Chapter Four #3
“Will she trust us to choose?” Darcy asked skeptically.
Bingley chuckled. “She will trust you.”
“Then St. Albans will be our goal tomorrow. First thing?” Darcy asked.
“I believe they have excellent posting inns where a good breakfast may be had,” Bingley said, nodding rapidly. “I had best inform Brewster that we will leave as soon as we are dressed.”
“We will need an example of the teacups to take with us.”
“Right,” Bingley said, hurrying off and leaving Darcy to look around the empty drawing room with blinking eyes.
“The sooner Georgiana and my cousin arrive, the better,” he murmured before finishing his sherry. He grimaced. And Louisa and her husband.
*
Early Wednesday morning, Jeffry stirred and watched Lizzy feed her animals. He scurried forward when his portion arrived. This looks delicious…yum, yum, yum. After a few moments of enjoyment, Jeffry looked up and discovered his charge had taken Harry outside for his morning walk.
“Ain’t y’going t’follow ‘er?” Bruce the turtle asked Jeffry.
Jeffry, busy at his breakfast, mumbled something even he could not understand.
“What’s that?” Clive demanded.
“I don’t need to,” Jeffry repeated. “She’s in no danger with Harry along.”
The hedgehog peered at him over the enclosure wall. “What about Mr. Darcy?” Mrs. Annie enquired. “Aren’t ye doin’ anything with our Lizzy and Mr. Darcy?”
“Darcy and Bingley are not coming over today so there is nothing for me to do.”
Oh dear, oh dear. Should I be doing something?
“Did you hear that ruckus last night?” Jack asked, twitching his nose. “Lydia and Kitty don’t wish to go to no afternoon party, do they?”
“They only want to go if there’s dancing,” his mate, Jill reminded him.
“It doesn’t seem to us like you’re doing anything t’help Miss Lizzy, Jeffry,” Carl commented.
The guinea pig poked his head up and wrinkled his nose. “This is only my third day here.”
“Why didn’t you sleep on Miss Lizzy’s bed?” one of the squirrels asked.
“Only Harry sleeps in Miss Lizzy’s bedchamber,” the other squirrel reminded his brother.
“That’s too bad, ‘cause Jeffry snores,” Pickle said, shaking his head morosely. The water vole added a further grumble, “I hardly got a wink o’ sleep.”
Jeffry proceeded to eat as loudly as he could in his attempt to drown out the complaints of the other animals as they agreed with Pickle.
Think.
Think.
Think!
What can I do?
How can I help Lizzy?
Jeffry thought and thought, consuming his food as he did so.
What would Aunty do?
Jeffry snorted to himself. Way more than I can do, that’s for certain sure.
With an empty bowl staring him in the face, Jeffry’s nose twitched, and his front feet began to stamp the ground.
“Do you have an idea, finally?” Bruce asked, keeping his head up out of the water so he could speak.
“‘Course he does,” Mrs. Annie said in her warmest, motherly voice.
Jeffry looked first at the hedgehog and then at the turtle. “You’re right. I do have an idea.”
“What is it, then?” Jack demanded, kicking the side of his hutch in his frustration.
“Stop that!” Jill ordered, kicking the side of her own hutch.
Jeffry could not think with all the voices making suggestions, or being officious, or whining in fear.
“Be silent, please.” He put “authority” behind his words, similar to the way Aunty did, and his order reverberated around the orangery.
The other animals stilled. Even the squirrels froze in place on their dead log.
“Thank you.” Jeffry waited a moment to see if his command would remain in place.
When not even a rustle sounded, he told them his idea succinctly.
“I am going to Netherfield to meet the cat.”
The reaction filled the orangery with palpable alarm that broke them free of Jeffry’s command.
“Not the cat!” Jill shouted.
“The terrible kitty!” Dash, the house mouse squeaked. He rushed about his cage, diving beneath this bit of bedding and then another bit, seemingly unable to find reassurance in any of his hiding places. “Beware! Beware!”
“Terrible kitty!” the birds repeated. “Hide!”
“We’re hiding!” the two red squirrels announced together before they scampered into the tree hollow at the top of their log.
“I am not afraid,” Jeffry claimed. He felt his tiny heart race, and he hoped their terror would not infect him.
“Wait until Harry comes back,” Jill said, nodding so vigorously her ears flopped back and forth. “He’ll protect you.”
“We-ell,” Jeffry mused. “That might not be a bad idea.”
Mrs. Annie tsked. “Horrible idea, horrible.”
“Dogs hate cats,” Clive said knowledgeably. In his anxiety, he turned around and around in his enclosure. “As a fox, I know this. Cats hate dogs. And foxes. The feeling is mutual.”
“Not so, not so,” Jeffry replied, shaking his head. “Not always. And I do not think Harry is a dog who hates cats.”
Clive yipped. “But Miss Bingley’s cat might hate dogs.”
“I do not believe Harry will chase Miss Bingley’s cat,” Jeffry reiterated. “The cat will be glad of that courtesy.”
“The cat might jump on the dog. Believe me, I have seen this,” Clive avowed.
“Harry is a calm dog,” Jeffry stated firmly.
“No one likes to be jumped on,” Jack said. “I have been jumped on—that’s how I ended up living in here. I was dreadfully injured.”
The rabbit buck turned around and around in his hutch, clearly agitated. Other animals caught his emotions and became equally disturbed, racing and flitting about.
“Be calm,” Jeffry said in his authoritative voice.
Silence suffused the orangery. He made several circles of his own, scampering about the enclosure.
Finally, calming himself, he said, “I mean to ask Harry about your concerns, and when I do, I would prefer you to remain quiet. If you wish to make a suggestion or to voice your worries, kindly do so in gentle voices.”
“Ask Harry,” one of the birds twittered.
“Good idea,” another one said.
“Ask Harry,” everyone else whispered together, and then silence fell once more.
That’s not creepy at all, Jeffry thought, shivering a little. Putting power behind his mental suggestion, he thought a command. Take a nap.