Page 122 of What Change Entails

Darcy stepped forward for his final attempt.

Elizabeth handed him the bow. Their fingers touched in the exchange, briefly enough for propriety, long enough for him to feel the warmth of her glove.

“Do not disgrace my instruction,” she said.

“I shall endeavor to justify your faith.”

“My faith is conditional.”

“A severe mistress.”

“In archery, very.”

He took his place, drew, and released.

The arrow struck slightly outside hers.

Bingley crowed. “Miss Elizabeth wins!”

Lydia cheered so loudly Horace barked from beneath the chair. Georgiana laughed and applauded with genuine delight. Mr. Gardiner offered formal congratulations. Elizabeth flushed, appearing pleased, then peered toward Darcy almost apologetically.

He bent slightly nearer as the others gathered around the target. “You need not look sorry for winning.”

“I was trying not to look triumphant.”

“You failed.”

“Terribly?”

“Charmingly.”

Her lips parted. No answer came quickly.

Darcy had the rare satisfaction of seeing Elizabeth Bennet deprived of speech by him and not from anger.

Then Miss Bingley was beside them.

“What a spirited amusement,” she said, though her voice had lost all amusement. “Miss Eliza must be congratulated upon such vigorous skill. One so rarely sees such country accomplishments displayed to advantage.”

Elizabeth’s chin lifted.

Darcy spoke before temper could make his answer sharper than civility allowed. “Miss Bennet’s skill required no apology.”

Miss Bingley’s looked furious as she stared at him.

The lawn grew awkward around them. Bingley stopped smiling. Georgiana looked from her brother to Miss Bingley with wide eyes. Lydia appeared ready to say something ruinous and was restrained by Elizabeth stepping lightly upon her shoe.

Mrs. Gardiner rose then with perfect timing. “I believe we should all be grateful for the entertainment. Miss Darcy, perhaps we might walk toward the rose garden before tea?”

Georgiana accepted.

Lydia limped theatrically for two steps, glared at Elizabeth, then took Georgiana’s arm and went with her.

The party shifted, talked, recovered. Society had a talent for smoothing over uncomfortable moments before anyone had decided whether they deserved to be forgotten.

As the party drifted toward the terrace, Elizabeth drifted back across the lawn while the servants removed the targets, pausing to examine the arrows before they were gathered away. Darcy followed after a moment. “You defended me,” she said.

“I spoke truth.”