Page 16 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

Goodness, he is close. And more handsome than I remember. Is it right that a man should be so fine-looking? Is it fair to us ladies?

Clearing her throat first, Lizzy backed up a step and formed her answer. “I keep finding Jeffry where he does not belong. Yesterday afternoon, for example, I found him in the middle of my bed, asleep as though he were a cat. I naturally returned him to the orangery where he belongs since Harry is the only animal that sleeps in my room.

“I have some tunnels formed from clay pipes—the squarish ones. When I put Jeffry back in his enclosure, I set a tunnel amongst some straw, and he seemed to like that. Hiding in it makes him feel safer, I think. I thought he might stay put if I gathered some different types of bedding material.”

“No doubt you are right,” Mr. Darcy said, smiling.

His smile did something funny to Lizzy’s stomach. To hide her reaction, she crouched and scratched Conny’s white and tan crown.

The underbrush rattled, presaging Harry’s arrival. He came bounding out of the trees and onto the wide path. Spying Mr. Darcy, he dropped his stick and barked twice. Lizzy straightened and patted her thigh. Harry came to heel.

“Hello to you, too, Harry,” Mr. Darcy said. He waved his gloved hand at the long-eared Conny that had been trudging along beside him. “Do you know this lady, Harry? Miss Elizabeth?”

Harry approached the other dog, and they performed the appropriate amount of sniffing to fulfill the proper canine greeting etiquette.

“Her name is Conny,” Lizzy informed Mr. Darcy. “She must like you very much. She is indolent and would rather sit on her family’s front stoop in order to watch the world go by than take a walk.”

“I might feel the same if my legs were as short as hers. I did nothing to attract her, I assure you. I simply walked past a handsome cottage without saying a word of greeting, and she came trotting after me.”

“Trotting?” Lizzy laughed. “I did not know you could trot, Conny dear. Well done.”

“May we turn aside and keep you company, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked, reaching out to take her bundle of debris as though her answer was a certainty.

Harry used this opportunity to retrieve his stick. Conny trundled along after Harry, who led her into the trees.

“Hmm, and there they go. Certainly, you may carry my burden, Mr. Darcy.” Lizzy presented the sack to him. “My father told me he had given leave to Mr. Bingley and his guests to walk in our home wood, since Netherfield has none. Is Mr. Bingley joining you today?”

“He still slept when I left,” Mr. Darcy revealed, taking the sack and offering her his arm. Lizzy took it, and they began strolling. “I borrowed his gig and parked it at the Longbourn Inn, where I obtained directions.”

“Ah,” Lizzy said, nodding and wondering what to talk about next. They seemed to have exhausted the subject of how he came to be walking on the Bennet estate, and of Mr. Darcy’s temporary companion. I could ask him about his home, I suppose. Or about his family? Mr. Darcy’s stomach grumbled, causing her to chuckle. “Did you come out without eating anything, sir?”

He laughed once. “I did.”

“I can help you with that,” Lizzy promised. She took her hand out of his arm and put it in the top pocket of her apron, pulling out a packet wrapped in brown paper. “You may have my rambling bar.” She offered it to him.

Darcy hesitantly took the package. “Your what?”

“It is a rambling bar—at least that is what Cook calls them,” she explained. “I had two, and ate one. You may have this last one.”

He put down the sack and opened the package on his flat palm. After scrutinizing the rectangular bar, Mr. Darcy asked, “What is in it?”

“Oh, seeds, nuts, dried fruits, oats, flour, bound together with honey, butter, and so forth,” Miss Elizabeth told him. “She mixes it up and then bakes it to cook the oats and flour. ‘Nobody wants t’eat uncooked oats or flour, miss,’ she informed me. I heartily agreed.”

“Except horses,” Darcy said automatically. “They eat oats.”

“Except horses,” she repeated, chuckling a little. “And cattle, sheep, pigs, and goats. Other animals will eat oats as well.”

“Is the bar tasty?”

“It is, I promise you.” She gestured toward his mouth. “Go ahead. It is not poison. Cook is an excellent chef and baker.”

Darcy’s stomach complained again. He took a bite. In spite of it being firm, it had a sweet, chewy texture. “Mmm.”

“I will tell Cook you liked the bar,” she told him. “Come this way.”

Miss Elizabeth began walking again, and indicated they should move onto a narrower path, though it remained wide enough for them to walk side-by-side. “I will tell you something for nothing. Cook is writing a cookery book. She is exceedingly scientific in her approach as her father used to be an apothecary’s assistant. When he retired, he gave her his set of scales and measuring tools.”

“Does she mean to publish her book?” Darcy asked between bites. His own chef had a huge book full of his recipes and tips, but Darcy doubted he would share it with anyone.