Page 198 of What Change Entails

“And until then, do not let Miss Bingley borrow trouble on your behalf. She will charge interest.”

Elizabeth laughed despite herself.

“There. Better.”

“Not entirely.”

“Better enough.”

It might have been, had the express not arrived an hour later.

Mr. Gardiner received it in the hall.

Elizabeth heard the commotion from the upper gallery: the quick step of a footman, her uncle’s voice changing, Mrs. Gardiner’s door opening. By the time she reached them, Mr. Gardiner had already broken the seal and read the first page.

His face told her enough.

“What is it?” Mrs. Gardiner asked.

“Ainsley has been injured,” he said.

Mrs. Gardiner pressed one hand to her throat. “Badly?”

“Badly enough that he cannot oversee the warehouse accounts, and there is confusion with the shipment due Monday. I must go back.”

“When?”

Mr. Gardiner read another line, his jaw working silently. “As soon as horses can be made ready.”

Elizabeth gripped the banister.

Mrs. Gardiner came to her, apology already in her eyes.

“Oh, Lizzy.”

The house changed after that.

Trunks emerged.

Servants moved with efficient haste.

Mrs. Reynolds took command with such competence that Elizabeth understood anew why Pemberley ran as it did. Lydia burst into protests, then tears, then accusations against London, clerks, warehouses, accidents, and every road south. Georgiana stood very still for nearly a minute before quietly asking how she might help.

Elizabeth answered questions.

Folded gowns.

Found Lydia’s missing bonnet beneath Horace’s paw.

Tried not to look toward the drive.

Mr. Darcy could not arrive in time.

The knowledge pressed upon every motion. If they delayed until morning, Mr. Gardiner’s business might suffer, and possibly others with it. If they left tonight, Mr. Darcy would come home to find her gone.

It was absurdly dramatic.

It was also inescapable.