Bing didn’t relish the thought of travelling to the ball with his parents, but not because he found their company difficult, more because he could see the strain on Darcy’s face every time their mother made a comment that grated on his nerves.

“I can’t wait to catch up with the de Bourghs. I haven’t seen Catherine in an age. I wonder if she still attends the fortnightly ladies’ luncheons at the club.”

“You haven’t seen her in an age because she’s avoiding you, my dear,” Claude Austen flatly pointed out to his wife.

Bing absently took in his parents’ exchange while watching Darcy’s features tighten.

“She is not,” Anne Austen stated angrily, backhanding his father across the chest before fussing with the lace edging her gown and primping her hair. “The last time we met she told me how much I’d been missed from the club. It was mean of you to cancel my membership.”

“It was necessary,” Claude rebuked. “It was that or the mortgage. Would you rather a roof above your head, or the ability to gossip with a herd of malicious, backstabbing women with too much money and time on their hands?”

Anne huffed and shot a glare at her husband. Bing swore he saw the steam rise from his father’s skin as the heat of his mother’s stare scorched through to his bones.

“You don’t know anything about the women from the club. Just like you know nothing of their husbands. If you did, we’d have more connections and wouldn’t be in this bloody mess in the first place.”

Anne Austen rarely cursed, but when she did Bing knew it was because she was close to snapping, and even he knew that wasn’t a pretty sight.

“I can’t wait to hear more about the charities this ball is benefitting. It says here—” Bing indicated to a glossy programme in his hand “—that Longbourn Shelter is one of the primary beneficiaries, and I know they could do with all the help they can get.”

Bing spoke casually as if the air in the town car wasn’t thick with an acidic cloud caused by his parents’ spat.

His father muttered a quiet, “That’s nice”, making it obvious he hadn’t listened to Bing’s words, while his mother stared out of the window at the passing buildings with her face still showing signs of the annoyance that festered inside her.

Bing cleared his throat and this time spoke to Wick and Darcy.

“It also says that it’s a tradition for each of the Bennet sisters to perform for us on the night. That’s got to be worth the five-grand entrance alone.”

“Perform for us?” Darcy snorted, suddenly more interested in the conversation. “What are they going to do, tell jokes? Put on an interpretive dance? Juggle?”

Wick couldn’t help but join in with, “Maybe it’ll be a burlesque show or a fan dance.” A gleam lit his eyes when he added, “I’d pay double for a private performance.”

“You couldn’t afford to give them your loose change, let alone proposition anyone with your wealth,” Darcy jibed.

Bing saw yet another spat on the horizon, but this time between his brothers, so he spoke up quickly to diffuse it.

“You’re both wrong.”

Wick and Darcy twisted in their seats to look at him.

“It says that each sister performs on their favoured instruments.”

At Bing’s words, Darcy held out his hand to halt Wick’s retort, having rightly assumed by Wick’s open mouth and devious smirk that nothing good was about to come spilling from his lips.

“What?” Wick asked in mock affront, after initially closing his mouth but deciding he was going to risk Darcy’s wrath anyway. “I wasn’t going to say anything inappropriate about trumpet blowing or horn polishing, I swear.”

Darcy glared at his grinning younger brother, and Bing was about to cut in before more barbs were thrown around, but his mother interrupted with, “Horn polishing will get a girl into nothing but trouble.” She stared at the side of his father’s head before adding caustically, “I should know. Some horns take more than a little spit and polish to energise them. Some horns are completely bloody useless.”

Bing ran his hand down his face before pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“Still think tonight was a good idea?” Darcy all but gloated. He didn’t need to say ‘I told you so’ because the meaning was clear.

“Oh, brothers,” Wick answered before Bing could. “I think tonight was my best idea yet.”

* * *

Jane completed a final lap of the venue, talking to each worker she passed by, be they wait staff or event managers.

Everything was perfect, leaving her plenty of time to return to the suites on the top floor that were reserved for her and her sisters.

Netherfield had been in her family for generations. The exclusive hotel was the first of many that built the foundations of The Bennet Group. Only the uber-rich stayed within its walls, slept on the one-thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, and ate in the Michelin three-starred restaurant.

In Jane’s world, people judged you as a nobody if you hadn’t at some point been one of Netherfield’s clientele.

She was in the middle of thanking a young waitress for her work when Eliza strode into the vast ballroom with her sights set firmly on her.

“Lize, is everything okay?” Jane asked immediately, her eyes locked on her sister’s tight jaw and completely missing the glossy brochure held tightly in her hand.

Eliza stopped an arm’s length away and lifted the programme into view.

“I thought we talked about this, Jane. I told you I wouldn’t play this year and yet it’s announced on this evening’s schedule.”

Jane looked in confusion from her sister’s steely gaze to the brochure in her hand and back again.

“I took your name out. I swear I did. When the proofs were sent over a few weeks ago, I emailed the amendments directly to the printers.”

“You didn’t. I’m still listed along with you and Lydia.”

Jane took a step forward and held out her hand. Eliza unrolled the pamphlet which was opened to the schedule for the evening and watched with accusing eyes as Jane read the details under her hushed breaths.

With apology swimming in her eyes, Jane lifted her head and begged forgiveness before even opening her mouth.

“I swear, Lize. I removed you from the details. I don’t know… I don’t understand…,” she stuttered before settling on the words. “I have no idea why it wasn’t changed.”

“I’m not playing,” Eliza stated calmly and with no room for argument. “You can tell them whatever you want, but I’m not playing.”

Before Jane had the chance to reply, the sound of sky-high heels click-clacking across the Italian marble floors caught both their attention.

“Sisters,” Lydia exclaimed in greeting. “I’m glad I found you both before this evening. My flight was delayed, and Conrad insisted on lunch at the Bay Tree before letting me go. You know how he gets—”

“Save us the boring details, Lydia,” Eliza interrupted as their sister came to a stop in front of them both. “I can practically finish everything you have to say. South of France—yadda, yadda, yadda. Appalling food on the Yacht—blah, blah, blah. Conrad’s big cock—and so on and so on. Did I get the gist?”

Lydia glared and opened her mouth to contest Eliza’s mocking, but Jane intervened.

“Did you have a good time? It looks like you’ve seen the sun, you’re radiant.”

Lydia glared at Eliza before turning to face Jane and giving her a beaming smile.

“Wonderful, it was the most glorious two weeks, and Conrad wants to—”

“Save us the whole Conrad spiel and tell us what you want, Lydia,” Eliza commanded, her tone both abrupt and uninterested.

Lydia snapped her mouth shut and incinerated Eliza with her glare. When Eliza didn’t back down, Lydia turned her attention to Jane and ignored her other sister’s presence altogether.

“The performance tonight. I want to go on first because I must leave early. We’re flying to South Africa at midnight. Conrad wants me to escort him on his business trip.”

Jane’s face lit up.

“You remembered. Have you practised something especially? I haven’t heard you play in such a long time.”

“Practised?” Lydia all but snorted. “I haven’t played since last year’s ball.”

Jane’s face fell, and Lydia snatched up the chance to do what Lydia did best.

“Don’t worry, dear sister,” she said sweetly, reaching out her hand to lay it comfortingly on Jane’s arm. “Playing music is like having sex. You never forget where your fingers go or where to put your mouth.”

A burn flashed red across Jane’s cheeks, and Lydia smiled deviously before continuing, “I’ve toyed with playing the guitar, after all, it’s shaped like a curvy woman and loves being fingered.”

“Lydia,” Eliza warned when a nearby waiter almost choked on his spit, but Lydia ignored her, and the gleam in her eyes brightened. Increasing the volume of her voice slightly she continued to muse, “Or I could sing. I do love a good phallic shaped implement up close to my mouth.”

“Lydia,” Eliza repeated her caution, and the same waiter snorted at the scene as he continued to linger close enough to overhear, setting Jane’s cheeks on fire with embarrassment. But everyone knew Lydia wasn’t done yet.

“Better yet,” she offered in all seriousness. “I haven’t played drums in a while, and there’s nothing sexual at all about whacking some tight skin with a big, hard, stick.”

“Lydia, enough!”

Lydia turned her sly eyes towards her eldest sister.

“Oh, Eliza,” she cooed. “You’re so uptight since you took over the company. If you took that stick out of your arse and replaced it with a rock-hard co—”

Eliza took a step forward and gripped her youngest sister by the soft flesh of her upper arm.

“I said, enough. You want to embarrass me at every turn, go ahead. But Jane has done nothing to warrant your pathetic attempts at humiliation.”

Lydia’s eyes flared briefly before they slid to the side and caught Jane’s pitiful face filled with hurt. She knew her sister was sweet, kind and forgiving, and she also knew how hard she tried to honour their mother’s name with all her charity work. Lydia masked the brief slice of shame she felt for embarrassing her middle sister and faced Eliza head on.

“I think I’ll sing.”

She smirked devilishly and added, “I do love being centre stage with the spotlight on me. I can feel their eyes on every curve. It makes me feel naked, and I’m sure Conrad will appreciate how revved up I’ll be afterwards. His jet has a magnificent king bed.”

Eliza clenched her fingers, tightening her hold painfully on Lydia’s arm. Before she had the opportunity to warn her younger sister again, Jane diffused the situation.

“You have a beautiful voice, Lydia. I’m sure everyone will be enraptured.”

Lydia grinned, baring her teeth, the smile stretching her pretty face wide.

“Anything for you, dear Jane.”

Then she shook off Eliza’s hold and turned to leave.

Jane took an audible breath of relief. She loved her sisters dearly, but she sometimes wondered if they felt the same way about each other. Eliza could barely tolerate Lydia, and Lydia’s sole purpose in life was to infuriate her eldest sister at every opportunity.

“Oh,” Lydia called over her shoulder. “Do you not want to know which song I’ve decided to sing?”

“No,” Eliza barked loud enough for the server walking past them to stumble and the sound of clanking silverware echoed through the room—luckily she wasn’t carrying glassware.

“Suit yourself,” Lydia all but cackled before once more sashaying her way to the exit.

“I swear I’m going to…”

“Don’t let her get to you. Lydia only acts this way for your attention. If you deny her a reaction, she soon tires.”

Jane took a step towards Eliza and linked her arm through hers.

“I’m sorry you have to perform tonight. I promise I changed the programme.”

Eliza’s sigh was weary but resigned.

“Inform the planner that I’ll need the baby grand from the music room.”

Jane squeezed her sister gently in a show of appreciation.

“What would I do without you?”

“Live happily ever after,” Eliza replied with a straight face and a returning squeeze. “Like one of those damsels in distress in all those books you read.”

Jane snorted, “I do not read books about damsels.”

“What are they about then? The covers all have buff, half-naked men on them. Surely that means the leading lady needs a muscled hunk to save her?”

Jane remained quiet. Too quiet for Eliza to ignore.

“They are all smut, aren’t they? Filled with over-endowed men, steely lengths and turgid members.”

“They are not,” Jane denied with a sharp laugh. “I prefer the ones where the hero needs the heroine as much as she needs him. It’s not about the sex—” she all but whispered the word sex under her breath causing Eliza to laugh “—it’s about their journey and emotional connection.”

“And the sweaty, hot, filth that’s overly described in detail in every other chapter.”

Jane stayed silent for a beat before shocking Eliza and saying, “All that’s just a bonus.”

“Jane Clara Bennet, have you been holding out on me?” Eliza’s voice rang with scandalous amusement.

Jane’s only response was to shrug. She hid her smile by dropping her head to watch their feet as they walked towards the elevators.

“Play The Scientist tonight,” Jane requested quietly.

Eliza’s steps faltered for a second. Jane usually asked for their father’s classical favourites like Chopin or Ravel, but tonight Jane wanted her sister to show everyone who she was, and not who Eliza had been moulded to be.

“Okay.”

It was a quiet agreement, but that one word swelled Jane’s heart. For as much as Eliza wanted to show the world how strong and fearless she was, she also needed to embrace the side of her she let few others ever see.

In Jane’s eyes, Eliza was effervescent, mesmerising and unequalled. A woman with too big a burden to carry and yet she did so without complaint. Eliza was the glue that held the Bennets together. Jane just wished Eliza would take the time to find someone to help her build more than a successful company—someone that could help her open her heart to the endless possibilities before her. Jane hoped there was a man out there to do that for her sister, and that when she found him, Eliza would recognise that she didn’t need to shoulder the weight of the world alone.