Chapter Thirteen
A rat? A rat! Do I have a long, skinny, naked tail? I do not, thank you very much.
“No, it is not a rat,” Mary informed them. “He is something new. Harry brought him home a few days ago.”
“What is it, Miss Mary?” one of the girls asked. “Is it a baby bunny?”
That’s better than a rat, at least.
“Not a baby bunny, either,” Georgiana revealed. She pulled a cushion over and settled him on it.
“Goodness,” another girl said, pointing at him, “he has no ears.”
I do so have ears. What ignorant children.
“He does have ears, silly,” the first boy said. “But they are small.”
And perfectly formed, too.
“What is he, Georgiana?” Maria Lucas asked, abandoning her puppets and looming over them. “Oh, I know. Is this Jeffry, the guinea pig?”
“Yes,” Georgiana said. Jeffry heard the smile in her voice. “This is Jeffry.”
“Can we pet him?” one of the little girls asked.
“Yes, can we?” the other children chorused together.
Here they come. Stay strong.
“Gently, and one at a time,” Mary told them. “Pretend he is a tiny kitten and pet him like that.”
Now I’m a kitten? I should have gone to Netherfield and pestered that cat, Basile.
Jeffry wheeked, which made the children jump, and then fall into giggles.
Lizzy and Mr. Darcy entered the family drawing room, discovering that all the Lucas children were crowded around the sofa, arguing about whose turn it was to pet Jeffry.
“I should have brought Squeaky,” she said in an aside to her companion.
“Do they like mice better?” Mr. Darcy asked.
Lizzy chuckled. “They know Squeaky better, and the petting could have been shared around.”
“We must endure,” he murmured.
“I think Jeffry is the one enduring,” Lizzy told him.
Maria crossed the drawing room, holding out her hands. “Welcome, Lizzy.”
Lizzy grasped her hands, and they kissed each other’s cheeks. Breaking away, Lizzy indicated Mr. Darcy.
“Do you remember Mr. Darcy?”
Maria curtsied, and Mr. Darcy bowed his shoulders. “Welcome to the Manor, sir,” she said in a shy voice.
“Thank you,” he replied.
“Have you come to take Georgiana away?” she asked, turning to look at the sofa where his sister sat with Mary.
“Only if she is ready to leave,” Mr. Darcy said. “She appears to be having an amusing time.”
“I see that my sister has Jeffry meeting the children,” Lizzy observed, her eyebrows high.
“I am amazed,” Maria revealed. “He was not here earlier, but somehow he is here now.”
“It is a mystery,” Lizzy said. “Are your parents at home?”
“No. They are visiting an old friend in Meryton.” The door to the drawing room opened and the Lucas’ butler entered, carrying a large silver tray. “Ah, here is Germain,” Maria said, grinning. “I hope you like children’s fare, Mr. Darcy.”
Mr. Darcy held up a hand. “I do not require anything to eat, thank you. Mrs. Godbed provided us with refreshments.”
“It is the same with me, Maria,” Lizzy said.
“Pray, find seats for yourselves and be welcome,” Maria said.
Lizzy slipped across the room to scoot the children off the sofa so she could sit beside Georgiana. “Excuse me, please,” she said to them. “Look, refreshments have arrived.”
The children grinned and gravitated toward the tea table.
“Lizzy,” Georgiana said, beaming, “and Fitz. Is it time to go?”
“Soon,” he said, pulling forward a ladder-backed chair for himself. “We have news.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened. “Good news?”
Lizzy reached over and took Jeffry from her. “You behave,” she whispered into his ear. “No disappearing in your magical way, if you please.”
He chattered his teeth, and she had the feeling he was interested in their news. Foolish thinking. Why should he care one whit about anything we do?
“Today,” Mr. Darcy was saying, “Miss Elizabeth directed us to a farmer and his wife who had puppies for sale.”
Georgiana gasped and clasped her hands together over her heart. “Truly?”
Mr. Darcy nodded. “They are Sussex spaniels. Ten weeks old. Miss Elizabeth and I looked them over, and we think there are three possible matches. Two males and one female. The Godbed children have named them Rocky, Sandy, and Flower. We will probably wish to change the puppy’s name once you choose one. ”
“When can we go and pick?” Georgiana asked, her eyes bright and her color high.
“I arranged for us to go tomorrow afternoon, if that suits?” Mr. Darcy asked.
Georgiana reached across and took her brothers hand, nodding eagerly. Then she started back, and turned to Mary. “Oh, but I planned to visit the infirmary with you tomorrow afternoon.”
Mary touched her arm. “You may come with me next time—on Wednesday morning. I think you will not be calm in your mind until you can choose your puppy. If Lizzy says the puppies are sound, you may safely believe it.”
“I do believe it,” Georgiana assured both her, and Lizzy. She gazed at her brother with stars in her eyes. “And no one knows better what will suit me than you, Fitz.”
“I am honored by your trust,” Mr. Darcy said in a humble voice.
How kind he is toward his sister. She adores him, and he plainly loves her.
Will he love his future wife as much as he loves Georgiana?
Wife? Why am I thinking about his wife? It is none of my concern.
Lizzy felt a pang in her heart. Who will he marry?
Some high-born lady, no doubt. Someone with a fortune.
She inwardly sighed. Certainly, he will not marry me. A new thought intruded. Why not?
“Is something wrong, Lizzy?” Mary asked
Lizzy looked across Georgiana to where Mary now sat on the edge of the sofa, her knees turned toward the others in their little group. Maria remained with her siblings, keeping them from acting improperly around the food.
“Wrong?” Lizzy asked, frowning. “No, nothing. An unexpected thought, that is all.” She forced a conciliatory smile on her lips and focused on Georgiana. “The Godbeds have agreed to keep your puppy until you are ready to return to London.”
“I cannot take the puppy away with me tomorrow?” Georgiana asked, leaning forward and suddenly appearing anxious.
Mr. Darcy shook his head slowly. “I do not wish for Basile to bully the puppy”
“Oh,” Georgiana said, her brow furrowing. “But…would it not be better for my puppy to become used to being around cats?”
“They are already familiar with cats,” Lizzy explained. “The Godbeds have three barn cats who do not take any nonsense from dogs.”
“Then—” Georgiana began.
Her brother interrupted her, using a firm, though kindly, voice. “Puppies often make messes as they are being trained. It is rude to make your host’s servants clean up after your animal.”
Slowly, Georgiana said, “Oh, of course you are right. But what about Aunt Orillia?”
“She has three dogs of her own,” Mr. Darcy reminded her. “She is well-used to the challenges of training a puppy, and so is her staff. I will write to her to prepare her for the invasion of another dog into her household.”
“Will you not return to London with me?” she asked.
“We will discuss that tomorrow on our drive to the Godbeds’ farm,” Mr. Darcy informed her.
“Yes, Fitz,” she said, nodding. “We must also be certain my new governess-companion likes dogs.”
“Indeed,” Mr. Darcy said. “I will make it a priority to ask her.”
Lizzy stroked Jeffry until he appeared to fall asleep. When he did, she rose and smiled at the Darcys. “I think I will walk home. Thank you, Mr. Darcy for a lovely drive.”
Mr. Darcy stood. “I prefer to drive you to your door, Miss Elizabeth. Pray, permit me to do so.”
“Would you care to walk with me instead?” she asked. “Longbourn House is not far.”
“Gladly,” he said.
*
Basile padded around the Netherfield corridors, his thoughts churning, searching for Caroline, who had left the parlor while he slept.
No doubt she iz with zat stupid, stupid colonel. Why did ‘e ‘ave to come ‘ere right when I am strivin’ to get Monsieur Darcy to fall in love with my person? Ze wretched colonel ‘as no money—'e is an opportunist. ‘E is nowhere near as ‘andsome as Monsieur Darcy.
Oh, ‘ow dearly do I want to scratch ze colonel’s shiny boots. Non! Not just want. Wiz all my ‘eart I wish to scratch ‘is shiny boots! ‘E won’t let me near ‘im, zat…zat...Sacré bleu, I cannot zink of a proper name for ‘im. ‘E is in my way.
He voiced his annoyance. “Le meow, le meow.”
Basile paused to sniff the air, turning his head this way and that, his orange eyes half-closed. He caught the scent of his human and turned aside his steps to follow it. Before long he could hear her.
She’s wit’ zat colonel! Where iz Monsieur Darcy?
Basile entered a small drawing room and noticed the tea table had been covered with a cloth. Two chairs, filled with a human each, sat on either side of it. The shiny boots tempted Basile greatly, and he crouched in preparation of pouncing.
“You have beat me again,” his Caroline declared, her voice gay.
“I have, but you are improving,” Colonel Fitzwilliam pointed out as he gathered up the cards.
“Thank you, but I can hardly tell.” Caroline looked down at Basile. “You are awake, are you?”
The colonel swung his legs around to the far side of his chair, saying, “Oh, ho. Not today, my bucko.”
“What is it?” Caroline asked.
“Basile longs to scratch my boots.” He tapped the table with the card deck. “I am on to him.”
“No, no, why should he?” Caroline demanded, chuckling a little. “He is much too well behaved for that sort of nonsense. Are you not, my pet?”
Basile flicked his tail, his gaze trained on the boots.
The colonel stood, hastened to the sofa and took up two cushions.
He returned to his seat, placing one cushion on its end, next to the chair legs, cutting off Basile’s view of the boots.
The colonel held the other one near the floor, like a blocking shield.
“I am not new to the antics of cats. They all long to scratch my boots,” the colonel explained, while carefully watching Basile.
Caroline rose and swiftly caught her cat in her arms. “You are not to damage the colonel’s boots, Basile. Do you hear me?”