Page 121 of What Change Entails

Mr. Gardiner fought obvious amusement. Mrs. Gardiner directed a look at Lydia over her embroidery that should have corrected her and failed.

Darcy shot again.

This time the arrow landed near Elizabeth’s previous mark.

“There,” she said with satisfaction. “Improved.”

“Your instruction proved effective.”

“Remember that.”

“I am unlikely to forget.”

She favored him with a brief smile before giving her attention elsewhere, beyond Miss Bingley’s reach.

The afternoon lengthened. Servants brought lemonade and small cakes. Horace stole one cake from a low plate and was sentenced to exile beneath Mrs. Gardiner’s chair. Mrs. Hurst declared the breeze too much and retreated toward the terrace. Bingley continued tallying scores badly enough that nobody believed the numbers. Miss Bingley attempted to rearrange teams again and managed to place herself beside Darcy for exactly one round before Lydia developed a sudden need to consult him on whether arrows could legally be blamed for misconduct.

“Legally?” Darcy repeated.

“You are a magistrate of some sort in Derbyshire, are you not?”

“No.”

“Oh. Then who decides if an arrow has behaved wickedly?”

“The person it strikes, I imagine.”

“Then Barnes may condemn mine.”

“The gardener will recover.”

“Eventually.”

Miss Bingley drew in a breath. “Must we persist in discussing that unfortunate episode?”

Lydia affected surprise. “I thought it memorable.”

“Many things are memorable without being suitable.”

“Then society must be very forgetful.”

Georgiana, who had been sipping lemonade, coughed into her glass.

Darcy gave up pretending solemnity and faced the target.

The final round came down, by Bingley’s inaccurate reckoning, to Elizabeth and Darcy. Lydia insisted that her own score should include “spiritual points” for bravery. Mr. Gardiner denied their existence. Georgiana awarded her three privately, which satisfied her.

Elizabeth stood at the line with more confidence now. Not arrogance. Pleasure. She was alive in competition, quick and laughing, with wind tugging at her ribbons and sunlight along one cheek. Darcy should have been thinking of the target.

He was not.

Her arrow flew and struck near the center.

Bingley shouted approval.

Lydia declared herself related to greatness.

Miss Bingley praised the shot with enough strain to make Mrs. Hurst wince.