Chapter Seven
Lizzy, squashed between her mother and Mary, dearly hoped her day dress would not be too severely creased by the time they arrived at Netherfield.
She exchanged a long-suffering look with Jane who sat opposite from her, across the carriage.
Jane, who had chosen to sit between Lydia and Kitty in order to reduce the amount of giggling and moaning from the two, smiled at her and Lizzy smiled back.
“Do you two have secrets?” Lydia demanded with sudden suspicion.
“What secrets?” Kitty asked eagerly.
“We have no secrets,” Jane told them, her tone even and designed to quell their curiosity.
“None at all,” Lizzy added, shaking her head firmly.
“I am not convinced,” Lydia said slowly, her eyes narrowed. “Mary, what is that quote? It starts with ‘Methinks’. I cannot remember the rest.”
Mary took in a deep breath and huffed it out, rolling her eyes. “You are wrong. It does not start with ‘Methinks’, it ends with it.”
“Well, what is it, then?” Lydia demanded.
“It is from Hamlet, by William Shakespeare,” Mary explained. “‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’”
“That is the one,” Lydia crowed, pointing at Lizzy.
“I merely said a single sentence,” Lizzy protested. “How can that be considered too much?”
“Girls,” their mother said, her voice firm. “Your foolish prattle is giving me the headache. Look, we are turning onto the Netherfield grounds. We are almost at the party. For the sake of my poor head, stop teasing each other.”
The reticule on Lizzy’s lap suddenly felt too heavy. It moved, too. Oh, dear. Not Jeffry again! Why can he not stay put in his enclosure? Why did I not notice him before?
“What is that?” Kitty asked, nodding at Lizzy’s lap.
“What are you talking about?” Lizzy asked, hoping she looked puzzled, not guilty.
“Your reticule moved,” Kitty accused.
“It was only the jostling of the carriage,” Lizzy claimed. “You are imagining things.”
“I think you have one of your animals in there,” Lydia said, reaching across the space as though to snatch the reticule off of Lizzy’s lap.
Lizzy leaned back and lifted the reticule up against her chest.
Their mother’s angry gasp almost rocked the carriage. “Elizabeth Dorothea Bennet! You better not have an animal in there! Give me that reticule!”
Lizzy thought she heard a wheek before her reticule lightened. Jeffry. Lizzy obediently presented her colorfully embroidered bag to her mother.
Their mother yanked on the drawstrings until the top of the reticule opened enough for her to easily see inside.
Kitty eagerly leaned forward. “What have you found, Mama?”
“I have found a handkerchief, a small bottle of smelling salts, a piece of paper folded around some straight pins—”
“—and what, Mama?” Lydia interrupted. She smirked at Lizzy.
“And…nothing,” her mother admitted, passing the reticule back to Lizzy.
Lizzy put it back in her lap and stared blandly across at Lydia and Kitty. “As I said, it was just the movement of the carriage.”
Kitty and Lydia did not appear convinced.
Fortunately, the carriage rolled to a stop.
Their groom opened the door and the ladies poured out, following their mother onto the front steps of Mr. Bingley’s home.
Lizzy’s mama permitted them a moment to shake out their skirts and check their hair before she led the way up the steps, where they discovered the front door open.
The butler stood in the opening and bowed to them.
“I am Brewster, madam, and misses. You may give your bonnets and pelisses to the maids,” he said pleasantly. After they had done so, he said, “Kindly follow me.”
Lizzy and Jane had been inside Netherfield before the Bingleys leased it, and they gazed around to see if anything had changed since their residency. The landscape paintings on the walls appeared to be the same. The home looked immaculate, too—a testament to their staff.
“It is a lovely home,” Jane murmured to Lizzy. “They must be glad of their housekeeper. I do not think I have ever seen it so…so…”
“Gleaming?” Lizzy offered softly.
“Yes.” Jane nodded to the top of the stairs. “A potential friend?”
Lizzy followed her gaze and spied a beautiful gray cat staring down at the visitors.
“Goodness. He does have orange eyes,” Jane observed. “How handsome he is.”
The butler led them up the stairs, and the closer they got to the cat, the more he seemed to look down on them.
“He is the king of this castle,” Lizzy observed. She bowed her head to the cat as they reached him. “Your majesty.”
“I see you have been honored by Basile’s regard, miss,” Brewster said, pausing until all the Bennets had reached the corridor at the top of the first flight of stairs.
“He is exceedingly handsome,” Lizzy observed.
She leaned over to see if he would let her pet him.
However, he only had eyes for her reticule.
His eyes narrowed, and he batted it. Lizzy leaned even closer to the cat and whispered to him.
“You leave my reticule alone, sire. It has a guinea pig inside whom I think is magical. You will not wish to cross him, I assure you.”
“Le meow,” Basile said, twitching his nose and backing away a step, appearing both surprised and wary.
Lizzy chuckled and straightened.
“Are you quite finished communing with that animal?” her mother hissed.
“Yes, Mama,” Lizzy said, smiling at her annoyed parent.
Her mother sniffed and indicated that Brewster should proceed.
They soon reached the drawing room, discovering it contained guests whom they knew.
Bowls of colorful chrysanthemums dotted the room.
Brewster announced them and withdrew. Miss Bingley approached and curtsied slightly.
The Bennet sisters curtsied, but Mrs. Bennet merely nodded, smiling widely.
“Welcome to my little tea salon,” Miss Bingley said—a trifle stiffly, Lizzy thought. “Pray, come in and enjoy the company.”
“Thank you, Miss Bingley,” Mama said. She indicated her daughters. “I know you are acquainted with our Jane and Lizzy, but I am not certain if you have met my three youngest daughters, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia.”
Miss Bingley nodded to the younger sisters, who nodded back.
“Look, Maria is here,” Lydia said, grabbing Kitty’s arm. “Excuse us, Miss Bingley. We see a particular friend of ours.”
Miss Bingley waved them toward the room. Lydia and Kitty raced away, making no attempt at decorous walking. Their mother spied one of her friends and hurried away, leaving Lizzy and her two remaining sisters standing beside Miss Bingley.
“Excuse me, Miss Bingley,” Lizzy said, drawing her hostess’ gaze. “We just met your cat, Basile. I must say, he is gorgeous.”
“Thank you. He is French, a Chartreux.”
“Yes, indeed. And he meows in French, too,” Lizzy observed. “His eye color is most striking.”
“I quite agree,” Miss Bingley said in a warmer voice. “I understand you have many animals. Do you count a cat amongst them?”
“We have barnyard cats,” Lizzy explained, “but no housecat. I do not think a cat could be kept from my menagerie in our orangery, which includes birds and rodents.”
“Lizzy has a guinea pig now,” Mary mentioned as she clutched tightly to the strings of her reticule. “Do you know anyone who is missing their pet guinea pig, Miss Bingley?”
Their hostess turned her implacable stare on Mary. “I do not think I have ever seen one, and I do not know anyone who owns such an animal. Not here, nor anywhere else.”
“That is a shame,” Jane chimed in. “He is quite friendly, and his owner must miss him terribly.”
Lizzy’s heart warmed at the solidarity her sisters displayed on her behalf. “If you would like to meet Jeffry, I can show him to you when you visit us.”
From her expression, I doubt Miss Bingley will ever visit us if she has a choice.
“I am looking forward to trying a new tea blend,” Mary said, stepping into the silence that followed Lizzy’s promised treat. “What blend is it?”
“Congou,” Miss Bingley said. “Excuse me, ladies.”
Lizzy and her sisters watched Miss Bingley leave them to greet some newcomers.
“Pardon me, ladies,” a male voice said from behind them.
Mr. Darcy. My, his voice is nice—like honeyed milk tea.
The three sisters turned as one and curtsied to Mr. Darcy. He had a well-formed, attractive young woman on his arm, who appeared to be Kitty or Mary’s age. She had the advantage in height to even Lydia. Mr. Darcy bowed, and his companion curtsied.
“May I introduce my sister to you?” he asked pleasantly. “Georgiana, this is Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and Miss Mary Bennet.”
“Hello,” Miss Darcy said, a nervous smile on her lips. “I am pleased to meet you.”
“We are delighted to make your acquaintance,” Jane said. “Have you only recently arrived in Meryton, Miss Darcy?”
She nodded and said, “I arrived yesterday.” After smiling again at Mary and Jane, Miss Darcy’s gaze met Lizzy’s. “May we have a moment to speak with you, Miss Elizabeth?”
Lizzy exchanged glances with her sisters. Jane took Mary’s arm and led her away into a group who included Mr. Bingley.
“Harry came to visit us earlier,” Mr. Darcy mentioned.
“Did he?” Lizzy asked, lifting her eyebrows.
“We were walking in the garden,” Miss Darcy explained.
“I hope he did not jump on you,” Lizzy said, wincing in what she hoped was a comical way.
Miss Darcy took her words seriously, however. “Oh, no. Harry behaved in a perfectly gentleman-like way.”
“I am grateful for that. Do you have a dog, Miss Darcy?” Lizzy asked.
“We have multiple dogs, but they do not come in the house,” Mr. Darcy explained for his sister. “We thought you might be able—and willing—to find a smaller dog for Georgiana.”
“One who is permitted in the house?” Lizzy glanced from him to his sister. Georgiana appeared hopeful and eager. “Do you wish me to find you a puppy?”
Mr. Darcy shook his head, but Lizzy had the feeling Miss Darcy longed for a puppy. After a moment’s thought, she said, “Perhaps what you need is a young dog who is housetrained.”
“He must be a calm dog,” Mr. Darcy pressed, looking from her to his sister and then back to her, widening his eyes a trifle.