16. Chapter Sixteen #2
“For no purpose?” Miss Bingley’s voice was smooth, but something sharp lay beneath it. “You cannot be serious. Have you not observed what is occurring before our eyes?”
“I have observed that Darcy is attentive to his guests.”
“Do not be absurd, Louisa. He is attentive to her.”
The word reached Lydia’s ear like a slap. Georgiana’s hand hardened on her sleeve.
Mrs. Hurst made a weary sound. “Miss Eliza Bennet is a pretty enough girl. Men have been known to admire pretty eyes without losing all judgment.”
“Mr. Darcy is not other men.”
“No. He is far more obstinate.”
Miss Bingley walked across the room; Lydia could hear the shift of her skirts.
“She has contrived to appear natural in this house. That is her skill. She laughs with Georgiana, speaks with Mrs. Reynolds as if a housekeeper’s opinion were a jewel, flatters tenants by remembering their names, and pretends not to care whether Mr. Darcy attends her. It is all very artful.”
Lydia nearly burst through the door at that. Artful? Pretence? Lizzy? Lizzy could not pretend admiration for a hat she disliked, let alone contrive herself into Pemberley.
Mrs. Hurst sounded bored. “You give her too much credit.”
“I give her just enough. Her family is vulgar. Her mother is ridiculous. Her youngest sister is a hoyden who ought never to be admitted into decent company, and her uncle’s connections are in trade. Even so, here they are, walking through Pemberley as if they belonged to it.”
Lydia’s face burned.
Georgiana made a small movement, but Lydia gripped her hand quickly.
No. Not yet. I need to hear what she has to say.
Mrs. Hurst said, “Darcy invited them.”
“Because he has allowed himself to be misled. Men in love are very often foolish.”
There was a pause. Then Mrs. Hurst answered more sharply than before. “If you believe him in love, I wonder you remain.”
Miss Bingley’s laugh was short and brittle. “Because I do not intend to surrender Pemberley to a country miss with impertinent behavior and fine eyes.”
Lydia’s nails dug into her palm.
“I have worked too long, Louisa,” Miss Bingley continued. “I know the family. I know Georgiana. I know every habit of this house. Do you think I shall stand aside while Miss Eliza Bennet walks in and receives what should have been mine?”
“Caroline.”
“No. If opportunities must be managed, then they shall be managed. Miss Eliza must be reminded of her place. Darcy must be separated from her long enough to recover his senses. Georgiana must be brought back to proper influence. That silly Lydia has filled her head with nonsense and rebellion.”
Georgiana flinched.
Lydia forgot herself enough to take one step toward the door.
Mrs. Hurst spoke quickly. “Take care what you say.”
“I am taking care, more than anyone else in this house appears willing to do. Darcy is too proud to recognize manipulation when it flatters his vanity. Georgiana is too young to judge properly. Miss Eliza is clever enough to encourage him without appearing to do so. If no one interferes, there will be an announcement before autumn.”
“And what do you mean to do?”
Miss Bingley did not answer.
The silence filled Lydia with a new discomfort, colder than anger.
Then Miss Bingley said, very distinctly, “Whatever is necessary to prevent a mistake that would degrade him.”
Georgiana’s fingers grew cold in Lydia’s hand.
The temptation arrived so suddenly Lydia nearly acted upon it.
She would throw open the door. She would call Miss Bingley a jealous, scheming, silk-covered viper.
She would announce to the whole house that Miss Bingley had mocked the Bennets, insulted Lizzy, insulted Georgiana, insulted trade, country society, and probably cake if given long enough.
It would be glorious. Miss Bingley would pale.
Mrs. Hurst would flutter. Darcy would come striding down the passage.
Lizzy would scold Lydia afterward but secretly be grateful.
It was a beautiful vision. Lydia did not move. Her own stillness astonished her so much she almost ruined it by gasping.
Georgiana stared at her, eyes wide.
Lydia shook her head once, tugged gently, and led Georgiana away from the door.
They hurried down the corridor, quickened their pace at the corner, and were nearly running by the time they reached the little morning room near Georgiana’s apartments. Lydia did not stop until she reached the door. She shut it, leaned back against it, and pressed both hands over her mouth.
Georgiana stood in the center of the room, pale and rigid. “She said I was too young to judge,” Georgiana whispered.
Lydia dropped her hands. “She said many things. I am deciding which one to be angriest about first.”
Georgiana sank into the nearest chair. “She truly believes it.”
“Of course she believes it. That is what makes her so horrid.”
“My brother must know.” Anxious energy radiated from Georgiana as she twisted her hands together.
“Yes,” Lydia said. Then she stopped. Telling Darcy meant repeating it.
Repeating it meant admitting she had listened at doors.
Lizzy would say that was improper. Aunt Gardiner would say that it was improper but useful.
Mary—goodness, if Mary was here, she would compose a sermon of five parts upon it.
“Unless,” Lydia added, “we challenge her to a duel.”
Georgiana started.
“I am joking. Mostly.”
“This is not amusing.”
“No.” Lydia crossed the room and sat beside her. For once, she did not sprawl. “No, it is not.”
Georgiana twisted her fingers together. “I knew she disliked Elizabeth. I knew she disliked your family. But to say such things—”
“She did not know we were there.”
“That makes it worse.” It was painful to know what someone was likely thinking all the time.
“I know.”
For several minutes, they did not speak. Lydia hated the silence. She usually filled such moments on principle. Georgiana was so shaken that even Lydia knew noise would not mend it.
At last Georgiana stood. “We should tell Fitzwilliam.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Lydia rose too, though less eagerly. “He may be displeased that I listened.”
“He may be more displeased Miss Bingley spoke so.”
“That would be sensible.”
Georgiana’s mouth trembled at the corner. Not quite amusement but near enough.
They found Darcy in his study with Mr. Gardiner and Bingley. Papers lay across the desk, and a map had been weighted down with two books. Mr. Gardiner noticed them first. Bingley smiled, then checked himself when he saw Georgiana’s face.
Darcy rose. “Georgiana?”
Lydia had seen him concerned before. This was different. His whole attention went to his sister so quickly that even Bingley stepped back.
Georgiana’s courage faltered. She looked to Lydia for aid.
Well. There was nothing for it.
“We overheard Miss Bingley,” Lydia said.
Darcy’s expression changed. “Overheard?”
“I know it is dreadful manners. You may reprimand me after. But she was speaking of Lizzy and Georgiana, and Pemberley, and making certain things did not happen.”
Mr. Gardiner’s newspaper, which he had been folding, stopped halfway.
Bingley’s face lost color. “Caroline?”
Georgiana took one step nearer her brother. “She said Elizabeth was artful. That the Bennets were vulgar. That Lydia ought not to be admitted into decent company.”
“That part was very offensive,” Lydia inserted, because someone ought to acknowledge it.
Darcy did not smile.
Georgiana continued, each word seeming to cost her something. “She said I must be brought back to proper influence. That I was too young to judge. That ‘if opportunities must be managed, they would be managed.’”
Bingley glanced toward the door, as if his sister might appear there by sheer force of embarrassment.
Darcy remained still.
Lydia, who disliked the stillness of serious men, rushed in before she lost courage. “And she said she would do whatever was necessary to prevent Mr. Darcy making a mistake that would degrade him.”
The atmosphere in the room cooled further. Mr. Gardiner’s expression became grave.
Bingley swore very softly, then appeared mortified because ladies were present.
Darcy’s jaw worked silently before he replied. “Those were her words?”
“Yes,” Lydia said. “I did not improve them.”
“She did not,” Georgiana added. “If anything, she softened the tone.”
Darcy walked to the window and stood there for several seconds. Lydia could see his profile. He had the stillness of carved stone again, but not pride. Anger. With himself, perhaps, which was a very Darcy sort of thing to do.
At last, he responded. “Thank you for telling me.”
Lydia blinked. “You are not going to scold me for listening?”
“I may reserve that pleasure for a less serious occasion.” That was unexpectedly handsome of him.
Bingley dragged one hand through his hair. “Darcy, I am sorry. I never thought Caroline would—”
“No.” Darcy’s answer cut across him, though not cruelly. “This is my house. I have excused too much within it.” He had allowed politeness to dictate his actions for far too long.
Georgiana’s eyes shone suddenly.
Darcy crossed to her and lowered his voice. “Forgive me.”
She shook her head quickly. “You did not say it.”
“I permitted her influence to remain where it hurt you.”
Lydia stared at him.
Well. No wonder Lizzy liked him now. A man who could say such a thing plainly was vastly superior to one who merely admired a ribbon.
Darcy drew the bell. When the footman came, Darcy asked for Mrs. Reynolds to attend him when convenient and for Brisby to be sent to his dressing room.
His tone gave no hint of scandal, which impressed Lydia deeply.
If she had been mistress of the house, everyone would have known everything within three minutes.
Mrs. Reynolds arrived not long after. She took in Georgiana’s pale face, Lydia’s unusual silence, and Darcy’s expression with one sharp glance.
“Mrs. Reynolds,” Darcy said, “Miss Bingley is not to give instructions to the staff except through you. No change in household arrangements is to be made at her request without my approval.”
“Very good, sir.”