Page 56 of What Change Entails

Lydia stared.

Georgiana groaned. “Fitzwilliam.”

“It is true.”

His sister frowned. “You never told me that.”

“You were ten.”

Lydia burst into delighted laughter. “Oh, I like Derbyshire vastly better already.”

Elizabeth covered her mouth with one hand, unable to help smiling. Their eyes met for the briefest instant before he returned his attention to his breakfast.

She spent the next several minutes attempting not to think about it and failed completely.

The morning divided naturally after breakfast ended. Mr. Gardiner decided to take some rods and tackle and try his luck with Pemberley’s fish population. Aunt Gardiner wished to write letters. Lydia dragged Georgiana outdoors under the pretense of showing her how to skip stones across the stream despite possessing no skill whatsoever. Mr. Darcy left the house to see to some estate business.

Elizabeth escaped toward the library. The room stood empty when she entered, though one window remained open, and a coat lay over the back of a chair near the writing table. Papers occupied part of the large central desk in orderly stacks. A map had been weighted flat beneath two books. Beside it rested an abandoned cup of coffee gone cold.

Darcy’s handwriting crossed several sheets in quick dark lines.

She did not read anything. She recognized figures, estate names, and notes regarding repairs near Kympton before moving decisively toward the shelves.

The library was different in morning light. Less romantic perhaps. More lived in. Dust motes drifted lazily near the upper shelves where sunlight reached them. One ladder stood crooked because someone had neglected to push it back. A riding crop rested beside the hearth.

Elizabeth removed a volume almost at random and settled near the window.

She read perhaps three pages.

Then voices carried faintly from outside.

Lydia’s first, unmistakably dramatic. “I tell you I did not throw it at the duck intentionally!”

Georgiana answered through laughter too breathless for Elizabeth to distinguish the words.

Elizabeth rose and crossed to the window.

Below, Lydia stood near the pond, fed by the stream they walked yesterday, with skirts gathered in one hand and Horace circling excitedly around her feet. Georgiana sat upon a low stone wall watching while Lydia attempted another stone toss with tremendous concentration.

The stone skipped once before dropping directly into the water.

Lydia appeared offended by the pond itself.

Georgiana gave way to unrestrained amusement now, every trace of reserve abandoned.Elizabeth braced one hand against the window frame.

She had imagined Miss Darcy very differently. Elegant. Silent. Accomplished in all the intimidating ways Caroline Bingley had once suggested.

Instead, Georgiana dissolved into helpless mirth because Lydia Bennet could not throw a stone with any degree of accuracy and had very nearly struck her own bonnet ribbon instead of the pond.

The sound of footsteps behind her sent Elizabeth turning too quickly.

Darcy paused near the doorway. “Forgive me. I did not know the room occupied.”

When did he return? “It is merely me.”

He held several papers beneath one arm and was faintly windblown from outdoors. A streak of mud darkened one boot near the heel.

Elizabeth’s attention betrayed her by falling to it.