16. Chapter Sixteen #3
“Nor is any guest to be admitted to the private family apartments without invitation.”
Mrs. Reynolds’s mouth compressed slightly. “Of course, sir.”
Darcy paused. “I also wish any unusual movement in the house after nightfall reported to you directly. Discreetly.”
Lydia regarded him with renewed interest.
Mrs. Reynolds’s eyes moved toward Georgiana. “It shall be done.”
When she departed, Darcy gave his attention to Lydia and Georgiana. “I do not accuse Miss Bingley of intending anything beyond interference. Still, I will not leave opportunities for mischief if she has resolved to create them.”
“What opportunities?” Lydia asked.
Darcy exchanged serious expressions with Bingley, then Mr. Gardiner. “A lady determined to create mischief, whether by scene, implication, or private cruelty may create awkward situations with very little assistance from truth.”
Lydia understood after one second and then wished she had not. “Oh,” she said, with deep disgust. “That is vile.” As hoydenish as she was, she would never force a compromise.
“Yes,” Darcy replied.
Bingley appeared wretched. “You cannot think Caroline would go so far.”
“I do not know,” Darcy answered. “That is the difficulty.”
Brisby appeared at the door. Darcy spoke to him briefly, too low for Lydia to catch every word, though she heard enough: outer door locked, adjoining passage, remain nearby, no one admitted.
Brisby did not appear surprised. Valets, Lydia suspected, knew everything and showed nothing.
After he left, Darcy shifted his attention to the girls. “You are not to confront Miss Bingley.”
Lydia opened her mouth.
Darcy stopped her reply with the full force of his stare. “Particularly you.”
“How unjust. I have been outstanding in my restraint.” Perhaps she was maturing after all.
“Yes,” he said. “Continue.”
That was not as satisfying as praise ought to have been, but Georgiana regarded her with such earnest gratitude that Lydia swallowed the retort.
“I shall attempt it,” she said.
Mr. Gardiner rose then, his expression stern in a way Lydia had rarely seen. “Darcy, I am at your disposal if you require support in managing this.”
“Thank you. For now, discretion serves us best.”
Bingley still appeared miserable. “I will speak to Louisa.”
“Not yet,” Darcy said. “Let me observe this evening.”
Lydia admired that. Observing before exploding was a new concept, but perhaps useful.
“One last thing, Miss Lydia, Georgiana. Let us not bother the other ladies with this information at this time.” Mr. Darcy stared at them until they nodded.
So, I am not to share this with Elizabeth? Lydia thought it rather unfair to keep her sister in the dark. Uncle Gardiner would surely tell his wife. But she would follow Mr. Darcy’s wishes… for now.
The rest of the afternoon continued with an unnatural normality that made Lydia itch.
Miss Bingley appeared at tea wearing ivory muslin and an expression of polished innocence. She complimented Georgiana’s complexion, asked Darcy whether he intended to ride the following morning, and praised Elizabeth’s gown in a tone that made the compliment feel like an insult.
Lydia nearly crushed her cake. Georgiana sat beside her and pressed one slipper lightly against Lydia’s beneath the table. Restraint it would be, then.
Horrid business.
That evening, they gathered in the drawing room after dinner in the usual way. Mrs. Hurst sat near Miss Bingley. Mr. Hurst slept. Mr. Gardiner spoke with Bingley near the fire. Mrs. Gardiner worked at embroidery while watching everyone, which meant she was likely the cleverest person present.
Elizabeth stood near the pianoforte turning pages for Georgiana.
Darcy stood across the room.
Miss Bingley had been trying for ten minutes to draw him into conversation. She mentioned London, mutual acquaintances, a new set of rooms someone had taken, and whether Pemberley ought to host a larger party before autumn. Darcy answered civilly, then stared past her toward Elizabeth.
Lydia saw it. She was seated near a small table pretending to untangle thread while actually doing no such thing. Georgiana played softly, and Elizabeth leaned close enough to murmur something when a page resisted turning. Georgiana answered, and Elizabeth smiled.
Darcy watched them both.
No, not both.
Elizabeth.
His face carried gravity now, more than longing.
There was concern there, and anger kept under strict guard, and something so intent Lydia found herself looking away for half a moment.
It felt improper to stare at such affection.
Which was absurd, because staring at affection was what one ought to do if one hoped to become accomplished in matchmaking.
Miss Bingley saw it too. Her fan moved once, twice, then stilled.
Lydia granted her attention to Darcy again. She had spent so many years thinking marriage meant triumph. A handsome man—a red coat if one was fortunate. A carriage, admiration. Being first among one’s sisters. Having everyone exclaim and envy and call one very lucky.
But Mr. Darcy did not regard Lizzy as a prize he wished to display.
His attention lingered on her in a manner that suggested her unease would trouble him all night, that her happiness mattered more than every person watching him, and that the room simply made proper sense when he knew where she stood within it.
That was an irritating discovery. It suggested that being married first would not be beneficial unless one was married like that. Lydia frowned down at her thread.
Very inconvenient.
Officers were simpler. They wore bright coats, said flattering things, and did not compel a person to reconsider the entire nature of happiness.
Across the room, Elizabeth lifted her head from the music and caught Darcy’s attention fixed upon her. She colored a little, then lowered her eyes again, but not before something passed between them that made Lydia hopeful of their success.
Miss Bingley rose suddenly. “Georgiana, perhaps something livelier.”
Georgiana’s fingers faltered.
Lydia stood before she thought better of it. “I have a better idea. Let us have a game.”
Miss Bingley appraised her with cool surprise. “A game?”
“Yes.” Lydia smiled as sweetly as she knew how, which probably meant not sweetly at all. “Something requiring many people. And no one shall be permitted to choose all the partners.”
Mr. Bingley brightened instantly. “Excellent notion.”
Darcy studied Lydia with something very like approval. That was gratifying.
Miss Bingley sat again with visible reluctance.
Lydia moved to Georgiana’s side and whispered, “You are welcome.” Georgiana squeezed her hand beneath the cover of the pianoforte. Perhaps virtue was not so terrible after all, though Lydia would still rather have gone to Brighton. A little.
Mr. Bingley, who required remarkably little encouragement where games were concerned, clapped his hands together. “A game it shall be. Darcy, you cannot object. The proposal has already been seconded by half the room.”
“I was unaware my approval was required,” Darcy replied.
“It never is,” Bingley said cheerfully. “That is why I so rarely seek it.”
Mr. Gardiner chuckled.
“What game?” Mrs. Gardiner asked.
Lydia considered. “Something difficult.”
“That excludes you from winning,” Elizabeth observed.
“Cruel.” But she smiled to soften her rejoinder.
Elizabeth raised an appraising brow. “Accurate.”
Georgiana’s shoulders shook with suppressed amusement.
“Questions and Commands,” Bingley suggested.
“No,” said Darcy.
“Then you have played it before.”
He grimaced. “I survived it before.”
Lydia brightened. “Excellent. We shall play that.”
Within minutes chairs had been drawn into a loose circle. Slips of paper appeared. Pens were produced. Mr. Hurst declined participation from the safety of his chair and resumed dozing beside the fire. No one attempted to persuade him.
The game began innocently enough. Bingley was commanded to recite the names of every horse he had owned since childhood and forgot three before reaching adolescence.
Mrs. Gardiner was asked which person in the room she would trust most to organize a journey.
“Mr. Darcy,” she answered promptly.
Lydia groaned. “Of course you would choose him.”
“Would you not?” Her aunt’s amusement was obvious.
“I would choose myself.”
Mr. Gardiner appeared alarmed. “That is why no one would choose you.”
The room dissolved into general amusement.
Even Darcy appeared less burdened than he had earlier. Though he spoke little, he remained engaged, his attention drifting frequently toward Elizabeth despite every effort to conceal it. Lydia watched with satisfaction.
Miss Bingley watched too. The longer the evening progressed, the less successful she became at disguising her irritation. She lost a question concerning Derbyshire villages to Elizabeth. She failed to impress Mr. Gardiner with a lengthy observation regarding London society.
Georgiana chose Lydia’s side repeatedly during the game.
Best of all, in Lydia’s opinion, Darcy was increasingly content. Lydia had discovered that a contented Darcy was very nearly immune to Caroline Bingley. The discovery delighted her.
A command eventually required Georgiana to name her favorite quality in each person present.
The request produced immediate embarrassment.
“Who wrote that?” Georgiana asked.
“No one is confessing,” Bingley announced.
“Cowards,” said Lydia.
Georgiana laughed softly. “Very well.”