8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Lydia Bennet decided within ten minutes of Miss Bingley’s arrival that she still disliked her excessively.
This was unfortunate because Pemberley contained too many charming things to permit excessive dislike comfortably.
One could not sustain proper indignation while seated beside open windows overlooking green lawns with strawberries upon the table and Horace sprawled across the hearth like an aging duke after dinner.
Miss Bingley managed to permeate the sensation.
The trouble had begun before the lady had fully entered the house.
Lydia had seen the fleeting change in Miss Bingley’s expression when she discovered Elizabeth beside Georgiana. Most people would never have observed it. Lydia had. She always paid closest attention to people she disliked.
Interesting.
By the time they were all settled inside, Miss Bingley had recovered so thoroughly that anyone less attentive might have imagined her delighted to find Elizabeth at Pemberley.
“Miss Bennet,” Miss Bingley said after the briefest pause. “What an unexpected pleasure.”
Elizabeth answered politely enough, though Lydia could hear caution entering her voice already.
Miss Bingley embraced Georgiana with elaborate affection. “My dearest Georgiana, how I missed you on the last stretch of our journey!”
Georgiana returned the embrace, but the comfort she possessed an hour earlier vanished almost instantly. Her shoulders drew inward. One hand fiddled with the ribbon at her waist.
Lydia narrowed her eyes.
Well. Clearly, Georgiana did not like Miss Bingley at all.
Mr. Hurst, meanwhile, appeared chiefly concerned with more pressing matters.
“Please tell me dinner is not far off,” he said, peering toward the house as though he suspected Pemberley of conspiring against him.
Mrs. Hurst complained of dust, and Mr. Bingley apologized for everyone’s discomfort despite having caused none of it.
Darcy handled the entire scene with remarkable patience.
Lydia admired this less than she ought because Miss Bingley had already begun speaking over Georgiana before they reached the drawing room.
“My dear, you should not stand near the doorway in that draft,” Miss Bingley said, guiding Georgiana forward by the arm. “You always neglect your health when left to your own devices.”
Georgiana opened her mouth.
Miss Bingley continued speaking before she could answer.
Lydia disliked her even more after that.
The atmosphere of the drawing room transformed within minutes of the newcomers’ entrance. Chairs moved into stiffer arrangements. Conversation lost its easy disorder. Even the servants moved differently, more alert beneath Miss Bingley’s inspection.
Lydia disliked that too. She sat beside Georgiana upon a sofa near the windows and watched Miss Bingley claim the room piece by piece.
Not openly. Miss Bingley was far too practiced for openness.
She merely corrected things no one had asked her to correct.
She corrected Georgiana’s posture by touching her shoulder.
Then she fiddled the flower arrangement by turning the vase slightly.
Already she sought to improve conversation by redirecting it whenever Lydia spoke too long.
And she snubbed Elizabeth by almost never addressing her directly at all.
Lydia struggled to keep herself from snapping. No one was allowed to snub her sisters except, well, Lydia.
Miss Bingley spoke to her just then. “Miss Lydia, I hope Derbyshire has not disappointed you entirely. Though I confess the society here must appear sadly lacking after having the officers in Meryton.”
The harpy had overheard her conversation with Georgiana just now. Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes lifted from her embroidery. Elizabeth became very still.
Lydia smiled brightly. “Oh, I have not yet judged Derbyshire completely. I am still searching for officers.” She watched with pleasure the chaos her words evoked.
Mr. Bingley choked on his tea. Darcy covered his mouth with one hand.
Miss Bingley laughed delicately. “How diverting.”
“I think officers improve every assembly,” Lydia continued. “Do you not?”
She wrinkled her nose in disdain. “I seldom attend assemblies for military decoration.”
“No?” Lydia leaned forward. “Then how do you choose whom to dance with?”
Mrs. Hurst hid a laugh in her teacup.
Miss Bingley’s smile narrowed a degree. “By discernment, naturally.”
“How exhausting.”
Georgiana ducked her head quickly beside Lydia, one hand pressing against her mouth.
Darcy’s attention shifted to his sister. The expression on his face nearly made Lydia laugh herself.
Miss Bingley recovered smoothly. “Discernment becomes easier with experience in superior society.”
Lydia smoothed her gown with pretended nonchalance. “Then I fear I shall remain ignorant forever.”
Elizabeth gave her a warning look. Lydia ignored it thoroughly.
Dinner proved worse. Or better, depending upon one’s affection for disorder.
Miss Bingley positioned herself beside Darcy with the confidence of long habit and began discussing acquaintances from London whom nobody else present had met. Georgiana spoke very little. Every time she attempted to enter conversation, Miss Bingley either answered for her or redirected the topic.
Lydia began counting. By the soup course she had reached seven interruptions. By the fish course she abandoned counting because it became irritating.
“Georgiana plays astonishingly well now,” Miss Bingley informed the table. “Though she remains painfully shy of displaying her accomplishments.”
“I am not shy exactly,” Georgiana said. “I simply dislike performing before strangers.”
Miss Bingley spoke condescendingly. “My dear, you always say that.”
Lydia set down her fork. “You do not dislike performing for me,” she said. Every eye at the table settled upon her.
Georgiana stared.
“Well,” Lydia continued, perfectly willing to continue making matters worse, “you played yesterday and did not expire afterward.”
A twitch appeared near Mr. Darcy’s mouth.
Miss Bingley addressed Lydia with polished patience. “Miss Lydia, intimacy among ladies of long acquaintance differs greatly from public display.”
“But we are intimate already,” Lydia replied. “Are we not, Georgiana?”
Georgiana hesitated for but a moment. Then amusement touched her features. Just as quickly, she attempted to suppress it and appeared faintly appalled by her own amusement.
“I believe we are becoming so,” she answered.
“Precisely.” Lydia reached for bread. “Therefore, she ought to play what she likes and ignore everyone else.”
Miss Bingley addressed Mr. Darcy. “Miss Darcy’s young friend possesses very original opinions.”
Mr. Darcy sliced his meat with precision. “Miss Lydia rarely lacks opinions.”
“I consider silence unhealthy,” Lydia informed the table. I believe I shall call him Darcy from now on, just to irritate Miss Bingley.
Mr. Hurst shifted his focus from his wine for the first time in several minutes. “Depends entirely upon the company.”
Mrs. Hurst swatted her husband teasingly. Even Elizabeth smiled before catching herself.
Miss Bingley redirected conversation quickly after that, though not before Lydia noticed Georgiana studying her with something suspiciously resembling gratitude.
The evening continued through cards and music while Lydia’s patience steadily deteriorated. Miss Bingley insisted Georgiana play.
Georgiana complied after enough urging to make Lydia’s teeth ache.
“She always chooses pieces too melancholy for summer,” Miss Bingley remarked while arranging cards near the candlelight. “I tell her spirited music would better suit her age.”
Georgiana’s fingers faltered upon the keys.
Lydia shifted her attention from the pianoforte to Miss Bingley and experienced a violent urge to throw something decorative.
Darcy’s attention went to Georgiana instantly. “Play whatever you prefer.”
Miss Bingley smiled toward him. “My dear Mr. Darcy, you indulge her excessively.”
“She requires very little indulgence.”
The answer arrived too quickly. A tiny pause followed.
Lydia examined Darcy with renewed interest.
Oh, he is annoyed. Properly annoyed.
Miss Bingley either did not perceive it or chose bravery over wisdom. “I wish Georgiana to shine,” she said. “A young lady of her consequence ought to distinguish herself.”
Georgiana kept her attention fixed stubbornly upon the music.
Lydia rose before she entirely understood why she was doing so. “I think Miss Darcy shines perfectly well already,” she declared.
Elizabeth closed her eyes from across the room.
Miss Bingley blinked. “How affectionate you are.”
“Yes.” Lydia crossed toward the pianoforte. “And since Miss Bingley dislikes melancholy music, we shall have something cheerful instead.”
“I did not say—” Georgiana began.
Too late.
Lydia dropped beside the instrument and turned pages at random until she found something lively enough to suit her purposes.
“Here. This one sounds energetic.”
“It is an Italian hunting song,” Georgiana whispered.
“Excellent.” All the better to annoy Miss Bingley.
Darcy abandoned all pretense of interest in the card game. Mr. Bingley leaned forward eagerly. “Do play it. Anything with hunting sounds promising.”
Miss Bingley appeared to be horrified.
Georgiana acted like she was trapped between terror and laughter once more. Then, unexpectedly, she began to play, and not timidly either.
The music bounded brightly through the room.
Lydia could not have sung the Italian words correctly if Parliament itself depended upon it, but she attempted them anyway.
Mr. Bingley applauded the effort. Mrs. Gardiner shook her head helplessly, silent chuckles shaking her shoulder. Even Mr. Hurst opened one eye.
By the final verse, Georgiana herself was laughing too much to continue.
Miss Bingley sat rigid near the card table.
Darcy watched his sister.
Lydia stored that observation away. Interesting again.
Later, while the gentlemen conversed across the room after tea and the ladies remained together, the atmosphere worsened considerably.