Page 129 of What Change Entails

The possibility of his fingers brushing hers rendered coherent thought unexpectedly difficult.

Mr. Gardiner cleared his throat.

Elizabeth started so violently she nearly upset the table as she walked past. Darcy put distance between their bodies immediately.

Across the room, her uncle regarded her over the rim of his spectacles with an expression of grave innocence betrayed by amusement in his eyes.

Mrs. Gardiner did not look up from her stitching, which meant she noticed everything.

Darcy stepped back.

Lydia regarded them and grinned with terrifying understanding.

“Well,” she announced loudly into the resulting silence, “this room has become exceedingly interesting.”

“Lydia,” Elizabeth warned.

“What? I merely observe.”

Bingley appeared completely bewildered. Georgiana’s face went scarlet at the pianoforte, though Elizabeth doubted she fully understood why.

Mr. Gardiner rose leisurely from his chair. “And upon that note, I believe civilized people ought to retire before Miss Lydia makes further observations.”

“I observe constantly,” Lydia informed him proudly.

“Yes,” Darcy murmured. “That has become alarmingly apparent.”

Lydia pointed triumphantly toward him. “He likes me now, Lizzy. You may cease denying it.”

Elizabeth rose, attempting dignity despite the heat in her cheeks. “Mr. Darcy likes anyone who creates sufficient confusion to distract him from himself.”

Darcy regarded her steadily. For one instant she thought he might answer honestly.

Georgiana excused herself before Lydia could make any further observations in the drawing room.

This was partly wisdom and partly survival.

Her brother stood near Elizabeth with a look upon his face Georgiana had seen more often lately and understood better each day. Miss Elizabeth had risen from her chair with cheeks far too pink to be blamed upon firelight alone. Mr. Gardiner’s expression over his spectacles had settled the matter. Even Mr. Bingley, who did not always perceive delicate matters quickly, had begun to look from one person to another with growing curiosity.

Lydia, however, was delighted.

That was when Georgiana decided retreat was necessary.

“I believe I shall go upstairs,” she said, smoothing one hand down her gown though it needed no attention. “Lydia, will you come?”

Lydia sprang from the sofa. “Gladly. If I remain, Lizzy will glare me into early repentance, and I am much too young for such a fate.”

Elizabeth scolded her sharply. “Lydia.”

“What? I am going.”

Darcy directed a look of gratitude toward his sister so plain that Georgiana nearly giggled, though laughing would have drawn attention, and attention had already become dangerous in that room.

Mrs. Gardiner rose too. “Do not remain awake half the night, girls.”

“We shall be paragons of moderation,” Lydia promised.

Mr. Gardiner murmured, “That would be a novelty.”