Page 119 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“I understand you, I think.” Mr. Bennet shook his head. “I cannot watch her when she is with Clover. He will let no one else near him—not even Turney. I suspect when Lizzy marries, she will need to take the bull away with her. Elsewise, he will mope about until he languishes away.”

“Good Lord,” Darcy said, appalled at the thought. “How old is Clover?”

“Eight, I think,” Mr. Bennet said, smiling a little. “He may live another six or seven years, particularly under Lizzy’s care. I suppose he is more of a pet, now.”

Darcy lifted his hands up in incredulity, saying, “A two-thousand-pound pet?”

“Indeed. However, in spite of his age, Clover is still very popular as a stud, you know,” Mr. Bennet informed him, chuckling again. “Or so Turney tells me. Stud fees pay for Clover’s keep.”

They fell silent in contemplation. Perhaps the weight of the silence preyed on Darcy’s mind, for he found himself admitting his grave error to the father of the woman who had found her way into his heart.

“I shouted at her.”

“Ahh. Tell me, did Lizzy shout back?” Mr. Bennet asked.

Darcy gave a sharp nod.

“Good. That pleases me. I would hate to think a daughter of mine could not stand up for herself.” Mr. Bennet rose. “Come inside and join me for something cool. I am too warm for tea or coffee. I hope there is lemonade.”

Standing obediently, Darcy walked with Mr. Bennet into the house and on into his exceedingly comfortable bookroom.

*

Mary and Georgiana, with Elliot trailing behind them, strolled up the short walkway to the black front door of Doctor and Mrs. Gregg’s two-and-a-half-storey, red brick house. Mary met Georgiana’s excited gaze, and wondered how her new friend could be so pleased about meeting Oscar’s parents.

Georgiana looked over her shoulder at her brother’s valet. “Please, wait here.”

“Aye, miss,” he said in his rough voice.

Mary reached for the brass knocker. To one side of the door, a brass plaque held the doctor’s name and style. She lifted the ring and struck it against the door plate three times. Soon, the door opened, revealing a young maid wearing a white apron and mobcap.

“Oh, hello, miss,” the maid said, smiling and curtsying.

“Good morning, Hannah,” Mary said, returning her smile. “Is Mrs. Gregg at home to visitors today?”

“I will check, miss,” Hannah said, opening the door wider and stepping back out of the way. Mary and Georgiana entered the comfortable entrance hall. “Will you wait here, miss?”

“Of course,” Mary said. She watched Georgiana gaze admiringly around the attractively furnished hall where floral watercolors adorned the papered walls.

“This is an extremely pleasant entrance,” Georgiana murmured. “There is plenty of daylight to brighten the space. I find it cozy.”

“I have always thought highly of Mrs. Gregg’s sense of style,” Mary whispered back.

Hannah swiftly returned, curtsied again, and said, “Missus said to bring ye to ‘er private study. Please, follow me.”

Mary knew the way, but followed the maid as was expected down a corridor to a white door. The maid opened it and stepped aside.

“Thank you,” Mary murmured.

She and Georgiana entered the small, brightly lit room and curtsied to the older lady standing near to her secretaire. A lovely lace cap adorned her softly-styled steel-gray hair. She had a kindly face—one that Mary had often admired. Tall, slender, and gowned in a day dress of dark-mustard, trimmed in Burgundy piping, she smiled warmly at them.

“Mary,” she said, coming toward them to greet her, offering her cheek for Mary to kiss. “What a pleasure it is to see you. It has been an age. What have you here?”

“Cook’s currant scones and sweet chestnut spread,” Mary informed her, presenting the basket.

“Delightful. Hannah?” Mrs. Gregg looked over Mary’s shoulder. She passed the basket to the maid. “Bring black currant juice.”

“Yes, mum,” Hannah said, bobbing a curtsy and leaving.