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T he morning after Lady Spencer’s musical evening, Elizabeth sat at the Abernathys’ breakfast table, tea in hand, her thoughts returning to Mr. Darcy’s violin performance.

The music had startled her with its poignancy, its aching solitude.

Was this the same man who had announced their engagement without so much as a conversation and had insulted her looks in the park?

Yes.

In those raw, expressive notes, he had revealed a part of himself she had not seen before. Although the room had been full, she knew he had been speaking to her.

Perhaps she would know her own mind before Mamma appeared after all.

"You seem lost in thought this morning, Elizabeth," Mrs. Abernathy observed, spreading a thin layer of marmalade on her toast. "I trust you enjoyed last evening?"

"Very much," Elizabeth replied, feeling a blush warm her cheeks.

"Mr. Darcy's performance was certainly unexpected," Mr. Abernathy commented, peering over his newspaper. "Who would have thought the man possessed the same talent for music that his mother was purported to have?"

Elizabeth murmured a response and absently stirred her tea. How was one to remain unaffected by a man who could express so much without uttering a word? She had been convinced that whatever bond she and Mr. Darcy shared had been forged only under duress. But now . . .

She was still considering this, hoping that when Mr. Darcy arrived for his visit this morning that they might finally talk. She felt an uncharacteristic flutter of anticipation, what she might say to Mr. Darcy and he to her, when a voice in the hall stopped her mid-thought.

Elizabeth froze, her cup suspended halfway to her lips. Loud, cheerful, and somehow also aggrieved, the voice rolled through the house like a gust of icy wind. “No," she whispered, a sudden sickly dread settling in the pit of her stomach. "Not already."

"Where is my Lizzy? I must see her at once!"

The door to the dining room burst open, and her mother swept in before Wilson like an advancing storm front, her bonnet askew and her cheeks flushed with excitement. She was still wearing her traveling clothes. It was barely ten o’clock. She must have left Longbourn when it was yet dark outside.

"Oh, Lizzy! My dearest girl!" she exclaimed, rushing towards Elizabeth with arms outstretched. "I simply could not wait another moment!" She turned to the Abernathys with a cursory curtsy. "Mr. Abernathy, Mrs. Abernathy, you must forgive this early intrusion, but a mother's heart, you understand."

Elizabeth rose to greet her mother, mortification already beginning to colour her cheeks. "Mamma, we did not expect you so soon. Did you not receive Mrs. Abernathy's letter suggesting you delay your journey until next week?"

"Letter? Oh, I travelled halfway to London yesterday, my dear, before the coachman said it was too dark to continue. I was not at Longbourn to receive any post.”

“But your letter said you were there . . .”

“I sent the letter, but then decided that I could not possibly wait for a reply!

Your father said I was being ridiculous, but when has he ever understood a mother's feelings?

" her mother bustled around the table, depositing her reticule and gloves on an empty chair.

"I travelled day and night from Derbyshire, most uncomfortable, I assure you.

But what is another few hours of discomfort when one's daughter is being courted in London? "

Mr. Abernathy cleared his throat. "Mrs. Bennet, we are, of course, delighted to welcome you to our home.”

“Perhaps you would care to refresh yourself after your journey?” Mrs. Abernathy suggested. “Martha can show you to your room."

"Oh, there will be time enough for that later," her mother declared, waving away his suggestion as she pulled out a chair beside Elizabeth and sat down.

"I am simply dying to hear everything. Tell me about the masquerade where Lizzy met her suitor. Was it very grand? Were there many distinguished guests? Would any of them do for Jane, do you think?”

Elizabeth exchanged a pained glance with Arabella. "The masquerade was indeed very fine, Mamma. But perhaps we might discuss it after you have had a chance to rest?"

"Rest? Nonsense! I am not in the least fatigued.

" Her mother reached for the teapot, helping herself to a cup. Elizabeth’s eyes widened in horror at the presumption.

"Now, Mrs. Abernathy, you must tell me all.

Is it true that my Elizabeth has secured the affections of a wealthy gentleman?

My sister Gardiner mentioned something of a Mr. Darcy of Pemberley? "

An awkward silence fell over the table. Elizabeth closed her eyes.

Mrs. Abernathy, ever the consummate hostess, recovered first. "Mrs. Bennet, perhaps we should allow Elizabeth to share her news with you privately. I am sure you both would appreciate—"

"Is it true, then? My Lizzy is to marry Mr. Darcy? Mr. Darcy of Pemberley with ten thousand a year?"

"Mamma, please lower your voice," Elizabeth implored, glancing anxiously at the servants who were doing a poor job of concealing their interest in the conversation.

"Lower my voice? When my daughter is to make the most advantageous marriage? I knew you should remain in London, did not I tell you? You must tell me how you managed it!" Her mother turned to the Abernathys with undisguised triumph. "Did I not always say that my Lizzy would do well?”

She had, in fact, said entirely the opposite.

“Mr. Darcy of Pemberley! How well that sounds—ten thousand a year and likely more! Oh, the carriages, the jewels, the pin money!"

Elizabeth felt herself shrinking in her chair, mortification washing over her in waves. "Mamma, please . These matters are not to be discussed so publicly."

"Publicly? We are among friends, are we not?" Her mother looked around the table with a bright, feverish gaze. "Mr. Darcy has grand connections, does he not? Lord and Lady something-or-other?”

It was not possible to feel her humiliation more completely than at this moment.

“Well, they need not fear that the Bennets will disgrace them. We may not have titles, but we are gentlefolk. My brother Gardiner may be in trade, but he is most genteel, and my father was an attorney, you know."

Elizabeth stared at the table. She had been quite wrong. It was possible.

Mr. Abernathy cleared his throat again, louder this time. "Mrs. Bennet, I believe Elizabeth is right. These are delicate matters, madam, and best spoken of in privacy."

This warning had no effect upon Elizabeth's mother.

"We must begin planning. The wedding breakfast, the trousseau—oh, there is so much to be done!

" Her mother dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"We must order new gowns immediately. Nothing less than the finest silk will do for the future Mrs. Darcy.

And lace, French lace, if it can be had.

The war makes everything so difficult, but surely Mr. Darcy's consequence can overcome such trifling obstacles. "

“You forget, Mamma,” Elizabeth said quietly, “that Mr. Darcy has not yet proposed to me.”

Everyone stilled at that. She was being honest, of course. No proposal had ever been made to her. But it was not the same as there having been no engagement at all.

Mamma stared at her and then her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Elizabeth Bennet, what have you done?”

“Nothing,” Elizabeth said in a low voice, irritation making her tone sharp. “But neither is everything settled. You would do well, Mamma, to hold your tongue until Mr. Darcy and I determine what is to happen.”

“Oh, I can help you with that, Lizzy,” her mother said, waving one hand in the air dismissively as she drank her tea with the other.

“Every suitor needs a little help coming to the point.” She studied Elizabeth for a moment.

“Is that what you have been wearing? Goodness, child, your figure is not half bad if only you would dress to display it better.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “This is absurd,” she murmured as the Abernathys cast pitying looks in her direction.

"I am sure Mr. Darcy would want Elizabeth to have whatever makes her happy," Arabella ventured, attempting to offer support. “And he seems to like—”

"Precisely!" Her mother beamed at Arabella. "And speaking of happiness, my dear Miss Abernathy, we must not neglect your prospects while focusing on Lizzy's good fortune. With such illustrious company as Mr. Darcy will draw to you, surely you will meet an eligible gentleman of your own.”

Arabella's face went pale, and Elizabeth watched in horror as her friend's eyes filled with tears.

"Mamma!" Elizabeth exclaimed, appalled. "That is quite enough."

Mrs. Abernathy's lips thinned to a tight line. "Mrs. Bennet, while we appreciate your enthusiasm for your daughter's situation, I must insist that you refrain from commenting on my daughter's affairs."

"Oh!" Her mother looked momentarily confused. "I meant no offense, of course. I have always said that one successful match leads to another."

Arabella rose abruptly from the table. "If you will excuse me. A sudden headache." She hurried from the room without meeting anyone's eyes.

Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to follow her friend and offer comfort, but she knew she could not leave her mother unattended, lest further damage be done. "Mamma,” she said firmly, “perhaps now would be a good time for you to rest and refresh yourself."

Before her mother could protest again, the butler appeared at the doorway. "Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy," he announced with formal gravity.