Mr. Darcy remained absent for the rest of the evening, and Christine soon abandoned remorseful thoughts regarding their interchange. She hadn't truly said anything too atrocious. She was provoked. And certainly, he was a stubborn, haughty man. She couldn't fathom why her opinion could mean anything to someone who so clearly considered her an insignificant simpleton. So she forgot him for the evening and focused on her present companions.
She found the occupation just as disheartening as she had the evening before.
Mr. Bingley remained the only pleasant member of the party, with his kind words and open nature. His sisters did not improve upon closer acquaintance; rather, they proved themselves to be just as ridiculously proud and snobbish as they had appeared at Lucas Lodge, if not more so. Caroline Bingley, the younger, surpassed her married sister, Mrs. Louisa Hurst, for she was not only arrogant but also vicious, deceptive, and manipulative. More than once, she attempted to lure Christine into an insult or humiliation that while feigning friendly curiosity. After generously acknowledging Miss Caroline's beauty and intelligence, Christine proceeded to despise her immensely.
Mr. Hurst was merely a blob upon the sofa that once or twice offered a comment of supreme simple-mindedness. He was ignored by all.
Christine spent the majority of that evening willing Jane to recover quickly. After a painful hour, she deemed her obligation to act the mannered guest fulfilled and excused herself. It took all of her self-control to resist running from the room.
Oh, Jane, she mused, if you do win Mr. Bingley – and you are well on your way – I do not envy you your in-laws!
Then she turned a corner, and all thoughts vanished under a crushing flood of music. Though distant, the notes commanded her full attention and led her automatically forward, toward the unseen piano and its master. And such a master! To coax such emotion from keys and pedals, to fuse sorrow and beauty so completely! Christine longed to stand in the center of such music, to feel the vibrations of the impassioned chords, but as she drew closer, she found herself face-to-face with…a door. A very shut door.
Ah, but curiosity had always been her greatest fault. By a lucky miracle, the handle moved under her eager fingers, allowing the door to swing forward into an elegant ballroom; but just as Christine finally achieved her objection, the music ceased.
Mr. Darcy turned only his head, observed Christine's dazed expression, and sneered, "May I assist you in any way, Miss Bennet? Point you in the direction of your room, perhaps?"
Christine blinked, recovering her voice, "No, I…I know quite well where I…was that really you playing, just then?"
"I sit here alone in front of a piano. Draw your own conclusions," he returned his gaze to the instrument, a sleek black grand piece of artwork that shamed everything Christine had ever seen before. He reminded himself to scold Charles yet again for lacking a proper music room, with proper locks.
"Was the piece your own?"
Erik stiffened, "Yes. I hope this ends your line of inquiry."
"But that was incredible!" Christine exclaimed, hardly hearing his second remark. So he truly was a genius!
"Thank you. Goodnight."
"Oh, don't dismiss me just yet," Christine protested, hurrying toward the piano. "I've never seen such an instrument."
Mr. Darcy leapt to his feet as she came closer. This girl seemed intent on testing his limits. Had she no respect for his privacy?
"May I?" Christine asked, her long fingers already spread across the glowing ivory keys. After a moment with no response, she began to play a simple but pretty piece, humming along unconsciously.
"Miss Bennet, I must request that you leave me in peace," Mr. Darcy very nearly growled.
"Are my musical endeavors really so offensive to you? You are, to my knowledge, the first." Beside myself, Christine added silently. She remained seated.
Mr. Darcy began to pace stiffly beside the piano. "In truth, it is not that you play and sing particularly poorly, it is that you have squandered such potential to be great."
Christine glanced up at him with raised eyebrows, "Oh? Have I?"
"Yes. It's quite a waste. Now, goodnight."
Christine did not stir, "Sir, you can not truly expect me to be satisfied with so vague a criticism." She considered for a moment, then added, "Perhaps you can make yourself useful instead."
Mr. Darcy, whose fingers had begun to curl into tightly clenched fists of restraint, stopped his pacing. Christine hastily continued, "You are obviously a musician of no small skill."(He scoffed at this. Indeed!)"Perhaps you can…teach me. Improve me, as it were."
What an absurd idea! Ridiculous, the thought of spending excess time with this insolent child! Yet, how wonderful it would be to hear that soft voice bloom under his guidance! London would kneel before her radiant talent. And when she sang, she would sing for him…no! No such horrible, half-hopeful thoughts!
Christine marveled at her nerve. Had she really just asked this near stranger to tutor her? And this stranger, too! A misanthropic snob, who simply happened to play music like a god. Her love for the art had taken her too far this time. Well, he would undoubtedly refuse, and then she would but leave the embarrassment behind…
"Yes, I would be willing to teach you," Mr. Darcy said evenly. "Better that than have my ears tortured again."
Christine gaped.
"But I would ask that the…lessons…be kept private. I do not wish to become an instructor for every brat in the country, thank you. We may begin tomorrow, when you have finished with your sister. Goodnight." With that matter-of-fact statement, Mr. Darcy bowed, turned on his heel, and walked swiftly from the room.
Christine stared blankly ahead. What had just happened? And then she laughed, for what else was there to do?
She continued laughing as she made her way out of the ballroom and through the corridor. And she may have chuckled longer, had she not run bodily into a mildly drunken Mr. Hurst.
"Oh! I'm very sorry, Mr. Hurst!" She exclaimed, jumping back.
"Were you speaking to Mr., Darcy in there?" he drawled, squinting as though in intense concentration.
"Yes, we were just –"
"I would advise you, Miss Bennet," Mr. Hurst interrupted sloppily, "not to spend too much time alone with Mr. Darcy. He's involved in some funny business, that man. He thinks I don't notice, with Charles making light of everything all the time. But people have disappeared, Miss Bennet, mark my words! And any man takes note of that!"
……..
Yes, I updated again! Astounding, I know.
So, as you can see, the story has taken a phantomy turn. I am trying to use elements of both novels' plots and characters (such a batshit!Erik…hee hee), so here we go. After re-watching the 2005 P&P, I recalled the extent of plot and assortment of characters in Jane Austen's novel, and you'll just have to forgive me for not getting to it all. I think that at some point, this fic will kind of just follow its own path. It is fanfiction, after all, and a bit of a story in its own right, and I can't wait to completely abuse my creative license!
I even toyed with the idea of eliminated Mr. Collins, but he's just so hilarious and so much plot surrounds him (Lady Catherine!) that I can't. We'll see how he gets wedged in here somehow.
Thank you again for all your kind words! Here's an overdue response to some questions:
Jedi Bubbles: I purposefully skipped the Mrs/Mr. Bennet bit about Bingley (alliteration! Yay!). I want to focus more on Erik and Christine and get to "the good parts," so to speak. And the Nadir/Bingley thought! ;) – If only, if only.
MonMaskedAnge: I love that bit in the movie, too…but I didn't really want them to chat too much just then. I hope they're other snap-fests will satisfy you later!
Memory from a dream: Aah, I'm glad you like the story, but I like my Eriks fugly (woot Skeleton Horse!)…so…forgive me and read anyway? puppy eyes
Erik'sTrueAngel: He did know who, he just doesn't quite understand why it has affected him so…sorry if I was unclear!
Under-my-Angel-of-Music's-wing: What a great question, and one I wish I knew the answer to myself. The new movie was my first encounter with P&P, and it just had me swooning for days. And the BBC one is so wonderfully true to the novel and OMG wet!colinfirthdarcy! I could compare and debate the two forever…but both (and the novel!) have influence here.
Argh,
long A/N – apologies! P.S. Is it historically accurate to be using
a piano here? I just can't see Erik behind a wimpy little
pianoforte!
