Page 131 of What Change Entails

“I am in your room. Who shall hear? The curtains?”

“My maid may return.”

Lydia snickered. “Then your maid shall learn something useful.”

Georgiana dissolved into laughter despite every effort at dignity.

Lydia appeared pleased, then sat upright with sudden importance. “In any case, I may as well call him Darcy soon.”

“No,” Georgiana said quickly, dropping her hands. “No, you may not.”

“I do not mean to his face. I am not mad.”

“That remains open to discussion.”

Lydia pointed at her. “You are becoming saucy.”

“I am learning from poor company.”

“Excellent. Then I am useful.”

Georgiana shook her head, smiling despite herself.

Lydia reached for one of the music sheets abandoned upon the chair and folded it idly, then unfolded it again when Georgiana gave a distressed little gasp.

“It was not important, was it?”

“It was Haydn.” And her favorite selection.

“Oh. Then perhaps important. I shall stop.”

She placed the sheet down with exaggerated care.

Georgiana rested her hands in her lap and studied Lydia more openly. It still surprised her sometimes that a girl so full of noise could be so comfortable to sit beside. Lydia said outrageous things, occupied too much space, and treated embarrassment as a thing that happened mainly to other people. Still, she noticed. She noticed when Georgiana withdrew, when Miss Bingley pressed too hard, when Darcy wished to speak and could not, when Miss Elizabeth seemed uncertain but hopeful.

Most young ladies Georgiana knew had been trained to notice precedence, gowns, fortunes, and family consequence.

Lydia noticed discomfort, then usually attacked it with the social subtlety of Horace stealing ham.

Georgiana had become very fond of her.

“What are you thinking?” Lydia demanded.

Georgiana started. “Nothing.”

“That is never true. People always say nothing when they mean something inconvenient.”

“I was thinking that I am glad you came to Pemberley.”

Lydia stared at her. Then she redirected her attention to the fire with suspicious haste. “Well. Naturally. I have improved matters vastly.”

“Yes.”

“And made Miss Bingley miserable.” Lydia was positively delighted at that.

“That too.”

“And helped your brother.”