Chapter Twenty-three #2
“Hello, Rebecca. And hello to you too, Spotty,” Lizzy said, taking a deep breath, straightening, and letting it out in a rush. “I just stopped in for a moment to rest and get a glass of water.”
“We got cold tea,” Rebecca said, grinning as though she had made a portentous announcement. “It’s over there,” she said, pointing at a pitcher on the counter, covered by a blue square of weighted linen. “It’s got honey in it.”
“May I have some?” Lizzy asked, rising.
Rebecca nodded rapidly.
“Do you want some?” Lizzy asked as she headed to the dresser where Mrs. Abbot kept her glasses.
“Yes, please,” Rebecca said.
Lizzy poured some of the green brew for her, and then took a glass for herself.
She smelled it and took a sip—green sorrel leaf tea, sweetened with honey.
Lizzy set Rebecca’s small glass down on the table.
The littlest Abbot daughter put her poppet on the table and scrambled onto the chair next to the drink. Lizzy returned to her seat.
I wonder how long I will have to sit here before I am certain the lieutenant is gone? Mr. and Mrs. Abbot must think I have grown batty to duck beneath their counter and come into their private space without an invitation. I certainly cannot leave until I can explain what I am doing here.
“There are biscuits in that tin,” Rebecca informed her, eyes wide and pleading.
“Are there?” Lizzy asked, smiling as the little girl nodded solemnly. “Are you permitted to have one?”
Rebecca pursed her lips into a pout, twitching them back and forth as she shrugged. “Maybe…if y’have one.”
Chuckling, Lizzy rose and opened the tin. Flat biscuits dusted with ground walnuts sat in a golden jumble inside the square, painted tin. She chose two small ones and tightly closed the tin. Lizzy gave one of the biscuits to Rebecca.
“Thank you, miss,” the little girl said, politely waiting to take a bite until Lizzy tried hers. “Do you like it? I helped. I roll the dough in the walnuts.”
Lizzy bit into the biscuit and nodded. “It is wonderful.”
Rebecca bit into her treat, nodding rapidly afterward. She started as her mother bustled in from the shop, dropping the biscuit onto the table. Hastily, she covered it with her poppet.
“I saw that, Rebecca Ann Abbot,” her short, plump mother said, putting her hands on her hips. “Did Miss Bennet give y’that?”
“Yes, Mum,” her daughter said in a small voice. “I asked fer one.”
“Hmm. It’s good yer bein’ honest.” Mrs. Abbot focused on her guest. “Miss Lizzy. What can I do fer ye?”
Lizzy grimaced. “I saw how busy you were, ma’am, and thought I could have a rest in here without bothering you.”
Mrs. Abbot gave her a searching look. “Rebecca, take that there biscuit out back and play there wi’ yer poppet and Spotty, that’s a good girl.”
Rebecca snatched her poppet and biscuit and scurried out the back door into the garden, Spotty hurrying after her. Her mother closed the door behind them, poured herself a cup of tea, replaced the linen square, and sat down at the table with Lizzy.
“Now, tell me what’s really amiss,” she ordered.
Lizzy folded her lips inside her mouth and then sighed. “Did you see the militia lieutenant in the shop?”
“The handsome one who left as soon as y’ducked under our counter?”
“He is gone, then?” Lizzy asked. Her shoulders relaxed as soon as Mrs. Abbot nodded. “Thank heavens.”
“Has he been botherin’ ye, Miss Lizzy?” At Lizzy’s nod, she added, “What’s the world comin’ to, I ask ye, when a young lady can’t walk about her own neighborhood safely? I don’t care what some say—that the militia campin’ here for the winter is a good thing—I think it’s askin’ fer trouble.”
“I am hoping that the arrival of their colonel will keep the young officers in line,” Lizzy said, blowing air out in a gust. She drank more of her tea. “This is lovely, ma’am. Thank you.”
“I think the weather’s goin’ t’change soon,” Mrs. Abbot observed.
“It’s been that hot. Oh, can ye hear? The front doorbell keeps ringin’.
I’d best be gettin’ back to helpin’ me husband.
” She rose and nodded toward the back door.
“You leave by the rear gate if ye want to. But, afore y’go, was there somethin’ ye wanted to get today? ”
Lizzy, recalled to her original reason for entering the shop, said, “I thought I might get a new hair ornament for the assembly tomorrow night. Do you have anything with feathers?”
“I ‘ave jist the thing,” Mrs. Abbot promised. “The feather’s white, too, so y’could wear it with most any dress.”
“That sounds lovely,” Lizzy said. Mrs. Abbot bustled out and returned swiftly with a tray holding several hair clips with feathers as part of their ornamentation. Lizzy quickly deliberated. She nodded, saying, “You are right. The one with the white feather is perfect.”
“I’ll wrap it up fer ye.”
Soon, Lizzy was slipping out the back gate, a package tucked into her reticule. She glanced left and right down the laneway. Seeing both ways empty of anyone in a redcoat, she wasted no time in finding her way out of Meryton and onto a path through the fields.
That Wickham has destroyed my peace, she thought to herself. Not far from Meryton, Harry padded along the path toward her, his tail wagging and his tongue lolling.
“Ah, my knight,” Lizzy said, crouching to greet him, pulling gently on one of his ears. “Thank you for coming to meet me. I feel safer now. Let us proceed.”
Harry chuffed his readiness to join her, and they continued along the path to home.
*
From the landing between the ground floor and the first floor, Darcy heard the carriage coming up the drive. He glanced behind him, wondering where Georgiana might be. He thought she would want to meet Mrs. Inwood in the front entrance hall.
“Fitz!” she cried from below. “Hurry. They are coming.”
“Ah, there you are,” he said, responding to her imperative wave by hastening his steps. “Shall we wait here? Or should we permit her to freshen up before we interview her?”
She blinked several times, considering his question. “I think we should give her a moment. Miss Bingley will do and say what is necessary.”
“I agree,” he said, waving toward a small visiting room just off the entrance hall. “This room is more intimate and less intimidating.”
“Yes, yes.” Georgiana walked briskly across the tiled floor.
He glanced at Brewster, who had just entered the hall in readiness to open the front door. “Tell the colonel that we await them in this room when Mrs. Inwood is refreshed. Bring us some tea in a half hour.”
Brewster bowed. “Sir.”
“Hurry, Fitz.”
Darcy followed Georgiana into a pleasant room that held only six chairs, upholstered in gold striped silk, already arranged evenly about a round dining table.
A gold and green Persian carpet graced the floor beneath the table.
Pale green curtains draped across three tall windows overlooking the front of the house.
Paintings of specimen trees, framed in carved wood, decorated the walls.
“It is like being in a forest,” Georgiana remarked, gazing at the paintings. “I never thought to have a room at Pemberley decorated in such a specific botanical theme.”
“I like it,” Darcy said, nodding. “We could try something similar in one of the public rooms at home. Not necessarily trees, of course, but another botanical.”
“Like roses?” Georgiana asked.
“Hm. Wild flowers found on the estate?” Darcy countered.
“In the spring, we could commission a water colorist,” his sister suggested. “Or your wife could, if she likes the idea.”
Darcy’s lips twitched at her sally, but he merely said, “A sound idea.”
They stopped talking when they heard the front door open and close.
Darcy held his breath, and then released it when he wondered why he felt anxious.
Unexpectedly, footsteps approached the room—more than one set of footsteps.
Mrs. Inwood must prefer to have the interview before she refreshes herself.
Georgiana sidled closer to him, her arm touching his.
The door opened, and Brewster entered, standing to one side.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Mrs. Clarise Inwood,” the butler intoned.
Mrs. Inwood curtsied and their cousin nodded.
Darcy nodded back, and Georgiana curtsied.
Douglas gestured to the woman, an invitation to fully enter the room.
Almost as tall as his sister, Mrs. Inwood had the mature figure of a woman in her mid-thirties.
She wore a simple burgundy-colored traveling gown with long sleeves, a collar closed with a bit of black braiding, and black gloves.
Her thick auburn hair had been piled atop her head with a ring of curls framing her face.
Intelligent gray eyes observed them candidly.
“Welcome, Mrs. Inwood,” Darcy said. He waved at the chair nearest her and Douglas pulled it out.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she said, her voice pleasant.
“This is my sister, Georgiana Darcy,” he said, turning to hand her into the chair next to the one he intended to use. Once she settled, he sat as well. “Do you mean to stay, Douglas?”
“I do, if you have no objection,” his cousin said.
“None at all,” Darcy replied, nodding. He folded his hands before him on the table and focused his attention on Mrs. Inwood. “Shall we address your availability first? When can you start working if I should deem you suitable?”
“I can start immediately, sir,” Mrs. Inwood said.
“Are you willing to live part of the year at Pemberly in Derbyshire, and part of the year in London?”
“I am, sir. I enjoy country life, but I am also comfortable in city society.”
Georgiana leaned forward a little and asked, “Do you like dogs, ma’am?”
A twinkle entered Mrs. Inwood’s eyes. “I like them very much.”
Darcy believed her. Good.
“I have a newly acquired puppy,” Georgiana told her. “She is a hunting breed, but she will not be hunting. Flora is not yet living with me, but when we return to London, Flora will be coming with us. I will train her there.”