Page 114 of What Change Entails

Elizabeth faced her then.

Wickham did not need to be named.

Neither did Mr. Darcy.

Her aunt’s expression held no censure, just understanding.

Elizabeth adjusted the parcel more securely beneath her arm. “Then perhaps I must learn to look longer before deciding.”

“A useful lesson.”

“A painful one.”

“Those are often the sort that remain.”

Up the street, Lydia burst from the milliner’s shop with a ribbon held high above her head and Georgiana laughing behind her.

Miss Bingley wheeled at the noise.

Mr. Darcy, still trapped beside her, cast a long-suffering look at Elizabeth again over the lady’s bonnet.

This time Elizabeth did not look away.

She smiled at him.

Openly enough for him to see.

His expression changed before Miss Bingley tugged him onward.

Elizabeth held her aunt’s arm a little tighter and pretended the village air had not suddenly become much warmer.

Chapter Thirteen

Archery had not been Darcy’s idea. That distinction became necessary before the first arrow flew.

Bingley had discovered the old targets stored near the pleasure grounds during a conversation with one of the grooms and returned to breakfast full of bright purpose. The weather had cleared after two days of rain, the lawns had dried sufficiently for outdoor amusement, and nobody, he declared, could possibly object to a little friendly competition.

Miss Bingley objected before he finished the sentence.

“Archery?” she repeated, stirring her tea with unnecessary care. “Charles, you cannot be serious.”

“I am very serious. Astonishingly serious.”

Mrs. Hurst directed her attention to the windows. “The grass will still be damp.”

“We shall not sit upon it.”

“You may not,” Lydia said from beside Georgiana. “I make no promises.”

Miss Bingley’s eyes moved over her. “That, Miss Lydia, is easily believed.”

Lydia bit into toast. “Thank you.”

Elizabeth covered her mouth with her napkin.

Darcy took refuge in coffee.

That had become a frequent habit since the Bennets’ arrival. Coffee, correspondence, a view from the window, any object near at hand. Anything to conceal amusement when Lydia said precisely what propriety begged her not to say.