Chapter Twelve #3
“You imagine correctly,” Lizzy said, and then covered her mouth to smother a giggle. “She wants me to find a nice gentleman farmer to marry so I can take all my animals away with me.”
“A gentleman farmer?” he demanded, sounding annoyed.
“Quite a genteel one, I assure you,” Lizzy said, making herself sound prim. Then, she chuckled. “I do not know where she expects me to find one.”
“At market, no doubt,” he said scathingly.
“It will not happen there,” she assured him brightly, wondering at his reaction. Does he care about my future? “Most of the farmers are married and a good many are as old as my father.”
He scowled and fell silent. Lizzy let the quiet hover between them until they reached the lane that ran through Longbourn Village.
“Are you taking me home?” she asked, turning to look up at him.
“Hmm?” he hummed. Glancing down at her, he said, “I beg your pardon. I must have been wool-gathering.”
“It is of no import,” Lizzy said, waving his apology to the side. “If you are in no hurry, let us go to Lucas Manor and see if your sister is ready to go home. If Georgiana is busy playing games, we might visit a little with Sir William and Lady Lucas.”
“An excellent notion.” He glanced at her and suddenly frowned. “Is your apron moving?”
Lizzy gulped and shifted the folded apron until she saw who sat beneath it. “Jeffry,” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”
“He was not there before.”
“No, he was not,” she said, scooping him up to lie against her chest. “I told you, sir. Magic.”
“There is no such thing as a magical guinea pig,” he replied, shaking his head.
“Turn here,” she directed. Then, as they rolled between the Lucas Manor gate posts, Lizzy added, “How can we know? In the Andes, magical guinea pigs might be quite commonplace.”
“If so, no one would eat them,” Mr. Darcy pointed out, his voice dry.
“Goodness,” Lizzy said, pretending to be shocked. “How can you say such a thing in front of Jeffry?”
Mr. Darcy’s lips quirked into a half smile. “If he comes from the wild, I am certain he knows that his kin are being eaten.”
“I am not so certain of that,” Lizzy retorted. “And he may not have come from the wild.”
“Perhaps you are right. It is a long way to the Andes mountains,” he remarked, his lips curving into a full smile.
“I think you are laughing at me,” Lizzy said, scowling at him, but chuckling at the same time.
“Only a little, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Humph,” she expressed.
The gig rolled to a stop, Mr. Darcy set the brake, tied the reins off, and leapt down. Lizzy set her bundle of apron and guinea pig on the seat. Mr. Darcy hurried around and lifted her to the ground. Then, he took her hands gently in his.
“Now, pray do not hate me,” he said softly. “My dear Miss Elizabeth, I swear to never eat any of your pets.”
“Or your own, I hope,” she replied, sounding breathless to her ears.
“Or mine,” he swore. Then, to her utter amazement, Mr. Darcy lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them. After a moment, he released her hands and stepped back. “Shall we take Jeffry into the manor and share him with the Lucas children?”
“Yes,” she said, hoping she sounded as usual. “I put him on the seat.”
Mr. Darcy turned to collect him. He came back to her side, spreading his open hands. “Uh, Miss Elizabeth? I believe Jeffry is off on another adventure.”
“Heavens,” she said, frowning and looking around at the gravel drive and the nearby grass. He was not there. She shaded her eyes and looked up into the sky. “I see no raptors who might have carried him off.”
“It is, as you say, magic,” Mr. Darcy said, his brow furrowed. “How odd.”
*
Jeffry settled on Mary’s lap. He felt her surprise and purred to calm her reaction.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered to him. “How did you get out of your enclosure?”
With no intention of answering either question, he surveyed the Lucas’ family drawing room.
Maria Lucas sat on the gold and blue carpet, behind a painted puppet stage, one hand shoved into a gray papier-maché donkey head and the other shoved into a puppet that looked to be a papier-maché king.
To Jeffry, the story plot seemed to be that the donkey refused to let the king ride him.
Mary and Georgiana sat side-by-side on a sofa, watching the show, the four youngest Lucas children ranged on the floor before them.
Georgiana squealed softly, “It is Jeffry.” Reaching for him, she asked, “May I hold him?”
“Of course you may,” Mary said, lifting him off her lap and handing him to Darcy’s sister.
The next thing Jeffry knew, he was being cuddled into Georgiana’s chest. “He is so soft,” she whispered.
I am soft. Yes, she’s right about that. Why am I here?
Jeffry asked himself. If I must examine my reasoning, then I will admit to myself that I was showing off.
Aunty is going to notice, and I will be in soooo much trouble.
Jeffry sighed inwardly, kicking himself for being such an idiot.
I should’ve gone with Lizzy and Darcy on their drive today.
Now, I don’t know what they spoke about, or how they reacted to each other.
Sure, Lizzy’s choice of reticule had no room for me, but I could have influenced her so she’d take a larger one. Oh, dear, I must stay on task.
“Children,” Georgiana was saying.
Pay attention…what is happening?
“Look what I have here,” she said.
Oh, no, the puppet show is over! Jeffry tensed. And here they come!
“What is it, Miss Darcy?” one of the boys asked, crawling toward them on hands and knees rather than bothering to stand. “Is it a rat?”