Without a sign from any of the sisters, Emma sat behind the pianoforte and began to play their introduction, the soft, lower strains beginning to fill the room.

Elizabeth began first, her clear voice ringing out with the warm, husky tones the song required.

Elinor joined her in harmony, keeping her eyes constantly scanning across those in the room, forcing her expression to remain as delighted as possible.

Emma and Ellen came in together, adding yet another dimension to the harmonies of the song, and the four of them began to find themselves moving in near-perfect synchronization with each other’s notes. Their voices were all so similar in timbre and sound that the combination of them tended to lend them a more polished air than it was in reality.

As the song commenced, the faces of their audience transitioned to individual smiles all around, and without exception. Their mother had tears, and their father seemed fit to bursting with pride, but those were reactions they were well versed in.

The guests experiencing this Asheley sister phenomenon bore similar expressions of pleased bewilderment, which was to be expected, under these circumstances.

But one face, in particular, held Elinor’s attention, much against her will.

Hugh Sterling bore the awestruck look of a man seeing an angel or goddess, though how he managed to smile while so completely agape was miraculous.

That wasn’t what captivated her.

It was his complete fixation on her. He did not look at any of her sisters as they sang.

Just her.

There was no way he could have made out her voice above the rest, they had it on good assurance that such a thing was impossible.

But he could.

She had no idea how she knew that just from his expression, but know it she did.

It was the most terrifying, vulnerable realization she had ever felt. She was not a gifted singer, it was well known, and only in a chorus with her sisters was she even remotely capable. She would never be a soloist, and she did not wish to be.

Yet for him, in this moment, she might as well have been. He ought to have heard Elizabeth’s voice, or even Emma’s, if he were to hear anything worth hearing.

But no, it was clear that he was hearing her.

And there was no sign of mockery, superiority, or disgust in him. It was the most genuine she had ever seen him appear.

While he looked at her.

Her.

Something in her heart began to race, and she wrenched her gaze away, focusing on the beaming Uncle Dough as they neared the end of the song.

The piano began to fade, and their voices faded with it, trailing off into a warm finish that seemed to hang in the air for a moment.

Then the room applauded, and Elinor found her gaze returning, somehow, to that of Hugh Sterling.

He still looked at her alone. He still smiled.

And he applauded them, or her, as his smile grew.