Chapter 14 #2
“Hector! No!” Georgiana gave chase as the happy thief triumphantly ran circles round the garden, a joint of roasted beef clenched between his jowls.
One footman almost had him, but the big dog veered off towards the tent housing the ice.
Huge paws took guy ropes and, consequently, the entire canvas shelter with them.
Hector then slowed to a trot and, pulling the tent behind him, headed for Darcy, who managed to grab the encumbered dog just as its mistress caught up with them.
“Drop it, you naughty boy!” At Georgiana’s command, Hector dropped the meat upon the ground, flumped down, and rolled onto his back, tangled guy ropes dangling from his legs.
Freeing Hector from the tent, Darcy silently thanked the dog for, at least, waiting until the picnic had finished.
To the defeated footman, he said, “Take the joint of meat to the kitchen, and let them know it will be the culprit’s dinner this evening, although he should go without.
” Turning to his sister, he enquired whether she was still intent on taking Hector with her in the punt.
“I know he does not deserve it, but yes. I hope he might have a chance for an s-w-i-m in the stream.”
“Then he and you will have to sit in my punt. Now, who else do you suppose will tolerate sharing space with a ten-stone, sopping wet bear of a dog?”
His sister looked round the group and grinned. “No other than Miss Bennet will do.”
Truer words were never spoken, little hen. “Then you should go over there and ask her.”
“No, Brother. The request should come from the vessel’s captain.”
“It is a punt, Georgiana, not a frigate. And your dog is the problem. You ask her.” She looked at him so defiantly that he capitulated. “Very well.” When did my sixteen-year-old sister become so headstrong and obstinate?
As he approached, Darcy witnessed what appeared to be a sly smile being exchanged between Miss Wright and Miss Margaret. The two eldest Wright sisters seemed to be badgering Elizabeth about going for a ride with them the next day.
“I thank you, but the Bakers’ horses are mostly always needed on the farm, and Jenny and I could not keep up with you, I fear.”
“Who is this Jenny?” Miss Wright twirled her parasol as it rested upon a shoulder.
“She is the Bakers’ jenny.”
“Yes, yes, but who is she? Another poor relation?”
Perceiving the impishness in Elizabeth’s voice and the vexation in Miss Wright’s, Darcy intervened.
“Jenny is the Bakers’ female donkey. A female donkey is called a jenny.
Now, if you ladies will excuse us.” He turned from the Miss Wrights to Elizabeth.
“Miss Bennet, may I please have a word with you?”
Her disinclination was evident, and she responded with languid indifference. “Of course, sir.” She walked with Darcy towards the shrubbery but, with what seemed to him suspicious disapproval, stopped short of entering the shaded, private walk with him.
“Miss Bennet, my sister has a favour to ask of you.”
Elizabeth looked about as though searching for Georgiana and not seeing her. “And she had to send an envoy to do so?”
“Ah, no. Well, yes. Georgiana has a rather large, black-and-white, furry problem on her hands. Other than filching picnic fare and trying to elude capture, the most efficient method for getting Hector to exert himself and get some exercise is to lead him to water.” Realising he was spinning the signet ring round his little finger, Darcy clasped his hands behind his back.
“She wishes for him to swim in the stream during our excursion. Which means there will be a large, wet, smelly dog in my punt on our return trip. Since you seem to like Hector—and he you—my sister believes you are the only one in our group who might not take offence to sharing a boat with such a malodorous creature.”
“Oh.” A surprised expression crossed Elizabeth’s face, and her eyebrows were still raised when she responded.
“This is my sister Kitty’s gown and of a colour she insists is ‘stifled sigh’.
I would not wish to return it to her irreparably stained.
Besides, would Miss Wright not be a more appropriate choice? ”
An ungentlemanly bark of laughter escaped him.
“I beg your pardon, but, great heavens, no, she would not.” Darcy pictured Miss Wright’s look of disgust were she obliged to sit in a punt with a reeking Newfoundland dog leaning against her, all muddy and wet from slopping about in shallow water.
“I shall do my utmost to ensure that nothing dares to besmirch your sister’s gown.
” It was a muslin, he knew that much, of the palest of lilacs.
Although without fashion, it was becoming on Elizabeth, but, in his opinion, she could wear sackcloth and look ravishing.
They both turned as Miss Wright quickly approached, parasol folded and employed as a walking stick.
“Whatever are you doing, Mr Darcy? I had not realised that you intended to walk in the shrubbery.” There was a disagreeable coldness in her tone.
“Has there been a change of plans? Shall I tell your guests that they are to meet us here?”
“Not at all, madam. We were just about to go back.” He offered an arm to each lady, and they returned to the garden, where the others were, depending on their temperaments, patiently or impatiently waiting, ready to proceed to the dock.
They were, for the most part, a happy party as they all set off together down the shaded woodland footpath.
Miss Wright had refused to let go of Darcy’s arm, so he and she and Georgiana followed directly behind Mr Baker and his factotum, who led the way.
Mr Wright, Miss Margaret, and Miss Baker soon allowed the others to outstrip them, so they lagged behind, while Elizabeth, who had shown no reluctance in relinquishing Darcy’s arm, had gone to walk in the middle of the group with Miss Hughes and Miss Althea.
There were so many interesting scents along the way for a dog to smell and examine that Hector occasionally wandered off, though he never strayed a great distance from Georgiana. Then, as they neared the meadow, he made a series of gruff noises and trotted off into the trees.
Miss Wright clung tighter to Darcy’s arm. “Do you suppose there are dangers lurking hereabouts?” Edging ever closer to him, she turned her head this way and that, searching for signs of peril. “Perhaps there is a wolf lurking behind a tree or a wild boar in the underbrush.”
“Unlikely, madam. In this country, wolves have been extinct since at least the fourteenth century and wild boars, I believe, by the end of the fifteenth.” He moved his body as far away from her as his arm would allow.
“’Tis most likely that Hector heard or smelt a roe deer, badger, polecat, or some such. ”
At his other side, Georgiana softly spoke. “Brother, have you resolved the matter of Hector’s return journey?” The dog, no doubt having heard his name, ambled back to walk at her side as they neared Willow Bourn.
Thinking back to when he and Elizabeth had been at the shrubbery, Darcy wondered whether the seating arrangement had been decided upon. Strictly speaking, she had not agreed to be in his punt. Had she?