Page 150 of What Change Entails

That evening, they gathered in the drawing room after dinner in the usual way. Mrs. Hurst sat near Miss Bingley. Mr. Hurst slept. Mr. Gardiner spoke with Bingley near the fire. Mrs. Gardiner worked at embroidery while watching everyone, which meant she was likely the cleverest person present.

Elizabeth stood near the pianoforte turning pages for Georgiana.

Darcy stood across the room.

Miss Bingley had been trying for ten minutes to draw him into conversation. She mentioned London, mutual acquaintances, a new set of rooms someone had taken, and whether Pemberley ought to host a larger party before autumn. Darcy answered civilly, then stared past her toward Elizabeth.

Lydia saw it. She was seated near a small table pretending to untangle thread while actually doing no such thing. Georgiana played softly, and Elizabeth leaned close enough to murmur something when a page resisted turning. Georgiana answered, and Elizabeth smiled.

Darcy watched them both.

No, not both.

Elizabeth.

His face carried gravity now, more than longing. There was concern there, and anger kept under strict guard, and something so intent Lydia found herself looking away for half a moment. It felt improper to stare at such affection. Which was absurd, because staring at affection was what one ought to do if one hoped to become accomplished in matchmaking.

Miss Bingley saw it too. Her fan moved once, twice, then stilled.

Lydia granted her attention to Darcy again. She had spent so many years thinking marriage meant triumph. A handsome man—a red coat if one was fortunate. A carriage, admiration. Being first among one’s sisters. Having everyone exclaim and envy and call one very lucky.

But Mr. Darcy did not regard Lizzy as a prize he wished to display. His attention lingered on her in a manner that suggested her unease would trouble him all night, that her happiness mattered more than every person watching him, and that the room simply made proper sense when he knew where she stood within it.

That was an irritating discovery. It suggested that being married first would not be beneficial unless one was married like that. Lydia frowned down at her thread.

Very inconvenient.

Officers were simpler. They wore bright coats, said flattering things, and did not compel a person to reconsider the entire nature of happiness.

Across the room, Elizabeth lifted her head from the music and caught Darcy’s attention fixed upon her. She colored a little, then lowered her eyes again, but not before something passed between them that made Lydia hopeful of their success.

Miss Bingley rose suddenly. “Georgiana, perhaps something livelier.”

Georgiana’s fingers faltered.

Lydia stood before she thought better of it. “I have a better idea. Let us have a game.”

Miss Bingley appraised her with cool surprise. “A game?”

“Yes.” Lydia smiled as sweetly as she knew how, which probably meant not sweetly at all. “Something requiring many people. And no one shall be permitted to choose all the partners.”

Mr. Bingley brightened instantly. “Excellent notion.”

Darcy studied Lydia with something very like approval. That was gratifying.

Miss Bingley sat again with visible reluctance.

Lydia moved to Georgiana’s side and whispered, “You are welcome.” Georgiana squeezed her hand beneath the cover of the pianoforte. Perhaps virtue was not so terrible after all, though Lydia would still rather have gone to Brighton. A little.

Mr. Bingley, who required remarkably little encouragement where games were concerned, clapped his hands together. “A game it shall be. Darcy, you cannot object. The proposal has already been seconded by half the room.”

“I was unaware my approval was required,” Darcy replied.

“It never is,” Bingley said cheerfully. “That is why I so rarely seek it.”

Mr. Gardiner chuckled.

“What game?” Mrs. Gardiner asked.