Page 120 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“And who is this?” Mrs. Gregg asked, smiling at Georgiana.

“Mrs. Gregg, may I present Miss Darcy, of Pemberley House, Derbyshire?” Mary asked.

“Of course you may,” their hostess said.

Georgiana curtsied and Mrs. Gregg nodded in a friendly way.

“Welcome, Miss Darcy,” Mrs. Gregg said. She indicated a grouping of lemon-colored upholstered chairs set in front of a cold fireplace. “Please, sit.”

“It is good to meet you,” Georgiana said, taking a seat. Mary sat next to her. “My brother, my cousin, and I are visiting with Mr. Bingley, at Netherfield.”

“Your cousin?” Mrs. Gregg asked, choosing a chair that faced Mary and Georgiana.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Georgiana explained. “He and my brother are my guardians.”

“I see. And how are you enjoying our little corner of Hertfordshire?”

“I have been enjoying it exceedingly.” Georgiana smoothed her skirts over her knees. “Mary has been kind enough to introduce me to some of her friends. And Lizzy found me a puppy.”

“How lovely. You must be excited,” Mrs. Gregg said, grinning.

“Oh, yes. Mary is coming to visit the puppy with me this afternoon. My brother wants us to wait to pick Flora up until I am ready to return to London.”

“What kind of puppy is she?”

“Flora is a Sussex spaniel, and she is adorable,” Georgiana gushed.

The study door opened, admitting Hannah bearing a tray of black currant juice and a plate of gingery molasses biscuits. She set it on the table next to Mrs. Gregg, and then left the room, leaving the door partially open.

Mrs. Gregg poured them glasses of black currant juice and passed around saucers and napkins before she offered them the biscuits. Mary took a sip of the cool, tart drink and found it refreshing.

“It is rather hot, is it not?” Mrs. Gregg asked. “The weather must be confusing the plants. How do they know if it is summer or autumn?”

“Winter may come as a shock to them,” Mary said.

“Yes, indeed. Our gardener is scratching his head over it.” Their hostess smiled, shaking her head.

“The heat must be difficult for the patients at the infirmary,” Georgiana suggested. “Or for anyone who is ill.”

“So true,” Mrs. Gregg said, nodding approvingly at Georgiana.

“I was wondering, ma’am, about the condition of the typhus patient,” Mary said, frowning as she pushed her spectacles up her nose. “Do you know how he is?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Gregg said, her brow furrowed. “Oscar said he is improving—Oscar is my son, Miss Darcy. He has high hopes for a full recovery.”

“That must be a relief to the boy’s family,” Georgiana offered.

“I imagine so,” Mrs. Gregg said. “The patients missed the pleasure of your visit, Mary. Oscar told me he meant to tell you not to go to the infirmary for your usual visits this week.”

“Yes, he came around and told me yesterday,” Mary informed her. She nibbled on her biscuit. After swallowing, she added, “I missed the pleasure of my visit as well.”

“I was to join her, ma’am,” Georgiana said. “I looked forward to the opportunity to see Mary’s charity work.”

“Have you visited an infirmary before, my dear?”

“I have only visited the sick on our estate,” Georgiana confessed.

Mrs. Gregg nodded, took a sip of her juice, and said, “My father is a squire. The estate has some tenant farmers. My mother and I visited them when they were ill. I assure you, a ward full of sick people is not the same. It is a more trying experience. I am immensely proud of Mary for continuing her visits, for she breaks up the monotony of the patients’ time away from their families—if they have one. Some have no one to care for them at home.”