Page 18 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“I do not know what just happened, either,” he said, turning himself in the direction from which he had arrived in the home wood. “One moment we have companions, and the next we do not. Miss Elizabeth Bennet is an unusual woman, make no mistake. I wonder what she is like in a more formal setting?”

Darcy wondered if he could convince Miss Bingley to have an afternoon visiting party and to send the Bennets an invitation. I will suggest it to Bingley. He will be eager to have guests so he can get to know his neighbors better. I cannot imagine Miss Elizabeth bringing any of her creatures with her—certainly not her mouse. Darcy chuckled, imagining the look on Miss Bingley’s face if she saw a mouse in her drawing room. I must invite my cousin to drop in for a visit if he is able. Since Georgie is in London at the moment visiting Aunt Orillia, Douglas could easily escort Georgie—if he can get leave.

Darcy’s half-grin evaporated. His sister’s spirits had been low for some time now. He knew she keenly felt her betrayal of his trust. She could not seem to recover her equilibrium, no matter how often he assured her he did not blame her for Wickham’s cursed behavior. Meeting Miss Elizabeth and her menagerie might be just the medicine Georgie needed.

*

Jeffry woke from a tiny little nap. What is happening! He spread his legs and held on to the sides of Lizzy’s apron pocket as though his sanity depended on it. The jostling he endured went far beyond anything that occurred while Lizzy walked. She is running! What the devil? Why is she running? Are we being chased? Using his magic, Jeffry thought back to the part of the conversation he had missed. What sense is there in running to tell Cook about my idea for the tin cup? Walking would have worked perfectly well. Humph, this Lizzy is the oddest of all the Lizzy’s so far. Running! Madness. Jeffry blinked out of the pocket, landed back in his enclosure, and scooted into his delightful tunnel, dragging some straw bedding with him as he went.

“Heh, look, Jeffry’s back!” Frank called out.

“Tell us what happened on Lizzy’s walk, Jeffry!” one of the squirrels cried out in a demanding voice.

“Yes, tell us!” the birds chorused.

“Be quiet!” Jeffry shouted. “Go to sleep!”

Jill yawned. “But I’m not tir…”

Jeffry shuddered when the power of his authority asserted its sway over them and the animal raucous in the orangery stopped.

“I bet Auntie doesn’t have to deal with this bedlam,” he muttered, nestling down.

*

Basile padded along the wide corridor of the Netherfield first floor corridor in search of his human. Light shone in the tall windows that lined one wall, illuminating the bedchamber doors in the opposite wall. He had woken from his nap to discover his Caroline had left him. This was an unacceptable condition. If I am not with ‘er, who will protect ‘er? Who will ‘elp ‘er overcome ‘er mélancolie when zat Darcy fellow—'e is not worthy of my Caroline—avoids ‘er?

Basile checked every chamber with an open door as he passed it. He could not find her, and he began to pant in his distress. He reached the top of the stairs without finding his Caroline. Delicious scents rose from below.

Mon dieu! Le déjeuner! She is eatin’ without me!

After racing down the long stairs, Basile leapt from the fifth step, launching himself onto the marble ground floor. He slid a little on the slippery surface, bumping into the side of a footman’s shoe.

“Le meow,” Basile complained, taking a proper moment to swipe at the offender’s ankles.

The footman leapt out of the way. “Oh, no, you don’t, you little scoundrel. Shoo! Get on w’ you.”

“Basile? Is that you, kitty?” his human called. “I have a bit of smoked haddock in here if you want it.”

Smoked ‘addock, Basile breathed to himself. All is forgiven!

He scampered along to where the double doors leading into the dining room stood open. “Le meow.”

“I hear you, dear,” his human said. He spied her at the table, her head turned toward the door, a broad grin on her adored face. As he scurried toward her, she set a saucer on the carpeted floor. “Fear not. I found all the bones.”

He positioned himself in a relaxed crouch, addressing the fish. Nom, nom, nom, nom, nom, Basile thought to himself as he daintily consumed the flakes of smoked haddock.

“I swear that cat meows in French.”

“He is French, after all, Charles,” his Caroline replied. “I wonder where Mr. Darcy is this morning?”

Basile’s ears twitched.

“Brewster said Darcy took the gig out not long after dawn.”

Basile liked their butler. He could depend on Brewster for favorite treats. Basile liked Chef too, and Chef liked him because Basile kept the mice and rats away from the kitchen. When my Caroline marries zat Darcy fellow, I will need to train a whole new staff to cater to my every need.

“Where might he have gone at that hour?” his Caroline asked. Her hand touched Basile’s head, and she stroked him just the way he liked it.