Page 110 of Near Pemberley

Lydia covered her face with one hand. “I wanted Mama to be proud of me.”

The room fell silent.

Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly.

There it was. The foolish dream beneath all the foolish actions. Not wickedness. Not malice. Vanity, youth, and an unfortunate hunger to be admired.

When she opened her eyes again, she became aware of the others.

Georgiana now stood near Mr. Darcy, her own eyes suspiciously bright. Mrs. Gardiner had produced a handkerchief and was making discreet use of it. Even Darcy had turned away slightly towards the window, though Elizabeth suspected he was allowing the sisters a degree of privacy.

She waited for him to turn back. Her gaze met his. No words passed between them, yet she hoped he could read the gratitude she felt. Not merely for finding Lydia, but for this. For giving them this moment.

Something softened in his expression before he inclined his head slightly and looked away.

Mrs. Gardiner, with the tact of a woman who had spent many years managing delicate situations, was the first to move. “I believe,” she said gently, “that Miss Lydia and Miss Bennet may have a great many things to say to one another.”

“Indeed,” Georgiana agreed at once.

Lydia hastily wiped her eyes. “You need not all flee as though I were about to expire.”

A faint smile touched Mrs. Gardiner’s lips. “Then I am relieved to hear your spirits are recovering.”

Georgiana crossed the room and squeezed Lydia’s shoulder affectionately. “We shall be nearby.”

As she passed Elizabeth, she offered her a warm smile before joining Mrs. Gardiner.

Darcy was the last to leave. When he reached the doorway, he paused briefly and glanced back. He smiled at Lydia and nodded to her.

The sight still felt strangely improbable. Lydia, who had once declared Mr. Darcy the most boring man in England, now smiled at him with an ease she reserved for very few people.

Finally, his eyes met Elizabeth’s once more. Again, she wished she could properly thank him. Again, she found no words.

He was gone a moment later, and the door closed quietly behind him.

For several seconds, neither sister spoke. They just looked at each other. Then Lydia let out a long breath and collapsed back into her chair. “Well,” she said, with the first faint trace of her old self returning, “that was dreadful.”

Despite everything, Elizabeth laughed.

At first, Elizabeth was content simply to sit beside her sister and listen. Lydia spoke of the house, of Miss Darcy’s kindness, of her lessons with Mrs. Annesley, of Mrs. Barnes, of books she and Georgiana were reading together, and even of new dresses. The very ordinariness of the subjects was almost enough to bring tears to Elizabeth’s eyes.

After weeks of absence, Lydia sounded like Lydia.

At length, however, a question which had occupied Elizabeth ever since arriving could no longer be resisted. “Lydia.”

Her sister looked up.

“How did Mr. Darcy find you?”

The change was immediate. Lydia’s expression altered. It was not alarm and not quite embarrassment; it was something else. She glanced away.

Elizabeth frowned. “Lydia?”

“I am not supposed to talk about that.”

Elizabeth stared. “You are not supposed… What does that mean?”

Lydia shifted uncomfortably. “It means exactly what it sounds like.”