Page 123 of What Change Entails

“That is a very solemn answer to a simple observation.”

He pulled one arrow from the ground and examined the bent tip. “I was attempting restraint.”

“Were you?”

“With limited success.”

Elizabeth accepted two arrows from him and brushed grass from one shaft. “I thought it a successful defense.”

“I am glad.”

She let her attention settle upon the others. Miss Bingley had attached herself to Bingley now, perhaps for lack of better ground, while Georgiana and Lydia walked ahead with Mrs. Gardiner.

Elizabeth’s voice lowered. “You need not quarrel with Miss Bingley on my account.”

“I have no wish to quarrel with anyone.”

“No?”

“Not today.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “Archery has softened you.”

“Defeat humbles a man.”

“You bore it well.”

“I lost to a superior opponent.”

Her blush returned, softer this time, and she examined the arrow in her hand as though its feathers required inspection.

Darcy wanted to kiss her. He fixed his attention on the path ahead before the thought that crossed his mind could become visible on his face. By the time they reached the awning, the others had settled once more around the tea table.

Tea was taken under the awning near the terrace. Conversation recovered its brightness gradually, helped by Bingley’s insistence upon misreporting the scores and Lydia’s outrage at being denied spiritual points. Georgiana sat beside Lydia with an ease that would have astonished Darcy a fortnight ago. Elizabeth sat near Mrs. Gardiner but angled slightly toward him.

He did not think it accidental, though hope may have made him too willing to believe it.

Miss Bingley watched them both. She said little during tea, which troubled Darcy more than conversation might have done. Her glances moved from Lydia and Georgiana to Elizabeth, then to Bingley whenever Jane Bennet’s name approached the conversation. Miss Bingley missed very little.

Darcy handed Elizabeth a plate of cakes.

She accepted one, then chose a second and placed it deliberately upon his saucer.

“For consolation,” she said.

“After my defeat?”

“Naturally.”

“I am touched by your compassion.”

“You should be.”

The exchange was small. Foolish, perhaps. Still, they had sought it out across the space between chairs, and Miss Bingley’s eyes narrowed before she faced the garden.

Darcy ate the cake.

Lydia saw and grinned into her lemonade.