Once again, thank you for for all the reviews. I'm just going to barrel on through. Sorry if I disappoint one side or the other with the progression of their plots, but it must be done. Not saying any more than that.

To the one guest (cursed with carpal tunnel) my deepest sympathies.

To MissySippi: (and another guest reviewer) Thank you! I was rallied by your defense!

To Annilese and AmyAm: You're right. That was off. Thanks for pointing that out. Dr. Cox does say that the clergy are blurred into the gentry class; some did have land and held some status. Mr. Collins was much better off in that respect than Edward Ferrars in S&S. And the clerks of that day were educated. But you're right, everything seemed to be on a spectrum. You could be a poor member of the gentry, but you could also be a successful tradesman, like Mr. Gardiner.

Chapter 23

Happy skies, with a bright moon and a blanket studded with stars, graced the company of Vauxhall Gardens. The true stars of heaven, simple and soft flickers, gazed down upon the many radiant beauties who took their likeness. Under white tent canvas, the bourgeoisie throngs crowded in a half circle. Seats had filled rapidly. Invited guests received first considerations, and were placed near the front. Everyone else paid for their tickets. Lady Herncastle, being the expert, knew how to host entertainment anywhere, whether it was in the salon or on the deck of a ship. Her program tonight, thankfully, for Mary's sake, did not give indication of special preference. For this evening's gathering, the finale performance was bestowed to Rietta, who sat to Mary's left. Miss Longsbury sat on her right. On this occasion, performers were seated distinctly separate from the audience.

"That note was off," whispered Rietta.

Mary nodded discreetly. "She's had four or five notes of those," replied Mary.

"Hhmm, I wonder… She seems a little distracted."

"Distracted?"

"I wouldn't be surprised, if we hear news in a couple months that she shall be expecting."

"Rietta," gasped Mary, eyebrows raised and a smile. "Do you speculate on such things?"

"Yes. I often do. Matches, and children. I have premonitions."

"Don't be absurd," she chuckled.

"I really must say, Mary. That new necklace looks absolutely stunning."

"Lady Herncastle's gift. I did not know this was part of some sort of uniform."

"For more public occasions," explained Rietta, "she likes us coming out in public with a sort of signature. It's like the family crests of noblemen, isn't it? Only ours, star pendents on the neck."

"I never would've made that association, but I suppose so."

"And with that little bandeau, perfect!"

"… Are you nervous?"

A quizzical look crossed Rietta. "Me? No indeed, why?"

Mary snickered. "You're chattering. And Mrs. Maynard is giving us both a look." Off sitting diagonal to their left and behind, one of the Starlight seniority looked down at them, in much the same way they looked down on Miss Quinn at the opera. Rietta's mock bashful expression nearly set off Mary into giggles, a foreign sensation. For lately, everything had been triggering looks and smiles of a much more light-hearted nature. Of course, there was Mr. Cummings in the audience. He sat by Mr. Darcy, Georgiana, and to her own great surprise, Elizabeth! Everyone objected, but she insisted upon attending, for nothing but the sake of watching Mary's performance. For how advanced her pregnancy had become, she would do very little socializing. She would be regulated to a chair if everyone else were standing, and Mr. Darcy permitted her on the condition that she would be driven home after a spot of dinner, and before all the dancing. This was agreeable to everyone. Yet, somehow, it was hard to believe that Lizzy had so singular a motive.

Mrs. Jenson concluded her performance. Miss Longsbury rose, with her violin and bow in hand, and took her place at the center of the tent. Things still felt strained, but upon looking back at the debacle of Mrs. Ferrars' musical soiree, Miss Longsbury was not a guilty party. Mary acquitted her, despite her chilled manner. Her share in it was more, how would some put it, opportunistic. Miss Quinn had to be credited with creating opportunity, and therefore, the predator. It seemed easier to forgive her fellow colleagues by comparing their behaviour to animals. After all, as Miss Quinn so sardonically phrased it, every one of them was a performing monkey. Mary's eyes fell to her program; while reading off the list of their names, that analogy started to creep into the list.

1. Miss Alissa Judge

2. Miss Bella Quinn

3. Mrs. Prudence Bowman

4. Sadie Andrews (lamb)

5. Mrs. and Miss Jacoby

7. Miss Mary Bennet

8. Mrs. Isabella Maynard

9. Miss Henrietta Sothern

10. Miss Sadie Andrews

11. Mrs. Maryann Jenson

13. Miss Louise Longsbury

14. Miss Mary Bennet

15. Miss Henrietta Sothern

What Mary began to see with some creative fancy was a list of a different kind.

1. The leopard. After all, from having come from half noble blood, she was a creature unable to change her spots.

2. The performing monkey. No explanation needed, and the label justified.

3. The owl. For all her grace and reservation and dignity, and a slightly round figure and face, there was some resemblance.

4. The lamb. She is young and docile.

5. Two horses. Always side by side, they pull the carriage.

7. For herself… What to compare herself to?

8. The she-wolf. At the moment, in a glimpse over the shoulder, she spoke threats with her eyes, and her facial features possessed a sharpness.

9. The lioness. A defender, smart and clever, silencing injustice with a heavy paw.

11. The hen. When she struck each false note, her eyes bulged slightly and her manner ruffled. Was the hen indeed, about to lay an egg?

13. The fox. A shrewd creature with reddish fur.

The more she thought about it, what sort of comparison could be made of herself, Mary decided nothing suited her better than a donkey. Why not—something that has a resemblance of a horse's regal frame, but its voice, shrill and laughable. She could not entertain such grossly exaggerated caricatures of others without doing some injustice to herself. What would Lady Herncastle think had she been a guest at the Netherfield ball? Rietta leaned over, inquiring what caused her to stifle such wicked laughter.

"Forgive me, I'll tell you afterward," whispered Mary.

"Indeed," she purred. "Perhaps you are not one to be trusted after all."

"… Perhaps not. May I ask, Rietta, why are the names of number six and number twelve crossed out? I've never heard of these women before."

"The two ladies are actually from Bath. They were supposedly to join us for a brief stay, but Lady Herncastle was informed, at the last minute, that they would not be able to keep their engagement. It does happen. There's a good number of ladies in Bath that will make an appearance in town every so often."

So the Starlight Circle encompassed more than the galaxy of London. There were others. Mary was already aware of the fact, but did not consider it. How many more were there? Were there any new, young and upcoming members? She was still fairly new herself, and being a fresh face in the musical society served to an advantage. That wouldn't last forever. Miss Quinn's words held more presence in her mind that she cared to admit. For perhaps the first time, Mary reflected on the signing of her contract with some misgiving. There was an image and reputation to maintain. But there would come a time when with all her best efforts to exceed others, someone would exceed herself. Of course, that was an eventuality, and Mary would always have the distinction as the Starlight's only female composer. Still, there may come a day, a small chance, that new members of the Starlight might be inspired to composing as well. Her distinction would be lost; her own light would dim. Instead of first or last on the program, she would be relegated to the middle, or her number of engagements would dwindle a bit. Then, before was even aware of it, years would pass by, to the cessation of all professional engagements.

When the master of ceremonies that evening called her name, it took a gentle elbow from Rietta to call her out of darker musings. She took her place at the instrument, and played without flaw. Now that the norm was established, her nerves no longer plagued her being called before the audiences. Still being fairly new on the scene, the performance still inspired great awe and commanded such rapt attention. Of course, those ladies of the Starlight Circle sitting towards the front, lost all sense of awe. All of them are in competition with each other, so said Mr. Darcy. Friendship in this professional capacity also entailed a certain degree of enmity. This was not the way with friends from Meryton, not from Maria Lucas or Miss Watson or Mrs. Long's nieces, none of them. Friendship was all about resisting those tendencies towards jealousy. That was not the way between herself and Miss Darcy, nor even Rietta Sothern. Respect was a good principle in practice, though beyond their own musical talents, nobody was obliged to respect one another—let alone like one another. Even though fame and glory was not the sole occupation of life, even if she did not care about being the best and most accomplished, a contract changed that. Even if she did not care it, she couldn't say none of it mattered.

Her performance concluded soon enough, and met with the now accustomed applause so richly deserved. Mr. Cummings caught her eye from the instrument, applauding and smiling proudly. Suddenly, the mental gloom lifted, and the sparkle returned to her complexion. The entire Darcy family, joined in the general applause, lifted her back into the sky once more. To stand upon her own worth, yes, it was all worthwhile!

Rietta concluded the evening, in a sterling performance herself. Her choice selection was the melodramatic, tragic rendition of Dido's Lament from Act III of the opera Dido & Aeneas. It did her well to consider, all her associates possessed a talent worthy of admiration, and they too faced the same dilemma as herself with regards their futures. Mary would not face it all alone, and some women in the musical society, unfortunately, did not have the comfort of having wealthy relatives to turn to for support, if and when they should come to pecuniary difficulties. Their independence could fail too, and for good reason, nobody could afford complacency. If it didn't excuse hostility, the relatable uncertainty and fear made forgiveness easier. And Rietta, to Mary's estimation, deserved greater praise than herself. She could play and sing, beautifully. Even if nobody else was a friend, at least she had the respect and friendship of her own equal. What did a lowly personage have to fear when she walked with the queen?

During Rietta's performance, Mary couldn't help the prickling fear, and turned occasionally towards the audience behind her, through the faces in the crowd, looking for the mysterious follower of her friend. Even if he was indeed present, he was far in the back and out of sight. And to the relief of all, he made no appearance nor show himself to Rietta that evening. However, the evening ended with a little pomp and ceremony, when the master of ceremonies bid the Starlight Circle to come back to the front and take their bows before everyone. Altogether, lined up, all dressed in varying shades of white and cream, with all their star-studded necklaces, they were a beautiful sight to behold. Then, some attendant of the event stepped forward from the background, with a message and bestowed the honour to present to the Starlight Circle, a gigantic bouquet! White, yellow, and red roses. He approached Mary, and placed it in her arms.

"Congratulations, my friend," whispered Rietta, smiling proudly.

Mary's suspicions were confirmed with a quick glance towards her party. Mr. Cummings did not join in the applause with everyone else; he merely nodded a bow towards her, making her almost heady.

When she met him later, Mary chided: "You need not have done such a thing, Mr. Cummings."

"It's your first park concert," he excused. "It shouldn't be passed by without being marked special."

"What will people say? I don't even know—If this sort of thing is done…"

"It's not an uncommon practice." He turned to Rietta for confirmation, readily assured. "Of all the society tonight, you were the best performer."

"Now, that is not true. There are a number of ladies who were more skilled than myself."

"When you're up there or out front, before the audience, I can't help wonder—as you sit down at the piano, what other sonatas are going through your head. What little mysteries and eighth wonders we haven't heard yet, yet to be written," he teased.

"Mr. Cummings, you have to climb mountains and traverse deserts to find eighth wonders. If you call my musical talents the eighth wonder, save that opinion until I attempt to sing. Then you'll have seen the ninth wonder; and I don't mean that in a good way at all."

To this, he laughed heartily, walking arm in arm with her to their reserved table. Parading passed table after table, greeted by fond eyes and smiles of the public, with a few sneers from other members of the Starlight Circle, and the large bouquet overflowing—it all felt so strange. This was not happening to Mary Bennet, but to someone else. Why did everyone so badly wish, in their mind's eye of fancy, to stand on top of the world? She was on top of the world now, but she stood on a very high place, looking down the very long fall fall from it. Their party walked ahead, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, Georgiana and Rietta, everyone arm in arm. At a point, Mary trained her eyes on their backs rather than letting her gaze wander outwardly on the seated crowds at their tables. Once seated, at least, the bouquet was dispensed to the center of the table.

For a few minutes, the party was unattended while the wait staff busily bustled between patrons. It did not occur to Mary, that there were two vacant chairs. One of the footmen wished to borrow them for another table, but Mrs. Darcy politely refused that they be taken.

"I am sorry your uncle and aunt Gardiner could not attend this evening," said Mr. Darcy.

"My aunt has a mild cold," replied Lizzy. "When I went to Gracechurch Street this morning, my uncle advised I not see her. It is just a mild cold, and a little headache."

"I'm grateful that he did so. Even if it's mild, it's still a risk. Your aunt wouldn't wish you catching anything."

It gave her some pain, but the meaning was understood. The baby was stirring right now, at random hours. Even this, coming to the park concert at Vauxhall, seemed a great risk for a woman about to give birth any day. That did not stop Lizzy from trying to see her sick aunt, or from watching her sister share in this musical exhibition. Another footman came to take orders for everyone's dinner, which sunk the spirits a little, but before long, suspense was rewarded. Mr. Darcy was the first to spot the pair, walking across the green, between tables. He descended from the balcony, called to Captain Carter and made a courteous bow to Miss Carter. They had indeed come!

Unlike at the house, where she seemed ill at ease, tonight, she came smartly dressed and radiant in countenance. Her brother was all good humour and agreeable, as ever.

"We were standing very far in back, but we did manage to hear your performance, Miss Bennet," he informed, from down the table. "It was magnificent."

"Such a shame we only had a glimpse of you," added Miss Carter.

"What a shame. You should have sought us out," said Lizzy. "You might have sat with us."

"I did not wish to inconvenience anyone," replied the captain. "Besides, additional expense. But we don't expect anything, except the pleasure we've had already. And it's been a pleasure certainly! Never before could my sister or I boast in the acquaintance of one of the musicians."

Rietta, with those ever expressive eyes, slowly turned a glance, without even the slightest turn of her head. Even though conversation kept to the ordinary and commonplace, Mary could not shake the feeling that as she spoke—though she spoke little to Captain Carter and more to others, though ever the attentive listener to Mr. Cummings' childhood story, her friend observed in judicious silence. There was something almost unnerving about it, for a country girl so accustomed to watching other people, studying their character. Mary feared to ask, dared not ask, what passed through her mind. She'd say something clever and charming if one were to inquire. If tempted, she'd probably say something teasing about Mary's success that evening, making a conquest of two.

Some relief came when an announcement went out: a call to dance at the pavilion, accessible just down the stone stairs behind them. Enthusiasm rippled through the pond, inciting every bird worth its plumage to dance. The youngest, including the young members of the Starlight, flocked eagerly down the steps to the pavilion. The musicians had not even finished tuning their instruments yet. For as much as Mr. Darcy wished to urge his wife towards the carriage, towards home, and to bed, Lizzy, in quiet tones and close talk, adamantly insisted on staying a little longer; in fact, from what Mary could make out by her lips, it was imperative that she stay a little longer. He was not happy, but he was silenced for a short while.

So it was not only Rietta. It seemed that other people were watching. Her sister too!

Mary accepted Mr. Cummings' offered arm as they left the table, descended, and made their way to the pavilion. Some chairs were arranged off to the sides, to which Lizzy relegated herself. Mr. Darcy resolutely made himself her sentinel, leaving Georgiana to the attention of Mr. Cummings' other arm. For all the ladies of the Starlight, if they wished to appear smart and fashionable, entered on the arm of a gentleman. Perhaps the only one so unfortunate in that respect was Miss Quinn. For as they walked, anyone passing close enough could hear a conversation of a rather vexed and petulant nature. By the time they entered the pavilion, Mr. Wynn entered ahead of her, without even so much as offering his arm. In such a place as this, Mary felt all the good fortune of her newfound popularity. Two years ago, this very situation would've been a desperate, friendless one. She could almost see Lydia and Kitty, running and weaving between parties, waiting for the entrance of their champions in regimentals.

"Shall we?"

Mr. Cummings' smile was as gentle as the light of the lanterns, understated but burning distinctly. For by the way he looked, she felt very much that, while others had their own gentlemen and formed their own couple, they too were a couple. And the music, so perfectly suited to the refined tastes of the evening, played that slower, more agreeable tempo that made dancing effortless.

"I still hear, over and over again," said Mr. Cummings, "person after person remarking upon your music. It's a sensation, Miss Bennet. All over London. I can only wonder what will be, where you'll be this time next year."

"Oddly enough, I was having contemplations about that myself, right in the middle of my last performance."

"Is that so?"

"Truly. But, my thoughts went farther, more like five or ten years… Even more."

"That is quite far. And what have your contemplations produced?"

"… Honestly, a mixture of emotions. You'd lecture me if I said so, but it's a little more gloomy than—Well, for being one in a society called the Starlight, I'm not starry-eyed when I think about what my life will be in ten years and more."

This was not expected, to his hearing. "I cannot read your thoughts, Miss Bennet, as much as I wish I could," he whispered between their revolutions, and parting, turns through the dancers. "However, if I might wager a guess, your thoughts do you credit. Practicality."

"Really?"

"Indeed."

"… When we last spoke, at the opera, something you said got me to thinking. Thinking very seriously. Mr. Cummings… What if I made a mistake? About signing the contract with Lady Herncastle?"

"Do you feel you made a mistake?"

"I don't know… Earlier today, I was looking over my copy of the contract. There's something that perhaps I did not take into consideration… There is…" The movements and turns of the dance, though graceful, were almost maddening. For a ball may not be an irrational way to make new acquaintances, but it was a frustrating way to carry on conversation. "There is the body of the contract, detailing my duties to Lady Herncastle, and her obligations to me. As long as I make myself available to perform publicly, then she will schedule my public appearances… And any special arrangements, such as travel, illness, family duty, etc., must be made known to her ladyship, which she will give due consideration… Does not the language of that sound rather vague?"

He heard it, then waited until they were paused, facing each other, while other couples filtered between them. "You're right," he agreed, nodding.

"I know you're no part of the musical society, but what is your opinion?"

"There is... quite a bit of room for interpretation."

"There is something more that concerns me. It's actually… really concerned me so much, but I'm afraid to tell my sister about it, or Mr. Darcy."

"And that is?"

"There's no mention of termination of the contract," answered Mary, with a shaken head. "It's funny. I did read the contract before I signed it… But that detail did not strike me at all."

"There must be some mistake… Does it really speak nothing of termination?"

"Well, the only way my contract with the Starlight Circle may be terminated, is if by the judgment of her ladyship, or by a council of my peers, determine that I've been guilty of conduct unbecoming to myself and the reputation of the Starlight Circle… Does that not suggest, sir…"

"Yes," he replied gravely. "I had no idea… When I first suggested it, I did not mean to cast suspicions, but I must agree, that does not sound right. It sounds as though, by the way the contract is written, there is no way out."

Mary's colour vanished. It didn't mean anything at all. It's not as if she had reason or desire, but people's lives do change. Time alters the course of those lives. She might have reason and desire later. What then?

"Miss Bennet, Mary… If you'll permit me to, if I may be of any assistance—even just put your mind at ease, would you allow me to look over your contract at a convenient time?"

"It is hardly your duty, Mr. Cummings, but I would be very much obliged to you."

Over her shoulder, Mary had a glimpse of her own party. Division had occurred apparently. Mrs. Darcy happily watched three couples, much to Mary's own surprise: Mr. Darcy and Miss Carter, herself and Mr. Cummings, and Captain Carter danced with Georgiana!

"I hope things are not as you fear… I should not like it, that you'd be confined to an agency, without any say in the matter, especially with regards to your life."

"Or perhaps, maybe a conversation with Lady Herncastle will put any fears at ease... I'll ask her later tonight, whether or not we may hold some private conference of some sort."

"It seems we have a good plan. I'll definitely look into it tomorrow. In the meantime though… No gloomy thoughts, Mary." She couldn't help smile. "You can be practical. You can philosophize and speculate, if you wish, but absolutely, no gloomy thoughts. I forbid it!"

"You dare to command my thoughts, Mr. Cummings?" she laughed.

Mary forgot about Rietta. As it would turn out, Rietta and Lizzy actually sat together, keeping each other company. Rietta had to be the one exception to the whole Starlight, who felt perfect confidence in company without a beau on her arm. Though perhaps, it was just as she would've preferred. For looking quite unaccompanied grabbed the attention of five or six gentlemen before too long. And the dance ended. Just as she thought to search out Georgiana, people rose and began to mingle for a minute, forming new partners and decisions.

"I suppose I'd be rather greedy to ask you for the next," he said.

"Well, so as not to draw undue attention to ourselves, sir, how about we try to part for a few dances?"

"I'd say that's fair. Well, what about… Ah, Dr. Carter! And Miss Carter, how did you enjoy the dance?"

"It's lovely. I don't believe we've ever come here for dances. This is certainly a milestone," said Miss Carter. "Mother will glad of it. She always likes us to go out into society, doesn't she, Luke?"

"Miss Carter, would you do me the honour of the next?"

Mary's intermittent agony resurfaced instantly. For all she longed for and dreaded had finally come. As Mr. Cummings naturally claimed Miss Carter for the next, well, it was only natural and polite that the captain should offer to stand up the next with Miss Bennet. His offered hand confirmed nothing. His bow at the beginning of the song betrayed nothing. Between them both, they were transported back to her Aunt Phillips' parlour upstairs, when Mary played throughout the card party, and she that tragic black band on his forearm. It wasn't so hostile a silence, but neither one was comfortable. As to his dancing, however, he was everything that Mary remembered. He was always a fine dancer. Lizzy and her younger sisters knew that well enough, but Mary had never experienced it firsthand herself.

"Now that I finally have the opportunity," he began tentatively, "I want to say, Mary, that I am very glad to see you again."

Not Miss Bennet—but Mary! "You are? That is astonishing."

"Why?"

"I am astonished that you should be glad," she sighed. "After how we last parted—"

"Now Mary, I'd really rather not talk about it."

"I understand, but before we agree to that, I really need to tell you, Captain Carter… I am very, very sorry for what I said to you. How I acted… You deserved none of that. You were very kind, and I was so wretched and heartless…"

"Well, I'm sure you were wretched, but I can easily understand that. That was a bad time for your family. All of you had just been delivered very bad news… I wouldn't call that heartless."

"You are really being too generous."

Their turn came to pause, let others revolve and filter between them in the line. "We are all guilty of that, saying things we don't mean." Added with a nod: "I'd rather you forgive yourself than ask my forgiveness."

"… I think I'd have been more forgiving, of myself… a lot sooner—Well, never mind; it does not matter anymore." The letter had never reached him, but if it had, perhaps it would've served to reduce awkwardness.

"Your sister was very sly." Changing the subject, at last, a very slight smile appeared, more and more like the Captain Carter of memory. "I thought she merely wished Ruth and I would join to attend the park concert. I hadn't the slightest the idea, until I saw your name on the program!"

"Well, Lizzy has her secrets."

"As do you, a sly creature yourself… But I cannot begin to tell you, Mary, I was very proud to see you center stage tonight!"

"Thank you, captain. That means a great deal… Forgive me, doctor, better said."

"Whatever you like," he shrugged. "I'm so glad. You did it, everything you said you would do! You've left Longbourn, come to London, you're playing amongst the Starlight Circle."

"And… published."

"No!" "Yes!" "Really?"

"My second performance, that particular selection…"

"That was yours!" His mounting exuberance incited the blush, one in a million this evening. "Heaven's blessed! Mary Bennet finally a published composer… How does it feel?"

"I've never been so happy in my life, Captain Carter. After years and years of rejections. Now, I feel like… anything in the world is possible now. I mean, being sensible here, it's not the end goal, could want for nothing more, of course not. But I'm feeling new life. New possibilities are in reach."

"Well, it could not happen to another more deserving."

For shame, the music ended all too soon. Just as the frosts had thawed, they were forced to part again for new partners. Before Mary could make any other choice, she was approached by Mr. Wynn and asked to dance! That dance made Mary's previous turn with Captain Carter and any mortification between them seem like nothing. She tried not to let her eyes stray at all into the crowds, but not entirely possible, Miss Quinn stood in a small cluster with Mrs. Jenson, the Jacoby duo, and Miss Sadie Andrews; the conniving girl scowled viciously. Probably an even greater insult, that Mary should not wish to dance with her gentleman and suitor, but Mr. Wynn sought her out solely for the purpose of a refreshing change in society. When that dance concluded, Mary quickly curtsied to Mr. Wynn, made him thanks, and sought out her own party.

Rietta was giving her a look the whole way. "It wasn't my fault," pleaded Mary. "I didn't want to at all—"

"Well, there's no hiding it. Poor Mr. Wynn, her persecuted beau. She deserves it. If he'd not asked you, I'd have gone up and asked him myself."

"But Rietta, we never ask gentlemen to dance."

"Then I've seen plenty of ladies break the rule, including myself," she confessed. "If I were courting him, I'd go about it more smart and covertly. I'd just dance with the poor man to spite her, that's all… Now Mary, you're excused tonight, but at some time, perhaps our next session composing, I expect to hear more about your acquaintance from the militia."

"You mean Captain Carter?"

"Yes… Any man that would make you smile like that."

Her expression altered entirely upon the accusation. "No! It's not like at all—"

"Ah, Captain Carter!" she graciously stopped Mary. He approached with a bit of a quicker step, anticipating something. "When you are through with my friend, I hope you'll honour me with a dance?"

"Certainly, Miss Sothern," he said. "Pardon my interruption. And I don't mean to be hasty and expect you to dance, but Miss Bennet, I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" Mary echoed. "Oh, step back, sir. They're forming a circle… Wait, this is a new dance. Captain, I don't know this dance."

"It's a simple jig. Please… They're going to start. Please, trust me."

Before Mary could muster up further protest, the music began. It started out slow, and gradually gained speed in its tempo. But it was all very familiar, just a slightly faster version.

"This… This is that song!" cried Mary. "From the picnic in Hertfordshire!"

Full of delight, he confirmed. "Yes. I am very rude, probably, doing this, at such an event here in the pavilion, but I've bribed the musicians. Well, requested with a tip."

"Everybody seems to like your choice," observed Rietta.

"But I've never danced this—"

"Oh nonsense, Mary!" mumbled Rietta. "A favourite song? What are you still doing here?"

One of the musicians started up, singing! That sealed any apprehensions, especially as Captain Carter held out a hand. Mary dispensed with her shawl, with a forceful help from Rietta taking hold of it, sending Mary off. What a sight everyone had who did not dance, and though it was somewhat quick in tempo, the song was not playing so quickly that the dancers themselves could not join in the singing themselves. It was a rare thing! Those being spectators had the joy of watching it, and participating in the singing as well.

"There once was a ship that put to sea; the name of the ship was a Billy o' Tea. The winds blew up, her bow dipped down. Oh blow, my bully boys, blow! (With a grunt from all the men) Soon may the Wellerman come, to bring us sugar, and tea, and rum. One day, when the tonguing is done, we'll take our leave and go…"

Mr. Darcy could not help remark, for all his concern, his wife fairly glowed. Lizzy, from her seat, grasped his hand, and made a smiling observation. He remained grave for a couple stanzas, before Mr. Darcy started to nod and tap rhythm with his own foot. Rietta was seized to dance by some random gentleman, taking a place nearby Mary and Captain Carter. Though Miss Carter and Miss Darcy stood without wishing to dance, they were encouraged to sing by universal example.

"Mary, you can't be apart of it, if you don't sing," he teased.

"Captain, I'm trying to dance."

"Stop trying so hard!"

Mary laughed out loud. The next verse came on, and all the men and women surrounding them were singing to it. Very jolly and full of spirit, and the jig, which included some steps and movement from the highlands, proved so amusing to all dancers. Such a change from the formality and precision and corseted dance steps of the quadrille.

"I'm such a bad singer, don't you know?"

"What does that matter?" he challenged. "You know, I never got this chance in Meryton."

"What chance?"

He did not reply, as the next verse came. It occurred to her during the dancing; indeed, they had never danced together in Meryton. On that day of the picnic, when all Captain Carter's brother officers sung for the company… She'd have agreed to it if he asked. And that little wink… Everything and every vivid detail recalled itself: what she wore, how she wore her hair, Kitty's bright floral gown and Lydia's unflattering remarks about it, the blankets spread onto the grass, the tent canvases, the open drawing-room window, the deep bass throats of the men, her father's surprise, the expressions of intrigue and delight as the singing began, the blooms in the garden, all its earthy scents taken up on the breeze…

"That was marvelous," said Captain Carter, as the dance concluded and the zealous applause tired itself out. "Thank you. I'm glad you were willing to humour me."

"I did no such thing. I… really enjoyed that, Captain Carter."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm well. I just… think I should sit down for a bit."

Right in mid-sentence, in the midst of so many people… Mary tried to stand still and draw a deep breath, which proved difficult for the knife-like pain ascending. She did her best, trying to keep upright and walk herself back to her party. There was no disguising the pain out of the stark whiteness.

So sadly concluded a fine evening, of great success. The Darcys hastily sent for the carriage. Rietta saw Mary off. Miss Quinn rejoiced. Captain Carter reproached himself. And Mr. Cummings handed her into the carriage; his bouquet, forgotten.