Page 107 of What Change Entails

Two seconds later he charged directly through the puddle beside the curb.

Mud exploded upward magnificently.

Miss Bingley shrieked.

Brown water drenched the hem of her pelisse and splattered across one sleeve.

The street fell silent.

Mrs. Hurst gasped.

Mr. Bingley appeared horrified for approximately half a second before visible struggle overtook him.

Darcy closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Lydia had already arranged her features into innocence so exaggerated it became its own confession.

Lydia pressed both hands against her mouth with heroic insincerity.

“Oh dear,” she managed.

Miss Bingley stared at the damage in disbelief.

Then she peered about very slowly.

The boy had vanished already.

Unfortunately, Lydia remained nearby looking far too delighted.

“You little savage,” Miss Bingley hissed under her breath.

Lydia blinked innocently. “It was only water.”

“Mud.”

“Country water.”

Georgiana made a choking sound beside her that might have been suppressed laughter or impending death.

Mrs. Gardiner intervened before catastrophe fully erupted. “Perhaps you ought to clean the stain before it dries.”

Miss Bingley acted like she was moments away from murder.

Mrs. Hurst gathered herself with martyr-like resignation. “Come, Caroline.”

“I cannot walk through Lambton looking like this.”

“No one suggested you should.”

Darcy spoke then, calm enough to make Lydia suspect he was exerting severe effort. “The innkeeper’s wife will assist you.”

Miss Bingley fixed her attention upon him sharply, perhaps hoping for outrage on her behalf.

Instead, she found restraint.

That appeared to worsen matters considerably.

At last, she swept toward the inn with Mrs. Hurst following behind.

Halfway to the door she paused and cast Lydia a look of such concentrated fury that Lydia nearly laughed aloud.