Chapter Sixteen
Lizzy fixed her gaze on Mr. Darcy’s eyes and saw ruefulness brewing there. “Pray, do not say that…”
“I think he is gone,” he admitted, keeping his voice low and deliberately calm.
Lizzy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. How can there be a magical guinea pig? And, if he is one—and he certainly seems to be—then why is his human companion not looking for such a wonderous friend? She slowly let out her breath.
“I will check,” Lizzy whispered. She opened the basket lid, peeked inside, and let the top fall shut.
“Well?” Mr. Darcy asked, lowering the basket so it hung from his hand. “May I point out that we are next in line? What will you say to Mrs. Moore?”
“Nothing about Jeffry. Maybe he will return,” she said, biting her lip.
“There is no time for hoping. We must give him a chance to return. I think we had best find a seat and order some tea,” he said, taking her elbow and turning her away from the counter. “There is a spot near this fireplace to our left.”
“Very well,” Lizzy said, permitting him to guide her to where several chairs, upholstered in a wine and gold stripped fabric, sat around a small round table. “It is Cleo’s fault. She must have frightened Jeffry when she batted the basket.”
“I apologize for not holding the basket higher,” Mr. Darcy said, handing her into a seat.
Lizzy took the empty carrier and placed it on her lap. “There is nothing to apologize for.”
Sally, a female staff member, approached before Mr. Darcy could respond. She presented him with a menu card. He ordered them some tea and lemon shortbread biscuits. She nodded and withdrew.
“You must have intimidated her,” Lizzy observed, her brows together. “Sally always says good morning to me and asks after my animals.”
“If I did so, I did not do it on purpose,” he said dryly.
“I expect not.” Lizzy peeked inside the basket, closed the lid, and sighed. “Nothing.”
*
Jeffry found himself on top of Aunty’s bedcovers.
His nose twitched, and he chirped in alarm.
He turned in a circle until he faced the head of the bed where Aunty sat propped against a pile of her pristine white pillows.
Her dark gaze still looked rheumy. However, he detected a hint of sharpness deep in their depths.
“There yer are, ye scamp,” she said as she reached for a tissue, which she used to squeeze her nose. “Now, talk. I’ve no energy fer readin’ yer mind today.”
“Why am I here?” he asked, strutting back and forth on the puffy rose comforter. “Are you better? You don’t look better.”
Aunty swiped the tissue across her nose one more time before tossing it into the full bin beside the bed. “I’m not better, but I’m improvin’. What’ve ye been doin’? How’re things comin’ along?”
“You brought me here from a basket being carried by Darcy,” Jeffry explained. He stopped moving and glared at her. “He is with Lizzy. Now they must know that I’ve disappeared again. Granted, I think they’ll believe I left because of the cat, so—”
“Again?” she snapped. “What do y’mean, again?”
Jeffry stilled and settled into the comforter, making himself as small as possible.
“‘Ave y’been usin’ magic when people can see what y’re about?”
He wiggled his ears and did not immediately answer her. As usual, he could not outlast her stare.
“To be fair, it was your fault this time,” he pointed out a little heatedly.
“We were in the lending library—Lizzy meant to show me to the patrons, you see, and I was waiting patiently in the bottom of the basket, when you snatched me away.” Aunty’s eyes narrowed, and Jeffry gulped.
In a more temperate voice, he said, “I’m sure you’d no way of knowing this was not a good time. ”
“Y’ve not answered m’question,” Aunty said in a menacing voice.
“Just disappearing and reappearing—but not directly in front of them.” He swore he could see steam coming out of her ears. Jeffry made his voice tiny. “I make certain no one can see me do it.” He chirped and amended his statement with a qualifier. “At least, no human can see me.”
“Are ye usin’ yer authority like I done tell ye to?”
“Yes.” Jeffry scratched his cheek. “I tried to tell Lizzy that Darcy is charming, but she was having none of that. She’s glad that he’s not, as it happens.”
“He isn’t charmin’,” Aunty reminded him. “When’s he ever charmin’?”
That sounded like a rhetorical question to Jeffry so he kept silent.
“She has t’see his good points—his real good points.” Aunty straightened the bedclothes across her stomach and tightened the moss-green shawl about her shoulders. “Did Georgiana pick a puppy?”
“She did.”
“Good, good. And how’s Mary?”
“She’s in love with that Dr. Oscar Gregg.”
“I know it.” Aunty coughed into a tissue before she said, “Are Mary and Georgiana getting’ to be good friends?”
“Yes.” Jeffry stamped on the duvet. “That Wickham is in the neighborhood.”
Aunty swore beneath her breath. “I’ll keep an eye on him from here. You concentrate on the others.”
“I will.”
“You’d best go,” she said.
After a wave of her hand, Jeffry found himself back in the shadows of the closed basket.
*
Lizzy gasped.
“What is it?” Mr. Darcy asked.
She opened the basket on her lap. “There you are, you little rascal.”
“He has returned?”
Lizzy tipped the basket so he could see inside. Jeffry peered out at them. “I think he is sorry for leaving.”
“How can you know that?”
She shrugged. “I often have feelings from animals. Impressions from Jeffry are particularly strong.”
Mr. Darcy picked up his teacup and drained its contents, his steady gaze trained on her.
She wondered what he thought about her claim.
When he set it down again, he said, “If you are finished your tea, I suggest we ask Mrs. Moore for permission to show him to her patrons before Jeffry disappears again.”
Lizzy closed the basket lid. “You are quite right.” She finished her shortbread biscuit in a single bite and washed it down with her last swallow of tepid tea. Lizzy wiped her fingers on a napkin and put her gloves back on. “I am ready.”
They stood together. Mr. Darcy offered her his arm. She kept the basket and put her other hand on his arm. As it happened, they arrived at the counter when it was empty of patrons.
Mrs. Moore approached, smiling broadly. “Miss Elizabeth, how may I assist you?”
“I would like to present Mr. Darcy of Pemberley House to you, ma’am. He is a close friend to Mr. Bingley of Netherfield.”
“Welcome, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Moore said, curtsying slightly.
“Good day to you, madam,” he replied, bowing his shoulders.
“Mrs. Moore, may I have your permission to ask my fellow patrons if they know who this guinea pig belongs to?” Lizzy asked in a soft, pleading voice, indicating the basket in her arms. Mrs. Moore gaped at her.
Quickly, Lizzy added, “Harry found him and brought him home last week. I have asked some of our neighbors, but no one has come forward.”
“I have never seen a guinea pig. What does he look like?” Mrs. Moore asked.
Lizzy set the basket on the counter and opened the lid. “He is ever so lovely, ma’am.”
Mrs. Moore cautiously leaned over and peered down at Jeffry. “He’s like a bunny with tiny ears.”
“And even more tame,” Lizzy assured her. “I promise to keep him in the basket.”
Mrs. Moore straightened and scanned the half-filled library before looking back at Lizzy. “I do not see any nervous types in today, so you may show him around.”
“Thank you,” Lizzy said, taking the basket off the counter.
“Good luck,” Mrs. Moore offered.
“Thank you,” Mr. Darcy replied for Lizzy.
She approached the first table and greeted the patrons with a sunny smile.
The gentleman sitting there stood and bowed.
She curtsied slightly. Mr. Darcy kept back a few steps so she did not need to introduce him.
Lizzy introduced herself, however, explained her errand, and offered a look inside the basket to those who expressed interest. The gentleman and three ladies sitting at the table wished to take a look.
They all shook their heads, and she thanked them before moving on to the next group.
“No luck,” Mr. Darcy said as they made their way toward the entrance after the last set of patrons had been shown Jeffry. “I am sorry.”
How nice and patient he has been, Lizzy thought. He has been polite, and he has not stared at anyone using his haughty demeanor. How kind he has been, too. My heart flutters every time I look at him. How will I bear it when he returns home?
I expect I am being silly. He is only diverting himself with my company. I am certain he did not imagine he would find his friend busy courting my sister when he arrived here for his visit.
“Thank you. These patrons will tell others who will spread the news, and eventually luck may find us,” Lizzy said, trying to sound optimistic. “Seeing so many familiar faces soothed the oddness of my request.”
“It seemed to me that most everyone knew who you were,” he said, taking her arm and guiding her through the door Harris had opened for them.
“I have a reputation for being good with animals,” Lizzy confessed. “Ah, Harris, thank you for letting Harry stand with you.”
“Yer welcome, miss,” he said, touching the brim of his hat. ‘E even resisted the urge t’run after a squirrel that dared t’scamper over the gutter across the road. I’m right proud of ‘im.”
“Well done, Harry,” Lizzy said, grinning. “Come along, now.”
Darcy slipped a yellow-boy into the doorman’s hand. Harris pocketed the coin and touched his brim again, grinning. Darcy turned around and a flash of red across the road caught his attention. He focused on it.
Wickham!
The bastard lifted his black bicorn in mocking salute. His smug smile infuriated Darcy to such a degree that he could only glare at the man. To his continued fury, Wickham laughed and walked on, seemingly reveling in the effect his presence had on his former playmate.
A hand touched Darcy’s arm. He tore his gaze away from the disappearing blaggard and looked down at Miss Elizabeth’s concerned expression.