorry in his actions that day at Darcy House when she, Mary, and her aunt had had tea there.
“He said something unkind to you?” Lady Matlock seemed to be struggling to comprehend the concept.
“Not to me, but about me, and I heard it. I do not think he knew I had heard it until recently.”
“I am surprised,” Georgiana said, “but he was not happy to leave me. He worries so much about me. He always has, even before Father died. And then, I had made just made such a foolish mistake.” She sighed. “It still weighs on him, especially with my season only a year away.”
“That is understandable.” So much about Mr. Darcy and how he behaved was beginning to fall neatly into place. Of course, he was in an ill-humor when he was in Hertfordshire. Of course, he would be overly critical of anyone who dared to show preference – even properly – for his sister. “I worry about my sisters, too.”
“I fear he takes it too far.” Georgiana smiled sadly at Elizabeth as if there was some connection between Mr. Darcy’s worry for his sister and her, but it was a connection she could not decipher.
“He is a bright boy. He will figure it out,” Lady Matlock assured Georgiana. “Now, what will Miss Elizabeth sing for us while we wait for some refreshment, for I intend to ring for some.” She leaned forward and whispered, “I am quite beside myself with wanting some gingerbread.” She winked. “And that should bring me some company from my youngest son as gingerbread is his favourite.” She stood. “Could I make a small request?” She directed the question to Elizabeth.
“Of course.”
“Would you please sing a Christmas song?”
“If you have some that I know.”
“Oh!” Mary cried. “I saw ‘The Holly and The Ivy’ in the folder. It is one of your favourites.”
Elizabeth rose to follow Mary and Miss Darcy to the piano. “How can I resist a favourite, though I had not realized you knew it was one of my favourites.”
“You always pick that one first, and you leave off reading to listen when I play it – even when I was not playing it well.”
“Then, you must play it while Miss Elizabeth sings,” Georgiana inserted.
Delight suffused Mary’s features. “Could I sing with you?” she asked eagerly.
“Of course, you may.”
“I promise to sing it as prettily as I can and not how I might normally do.”
Elizabeth linked arms with Mary and chuckled. “I find the new Mary delightful, especially since I can still see some of the old Mary in her.” She squeezed Mary’s arm and whispered. “I love both of them.” But she loved most that it seemed her sister loved the new Mary, too, and that was the love on which she would focus her mind instead of the one she had lost when Mr. Darcy had left the theatre.