Page 49 of What Change Entails

“Then it is not forbidden.”

Elizabeth fixed her sister with a sharp look. “Lydia.”

“I am simply clarifying the rules.”

Mr. Gardiner, traitorously amused, looked up at the grand entrance ahead. “One should always know the rules of a house before residing in it.”

Mrs. Gardiner gave him a look. “Edward.”

“What? I merely support order.”

Darcy’s voice, when he answered, carried enough humor to draw Elizabeth’s attention once more. “For the peace of my housekeeper, Miss Lydia, I shall now formally forbid it.”

Lydia sighed. “How unfortunate. I might have become famous for it.”

Miss Darcy leaned near her and whispered, “The east staircase turns too sharply.”

Lydia stared, then burst into laughter.

Elizabeth caught the whisper because she walked close behind. Darcy also heard. His surprise was plain and unguarded.

Miss Darcy blushed, but she did not retreat.

Darcy watched his sister once more, and some of the tension left his expression. The entrance hall received them with cool stone underfoot and summer air moving through the open doors. Elizabeth had expected grandeur, and there was grandeur enough: height, proportion, polished wood, portraits watching from the walls, arrangements of flowers on tables placed exactly where beauty served use. The hall did not chill her. The dog had left faint muddy marks near one side door before some servant could remove them. A folded shawl lay over the back of a chair, surely Miss Darcy’s. From somewhere down the corridor came the sound of brisk female instructions, then the answer of a footman.

Mrs. Reynolds greeted them in a manner that included pride but not servility. She inquired again after Miss Darcy’s ankle, scolded her with affection for riding too fast, and insisted that a cold cloth be sent to her room.

“I am quite well,” Miss Darcy protested.

Mrs. Reynolds appeared unconvinced. “You may be quite well while sitting with your foot raised, miss.”

Lydia was impressed. “Does everyone obey Mrs. Reynolds?”

Darcy removed his gloves. “Generally.”

“Do you?” She raised a challenging eyebrow.

“When wisdom requires it.”

Mrs. Reynolds smiled openly at that, then addressed Lydia. “And you, miss, must allow one of the maids to brush your gown. The grass will stain if left.”

Lydia examined her skirts as though just now remembering her fall. “Oh! Yes. I suppose I look dreadful.”

“You look as though you have had an adventure,” Mrs. Reynolds replied. “That is not always dreadful.”

Lydia beamed at her.

Elizabeth had to look away.

This was all becoming too strange. Lydia, approved by Miss Darcy and Mrs. Reynolds within half an hour. Mr. Darcy speaking with dry humor. Pemberley open and warm around them. She could no longer arrange her opinions of Mr. Darcy into anything comfortable or consistent.

Mrs. Gardiner, meanwhile, had drawn her husband aside. Their voices remained low, but Elizabeth caught fragments: “generous offer,” “Lambton near enough,” “improper if we make it so,” “girls,” “Mr. Darcy’s civility.”

Elizabeth pretended not to listen.

Darcy invited Mrs. Reynolds to show Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner the principal rooms whenever they wished, then addressed Elizabeth. “The library is this way, if you still care to see it.”

As if any sensible creature would refuse.