Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him. “This is most unlike you, Mr. Darcy. You normally do not keep secrets from me. What are you up to? Who is this friend? Have I ever met him before?”
“Ah. Now I am Mr. Darcy. I have not been Mr. Darcy since two weeks ago when you were peeved with me.”
“Should I be peeved again, sir?” she asked moving her hands to her hips.
He lowered his voice. “No, my love, for I shall answer your questions. I am seeking only good things. He is an acquaintance of several years standing. No, you have not ever met this particular friend. Are you satisfied, Mrs. Darcy?”
“Very much so,” Elizabeth answered, smirking a bit. She turned and bustled from the room, followed closely by her sister.
Promptly at eight that evening, Darcy, Elizabeth, and Mary met in the music room to await their guest.
Before five minutes had passed, the door opened, and the butler preceded a young man with a mass of dark, loosely curled hair.
Jenkins bowed. “Signor Landini.”
The butler left, closing the door behind him.
“Elizabeth, my wife, and her sister Miss Mary Bennet,” said Darcy, gesturing toward the ladies. “May I present Signor Alessandro Landini?”
Mary was struck speechless. Fortunately, there was no need for her to form words. She looked to her sister to help her.
Elizabeth smiled at her, nodding slightly, and Mary’s training in etiquette rescued her. Acknowledge him. She took a breath, smiling.
The sisters curtseyed as the gentlemen bowed.
When Mary raised her eyes, the Italian gentleman was staring at her, an expression on his face that she had rarely garnered from a man.
She could not understand his meaning. Why is he so intent? Have I offended him?
Before Mary could puzzle it out, Darcy had given Elizabeth his arm, and Landini had offered his to her.
She hesitantly placed her hand on his forearm, blushing when he covered her hand with his.
Chapter 2
Where words leave off, music begins.
Darcy led the party to the smaller, more intimate dining room he favoured when eating with immediate family or close friends. He seated Elizabeth to his right, while Mary walked to her usual place at his left.
Signor Landini stepped behind Mary, waving away the footman, and held her chair.
“Grazie, signor,” she murmured. My Italian is extremely limited. How shall we communicate? Her heart raced in near panic.
He leaned over to speak quietly to her, his words spoken with a slight Italian accent. “Please, Miss Mary, I wish to practice my English. Will you ’elp me?”
Mary nodded, unable to speak, and looked down at her hands. He is here. In person. I am known for my uneasiness in company, yet I am expected to eat in front of him? And converse with him? There is one good thing, though. I can speak English now and stop worrying about my poor Italian.
Her lips trembled as she tried to think of something, anything, to say.
Hearing his chair slide on the floor, she realized he was to her right, facing Darcy.
As the footmen served their soup, Darcy cleared his throat. “Alex, we have greatly enjoyed your concerts over the past month. Thank you for the tickets. I knew my ladies would be enthralled by your skill. Both my wife and my sister play and sing.”
Elizabeth laughed. “But, for my part, not very well. Mary is much more serious about her music, and she practices several hours daily.”
“Indeed, my sister was at her instrument for at least three hours this morning, working diligently on the Beethoven piece you performed last night,” added Darcy.
“Is this true?” he asked, fairly beaming at her, his dark eyes sparkling. “You must play for me this night.”
She dropped her spoon, splattering her soup on the tablecloth, and her face flushed red. “Please, excuse my clumsiness.”
Elizabeth glared briefly at her husband, and then turned to their guest with a small smile. “My sister is quite shy, sir, and she is most likely apprehensive concerning performing for you, especially a piece that you displayed with such command during your concert.”
The gentleman’s expression was puzzled. “’ow shall I teach her if she will not play for me?”
Mary, very nearly fainting, turned her face to his and raised both of her eyebrows to almost comical heights. “You? Teach me? To play the pianoforte?”
“Do you remember that I promised to find you a suitable master? Alex has agreed to instruct you, Mary, along with Elizabeth and Georgiana,” Darcy said calmly. “Is that not wonderful? There is no better master of the instrument than he.”
“Oh, yes. Glorious, indeed.” Mary swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I can hardly believe such a wondrous thing. But, sir, you shall be most frustrated with my lack of skill. Your other students are surely much more accomplished than I will ever be,” she said timidly, eyes cast down.
“I teach no other students,” he replied.
Elizabeth widened her eyes. “No others? Do you mean, no other students at the moment?”
Signor Landini shook his head. “No other students ever. I never taught before. I do not want to teach, until now.”
“If I may be so rude as to ask, what changed your mind?” asked Elizabeth.
“I met Darcy in London about a month ago and gave ’im tickets to my performances. We ‘ave been friends a very long time. ’e said ’e would bring ’is wife and ’er sister, and I know you three will sit in the front row. I told the owner of the ’all to make it so. I want you all to enjoy my music. After the first concert, I arranged it so for every concert.”
“We did enjoy your music, sir. Thank you so much. I cannot imagine who would not be transfixed by your talent.” Mary’s voice was barely discernable. “However, I am still confused concerning why you would wish to teach us.”
The gentleman smiled. “When I stood after I played in each concert, I saw your expression, your face. You ’ave the soul of a musician. You felt the same way I felt. Darcy visited me a few days ago. I asked him to tell me more about you. ’e said you love music but never had instructions from master, vero?"
“My sister and I are from a small village. There were no masters,” she answered, lifting her face to see him. “Did my brother ask you to give me lessons?”
His gaze was gentle. “No, no, no. I ask ’im to let me be your master. I studied with Beethoven for two years, 1800 until 1802. ’e composed the sonata I played last night during that time and taught it to me. I was thirteen years old. Ludwig learned from Josef ’aydn. You shall learn from me.”
He studied with the genius himself, and he would teach me? Mary asked silently.
She could not wrap her mind around the thought, struggling to see his reasoning.
“Please forgive my impertinence, but I still do not understand. Why would you wish to teach me?”
He drew his brows together. “I am far away from la mia famiglia, from my country by war, and I cannot return to my l’Italia. I do not know if I ever see them again. I saw your face after I performed the Beethoven, your beautiful dark hair, your eyes blue seas like il Mediterraneo, and you are casa mia, my home. Sei la donna più Bella che conosco. You must know I sang ‘Il Mio Tesoro’ only to you.”
Mary, sensing the harmony in his words, seeing his tender expression, felt compelled to ask, “What does the title of the song mean?”