Chapter Six
“You are going, and that is all there is to it,” their mama snapped, glaring at her youngest daughters.
“But Papa is not going,” Lydia whined, daring to glare back at her mother.
Lizzy winced and concentrated on buttering her piece of toast.
“Your father does not need practice in how to behave in polite society,” their mother pointed out, her voice harsh.
She stabbed a sausage from the platter and slammed it onto her plate.
“Kitty and Lydia, you must learn to sit still and make polite conversation. No harum-scarum antics from you two. Mary, you need to learn how to make conversation that is not littered with quotes. I forbid you to quote anyone. Or to talk about sick people. No one cares.”
“Yes, Mama,” Mary said, sighing. She put her fork down and looked so downcast Lizzy wanted to embrace her.
“Leave the poor girl alone, Mrs. Bennet,” Papa ordered.
He fixed his stare on his wife. “I agree that the girls need practice in deportment, but I do not agree that you should squash Mary’s character.
” His stare switched from his wife to his youngest daughters.
“I expect you three to emulate Jane and Lizzy’s examples. They will not put a foot wrong.”
At her father’s approbation, a glow of gratitude started to form in Lizzy’s chest.
Kitty’s eyes widened. “Even Lizzy?”
Lydia choked with laughter.
Lizzy’s glow fizzled out.
“Even Lizzy,” their father stressed.
The glow began to grow again.
“But all she ever talks about are animals,” Lydia complained.
“Lydia has a point,” Mama said, shaking her head. “Lizzy, dear, you must make the attempt at conversation that is not centered around animals.”
Lizzy inwardly moaned. I suppose I will simply sit still and say nothing at all. Perhaps we will not stay long.
“But, Mama,” Jane said, blinking rapidly, “what is Lizzy to do if someone asks her about her animals, or wishes to talk about their own pets. You know it is bound to happen.”
“Humph,” Mama intoned, vigorously cutting her food
“Lizzy may speak about animals if someone else initiates the subject,” their papa said in a kindly voice.
“I wish to ask the attendees if they know of anyone who has misplaced a guinea pig,” Lizzy confessed, keeping her voice small.
“Oh, Lord,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes.
Lizzy frowned at her. “Jeffry is a well-cared for animal. I am sure someone is missing him. It is my Christian duty to find his person.”
“I think the subject is perfectly unexceptionable,” Jane stated in a firm voice. She did not quell beneath her mother’s glower, as her general demeanor might have indicated. Her features firmed. “Am I not correct—” Jane turned her gaze from her mother to her father, “—Papa?”
Lizzy swallowed and gazed admiringly at her closest sister.
It was not often that any of the sisters alluded to the fact that their father had married a woman not of his class.
Jane knew that their father had a better knowledge of what was proper than his wife, and chose that moment to remind their mother of the fact.
A champion of her younger sisters, Jane used the weapons in her arsenal when needed in defense of them.
Lizzy knew that though Jane’s soft heart would require her to make time for soothing her mother’s hurt feelings, she would not retract her support of her sister.
“You are quite right, Jane, dear,” Papa said calmly.
“But…but…” their mother said, attempting to dispute his claim, though unable to find the right words.
“Mrs. Bennet, if you are finished with the sausages, would you kindly pass them down the table?” their father asked.
His request closed the discussion. Mary, Kitty, and Lydia would join their sisters and mother in the afternoon.
“Eat up, now,” he ordered Lydia and Kitty. “You must have strength for your study session this morning.”
“Yes, Papa,” both sisters said, reaching for dishes of cold stewed pears and cream.
*
Jeffry contemplated his empty food dish. Have I really eaten everything already? Goodness, I’m going to put on weight at this rate, and Aunty will scarcely recognize me. He twitched his nose and backed away from his dish, beginning to twirl around and around in his anxiety.
When is Aunty coming?
Is she still ill?
When will she feel well enough to take over here?
I am going to fail.
There’s no way I can do this by myself. I’m going to fail.
“Look at the guinea pig,” Jack shouted to the other animals in the orangery. “He’s acting crazy.”
“Why?” the fox asked.
Jeffry stopped twirling and scampered into his tunnel, where he cowered inside out of sight for a few minutes while he calmed down enough to focus.
I am not going to fail.
Everything is in hand.
Today, I will go with Lizzy to the afternoon party.
Today, I will meet Caroline Bingley and see what we are up against. How is she different in this timeline? Will she interfere in our efforts on behalf of Darcy and Lizzy?
Jeffry sighed.
I wish Aunty were here.
*
Georgiana walked slowly from her bedchamber toward the main staircase. She spied Caroline’s cat padding along the opposite corridor, coming toward the stairs, his startling orange eyes staring balefully at her.
“Bonjour, Basile,” Georgiana said in a coaxing voice, crouching down in case he permitted her to pet him. “You are such a beautiful kitty.”
“Le meow,” the cat said as greeting. He rubbed his cheek against the top baluster as he ignored her outstretched hand.
“Are you coming downstairs to eat?” she asked, straightening. “Pour le dejeuner, avec Caroline?”
As though understanding her completely, Basile raced down the stairs ahead of Georgiana. She heard a footfall behind her, and looked over her shoulder, discovering Cousin Douglas, dressed in his uniform, coming toward her.
“Good morning, Cousin,” she said, smiling.
“Good morning, Georgiana. Do you think that cat understood you?” He reached her side and offered his arm.
“Caroline swears he understands,” Georgiana said, putting her hand on his arm and reaching for the banister. They proceeded to walk down the stairs. “She has spoken both English and French to him since his kittenhood. Mr. Bingley thinks Basile meows in French.”
Her cousin chuckled. “I have seen dogs and horses respond to commands in the language in which they were trained. It must be the same with cats.”
“A similar phenomenon to human babies,” Georgiana responded.
“Indeed.”
“I hope Fitz gets back soon,” she revealed.
“He might arrive by noon,” her cousin said. “Or before, if he sets out at dawn.”
“I pray it will be before.”
“Are you feeling anxious?”
Georgiana could hear the concern in his voice and forced a sunny smile onto her face. “I think Mr. Bingley is keeping a secret about Fitz’s trip to London. He smiles overmuch.”
“He likes to smile, no doubt,” her cousin acknowledged. “It is possible Darcy merely wished to join us on the journey and meant to surprise us with his company.”
“I suppose we shall discover the truth when he arrives,” Georgiana replied. They stepped onto the marble floor and glanced around. “Do they break their fast in the main dining room? Or do they use a second dining room?”
Her cousin gestured to a footman, who hurried forward. He asked, “Where might we find your mistress or master?”
“This way, sir,” the footman said, turning to lead them across the hall. He opened a door and stepped to one side.
Georgiana and her cousin entered. Mr. Bingley immediately stood and bowed slightly.
“Good morning, Miss Darcy,” he said, beaming. “I thought you might sleep later.” He turned to his sister, who sat at the opposite side of the intimate table. Basile waited impatiently beside her chair. “Did you not, Caroline?”
His sister smiled. “I did.” She gestured at the sideboard.
“Pray, serve yourselves.” Speaking to the cat, she said, “Yes, yes, Basile, sweety. Chef made us some steamed tench today. Here is some for you, my dear boy.” Georgiana watched Miss Darcy put a saucer of flaked fish onto the floor. “Is Chef not a favorite of yours?”
Basile settled himself onto his stomach and addressed his meal with delicate relish.
Georgiana approached the sideboard with her cousin.
Brewster stood next to it and handed them plates.
After thanking him, she immediately took some of the tench.
She adored fish and spooned creamy lemon and parsley sauce over the white flesh.
“Do you wish an egg?” her cousin asked, holding out a spoon with a poached egg on it. “I expect the sauce will be nice with it.”
“Yes, please,” she said, accepting an egg. She spooned more sauce over it. Afterward, she took a slice of pound cake and a dish of orange supreme segments. Georgiana moved toward the table, choosing to sit on the right of Mr. Bingley.
“Would you care to assist me in preparing for the party we are hosting this afternoon?” Miss Bingley asked her.
Georgiana ducked her head and said, “I would be delighted to be of assistance.”
“Excellent,” Miss Bingley said, nodding sharply.
Picking up her fork, Georgiana began to eat, thinking that if only Miss Bingley’s demeanor matched Mr. Bingley’s, she might be less anxious to be here without her brother at hand.
I pray Fitz will not marry her. She behaves in an overbearing, desperate sort of manner that is most off-putting.
Four seasons without finding a husband is surely the source of her desperation.
If Miss Bingley means to wait until Fitz proposes, I desperately hope she will be disappointed.
I think he must be looking for quite a different sort of lady or he would have asked Miss Bingley already.
Not Cousin Anne, though. I doubt she means to marry at all.
“How is dear Lady Orillia?” Miss Bingley asked, signaling for Brewster to bring her some more coffee.
Georgiana looked at her cousin in mute appeal. He nodded once and answered the question.
“My mother enjoys excellent health, and is looking forward to the Little Season,” Cousin Douglas said pleasantly. “My youngest sister is being presented in the spring.”