Page 140 of What Change Entails

Not the master of Pemberley receiving guests.

Not the restrained gentleman observed in drawing rooms.

The real man appeared in fragments everywhere across the meadow.

Stopping to carry an elderly tenant woman’s basket without ceremony.

Listening patiently while two farmers argued over sheep fencing.

Allowing children to climb all over him during races he plainly lost on purpose.

Watching Georgiana with protective affection whenever she laughed too hard to maintain composure.

Watching Elizabeth—

No. She must stop thinking of that.

The orchard path curved toward the riverbank where the air cooled beneath the trees. Voices from the picnic drifted faintly through the leaves behind her.

Elizabeth slowed gradually.

She had nearly reached the small wooden bridge crossing the stream when Miss Bingley appeared from the opposite direction.

Of course.

Elizabeth suppressed a sigh and prepared herself for battle disguised as civility.

“Miss Elizabeth.”

“Miss Bingley.”

Miss Bingley paused near the bridge railings, arranging her expression into something almost friendly.

“I hoped we might speak privately.”

Elizabeth doubted that very much. “Certainly.”

For a few moments Miss Bingley said nothing at all. She fixed her attention upon the water instead.

An unfortunate strategy. Silence merely gave Elizabeth time to grow wary.

“At Pemberley,” Miss Bingley began at last, “my brother and I have always enjoyed the greatest intimacy with Mr. Darcy and his sister.”

Elizabeth waited.

“We know his habits extremely well.”

Still she waited.

Miss Bingley faced her once more, her smile returning with visible effort. “You must not mistake his present attentions.”

There it was.

Elizabeth folded her hands together before herself because otherwise she might do something regrettable with them.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Mr. Darcy has been unusually sociable these past weeks.” Miss Bingley said lightly. “The novelty of guests often produces temporary enthusiasm.”