He waited a moment, appearing to consider his answer. “Words have many meanings. ‘My Treasure’ is good.”
The gentleman affected her so deeply, she could not form a reply. This man is shy and awkward? I cannot see it. He expresses himself beautifully.
Darcy looked from Mary to Landini. “I have a grand idea.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “Another one? You are blessed with an abundance of grand ideas, today. Please, share it with us.”
“I think I shall, my love, since you asked so nicely.” Darcy nodded at Alessandro. “You can instruct Mary at the pianoforte, and she can help you learn to read and speak English fluently. Both of you can teach the subject you have mastered to the other one. You already speak very good English, my friend, but she can help you with common expressions, pronunciation, and the flavour of certain words. Rather than have Mary merely correct you from time to time, Alex, you should set a regular time every day for English, just as you shall set a time to teach Mary the pianoforte.”
“That is truly inspired, my love,” Elizabeth said. “I am so clever.”
Darcy frowned in mock consternation. “’Twas my idea. How does that make you clever?”
She looked toward the ceiling. “’Tis so obvious, I fear I shall embarrass you by stating it. However, since you did ask, I was the one who had the good sense to marry you.”
He laughed. “Yes, you did, though not until you put me through my paces for a year.”
She quirked a brow, pointing a finger at him. “You know whose fault that was. Need I remind you of what you said at the Assembly?”
Darcy turned to his butler. “Jenkins, I believe everyone has finished their soup. You may serve the next course.”
Landini leaned toward Mary, whispering, “What did ’e say?”
“Let us trade information. I will tell you his infamous remark if you translate what you said in Italian. Something about ‘donna’ and ‘bella’,” she answered.
He coloured a bit. “I say that best in my language. The English has not the lyrical sounds of l’italiano.”
So, he is a bit shy when talking about certain things, she thought.
“Shall we strike a bargain then?” she asked, surprised at her own boldness.
“Non capisco.” He shrugged his shoulders.
I suppose the idiom confused him, she thought.
“Come to terms? Have an agreement?”
“Ah! Yes,” he answered, smiling. “Come to terms – a contract.”
She nodded, pleased to have explained herself so well that he could understand.
“When you are ready to share with me what you said, I shall tell you Darcy’s comment the first time he saw my sister. He was so terribly rude, I am amazed that she married him. It must have been the very deepest love for her to forgive such a slight.”
“That does not surprise me.”
Mary tilted her head. “Why not?”
“Darcy has had women after ’im since he was just a boy. ’e never felt in danger of love. ’e saw your sister and felt something for ’er. ’e felt fear. ’e said a rude thing to chase ’er out.”
She considered his words. “You are probably right. He protected his heart by driving her away.”
“If ’e loves ’er, she can ’urt ’im. ’e has known much pain.”
“You are wise to be so young. How old are you?”
“Twenty-seven, and I travelled most of those years.”
Mary looked at his large hands holding his knife and fork. Those talented fingers had caressed her soul with the sounds they coaxed – no, demanded! – from a keyboard. Her gaze travelled slowly up his chest to his face with its aristocratic nose, perfect lips, cleft chin, and strong jaw. His dark hair curled around his ears, and she wanted to stroke her fingers through it, to know if it felt as soft as it looked. Her eyes continued their journey to those dark, expressive eyes.
His eyes.
His eyes!
His clear, brown eyes were focused on her, his amusement clearly showing, as his full lips curled up in a smile.
She closed her eyes tightly and willed herself to become smaller, to disappear if at all possible. If I should die in this moment, I would go to Heaven. That would be far better than this.
She sank down a little lower in her chair, putting both hands in her lap, noticing there were no sounds around her. It was absolutely quiet.
Perfectly still.
Maybe I have died, she thought, somewhat relieved.
She opened one eye a tiny bit, but then closed it quickly. No, he is still laughing at me.
Mary pretended she was in her room at home, sitting on the windowsill behind the curtains, hiding from her Mama and sisters while she read in the dim light.
She took a deep breath. This is my favourite place. I am always happy here.
A warm hand touched hers, covering it completely, and she jolted upright.
“Mary,” he crooned, his voice velvety soft, so close she felt his breath near her ear. “Do you sleep? Where did you go? Open your eyes for me, la mia piccola.”
She gingerly lifted her eyelids.
He moved his hand to her shoulder and straightened up.
She immediately regretted the loss of his warmth.
What is wrong with me? I am the sensible sister. He is not the first handsome man I have ever seen. Mary sighed quietly.
A little voice whispered to her, However, he is the first handsome man who has ever seen you.
Mary sat up. “Where are my sister and brother?”
“They wait for us in the music room. Where did you go?”
She shook her head a little. He will never understand.
“I was here – in my chair. You saw me.”
Landini shook his head. “When I was young, I feared people who came to ’ear me play and sing. I learned to go in my mind to a place I felt safe. I ’id under my bed with quilt on my head until I went to the stage. Where do you ’ide?”
She pushed her chair back and stood, her face tilted up to his. “I was in my room at Longbourn, my home, hiding behind the curtains while I read a favourite book.” She paused. “You do know I was not really there? I am perfectly sane.”
He nodded, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Sì, lo so. I know. We are more alike than you think, cara.”
Her heart fluttered, even as her own words, spoken in judgment of her sister Lydia, echoed in her mind. Loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable; one false step involves her in endless ruin. A woman’s reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful; therefore, she cannot be too much guarded in her behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex.
She sighed. “We should go.”
He immediately stepped back, offering her his arm.
She accepted his assistance, and they walked slowly through the French doors into the hallway.
“Will you play for me?” she asked.
“Always. If you are there, I am playing for you, il mio cuore. When will you play for me?”
“Tomorrow, if you come to teach me.”
“I shall be ’ere in the morning. Is eleven o’clock too early for you?”
She shook her head. “Not at all. I will have time to practice before you come.”
“Eccellente.”
A footman opened the door to the music room for them, and Landini crossed to the pianoforte. He pulled the bench back, then walked around it to settle himself on the edge of it with his long legs stretched to the pedals before he looked at Darcy and Elizabeth.