Page 153 of What Change Entails

“Do you?” Lydia asked. “That is unfortunate. It was very clear to me.”

“Miss Lydia—”

“No, pray continue.” Lydia folded her arms. “Since we are discussing people whose presence is no longer desired. Shall we also review every thief, liar, fortune hunter, and unpleasant relation known to the room?”

Darcy remained silent. That silence was far more dangerous than any interruption.

Caroline attempted to placate him. “Surely I meant nothing.”

“No,” Lydia said. “You merely brought up a subject that causes conflict for your own amusement.”

Georgiana was shaking lightly but kept her lips firmly pressed together.

Darcy set his jaw.

Miss Bingley’s color rose. “You are being ridiculous.”

“Frequently,” Lydia agreed. “But not presently.”

For one long moment nobody spoke. Then Mrs. Gardiner set aside her embroidery. “Perhaps we might choose another question.” The suggestion was gracious, far more gracious than Miss Bingley deserved.

Miss Bingley’s gaze swept around the room. No one had come to her defense. Not her sister or brother, and certainly not Mr. Darcy. She seemed to comprehend it all at once.

Lydia watched it happen. A tactical error indeed.

Miss Bingley rose. “I believe I have developed a headache.”

No one moved. Not a soul protested or begged her to remain.

Mr. Hurst continued sleeping. Bingley appeared vaguely uncomfortable but said nothing. Louisa lowered her eyes. Darcy’s attention had already shifted toward Georgiana. Elizabeth acted fascinated by the carpet.

The silence stretched just long enough to become unmistakable.

Miss Bingley’s face flushed. “I shall retire.”

“Very good,” said Darcy. Nothing more. There was no offer of escort, no undue concern… no invitation to return.

Miss Bingley stood another second, perhaps waiting for someone to object. No one did. At last, she swept from the room. The door closed behind her.

Several heartbeats passed.

Then Bingley exhaled. “Well.”

“Indeed,” said Mr. Gardiner.

Georgiana sought Lydia’s reassurance. She gave a tiny shrug. The game never truly recovered afterward. She considered that an acceptable sacrifice.

Chapter Seventeen

Miss Bingley did not appear at breakfast.

Her absence was announced by Mrs. Hurst, who entered with languid regret, accepted tea, and informed the table that Caroline had suffered through a wretched night and could not possibly come down.

“A headache,” Mrs. Hurst said, settling into her chair with the faint air of one who had endured the headache by proximity.

Mr. Hurst, already engaged with ham, made no comment.

Mr. Bingley appeared concerned for perhaps three seconds. “Poor Caroline. Shall I send up anything?”