Page 29 of What Change Entails

Nervous. Lizzy kept looking out the window every few minutes. Lydia noticed things like that. She folded her arms and settled back into the squabs with satisfaction. Perhaps Derbyshire would prove more entertaining than she had first imagined after all.

Chapter Four

Darcy received the express from Pemberley just after breakfast, while Miss Bingley was praising Derbyshire with all the enthusiasm of a person who had never voluntarily admired anything outside London unless it belonged to him.

She sat near the window of the sitting room at the inn, one gloved hand resting upon the arm of her chair, her orange silk arranged to best advantage despite the inconvenience of travel. Bingley stood near the mantelpiece, reading aloud from a notice advertising a shop at some place they had already passed. Hurst had taken possession of the largest chair and showed every sign of remaining there until forcibly removed. Mrs. Hurst leafed through a novel without appearing to read it.

Georgiana sat apart with her work in her lap.

Darcy had already marked that. It was not unusual for his sister to be reserved in company. He had long grown accustomed to seeing her shrink slightly when conversation became too lively or too pointed. Yet that morning, her reticence had taken on a different character. Her needle remained suspended above the fabric. Whenever travel arrangements were mentioned, her attention drifted from Miss Bingley to him before dropping once more.

Georgiana’s companion ought to have occupied the chair beside her. Mrs. Annesley had gone to Yorkshire to attend her daughter during her confinement with a first child, and although Georgiana had borne the separation with good humor, Darcy had begun to wonder whether he had underestimated the effect of her absence. Left to Miss Bingley’s enthusiastic attentions, his sister seemed quieter with each passing day.

The servant delivered the letter on a small salver. Darcy broke the seal, read two lines, and felt his plans for the day disarrange themselves.

Mrs. Reynolds’s hand was unmistakable. There had been confusion with accounts relating to repairs on the west tenant cottages, and Mr. Harding, his steward, requested Darcy’s presence before certain agreements were finalized. Nothing disastrous. Nothing that could not be put right. But it required him at Pemberley sooner than expected.

Bingley regarded him with concern. “Bad news?”

“No.” Darcy folded the letter. “It is just estate business. I must ride ahead.”

Miss Bingley fixed her attention upon him. “Ride ahead?” Her tone suggested he had proposed abandoning them in a field.

Darcy placed the letter beside his plate and reached for his coffee. “There is a matter with my steward that requires attention. I shall go on today rather than tomorrow.”

“But surely it can wait until we all arrive,” she protested, setting down her own cup. “You cannot mean to leave us to continue without you.”

“I can hardly expect Harding to delay when the leases must be settled this week.”

Miss Bingley’s brows drew together in a manner that might have passed for concern had Darcy not known her so well. “But Mr. Darcy, you have just joined us. Poor Georgiana will miss your company exceedingly.”

Georgiana’s needle dropped through the fabric and remained there. Darcy glanced toward her. His sister did not speak. She did not even look at Miss Bingley. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her work, then released.

Miss Bingley continued before Darcy could answer. “Of course, I shall take especial care of her. You need have no concern on that score. Louisa and I shall make certain she is not fatigued by the road, and I shall keep her beside me in the carriage.”

Georgiana bent her head lower over her embroidery.

Darcy’s coffee cooled untouched.

Bingley, unaware of any tension, smiled amiably. “Capital. We shall follow tomorrow as planned, then. Darcy can settle whatever needs settling and receive us in proper state.”

“I have no intention of receiving anyone in state,” Darcy replied.

“That is precisely why you do it so well.”

Hurst grunted from his chair. “Estate business waits for no man. Better him than me.”

Mrs. Hurst murmured something indistinct over her book.

Miss Bingley leaned forward, her concern sharpened into something more active. “But will it not be agreeable for dear Georgiana to continue without you? She is so very young, and the road can be tiresome. She requires someone attentive.”

Darcy watched Georgiana’s fingers curl around the needle again. She did not raise her eyes. “Georgiana is quite capable of travel,” he said.

Miss Bingley laughed, though the sound grated. “Oh, to be sure, but capable is not the same as comfortable. She is such a delicate creature, and she has always preferred familiar guidance.”

Georgiana’s cheeks colored. It was slight. Almost nothing. A faint wash beneath the skin, gone nearly as soon as it appeared. Darcy saw it. For years, he had considered Miss Bingley’s attentions to his sister a harmless, if excessive, expression of regard. Miss Bingley could be officious. She could flatter too much. She could assume intimacy before it was granted. None of that was new.

But he had not examined Georgiana’s response to it with sufficient care. He had taken her lack of protest for agreement. That was a humbling realization.