Page 43 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“I am not convinced,” Lydia said slowly, her eyes narrowed. “Mary, what is that quote? It starts with ‘Methinks’. I cannot remember the rest.”

Mary took in a deep breath and huffed it out, rolling her eyes. “You are wrong. It does not start with ‘Methinks’, it ends with it.”

“Well, what is it, then?” Lydia demanded.

“It is from Hamlet, by William Shakespeare,” Mary explained. “‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’”

“That is the one,” Lydia crowed, pointing at Lizzy.

“I merely said a single sentence,” Lizzy protested. “How can that be considered too much?”

“Girls,” their mother said, her voice firm. “Your foolish prattle is giving me the headache. Look, we are turning onto the Netherfield grounds. We are almost at the party. For the sake of my poor head, stop teasing each other.”

The reticule on Lizzy’s lap suddenly felt too heavy. It moved, too. Oh, dear. Not Jeffry again! Why can he not stay put in his enclosure? Why did I not notice him before?

“What is that?” Kitty asked, nodding at Lizzy’s lap.

“What are you talking about?” Lizzy asked, hoping she looked puzzled, not guilty.

“Your reticule moved,” Kitty accused.

“It was only the jostling of the carriage,” Lizzy claimed. “You are imagining things.”

“I think you have one of your animals in there,” Lydia said, reaching across the space as though to snatch the reticule off of Lizzy’s lap.

Lizzy leaned back and lifted the reticule up against her chest.

Their mother’s angry gasp almost rocked the carriage. “Elizabeth Dorothea Bennet! You better not have an animal in there! Give me that reticule!”

Lizzy thought she heard a wheek before her reticule lightened. Jeffry. Lizzy obediently presented her colorfully embroidered bag to her mother.

Their mother yanked on the drawstrings until the top of the reticule opened enough for her to easily see inside.

Kitty eagerly leaned forward. “What have you found, Mama?”

“I have found a handkerchief, a small bottle of smelling salts, a piece of paper folded around some straight pins—”

“—and what, Mama?” Lydia interrupted. She smirked at Lizzy.

“And…nothing,” her mother admitted, passing the reticule back to Lizzy.

Lizzy put it back in her lap and stared blandly across at Lydia and Kitty. “As I said, it was just the movement of the carriage.”

Kitty and Lydia did not appear convinced. Fortunately, the carriage rolled to a stop. Their groom opened the door and the ladies poured out, following their mother onto the front steps of Mr. Bingley’s home. Lizzy’s mama permitted them a moment to shake out their skirts and check their hair before she led the way up the steps, where they discovered the front door open. The butler stood in the opening and bowed to them.

“I am Brewster, madam, and misses. You may give your bonnets and pelisses to the maids,” he said pleasantly. After they had done so, he said, “Kindly follow me.”

Lizzy and Jane had been inside Netherfield before the Bingleys leased it, and they gazed around to see if anything had changed since their residency. The landscape paintings on the walls appeared to be the same. The home looked immaculate, too—a testament to their staff.

“It is a lovely home,” Jane murmured to Lizzy. “They must be glad of their housekeeper. I do not think I have ever seen it so…so…”

“Gleaming?” Lizzy offered softly.

“Yes.” Jane nodded to the top of the stairs. “A potential friend?”

Lizzy followed her gaze and spied a beautiful gray cat staring down at the visitors.

“Goodness. He does have orange eyes,” Jane observed. “How handsome he is.”