Page 27 of What Change Entails

Interesting people did appear, though not always satisfactorily. A handsome gentleman passed them on horseback near dusk, nodded politely toward the carriage, and vanished before Lydia could determine whether he admired her. Later, in another village, two officers crossed the street while the carriage waited to change horses.

Lydia nearly climbed out the window.

“There!” she cried, clutching Elizabeth’s arm hard enough to wrinkle the sleeve. “You see? Officers.”

Elizabeth peered over the top of her book with visible resignation. “Yes, Lydia. England remains defended.”

“They are very handsome.”

Mr. Gardiner peered over the top of his newspaper, eyes twinkling with mischief. “One of the ‘men’ appears approximately twelve years of age.” He nodded to a young man—likely a drummer boy—trailing after the redcoats.

“He does not.”

Aunt Gardiner raised an appraising brow at her niece. “He appears younger than you.”

Lydia squinted through the window. “Perhaps a little.”

Mrs. Gardiner hid amusement behind her glove.

By the fourth evening of the journey, Lydia had accumulated several private revenges against Elizabeth.

She borrowed Elizabeth’s shawl without asking and returned it folded incorrectly and with mud on a corner. Then she occupied the best chair in two separate inn parlors. She repeatedly chose conversation topics involving officers whenever Elizabeth attempted to discuss landscapes with Aunt Gardiner. Most satisfying of all, she began praising every eligible gentleman they encountered with extravagant enthusiasm.

“That gentleman near Sheffield possessed remarkably fine eyes,” she announced one evening over supper.

Elizabeth buttered her bread. “Did he?”

Lydia noted a slight twitch near Elizabeth’s eye. “Yes, indeed. And excellent shoulders.”

“You observed all this while he ordered soup?”

She huffed. “A girl may observe a great many things in less time than you suppose.”

Mr. Gardiner nearly inhaled his wine.

Mrs. Gardiner looked toward Lydia. “You may admire shoulders discreetly.”

“I am perfectly discreet.”

Elizabeth reached for Jane’s latest letter resting beside her plate. “You announced his shoulders to the entire supper room.”

“That is merely enthusiasm.”

“And what would impropriety resemble?”

Lydia considered. “Louder enthusiasm.”

Mr. Gardiner surrendered entirely to laughter.

Even Elizabeth smiled then, helplessly, and Lydia experienced the deeply inconvenient sensation of enjoying herself.

Lydia had not expected traveling itself to be so entertaining. Every inn differed from the last. Some possessed crooked staircases and terrible tea; others offered enormous breakfasts and servants who stared openly at Lydia whenever she entered a room. Villages gave way to larger towns. Hills rose gradually around them. Once, while crossing a long stretch of countryside near evening, Lydia pressed close to the carriage window and watched sunlight spill across distant slopes in bands of gold and shadow.

“It looks almost theatrical,” she murmured before thinking.

Elizabeth followed her attention to the window. Lydia straightened abruptly. “Though there are still very few officers.”

Mr. Gardiner buried himself in his newspaper.