Page 84 of Pride and Prejudice Resolutions
"I... I have been working on a sonata," she whispered.
"We are all ears," Robert said from the sofa, where he had somehow managed to sit close enough to Jane to share her shawl without technically breaking any rules of propriety.
Georgiana began to play.
It was hesitant at first, a little shaky on the opening bars. But as the music took hold, as the familiarity of the keys soothed her nerves, the hesitation vanished. The melody flowed from her fingers—complex, emotional, and technically precise.
Darcy stood by the fireplace, watching his sister. He felt a lump form in his throat. A year ago—six months ago—she could barely look a stranger in the eye. Wickham had nearly broken her spirit. But here she was, in a stranger's house, playing her heart out.
Elizabeth appeared at his side. "She is magnificent," she whispered.
"She is," Darcy agreed, keeping his voice low. "She is finding her voice again."
"Thanks to you," Elizabeth pointed out. "You protected her. You gave her a safe harbour."
"I tried. I fear I was too strict at times."
"You were a guardian," she stated. "And a brother. And looking at her now, I think you did a very good job, Fitzwilliam."
The use of his name made his breath catch. He turned to look at her. In the firelight, with the music swelling around them, she was ethereal.
"Thank you," he said. "That means a great deal, coming from you."
Georgiana finished with a flourish. The room erupted in applause. Robert shouted "Brava!" and Richard whistled, earning a reprimand from Mrs Gardiner.
Georgiana turned on the bench, her face flushed with pleasure. "Thank you. It... the action is a little lighter than my instrument at home, but the tone is lovely."
"And now," Robert announced, "I believe we were promised a duet? A Bennet special?"
"We promised no such thing," Elizabeth laughed.
"I distinctly remember dreaming about it," Robert countered. "And since it is Christmas, you are legally obligated to make my dreams come true. It is in the Magna Carta."
"I am fairly certain it is not," Miss Bennet smiled.
"Come, Jane," Elizabeth held out her hand. "Let us humour him. Otherwise, he will start reciting Shakespeare, and no one wants that."
Jane Bennet rose with a grace that made Robert sit up straighter. She joined Elizabeth at the instrument. There was a brief, whispered conference between the sisters, a shuffling of sheet music, and then Elizabeth settled onto the bench while Jane stood beside her, one hand resting lightly on the wood.
"A simple ballad," Elizabeth announced. "Since we lack the vocal gymnastics for the theatre."
She began to play. It was a folk melody, sweet and melancholic—"The Last Rose of Summer."
Then, her sister began to sing.
Her voice was not powerful like an opera singer's. It was soft, clear, and pure as crystal. It was a voice made for lullabies and love songs, carrying a sweetness that pierced straight to the heart.
'Tis the last rose of summer, left blooming alone...
Darcy watched Robert.
He had gone very still. The teasing smirk was gone. The casual slouch was gone. He was staring at his Goddess with an expression of such raw, undisguised longing that Darcy almost felt he should look away. Robert was not just charmed. He was dismantled. He was a man who had finally found the missing piece of his soul and was terrified it might vanish if he blinked.
Darcy turned back to the women. He watched Elizabeth's hands moving over the keys. She was not looking at the music. She was watching her sister, her eyes filled with love and pride. She was supporting Jane, harmonizing with her, letting Jane shine while she provided the solid structure.
It was a perfect metaphor for their relationship, Darcy realised. Elizabeth the protector, the foundation. Miss Bennet the light, the melody. He fell in love with her a little more in that moment. He loved her loyalty. He loved her strength. He loved that she could play the piano with such feeling, even if she claimed she did not practice enough.
All her lovely companions are faded and gone...
