Page 37 of Intrigue and Inheritance (Crime and Consequences #3)

Chapter Fourteen

Elizabeth surveyed the drawing room of Darcy House with quiet satisfaction as the last of their guests settled into their seats for the afternoon’s musicale.

Among the assembled company, one absence was particularly notable: the Marquess of Byerly had sent his regrets that morning, citing urgent business at his Hampshire estate that would keep him away for several days.

Elizabeth could not pretend, even to herself, that she felt anything but relief at this development.

“A most fortuitous business that calls the marquess away,” Lady Matlock murmured as she took her seat beside Elizabeth. “I observed his manner towards Anne at the Bellingham ball and found it most presumptuous. The man speaks of her inheritance as though he has already taken possession.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth agreed quietly. “His absence gives Anne welcome respite from attentions that cause her visible distress.” She glanced across the room to where the young lady in question sat conversing with Kitty and Georgiana, her countenance more animated than usual.

Without the shadow of the marquess’s calculated pursuit, Anne appeared almost transformed, her typically reserved demeanour giving way to genuine engagement with those around her.

The musicale had been carefully planned to showcase their family’s talents while providing entertainment for their select guests. It was a smaller gathering than their previous soirées, deliberately kept intimate at Darcy’s suggestion, with no more than thirty guests in attendance.

“Shall we begin?” Darcy asked, appearing at Elizabeth’s side. His voice carried just enough to draw the attention of their guests without requiring him to raise it unduly, a talent Elizabeth had come to admire in her husband.

“Yes, I believe everyone is settled,” she replied, taking her seat as Darcy moved to make the introductions for the first performance.

Georgiana and Mr. Townend had prepared a challenging duet that required not merely technical proficiency but genuine musical understanding between the performers.

As they took their positions, Elizabeth noted the subtle communication that passed between them, a shared glance that required no words.

Their mutual passion for music had created a connection that transcended conventional social interaction, allowing Georgiana’s natural reserve to give way to confident artistic expression.

The performance began with Georgiana’s delicate introduction on the pianoforte, establishing the musical theme with practiced precision.

When Mr. Townend joined with his violin, the effect was captivating.

Their instruments conversed like old friends, each complementing and enhancing the other’s voice without ever overwhelming it.

As the final notes faded, there was a moment of perfect silence before enthusiastic applause filled the room.

Georgiana’s cheeks coloured slightly at the attention, but her smile revealed genuine pleasure rather than discomfort.

Mr. Townend bowed with uncharacteristic grace, his usual social awkwardness forgotten in the afterglow of their shared success.

“They are remarkably well-matched,” Lady Matlock observed quietly to Elizabeth. “In music, certainly, but perhaps in other matters as well.”

Elizabeth nodded, recognizing the truth in the countess’s assessment.

Though society might consider Mr. Townend an inadequate match for the sister of Mr. Darcy, the genuine connection between them was increasingly difficult to dismiss.

“They bring out the best in one another,” she replied.

“I have never seen Georgiana so confident in company.” Privately, she wondered how much longer it would be before Mr. Townsend declared himself.

She hoped, for Georgiana’s sake, that it was not too long; she well remembered how her sister Jane’s confidence had been shattered when Mr. Bingley failed to propose after paying her such marked attentions, though in the end that had all turned out for the best.

After several other performances of varying quality, Viscount Shandly rose with theatrical deliberation, the book of Italian verse held dramatically aloft.

“If I might impose upon the company’s patience,” he announced, “I should like to share a passage from Petrarch that speaks to the transformative power of admiration.”

Kitty’s expression suggested both mortification and delight as the viscount positioned himself in the centre of the room, striking a pose worthy of the Theatre Royal.

His recitation, delivered in better-pronounced Italian than his last attempts, was punctuated by passionate gestures and meaningful glances in Kitty’s direction.

“è questa la man che tanto desiai?” he declaimed, extending one hand toward Kitty with such dramatic fervour that Lady Ashburton was obliged to lean sharply to the left to avoid being struck.

Elizabeth caught her sister’s eye and noted Kitty was not struggling to maintain her composure. Instead, she met his impassioned gaze with a warm smile that seemed to fuel his performance to even greater heights.

When the viscount finally concluded his recitation, he bowed deeply to enthusiastic if somewhat relieved applause. Lord Joseph, who had been watching with increasing restlessness, suddenly set his teacup down on the small table beside him and rose to his feet.

“If Shandly may share verse that speaks to his heart,” he announced, “perhaps I might be permitted to offer a more modest contribution of my own creation.”

Elizabeth caught Anne’s expression of mingled alarm and affection as Lord Joseph moved to the centre of the room, his customary theatrical manner subdued into something approaching genuine nervousness.

“For Miss de Bourgh,” he said simply, meeting Anne’s eyes directly, “whose quiet strength puts all my verse to shame.”

What followed astonished Elizabeth completely.

Gone were the tortured metaphors and excessive adjectives that typically characterized Lord Joseph’s poetry.

Instead, his words flowed with surprising elegance, describing not Anne’s physical attributes but the qualities of mind and spirit that he had observed in her: her patience, her subtle humour, her resilience in the face of constraint.

The verse spoke of gardens carefully tended despite limiting walls, of wisdom gained through solitude, of quiet courage that asked no recognition.

The room had fallen utterly silent, each guest seemingly transfixed by this unexpected display of genuine feeling.

Anne’s expression transformed from initial embarrassment to something deeper and more profound, her eyes never leaving Lord Joseph’s face as he spoke directly to her, the rest of the company momentarily forgotten.

When he finished, there was no immediate applause, but rather a collective breath held and then released.

Lord Joseph himself seemed suddenly aware of the intensity of his performance and retreated to his seat with uncharacteristic haste, reclaiming his teacup and taking a long sip as though to quench some inner fire.

“That was... quite remarkable,” Lady Matlock murmured, her voice pitched only for Elizabeth’s ears. “I had not thought him capable of such genuine sentiment.”

“Nor had I,” Elizabeth admitted, thinking that they had just witnessed something unexpectedly profound.

Beneath Lord Joseph’s theatrical exterior beat a heart capable of true discernment and genuine feeling.

For the first time, she could understand what Anne might see in him beyond mere entertainment value.

The interval had progressed pleasantly for nearly half an hour, with guests forming small groups throughout the drawing room, discussing the performances.

Elizabeth, making her way between these clusters to ensure everyone’s comfort, paused to observe Lord Joseph and Anne, who had settled in a quiet corner to talk.

Their conversation appeared animated yet intimate, Anne’s typically reserved expression transformed by a gentle smile as Lord Joseph described something with uncharacteristically restrained gestures.

It was a tableau of such evident mutual pleasure that Elizabeth felt a small pang of satisfaction at having helped create the circumstances for this connection to flourish.

Darcy stood conversing with Lord Matlock and Mr. Townend near the pianoforte, their discussion apparently centred on some musical technicality from the earlier performance.

Georgiana and Kitty had joined Lady Matlock by the windows, where the afternoon sunlight cast a golden glow upon the girls’ youthful countenances.

The atmosphere was one of relaxed refinement, precisely the effect Elizabeth had hoped to achieve with this intimate gathering.

She was about to suggest to Harrison that they might prepare for the next performance when a strange sound drew her attention back to Lord Joseph.

He had paused mid-sentence, one hand rising to his collar as though suddenly finding it too tight.

Anne leaned forward, her expression shifting from pleasure to concern.

“Are you quite well, Lord Joseph?” Elizabeth heard Anne ask, her voice carrying in a momentary lull of conversation.

Lord Joseph attempted to smile, but the expression twisted strangely on his face. “A sudden... discomfort,” he managed, his voice strained.

Elizabeth moved toward them, a flutter of unease stirring in her chest. Lord Joseph’s complexion had taken on an alarming pallor, and a sheen of perspiration now glistened on his brow.

“Should I summon Harrison for some water?” Elizabeth asked.

Lord Joseph opened his mouth to respond, but no words emerged. Instead, his eyes widened in evident alarm, his gaze fixing on something invisible to others. His breathing became audibly laboured, each inhalation a ragged struggle that immediately silenced the nearest conversations.