Chapter Eight
Jeffry appeared in front of the cat who sat in an alcove in the corridor near the drawing room. Basile was sniggering, his tail wrapped around him as he sat. As soon as he noticed the newcomer, he jumped and glared at the guinea pig.
“You think you’re rather clever, don’t you?” Jeffry asked, seething with annoyance. He did not wish to point out the cat’s strategic error, but if he did not, Basile might trip Lizzy at the top of the stairs, resulting in a disastrous injury—if not worse.
“I am clever,” Basile retorted.
“Tripping Lizzy will not make Darcy love your Caroline,” Jeffry stated.
“My Caroline is graceful. Zat Bennet girl is clumsy—like an oaf,” Basile scoffed.
Jeffry’s teeth chattered with his anger. “Anyone will trip if provoked.”
Basile sniffed and blinked swiftly.
“Darcy now sees Lizzy as a female he must protect,” Jeffry pointed out. “His male instinct is aroused toward her, and his animosity is directed at your Caroline.”
“What? But why?” Basile demanded, rising to all fours. “Caroline did nozzing to your Lizzy.”
“Caroline has a pet she did not bother to keep out of the way of her guests,” Jeffry explained sharply.
Basile licked his nose once before saying, “That’s foolish zinkin’. Caroline cannot control me. I am a cat.”
“She might have shut you in her bedchamber,” Jeffry argued.
“Mon Dieu, you speak of my Caroline’s mistakes, while your Lizzy brought a rodent to a party!” Basile spat.
“No one saw me,” Jeffry responded, his whiskers twitching. “I am warning you, cat. Do not try anything like that again.”
Basile crouched and hissed. “Your warnin’s ‘ave zero meanin’ to me. Zero.”
Jeffry rubbed his front paws together, twitched his nose, and instantly every hair on Basile’s body stood up, making him look like a gray ball of fur.
“Le yeoooww,” he howled, jumping back a few feet. The cat raced away, disappearing around a corner.
Jeffry watched him go, satisfaction swelling his pride. However, in the next instant he felt hands around his body, sweeping him up into the air and next to Lizzy’s scented chest.
“What are you doing out here?” Lizzy asked. “Were you tormenting the cat? Somehow, I do not think Basile could do the same to you.”
Jeffry purred, and she chuckled. A maid approached, a folded cloth on a tray.
“Back in my reticule you go before Mama catches me with you,” she said in a firm voice. “And this cloth is for my head.”
In a trice, he snuggled back into her reticule. Once the drawstrings closed, Jeffry winked out, taking himself to the orangery and his enclosure. He checked around, discovered nothing untoward, and disappeared before Jack could make any withering remarks.
Aunty’s cottage comforted him even though he smelled camphor mixed with rosehip tea. He had arrived on the stool in front of the fireplace—his usual spot to warm himself. Hopping down, he scurried into the bedroom to check on Aunty.
The round lump in the bed rolled toward him. First one eye and then the other opened, staring blearily at him.
“Oh, it’s you, is it?” Aunty sniffed.
“Me, yes. You’re not better.”
“As you see,” she said, sighing and shifting under the bedclothes. “How’s everythin’ at Longbourn?”
“This Lizzy loves animals,” Jeffry reported. “Georgiana is visiting Netherfield this time around.”
“Ah. I thought she might,” Aunty said, and then paused to cough. She reached out and took a mug off the side table. She gulped back some of the rosehip tea Jeffry smelled. After replacing the mug, she fixed him with a gimlet glare. “That cat is givin’ you trouble.”
“He is. Basile fancies himself a matchmaker.” Jeffry chortled. “He has no experience and is making a poor job of it.”
“Are you usin’ yer authority?”
Jeffry wheeked and turned around in a circle. “I have. Lizzy has a menagerie of very silly animals. The birds talk too much, the fox fancies himself a rough customer, and the rabbit buck…don’t get me started on him.”
“Will they help you?”
Jeffry’s ears wiggled. “They want to help, but they are all in cages. What can they do?” His nose twitched. “Harry has been useful—as transportation. But, now that I have been to Netherfield, I do not need Harry either.”
“Let the animals charm Georgiana,” Aunty advised. She snuggled deeper into the bed, closing her eyes. “Don’t forget…Mary needs a friend.”
“I won’t.”
“Now, go. I have to sleep.”
*
Sitting down to break her fast with her family on Friday, the day after the party, Lizzy remarked, “Was not the tea yesterday delightful?”
“What kind did they serve you?” her Papa asked. “Something new?”
Jane supplied the answer when she saw that Lizzy had her mouth full with curried eggs. “New to us—congou. Have you had it before, Papa?”
“I have,” he admitted.
“I do not know how you can have had a delightful time yesterday,” Lydia said, shaking her head. “Falling to the floor in front of everyone was ignominious.”
“Word of the day, Lyd?” Mary asked mockingly.
“It means humiliating,” Lydia replied tartly. “I am not so stupid as you think, Mary.”
“That is a good thing to know,” Mary replied, her tone dry.
“You did not mention a fall at dinner last night, Lizzy,” Papa said, frowning a little.
“She tripped over Miss Bingley’s cat,” Kitty piped up. “Lizzy hit her head.”
“I am fine, Papa,” Lizzy assured her father. “I put a cold compress on my head, so even the bump is gone already.”
“Good. I am surprised to hear that the cat tripped you,” he said. “Animals usually like you.”
“Too much so,” Mama said, her nostrils flaring.
“It must have been an accident,” Papa said, appearing satisfied with his explanation.
It was no accident, Lizzy thought.
“Mr. Darcy proved to be quite solicitous,” Jane said. “He helped her up, and sat her on the sofa, and then procured some sweet tea for her.”
“Miss Darcy helped, too,” Mary pointed out. “I liked her.” She looked at their youngest sister and said, “She is taller than you.”
“Truly a Long Meg,” Mama said. “She will have trouble finding men tall enough to stand up with her at the balls after she is presented. Lydia, my dear, you are the perfect height. Pay no heed to Mary’s teasing.”
Kitty glared at Mary. “She is jealous.”
Mary curled her lip, but kept silent while she ate.
“Miss Darcy is coming here today to see my animals,” Lizzy told the table.
“You must bring her to my bookroom,” Papa directed. “I would like to meet her.”
“Yes, Papa,” Lizzy said. Feeling inspired, she met Mary’s gaze, saying, “Would you like to join us, Mary?”
“Me?” her sister asked, sounding suspicious.
“If you have other plans, I quite understand, but if not, please join us.”
Mary frowned and looked at Jane. “If you are there, why does Lizzy need me?”
“I am going driving with Mr. Bingley,” Jane explained.
“Oh.” Mary scowled and muttered, “Second best, as usual.”
“Mary,” Lizzy said with a sigh. “I thought you liked Miss Darcy. That is why I asked you to join us. I hope you will.” She left it at that and addressed a different sister. “Kitty, will you pass me the quince and apple compote?”
Kitty passed her the bowl, saying, “You did not ask us to join you.”
“You and Lydia never seem interested in my animals. Also, I thought you would be busy with your studies when Miss Darcy arrives.”
“I will have cook prepare refreshments for one o’clock,” Mama said. “You will all be able to visit then. I wish I had not arranged to go into town and attend my sister, but I promised her. Since Jane will be out, Lizzy, you must be hostess.”
“Of course, Mama,” Lizzy said. “Thank you for speaking to Cook.”
“We cannot be seen to be stingy with our hospitality,” Mama said simply.
*
Darcy felt his sister squeeze his arm as he tooled his gig through the gates of Longbourn House.
“What a pretty house,” she said. “I love Pemberley, but I have often thought a manor house to be a cozier alternative.”
“I understand,” Darcy said. “Perhaps you shall marry a gentleman who has a cozier home.”
He felt her shudder and felt a qualm. What if her experience with Wickham has ruined her view of potential suiters?
Will she give them a proper trial to see if they might be a good choice?
Darcy pressed his lips together. She is still not ready to be launched into society. She needs more time to recover.
“What is wrong?” Georgiana asked.
“I hope you are not too disappointed that I am putting off your presentation until you are eight-and-ten?”
“Not at all,” Georgiana told him, smiling broadly, relief in her eyes. “I am happy to remain a girl for another year and a half. I am not so confident in my dancing, as you know. I wish to be truly proficient by the time I attend balls and routs.”
“Very sensible,” Darcy said as he pulled on the reins, bringing them to a stop in front of the red-brick facade. “Next autumn, we will attend a few assemblies in Buxton, where you may be comfortable amongst our neighbors and friends. The assemblies will be good preparation for your London season.”
“Very well. I like the Bennet’s green door,” Georgiana mentioned. “Such a deep color.”
“As do I.” Darcy put on the brake and climbed out of the gig.
Once on his sister’s side, he reached up and helped her to descend. A middle-aged groom hurried around the side of the house. He touched his cap.
“Should I walk ‘im, sir?”
“No, unhitch the carriage and look after the horse.”
“Right ye are, sir.”
The door opened, then, and the butler stepped out to greet them.
He bowed and said, “Good morrow sir, miss.”
“This is Hill, my dear. Hill, this is my sister, Miss Darcy.”
“Welcome to Longbourn House, Miss Darcy,” Hill said, moving to one side so they might pass him and enter the house.
Once inside, a housekeeper stood waiting to take Georgiana’s bonnet and pelisse.
“I am Mrs. Hill, miss,” she said, taking the bonnet when Georgiana passed it to her, and then folding the pelisse over her arm.
Miss Elizabeth hurried into the front hall, her apron around her. Her sister, Miss Mary, also wearing an apron, trailed her. Both stopped to curtsy. Darcy bowed his shoulders, and Georgiana curtsied.