Page 27 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“What’s that?” Clive demanded.

“I don’t need to,” Jeffry repeated. “She’s in no danger with Harry along.”

The hedgehog peered at him over the enclosure wall. “What about Mr. Darcy?” Mrs. Annie enquired. “Aren’t ye doin’ anything with our Lizzy and Mr. Darcy?”

“Darcy and Bingley are not coming over today so there is nothing for me to do.”

Oh dear, oh dear. Should I be doing something?

“Did you hear that ruckus last night?” Jack asked, twitching his nose. “Lydia and Kitty don’t wish to go to no afternoon party, do they?”

“They only want to go if there’s dancing,” his mate, Jill reminded him.

“It doesn’t seem to us like you’re doing anything t’help Miss Lizzy, Jeffry,” Carl commented.

The guinea pig poked his head up and wrinkled his nose. “This is only my third day here.”

“Why didn’t you sleep on Miss Lizzy’s bed?” one of the squirrels asked.

“Only Harry sleeps in Miss Lizzy’s bedchamber,” the other squirrel reminded his brother.

“That’s too bad, ‘cause Jeffry snores,” Pickle said, shaking his head morosely. The water vole added a further grumble, “I hardly got a wink o’ sleep.”

Jeffry proceeded to eat as loudly as he could in his attempt to drown out the complaints of the other animals as they agreed with Pickle.

Think.

Think.

Think!

What can I do?

How can I help Lizzy?

Jeffry thought and thought, consuming his food as he did so.

What would Aunty do?

Jeffry snorted to himself. Way more than I can do, that’s for certain sure.

With an empty bowl staring him in the face, Jeffry’s nose twitched, and his front feet began to stamp the ground.

“Do you have an idea, finally?” Bruce asked, keeping his head up out of the water so he could speak.

“‘Course he does,” Mrs. Annie said in her warmest, motherly voice.

Jeffry looked first at the hedgehog and then at the turtle. “You’re right. I do have an idea.”

“What is it, then?” Jack demanded, kicking the side of his hutch in his frustration.

“Stop that!” Jill ordered, kicking the side of her own hutch.

Jeffry could not think with all the voices making suggestions, or being officious, or whining in fear. “Be silent, please.” He put “authority” behind his words, similar to the way Aunty did, and his order reverberated around the orangery. The other animals stilled. Even the squirrels froze in place on their dead log. “Thank you.” Jeffry waited a moment to see if his command would remain in place. When not even a rustle sounded, he told them his idea succinctly.

“I am going to Netherfield to meet the cat.”

The reaction filled the orangery with palpable alarm that broke them free of Jeffry’s command.