Chapter Fifteen
Darcy stared down at the top of her bonnet. “Good Lord, you are right. Georgiana chose Flower—or, rather, Flower chose her.”
“I thought Flower the more intelligent of the three we singled out of the pack,” she said in a strong, sure tone of voice. “She will make an excellent companion to your sister.”
“I hope Flower will help Georgiana with her anxiousness.”
“She will.”
“You sound confident.”
“I am. But not because of Flower’s intelligence.”
“No?”
“No. The act of looking after an animal is what will help. A pet—particularly a dog—encourages physical activity. Routines must be established for the benefit of the pet, which will help with Georgiana’s anxiety because routines are comforting.
Flower will offer nonjudgemental emotional support, particularly when stressful moments make her feel anxious. ”
They had reached the road through Longbourn Village.
As they passed the occasional villager, that person would curtsy or touch their caps in greeting.
Miss Elizabeth responded with smiles and graceful gestures of acknowledgement.
At one point, a small boy raced toward them, carrying a little black lump in his arms.
“Look, look, Miss Elizabeth! Our mama cat ‘ad kittens.”
She crouched down and took the tiny bundle of fur from the boy, cupping her hands around it. Harry sniffed it once, and then ignored it. “So, she did, Benny. But this little one cannot even open its eyes. He needs to stay with his mama for a time still. Can you tell that it is hungry?”
“Yes, miss,” Benny said, his lip quivering. “I want t’keep ‘im but Da says we can’t.”
“Let us take it back to its mama,” Miss Elizabeth said. “Can you carry it safely?”
“Yes, miss,” Benny said, tears in his eyes.
She passed him back to the little boy, who could not have been older than four. He put both hands around the black bundle and held the kitten close to his chest.
Darcy obligingly escorted Miss Elizabeth to a small holding just at the edge of the village, interested in how she would deal with Benny’s father.
The more Darcy saw of her interactions with the farming class, the more he believed her capable of being of assistance to his many tenant farmers.
He needed a wife who could do more than grace his drawing rooms and dining halls.
He longed for a true helpmeet. He wanted someone who would love the “work” of Pemberley.
Someone who wished to be involved in it, not just a wife who tolerated living there until it was time to return to London for the season.
A young farmer looked up from his work on a wagon wheel and spied them entering his farmyard with his son. He straightened immediately and came quickly toward them. He stood as tall as Darcy, sandy-haired, wide-shouldered, and strong, with blue eyes and a pleasant, freckled face.
“Miss Elizabeth, ma’am,” he said, pulling off his cap. “Welcome.” He frowned when he focused his attention on Benny. “What brings y’to visit, miss?”
“Mr. Grant,” Miss Elizabeth said, smiling warmly at him, “may I introduce my companion, Mr. Darcy? He is visiting Mr. Bingley.”
“Mr. Grant,” Darcy said, nodding.
“Sir,” the farmer said, turning his cap around in his hands. He looked down at his son. “Benny, what’ve ye got there?”
“Kitty,” Benny explained succinctly. “Miss Elizabeth said I got t’give ‘im back to ‘is mama.”
“Hop to it, then,” Mr. Grant said. They watched Benny drag his feet toward the barn. Finally, he said, “Our Benny wants us t’keep all the kittens, Miss. But we already ‘ave three barn cats. This’s Soot’s second litter this year, and she ‘ad eight kittens this time.”
“We will take four of the new ones in three months’ time,” Miss Elizabeth said. “Two of our three barn cats are getting too old to be good mousers. Soot is an excellent mouser, is she not? Her skills will be passed on to her young. Our stable could use another companion cat, as well.”
“Miss,” Mr. Grant said. He scratched his stubbly chin. “Can I tell others what y’said about the kittens bein’ good mousers?”
“You may. How is her first litter doing?” Miss Elizabeth asked.
“They’re all gone but fer one,” Mr. Grant told her. “That made Benny a might sad. He’s got t’learn about the reality of animals on a farm.”
“He will have plenty of opportunities to do so,” Miss Elizabeth said trenchantly. “Perhaps, Mr. Grant you could consider the wisdom of having a house cat—one of this new litter for Benny to look after—so he will learn responsibility. Will Mrs. Grant permit it?”
Mr. Grant slowly nodded. “She will, if the cat will get rid of the mice that come inside during the winter.”
Miss Elizabeth chuckled. “Pray permit the kitten to grow into that chore before you give up on him. Now, while I am here, how is your young bullock growing?”
Mr. Grant grinned and spread his arms wide. “He’s grand, miss. Thankee fer askin’.”
“That is excellent news. If you will excuse us?” she asked. “Mr. Darcy and I have a place to be in Meryton.”
“O’course, Miss Elizabeth, ma’am,” Mr. Grant said “I’ll bring round those three kittens after Christmas, miss.”
“And I will give you a penny each for them,” Miss Elizabeth promised.
“Ye can ‘ave ‘em fer free, miss,” Mr. Grant said, looking shocked.
“Thank you for your generous offer,” Miss Elizabeth said, shaking her head. “However, they are of value to me, so I will pay something for them.”
“Thank ye, miss,” Mr. Grant said, still appearing dubious to Darcy.
“Pray give my regards to your wife,” Miss Elizabeth said, smiling and giving Mr. Grant a cordial nod of dismissal.
“Good day to ye, miss. Sir,” the farmer said.
“Thank you,” Darcy said. He turned them around and they continued their walk to Meryton. Once out of earshot, he said, “You are exceedingly comfortable talking to your neighbors.”
“I know them all,” she replied in a straightforward manner.
“You will miss them when you marry and move away,” he observed.
“If I should need to move away, then you are correct. There is something comforting in knowing everyone in your environs.” She looked over at him. “Oh. I forgot to ask him about Jeffry.”
“We can stop by on the way back, if you like.”
“Thank you,” Miss Elizabeth said, smiling warmly up at him. “Is he still in the basket?”
Darcy felt the weight of the basket. “I believe so.”
She squeezed his arm. “I should hate to open the container to show people my guinea pig and find it empty. How embarrassing that would be.”
“Is everyone used to you knowing so much about animals?”
She shrugged. “Everyone is such an all-encompassing word, is it not? Our village knows, and a good number of people in Meryton know—but not everyone.”
How would she adjust to living in Derbyshire where no one knows her, or her skills? I know a few farmers who would not listen to a single thing she might say about their animals.
Darcy felt cold inside.
“Is aught wrong?” she asked him.
He heard the concern in her voice and it warmed him.
“Nothing is wrong.” Inwardly Darcy sighed, but added, “It is a beautiful day, and I have a lovely woman on my arm. What could be wrong?”
She narrowed her gaze. “Perhaps nothing…perhaps something.”
*
Mary sat on the fortepiano bench beside Georgiana.
“Shall we warm up with a few scales?” her new friend asked. After Mary nodded, she said, “Let us start with the major scales, beginning with C-major.”
Mary knew her scales, so she felt confident in being able to keep up, albeit two octaves lower, since Georgiana sat to her right and would begin her scales on middle-C. It did not take Mary long to realize that even in scales, Georgiana proved to be the superior player—more fluid, more accurate.
“Nice,” her friend murmured. “Try to think of your fingers as birds that alight on the keys ever so fleetingly.”
Mary lifted her eyebrows and did her best to follow Georgiana’s instructions.
“Better.”
Her heart warmed at the praise. After running through all of the scales—twice—they spread the piece out before them on the music rack.
Georgiana had brought a pencil, and they discussed who would play which part, and where they would play together, overlapping the measures.
They practiced for an hour, and then called a halt.
“Shall we take a turn in the garden?” Georgiana asked brightly.
“That is a wonderful idea,” Mary said, sighing with relief. I need to practice, practice, practice, or I will disgrace myself the next time we work on our duet.
Once outside, Georgiana linked her arm with Mary, and they proceeded to stroll along the garden paths.
“I have chosen a puppy,” Georgiana revealed, a hitch of excitement in her voice.
“Which one?” Mary asked.
“The female, Flower. She is adorable. Do you think I should change her name?”
“Do you like the name?”
“It sounds like a little child named her.” Georgiana shrugged. “Which is the source of her current name.”
“Hm. Perhaps you could alter it only a little—like Flora, instead of Flower,” Mary suggested. “The puppy should learn the new name easily.”
Georgiana squeezed her arm. “I like that. Hm, Flora. Yes. I like it exceedingly.”
Another rush of warmth caused Mary to flush with pleasure.
“Lizzy says that it is your tone of voice that a pet learns, not the actual words. But I think she is just being conservative in expressing her opinion. I have seen an animal respond instantly to Lizzy’s call, even when surrounded by other animals. She named every one of our goats.”
“And only the one will come if she calls it?” Georgiana asked, her eyes wide.
Mary chuckled. “Well, to be fair, only the one will begin to come, but the rest of them are curious and soon follow.” Georgiana laughed. Hoping to keep her entertained, Mary told her the story of one of the nanny goats adopting a lamb. Her new friend’s laughter rewarded Mary’s efforts.
They fell silent for a few moments, and then Georgiana tentatively said her name. “Mary?”
Mary looked up at her and raised an eyebrow.
“Did you see your doctor friend yesterday afternoon?”
Swallowing, Mary glanced away and nodded.