Page 71 of What Change Entails

Georgiana rose slowly from the pianoforte bench. “I think perhaps I shall remain here a little longer.”

Miss Bingley’s expression cooled. “Very well,” she answered. “Though your brother wished for music earlier.”

“We have music here,” Lydia replied before Georgiana could speak again.

Miss Bingley studied her for one long second. Then she walked away.

Lydia shut the door firmly.

Behind her Georgiana exhaled slowly.

“Well,” Lydia declared, “I dislike her more every hour.”

“You should not quarrel with guests.”

“She quarrels first. She simply does it politely.”

Georgiana was amused despite herself and went back to the pianoforte.

Lydia remained near the door a moment longer watching her. Then she crossed the room and dropped into the seat beside her. “You need not let her manage you,” she said insistently.

Georgiana traced one finger over the keys without playing. “It is difficult to stop behaving as people expect.”

“Then disappoint them.”

“That advice sounds very natural from you.”

“It is.” She disappointed everyone and cared not a jot.

Georgiana tilted her head toward her.

Lydia reached over impulsively and squeezed her hand once. “Well,” she muttered, suddenly awkward herself, “I shall not allow Miss Bingley to bully you anymore. Someone must preserve order in this house.”

That startled Georgiana badly enough she struck the wrong key outright. The ugly note echoed through the room. Then both girls dissolved into helpless laughter while Horace barked indignantly beneath the window at the noise.

Chapter Nine

Darcy had faced difficult tenants, disputed boundaries, ill-tempered relations, and the full force of Lady Catherine’s displeasure before breakfast.

None of these had prepared him for Lydia Bennet with a fishing rod.

“You hold it far too stiffly,” he said, for the third time in as many minutes.

Miss Lydia Bennet lowered the rod in her hands, then raised it to him with frank offense. “I am holding it exactly as it wishes to be held.”

“The rod has no wishes.”

“Then it ought to be more agreeable.”

Bingley laughed from farther along the bank, where he had appointed himself director of the morning’s amusement without having acquired any particular authority over it. “Capital, Miss Lydia. I never thought to blame the rod.”

“You ought to try it,” Lydia called back. “It is very satisfying.”

Darcy shifted his attention to Elizabeth.

She stood near the stream beside Mrs. Gardiner, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun while she watched her sister’s struggle with open amusement. Their morning walk had ended less than an hour earlier, and Darcy had been trying not to think of it ever since.

This had become increasingly difficult.