Page 20 of Intrigue and Inheritance (Crime and Consequences #3)

“I play the violin,” he admitted, and she detected a touch of self-consciousness beneath his straightforward statement.

“Not merely as a gentleman’s accomplishment, but with serious study and practice.

It has been my great fortune that my family, despite some initial resistance, has allowed me to pursue this interest beyond what is considered appropriate for a man of my position. ”

“How wonderful,” Georgiana responded, and meant it sincerely. “The violin is such an expressive instrument. I have often thought that it comes closest to mimicking the human voice in its capacity for emotion.”

“Precisely!” Mr. Townend exclaimed, his earlier awkwardness forgotten in his enthusiasm. “That is why I find myself so frustrated with technically perfect performances that lack emotional depth. The notes themselves are merely a framework for the feeling that must flow through them.”

They had resumed walking, though at a pace that kept them separate from the main party ahead. Georgiana was surprised to find herself speaking more freely than was her custom with new acquaintances.

“That is precisely where I struggle most,” she confessed. “I can play the most complex passages with technical accuracy, but I find it difficult to... to let go sufficiently to infuse the music with genuine feeling. My playing has been described as precise but bloodless.”

“By whom?” Mr. Townend asked with such immediate indignation on her behalf that Georgiana could not help but smile.

“My latest music master. He was not unkind about it, merely honest. He said I played as though I feared making a mistake more than I desired making music.”

Mr. Townend’s expression grew thoughtful.

“A fair observation, though perhaps not presented in the most helpful manner. Technical precision is the foundation upon which expressive playing must be built. You cannot convey emotion effectively if you are struggling with the mechanics of a piece. Your mastery of technique is a strength, not a weakness.”

“That is most kind of you to say,” Georgiana murmured, touched by his generous interpretation.

“It is not kindness but truth,” he insisted. “The emotion will come with confidence and freedom. You mentioned that Mrs. Darcy has been helpful in this regard?”

“Oh yes,” Georgiana replied, her face lighting with genuine affection.

“Elizabeth has such a natural expressiveness in everything she does. When she plays, she makes technical errors that I would never permit myself, yet her performances often move listeners to tears while mine merely earn polite applause.”

“And she has been teaching you her approach?”

“Not teaching exactly,” Georgiana explained, finding herself increasingly comfortable in expressing her thoughts to this attentive listener.

“More... encouraging me to feel the music rather than simply execute it. She asks me to imagine stories that the composer might be telling, or to recall specific emotions from my own experience that match the mood of a piece.”

“An excellent method,” Mr. Townend nodded approvingly. “Music is, after all, a language of feeling. The notes are merely the alphabet; it is what we say with them that matters.”

Georgiana smiled at the apt metaphor. “Yes, exactly. Though I find it challenging to express myself so openly, even through the relative safety of an instrument.”

“The very struggle you describe is what makes music worth pursuing,” Mr. Townend said, his voice softening with unexpected gentleness. “If it came without effort or vulnerability, it would not have the power to move us as it does.”

They walked in companionable silence for a moment, before Mr. Townend spoke again, his manner returning to its more typical direct approach.

“I wonder, Miss Darcy, if you might consider trying a duet with me sometime? Violin and pianoforte can create the most splendid conversation when properly matched. Perhaps a Mozart sonata? Nothing too technically demanding at first, but something with emotional range that would give you opportunity to practice the expressive qualities you wish to develop.”

Georgiana felt a rush of genuine excitement at the prospect. “I would like that very much, Mr. Townend. I have never had the opportunity to play with a violinist before, only vocalists or the occasional flautist.”

“Then it is settled,” he declared with evident satisfaction. “I shall bring some suitable music when next I call. With your brother’s permission, of course,” he added hastily, clearly remembering propriety belatedly.

“My brother would not object to a musical partnership,” Georgiana assured him, thinking how very like Fitzwilliam Mr. Townend was in certain ways, despite their different temperaments.

Both men possessed that curious combination of absolute certainty in matters of principle or professional judgment, coupled with surprising awkwardness in social situations that did not follow predictable patterns.

And both, she reflected, had good hearts beneath occasionally abrupt exteriors.

“You are smiling, Miss Darcy,” Mr. Townend observed, looking slightly puzzled. “Have I said something amusing?”

“Not at all,” she assured him quickly. “I was merely thinking how pleasant it will be to explore music together. Sometimes an external perspective is precisely what one needs to overcome one’s limitations.”

He nodded, clearly pleased with her response, and Georgiana found herself looking forward to their musical collaboration with genuine anticipation.

Perhaps, she thought, she had found a friend who understood the particular challenges she faced in her musical development.

The prospect was both daunting and exhilarating, much like the most challenging compositions she had mastered.

And like those pieces, she suspected the effort would prove rewarding beyond initial expectations.

As their party continued their promenade, Georgiana found herself increasingly aware of the subtle currents of intention flowing around them.

Mr. Townend had taken his leave to attend a rehearsal, promising to call at Darcy House the following day with the music for their proposed duet.

The viscount and Kitty remained several paces ahead, still engaged in their animated exchange of travel tales and wide-eyed admiration.

It was therefore with a sense of foreboding that Georgiana observed the Marquess of Byerly’s approach, his tall figure cutting through the crowd with the determined precision of a man intent on securing a specific objective.

“Mrs. Darcy, Miss Darcy, Miss de Bourgh,” the marquess greeted them with formal correctness, his bow precisely calibrated to acknowledge their respective ranks. “What a felicitous encounter. I had hoped to find you enjoying the favourable weather.”

“Lord Byerly,” Elizabeth replied with perfect composure, though Georgiana detected a certain wariness in her sister’s eyes. “Indeed, the day has proved most pleasant for walking.”

“Most pleasant indeed,” the marquess agreed, his gaze fixing upon Anne with an intensity that made Georgiana uncomfortable even as a mere observer. “Miss de Bourgh, I trust you are not overtaxing yourself? Such exertions must be carefully measured for a lady of your delicate constitution.”

“I am quite well, thank you,” Anne replied softly, her fingers tightening almost imperceptibly on her parasol. “The fresh air is most invigorating.”

“Excellent, excellent,” the marquess murmured, positioning himself at Anne’s side with smooth deliberation.

“Perhaps you would honour me by walking a little way with me? I have been giving considerable thought to our conversation at Lady Ashburton’s ball regarding the management of extensive estates. ”

Mrs. Jenkinson stepped forward immediately, as if pulled by invisible strings. “I shall accompany you, of course. Lady Catherine would insist upon proper chaperonage.”

A flicker of irritation crossed the marquess’s features before he smoothed them into polite acquiescence. “But of course. Your dedication to Miss de Bourgh’s welfare does you credit, Mrs. Jenkinson.”

With a questioning glance toward Elizabeth, who gave a slight nod of permission, Anne allowed herself to be guided a few paces away from their main party, Mrs. Jenkinson following at a distance that maintained propriety while allowing a measure of privacy, her expression suggesting both vigilance and approval of this particular suitor.

Elizabeth turned to engage Lady Fitzsimmons, who had rejoined them, in conversation about an upcoming musical evening, but Georgiana found her attention drawn irresistibly to her cousin’s interaction with the marquess.

There was something in Anne’s posture, a subtle stiffness that spoke of discomfort rather than the natural reserve that typically characterised her manner, that awakened Georgiana’s concern.

Though not near enough to hear their conversation clearly, Georgiana could observe the marquess’s expression as he spoke to Anne, his manner combining condescension with calculation in a way she found increasingly distasteful.

He gestured expansively at one point, indicating the fashionable carriages and well-dressed aristocrats surrounding them, as if encompassing all of society in whatever point he was making.

Anne maintained her composure, responding with brief comments when apparently required, but her gaze frequently dropped to her gloved hands or drifted toward Elizabeth as if seeking rescue.

Even from a distance, Georgiana could see the heightened colour in her cousin’s normally pale cheeks, a flush that suggested distress rather than pleasure in her companion’s attention.

“The marquess appears most attentive to Miss de Bourgh,” Lady Fitzsimmons observed, following Georgiana’s gaze. “A distinguished gentleman, though I understand his estates are not what they once were. Still, an excellent connection for any young lady.”