Chapter Five
When Lizzy arrived home an hour later, she discovered all her animals asleep except for Jeffry.
“Odd,” she whispered, closing the outside door softly. After she checked on her animals, she said, “Come Harry. Let me brush you. Everyone is sleeping so we must be quiet. I will just put off my outer things.”
Her extremely hairy dog sat on the mat next to the stool where Lizzy settled, a basket of grooming tools on the floor beside her.
She picked out a fine wire brush. Carefully, and gently, she divided his hair into hanks and began the laborious task of brushing his hair.
She brushed him thoroughly twice a week.
If she waited too long before brushing him, poor Harry’s hair became matted and full of debris.
Harry turned his head and licked her face.
“Thank you,” Lizzy whispered. “You know, Harry, I rather like that Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley, too, of course—I imagine everyone must love him on sight.” She hummed a few bars of no song in particular before she softly added, “I do not imagine it is the same with his friend. He has the look of someone who is difficult to get to know. Prideful, perhaps? Though I have seen no evidence of that trait as yet.” Lizzy tapped his front foot and Harry lifted it for her ministrations.
“He did not have to tell me his idea about the tin cup—he could have kept it to himself.”
Harry sneezed.
“Indeed, Conny likes him, too,” Lizzy said quietly as though her dog had made a remark.
“I wish I had asked him some questions about his family. I do not even know if he has any siblings.” She tapped the next paw.
When he placed it on her lap, she added, “How odd would that be, hmm? To have no siblings, I mean.”
Squeaky climbed out of her apron pocket and found himself a place to sit on Harry’s back, his long tail wrapped around himself.
“Did you like Mr. Darcy?” she asked her field mouse. He seemed to shrug. “You are right, I suppose. We have only met him twice. Perhaps I will meet him again at Miss Bingley’s afternoon party. Thank the good Lord another invitation came for Mary, Kitty, and Lydia.”
To Lizzy’s fanciful mind Squeaky appeared to nod.
“Are you talking to your animals again?” Jane asked.
Lizzy smiled and looked up as her sister walked toward Lizzy through the orangery.
“Just to Harry and Squeaky,” Lizzy admitted. “The others appear to be asleep.”
Jane glanced around, her eyebrows high. “All of them? Even the birds and the squirrels?”
“Not Jeffry, though. It is quite astounding.”
“Are you almost finished brushing Harry?” Jane asked, looking back down at the dog. “He is looking fine.”
“I am.”
“How is Mr. Bingley’s lamb?”
“Exceedingly well. He treats Gerty like she has always been his mother.”
“Mr. Bingley will be so pleased.”
Lizzy patted Harry, and he wandered off the mat, accepted a pat from Jane, and found a place looking down into Jeffry’s enclosure. He sat back on his haunches, seemingly waiting for something.
“Are you going for another drive with Mr. Bingley today?” Lizzy asked, rising from the stool and collecting all the hair, leaves, sticks, and mud she had combed out of Harry’s coat.
“We made no plans,” Jane admitted. “Are you ready to come and eat? I thought Mama might have had a fit when she entered the breakfast room and you were not waiting there.”
“I wish they would not wait,” Lizzy said, sighing. “I could always get something in the kitchen.” She dumped the debris into a barrel.
“‘In civilized households…’” Jane began, quoting their mother. “In truth, Mama came down early, so you are not that late.”
“Hoping to catch me out, I suppose,” Lizzy said. She clicked her tongue, removed her dirty outdoor shoes, and slipped on a pair of sturdy indoor slippers. “I am ahead of her today.” She waved at her day gown. “I dressed appropriately ahead of time, and I did not run at all.”
“You look perfectly fine for a family meal,” Jane praised. “But I suggest you remove that apron and wash your hands so you do not smell like Harry when you come to the table.”
“I will,” Lizzy said, untying her apron, hanging it up, and moving to the washstand. She scrubbed her hands, dried them, and followed Jane.
Once they entered the front hall, Lizzy watched Dorcus, the scullery maid assigned to the orangery, hurry into the space to collect Lizzy’s pelisse, bonnet, and gloves.
By the time Lizzy needed to go outside again, the boot boy would have cleaned her sturdy walking shoes and replaced them next to the boots she wore in the farmyard.
*
Jeffry looked up from his nest of forest floor debris and observed the huge hairy dog. As soon as the humans left the orangery, he cocked his head at Harry.
“Will you walk with me to Netherfield so I can meet the cat?”
Harry’s eyebrows shot up. In a slow, ponderous voice, he replied, “Do you mean Basile? Or one of the barn cats?”
“Is Basile the name of Caroline Bingley’s cat?” Jeffry asked.
“Yes.” Harry chuffed.
“That is who I must meet.”
“I will take you,” Harry said. He put his head over the enclosure barrier, opening his mouth to take the guinea pig in his mouth.
Jeffry backed up. “No, not in the mouth again. I will ride on your back.”
Harry’s mouth snapped shut, making Jeffry shiver. In a trice, Jeffry had disappeared and reappeared on Harry’s back.
“Let us go before the others wake up and ask all sorts of questions,” Jeffry directed. “Can you open the outside door?”
“I can,” Harry promised, turning and heading toward the glass orangery door. “Look in the glass, Jeffry. How odd we look.”
“Goodness. Well, we had best go across country and avoid all humans.”
“It is faster that way, too,” Harry acknowledged. He lifted a paw and manipulated the handle so the door opened. Once outside, he nosed the door shut. “Do we run, or just trot?”
“No running,” Jeffry ordered. “I have had enough running from Lizzy, thank you very much.”
“She likes to run,” Harry said phlegmatically. “I like to run with her. Most humans stop running for pleasure when they grow up. It must be a sad time for them.”
“I like to run,” Jeffry mentioned. “But not when I am on top of others.”
Harry approached the home wood. “Do you want to get down and run with me?”
“Guinea pigs only run two to three miles per hour. You can run ten times faster than I can. I could not keep up.”
The dog did not reply to this information. Instead, he trotted at a steady speed, covering a mile of ground without stopping. When they reached the Mery river, Harry paused at a shallow spot to take a drink.
“How can we get across the river?” Jeffry asked.
Harry pulled his muzzle out of the river. “The river is not very deep here so I usually swim across.”
“I will meet you on the other side,” Jeffry said, and then disappeared from Harry’s back.
He waited under a bush, watching Harry swim across the river.
When the dog arrived on the bank, he climbed out of the river and shook himself mightily.
Water drops sprayed in all directions. Jeffry backed up, narrowly avoiding getting wet.
“I am dry now,” Harry said, pushing his nose under the bush. “I see you in there. Do you want to get back on me?”
Jeffry eyed him warily. “You do not look dry.”
“Dry enough,” Harry asserted.
“I doubt it.” Jeffry scurried out into the open. “Hold still, please.”
Harry pulled his head back from beneath the bush. “I’m ready.”
Jeffry spirited himself up onto Harry’s damp back. “Can we travel in the sun?”
Harry chuffed his agreement and trotted toward a patch of sunlight. “We’ll be there soon. Can you magic yourself into the house? Basile does not come outside often, and only into the kitchen garden when his mistress is with him.”
“Have you met him?”
“Me? Not a chance. There’s a jackdaw who talks to me, though,” Harry explained. “She tries to taunt the cat, and says that Basile ignores her. He prefers mice to birds.”
Netherfield soon loomed before them. Harry took Jeffry to the front door, which was closed. No humans were about.
“Leave me here,” Jeffry ordered. “But do not go home without me.”
“I will visit with the shepherd and his dog,” Harry said. “Can you find me when you are ready?”
“I can.” Jeffry disappeared from his back and stood beside him on the porch,
“The humans will see you when you get inside,” Harry warned. “There are many servants.”
“They will not see me,” Jeffry stated.
“As you say,” Harry said, turning and trotting away toward the side of the house.
Jeffry concentrated on the cat and transported himself into the house, arriving on a bed where the cat lay sleeping. He glanced around the bedchamber, saw that they were alone, and became visible.
“Ahem,” he said, attempting to wake the gray cat. “Basile?”
The cat opened his orange eyes and gazed sleepily at Jeffry. Basile blinked once, and leapt backwards a foot, landing too close to the edge of the bed. He scrambled, but lost the war and landed on the carpeted floor.
“Who are you?” Basile demanded in his French accent, jumping back onto the bed. He blinked at him and twitched his nose. “What are you?”
“I am Jeffry, and I’m a guinea pig.”
“You don’t look like a pig,” Basile replied, suspicion in his voice. He eyes narrowed. “I zink you are a giant, fat mouse.”
“I have no tail.”
“A tailless, giant fat mouse.” Basile lowered himself into a pouncing position. “Or an ‘airy, tailless rat.”
“You can stop that right now,” Jeffry warned him, frowning. “I am not either of those. I am a guinea pig, unique from those two rodents.”
“I expect you taste even better,” Basile said, grinning in anticipation. “Délicieux.”
“I expect I do taste delicious, but you won’t be finding out. Behave yourself,” Jeffry ordered, pushing some of his authority into the last two words.
Basile relaxed, sat up, and began to lick his paw and wash himself as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
“I’ve come to talk about your Caroline and Mr. Darcy.”
Basile’s paw stopped moving. “What about zem?”
“Mr. Darcy is for Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Not for Caroline.”
“Who says?” Basile demanded.