Chapter Two
“Where are we going, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked.
“We have a mixed flock of goats and sheep,” she explained. “At the moment they are in the paddock behind that barn, over there, next to the raptor aviary. There is a nanny goat who lost her kid. She may be willing to foster this little one.”
“I do not have any goats,” Bingley said. “Should I get some?”
“They tend to mix well with sheep. But you should consult with your shepherd to see if he is comfortable with goats.”
Darcy picked his way from clump to clump of longer grass, hoping to avoid the wetter ground in between. He had not thought to wear the old boots he preferred to wear in farmyards. When his right foot squished down into mud, he thought about the look he would receive from his valet.
The paddock was enclosed by a stone wall with upright sharp stones stuck into the top course in order to keep the sheep and goats from climbing over the wall. In spite of this effort, a white and brown spotted goat stood on top of the wall, staring balefully at them.
“Gerty, get down,” Miss Elizabeth said sternly. Gerty maa-ed. “You heard me.”
The goat jumped down—on the outside of the wall. She marched up to Miss Elizabeth and butted her front. Miss Elizabeth crouched and opened her apron. The goat nuzzled the lamb, who bleated.
To Darcy’s surprise, Harry sat next to him and leaned against his leg. Darcy scratched the top of his head while they looked on.
“He needs your help,” she was saying to the goat. “Will you look after him?”
The goat maa-ed again.
“Excellent. You must keep the others from bullying him.”
Miss Elizabeth carried the lamb to the gate. She opened it carefully, let herself and Gerty inside, and walked a little way into the paddock before she put the lamb down. Gerty called to the lamb, and he followed the nanny goat away.
“Will you look at that,” Bingley breathed from where they stood next to the wall.
“She knows her animals, it seems,” Darcy said, impressed.
Lizzy watched Gerty and the lamb for a moment until he started to eat the grass, then she turned and left the paddock, satisfied. Mr. Bingley held the gate open for her and swiftly closed it afterward.
“Will he be all right here?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she promised. “When shearing time comes in the spring, your shepherd can come and take his fleece. By that time, they may be willing to be separated. Gerty should have a new kid by then, which will help.”
“Why would he not eat?” Mr. Darcy asked.
Lizzy met his gaze, discovering it to be piercing and intelligent. My, but he has a presence about him. She ordered her thoughts to answer his question.
“Lambs separate from their mothers at different times,” she said, indicating that they should return to the house.
“Some lambs are confident and some are not. When his mother died, he lost her support. This little guy needs more support until he can become confident.” Elizabeth glanced down at his feet.
“My dear sir, I should not have brought you out here when you were not suitably shod. Hill will attend to your boots while we have some refreshment.”
“You wish us to sit down in your drawing room in our stocking feet?” Mr. Darcy asked, one of his eyebrows lifted.
“Whyever not? Do you have holes in your stockings?” she asked, surprised. “If you do, it is time for you to get a new valet.”
Mr. Bingley chuckled. “Perhaps we should simply leave without refreshment. I have some errands this morning, and I must change before I pick up your sister later.” He looked around him as though he might see her nearby. “Is…is Miss Bennet at home?”
“I do not know. She may have gone out while I accompanied Harry on his walk. If you wish to leave without tea, that is your right,” Lizzy said, hearing the smile in her voice. “Come, let us go around the house so you can reach your carriage without tracking mud inside.”
“I noticed your fox, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy remarked.
“Clive? Yes, he is a red fox, though I expect you know that already, if you are landowner.”
Lizzy felt a weight she had not noticed in one of her pockets. She covered the rather large lump with one hand. Since Squeaky was small, and this lump was not, it must be another friend from her menagerie. But who? I put no one in here before my walk.
“I am a landowner,” Mr. Darcy supplied. “My family seat, Pemberley House, is in Derbyshire, near Chesterfield. Did…er…Clive, become injured by a farmer?”
“His foot was caught in a trap,” Elizabeth said coldly. “If traps are set, they should be checked regularly.”
“Perhaps it was a poacher?” Mr. Bingley suggested.
In a tart voice, Elizabeth said, “That does not excuse him from humanely dispatching the animal.”
“Oh, of course,” Mr. Bingley said, nodding vigorously.
“How did you find him?” Mr. Darcy asked.
“He was caught in the stretch of riverwood that line the river Mery,” Lizzy said. She heaved a breath and calmed her racing, angry heart. “Children play along there. Any one of them could have been caught by the trap. One of them found Clive and told me about him.”
“Who owns that stretch?” Mr. Bingley asked.
“It belongs to the Marcon estate,” Lizzy told him.
“The forester who manages the woodland on that estate hates foxes.” She eyed both gentlemen as they rounded the side of the house, reaching the front.
“They are rather intelligent creatures, you know. They are responsible for a good deal of vermin control. If they were eradicated from our wild places, we might be overrun with rodents.”
“They are opportunistic hunters,” Mr. Darcy stated as though he meant to close their dialogue on the matter. But then he asked, “Do you mean to keep Clive as a pet once he is mended?”
“He deserves to live free,” Lizzy said, feeling her heart clench. “If he allows it, I will keep him until fox hunting season is over. However, I will release him when it feels right to do so.”
Mr. Bingley winced. “Loving our animals too much is not always a rewarding endeavor.”
“How much is ‘too’ much love, sir?” Lizzy shot back. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and blinked at Mr. Bingley. “Please forgive me for speaking with so much heat.”
“Not at all, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Bingley said, nodding. “I take your point.”
“Ah, there is Mama, waiting for us,” she said. “I expect she will beg you to enter and partake of refreshments. You may be sitting in our breakfast room with your stockinged feet laid bare before you know it.”
“Why is your pocket squirming, Miss Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy asked, coming to a stop to stare at her apron.
“I think it might be Jeffry, though I do not recall putting him in my pocket,” she said, slipping her hand inside and curling it around the animal found there. Drawing him out, she cradled Jeffry against her midriff. “Ah, how did you get inside my pocket?”
“What is he?” Mr. Bingley asked, leaning over to look it over. “Is he a guinea pig?”
“Yes, he is. He arrived earlier today. Harry found him.” Lizzy held him up so they could easily take his measure. “Is he yours, Mr. Bingley? Or yours, Mr. Darcy?”
Both gentlemen shook their heads.
“I am convinced he is someone’s pet, but I do not know whose. I shall have to carry him around with me so I can ask people.”
Mr. Darcy chuckled. “I expect, if you do, that word will soon get about and his owner will come forward.”
Lizzy caught her breath. His features soften pleasantly when he laughs. “You may be right, Mr. Darcy,” she admitted. “Now, shall I introduce you to Mama?”
Without waiting for an answer, Elizabeth led the two gentlemen over to the porch where her mother had been waving her handkerchief at them.
“Hall-oo, Mr. Bingley,” she cried, smiling so widely Lizzy could spy her back teeth. “You naughty boy. I swear you meant to leave without coming in for a visit.”
Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy bowed, and her mama merely nodded.
“Good morning, Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Bingley said. He gestured to his right. “May I present my good friend, Mr. Darcy? He is visiting with me for a time.”
“Mr. Darcy,” her mother said cordially. “Pray, enter and take some refreshment.”
“We have been in the farmyard, madam,” Mr. Darcy said, indicating their dirty boots. “We did not wish to bring muck into your home.”
“What is a little muck, pray?” her mother asked. The look she flashed at Lizzy indicated her vexation with her second daughter.
Mr. Bingley hurried to respond. “We do not wish to make extra work for your housekeeper, madam.”
“Nonsense. Our butler will be happy to clean your boots while we drink some tea.”
“Ma-maaa,” Lizzy said, drawing her name out.
“What?” her mother snapped.
“I am certain Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy would rather trust the care of their boots to their valets.”
In a peevish voice, her mother asked, “Then why did they come calling if not to visit?”
Lizzy sighed. “They came to bring me a lamb to look after.”
“Another one of your dratted creatures?” her mama demanded, and clicked her tongue.
She is disgusted by my animals—as usual. I could not have gotten this love of animals from her.
“Miss Elizabeth is doing me a great favor, ma’am,” Mr. Bingley said, smiling warmly at Lizzy before grinning at her mother.
“I have just begun to keep a flock of sheep and one of them is already poorly. When I purchased the flock, his mother still lived, but she has since died. I am a sorry excuse for a farmer, I know.”
Mrs. Bennet lost her pinched look with the arrival of a sympathetic expression. “My dear sir. No one learns to be a farmer overnight. Well, well, I suppose you must have your way and not come in for tea. I hope to see you this afternoon when you return to take our Jane out for a drive.”