Page 86 of What Change Entails
No. That was untrue.
He observed it with considerable satisfaction.
Not because he wished Miss Bingley humiliated. He did not. But the evening had escaped her completely. Pemberley itself seemed to reject stiffness tonight. The storm pressed everyone closer together physically and socially until pretense became exhausting.
Even Elizabeth relaxed.
That perhaps affected him most.
She no longer watched him with guarded uncertainty every moment. Not fully. Sometimes she forgot caution and answered him naturally before recollection returned. Sometimes she sought his opinion first in conversation. Once their hands touched reaching simultaneously toward a fallen music page, not withdrawing from the touch as propriety might dictate.
Near midnight, the party finally diminished.
Mrs. Hurst retired first complaining of fatigue. Mr. Gardiner escorted his wife upstairs soon afterward. Bingley remained sprawled beside the fire declaring storms improved digestion. Lydia and Georgiana sat cross-legged upon the hearthrug arguing over whether Horace would survive independently in the wilderness.
“He would perish within two days,” Georgiana insisted.
“He would charm passing travelers into feeding him.”
“That is not wilderness survival.”
“It is social strategy.”
Elizabeth shook her head from her chair near the fire.
Darcy found himself watching her before he could stop himself.
The room had grown quieter gradually. Candlelight affected everything. Rain still moved steadily against the windows though the thunder had passed farther into the hills.
Miss Bingley sat opposite the fire watching all of it.
Watching him.
That awareness remained dreadfully constant now.
Lydia rose eventually with a dramatic yawn. “Very well. I surrender to exhaustion.”
“You surrendered to mud yesterday also,” Elizabeth reminded her.
“That was tactical.”
Georgiana stood, too. “I think I shall retire.”
Bingley groaned. “Cowards. Every one of you.”
“You nearly fell asleep ten minutes ago,” Darcy replied.
“I was reflecting deeply.”
“Upon pudding.”
“An important subject.”
Lydia took Georgiana’s arm. “Come along before Miss Bingley attempts poetry.”
Miss Bingley’s smile looked forced.
Elizabeth rose more slowly beside the fire.
