Page 182 of What Change Entails

“You will regret this.”

“I may regret many things. This will not be one of them.”

Miss Bingley faced the window, gripping the edge of the table until the roses trembled in their vase. “Leave me.”

Darcy opened the door wider. “I shall send Bingley to you if you wish.”

“No.”

“As you please.”

He stepped into the corridor and shut the door behind him, leaving her alone in the lamplit morning room.

The drawing room conversation faltered when he returned.

Elizabeth stood near the window, her hand resting on the back of a chair. Georgiana had risen from the sofa, Lydia beside her with open concern she made no attempt to hide. Bingley crossed the room toward Darcy with his face unusually sober.

“Darcy?”

“She is in the morning room,” Darcy said under his breath. “She is distressed. Give her a few minutes, then send Louisa.”

Bingley looked past him toward the closed door. “What did you say?”

“The truth.”

Bingley shut his eyes for a moment. “Ah.”

Darcy left him there and crossed to Georgiana. She did not ask aloud. She did not need to. Her fingers closed around Lydia’s list until the paper bent.

“She will not trouble you tonight,” Darcy said.

Georgiana swallowed and nodded.

Lydia leaned toward him. “Did you vanquish her?”

“Miss Lydia.”

“That means yes.”

Elizabeth came nearer then, moving with that mixture of concern and restraint which had first undone him months ago in Hertfordshire and now threatened him daily. “Mr. Darcy, are you well?”

He had been angry and harsh. He had done what should have been done before harm accumulated. Even so, when Elizabeth stood before him, the anger loosened, leaving behind fatigue and a longing so simple it made speech difficult.

“I am better for seeing you,” he said.

Her cheeks colored.

Lydia made a squeaking noise.

Georgiana stepped on her foot.

Mrs. Gardiner, from her chair, became deeply absorbed in tying off a thread.

Darcy ought to have regretted speaking so plainly in company.

He did not.

Behind him, the morning room door opened. Mrs. Hurst crossed the hall toward her sister, her expression pinched. Bingley followed after a moment, looking wretched but resolved. Miss Bingley did not return to the drawing room.