Page 31 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

Jeffry concentrated on the cat and transported himself into the house, arriving on a bed where the cat lay sleeping. He glanced around the bedchamber, saw that they were alone, and became visible.

“Ahem,” he said, attempting to wake the gray cat. “Basile?”

The cat opened his orange eyes and gazed sleepily at Jeffry. Basile blinked once, and leapt backwards a foot, landing too close to the edge of the bed. He scrambled, but lost the war and landed on the carpeted floor.

“Who are you?” Basile demanded in his French accent, jumping back onto the bed. He blinked at him and twitched his nose. “What are you?”

“I am Jeffry, and I’m a guinea pig.”

“You don’t look like a pig,” Basile replied, suspicion in his voice. He eyes narrowed. “I zink you are a giant, fat mouse.”

“I have no tail.”

“A tailless, giant fat mouse.” Basile lowered himself into a pouncing position. “Or an ‘airy, tailless rat.”

“You can stop that right now,” Jeffry warned him, frowning. “I am not either of those. I am a guinea pig, unique from those two rodents.”

“I expect you taste even better,” Basile said, grinning in anticipation. “Délicieux.”

“I expect I do taste delicious, but you won’t be finding out. Behave yourself,” Jeffry ordered, pushing some of his authority into the last two words.

Basile relaxed, sat up, and began to lick his paw and wash himself as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

“I’ve come to talk about your Caroline and Mr. Darcy.”

Basile’s paw stopped moving. “What about zem?”

“Mr. Darcy is for Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Not for Caroline.”

“Who says?” Basile demanded.

“It’s always them,” Jeffry told him. “Always. Every time.”

Basile narrowed his gaze. “What do you mean? Every time?’

Jeffry’s nose twitched, and he stamped one of his feet. “That doesn’t matter. Caroline always wants Mr. Darcy, and she never gets him. She will be happier if she tries to catch another gentleman.”

“Who?’ Basile demanded. “Who is she to ‘ave, zen?”

“That varies. If you wish your Caroline to be happy, you must help her forget about wanting Mr. Darcy.”

“But she wants ‘im,” Basile argued. “My Caroline will only be ‘appy when she gets zat Darcy fellow.”

“He doesn’t want her,” Jeffry pressed.

“Why not? She is perrrrfect,” Basile praised. “I’m not goin’ to ‘elp you. I’m goin’ to ‘elp ‘er.”

The cat’s paw darted out to swat Jeffry, but he blurred himself just in time. Basile’s paw swept through nothing. This startled the cat so much that he fell over. Jeffry became solid again.

“I’ll go, now. You think about what I said.” Jeffry prepared himself to wink out, but then paused as a thought occurred to him. “The colonel is coming, you know.”

“What colonel?” Basile asked, but Jeffry did not answer him because he disappeared right after the question ended. Nor did he hear Basile’s reaction to his magic.

“Mon Dieu.”

Jeffry arrived near to where Harry sat with the black and white sheep dog. The guinea pig backed into the shade of the drystone wall that encased the paddock containing the Bingley sheep. The shepherd leaned on his hooked staff, watching the flock quietly chomping at the grass.

“Pssst,” Jeffry said, hoping Harry would hear him.