Page 40 of What Change Entails

Georgiana took a small breath. “I think perhaps he is not always understood.”

Lydia wrinkled her nose. “That sounds like Lizzy when she is trying not to admit she has changed her mind.”

Georgiana’s interest grew despite herself. “Has she changed her mind?”

“Oh, I do not know.” Lydia began walking toward the house, apparently assuming Georgiana would follow. “She grows very odd whenever Pemberley is mentioned. At first, I thought it was because she felt guilty for ruining my summer, but now I am not so sure.”

Georgiana fell into step beside her, her ankle protesting with each uneven place in the path. “Ruining your summer?”

Lydia appeared astonished that she had to ask. “I was to go to Brighton. Mrs. Forster invited me particularly. There would have been officers everywhere, and dinners, and walks, and all the amusement imaginable. Then Lizzy told Papa I could not be trusted, and now I am here looking at views.”

“That is why you are in Derbyshire?” The north was infinitely preferable to the seaside in Georgiana’s opinion.

“Because my father decided I must go north instead of south.” Lydia kicked at a pebble on the path. “Aunt Gardiner says Derbyshire is beautiful. It is tolerable, I suppose, if one ignores the complete absence of officers.”

Georgiana did not know what answer such a statement required.

Lydia did not appear to need one. “We are staying in Lambton,” she continued. “Aunt Gardiner lived there as a girl, and Uncle wished to tour the neighborhood. Lizzy wanted to see Pemberley because the family was supposed to be absent, which of course is very funny now, though I do not yet know why.”

Georgiana’s attention settled upon the bend in the path.

Fitzwilliam would be arriving soon. “Your sister is here?”

“Yes. Somewhere with my aunt and uncle.” Lydia rose onto her toes to peer beyond a stand of shrubs. “I walked ahead because they were speaking of prospects and improvements, and I cannot endure prospects unless they include people. I thought they were directly behind me.”

They rounded the house, the path narrowing where an old stone wall met a cluster of yews.

Lydia stopped so suddenly Georgiana nearly collided with her.

“Oh!” Lydia gasped, catching Georgiana’s sleeve and pulling her back behind the shelter of the wall.

Georgiana stumbled, caught herself, and whispered, “What is it?”

Lydia pressed one finger dramatically to her lips. “Look.”

Georgiana leaned just enough to see around the corner. Her brother stood near the lower terrace with a lady in a handsome walking gown. A man and woman who must have been the Gardiners stood some distance away, speaking with Mrs. Reynolds. The lady—Miss Elizabeth Bennet, surely—faced the stream. Fitzwilliam stood beside her, hat in hand, saying something Georgiana could not hear.

That alone would not have surprised her. His face did. All the tension he had carried since Kent had not vanished. It had changed direction. He seemed wary, hopeful, and so intent upon the lady beside him that the whole broad sweep of Pemberley might have disappeared without his notice.

Lydia sucked in a breath. “I cannot believe it.”

Georgiana’s hand rested against the wall. “What?”

“Your brother likes my sister.”

Heat rushed into Georgiana’s face. “Miss Lydia—”

“Oh, this is delightful.” Lydia peered around the corner again, then drew back with narrowed eyes. “No, wait. Lizzy’s appearance makes me think someone has asked her to admire a sermon. That cannot be good.”

Georgiana risked another glance.

Miss Elizabeth’s posture was not unkind. She listened. She even smiled faintly at something Fitzwilliam said. But there was hesitation in the line of her shoulders, a restraint that did not belong to indifference.

Lydia faced Georgiana in triumph. “Can you not see it?”

Georgiana swallowed. “I can see it.”

“What shall we do?”