Page 166 of What Change Entails

A small no.

A polite no.

Her pulse had no cause to beat so hard.

Miss Bingley did not surrender the field. She never did. After a few minutes of conversation about the weather, the Lambton shops, and Mr. Hurst’s opinion of cheese, she tried again.

“Georgiana, I had meant to ask whether you have written to Lady Catherine. She will expect some account of your summer. I am sure your brother would not wish such family attentions neglected.”

Fitzwilliam’s expression grew displeased at Lady Catherine’s name and at Miss Bingley’s audacity to pretend such familiarity.

Georgiana stirred her tea though she had not taken sugar. “I wrote last week.”

“How dutiful. Did you tell her of all your guests?”

The spoon touched the cup too sharply.

Georgiana stopped stirring.

Miss Bingley’s tone had remained light. Nothing improper had been said. Everyone in the room understood the meaning lying beneath the question. Guests. Connections. The Bennets. The Gardiners. Lydia with Horace’s head in her lap and mud still faintly visible on the hem of one walking dress.

Georgiana had been trained to detect such meanings long before she learned what to do with them.

“I wrote of my brother’s friends,” she said.

Miss Bingley lifted her brows. “All of them?”

“Yes.”

Lydia hugged Horace’s head against her middle with such satisfaction that the dog sneezed.

Miss Bingley twisted her cup in its saucer. “How very open of you. I hope Lady Catherine will appreciate the… variety of society Pemberley has enjoyed.”

Miss Elizabeth said nothing. That made it worse.

Georgiana found Miss Elizabeth attending to the embroidery frame in her lap with too much concentration. The color from the drive had faded a little.

Fitzwilliam crossed the room.

He did not hurry. He did not challenge Miss Bingley. He merely moved to the table near Miss Elizabeth, took up a book lying there, and asked, “Did you find the passage you mentioned yesterday?”

Miss Elizabeth’s fingers loosened around the frame. “I did.”

“Then you must show it to me later. I remain unconvinced by your interpretation.”

“That is because you are obstinate.”

“So, I have been informed.”

Lydia’s mouth parted with obvious delight.

Georgiana nearly smiled into her tea.

Miss Bingley’s hand tightened around her cup.

This was new too. Fitzwilliam choosing, publicly and without flourish, to continue a conversation with Miss Elizabeth instead of accepting the currents Miss Bingley attempted to set. It should not have astonished Georgiana. He had never belonged to Miss Bingley. However, his courteous and repeated refusal of the role she had designated for him felt akin to an internally unlocked door.

Miss Bingley again addressed Georgiana.