“Miss Bennet finished all of her broth—” Sarah turned from Mr. Bingley to Elizabeth—“and I gave her the sleeping draught you brought for her. She is currently resting.”
Elizabeth would not give up her excuse to leave so easily. She tried another tack. “Then I must go to Remy in the kitchen.”
The maid clasped her hands in front of her apron and smiled. “He is quite content, I assure you.”
Elizabeth did not doubt it. The kitchen was Remy’s favorite place for obvious reasons. “Still, he is my responsibility, and I do not wish for him to cause anyone any trouble or extra work.”
“He has become a fast favorite below stairs—he even won over Cook. But he is not in the kitchen anymore. He is in the drawing room with Archie.”
Georgiana looped her arm through Elizabeth’s, surprising her with the friendly gesture. “Then we shall continue to enjoy your company while we allow Jane to rest.”
All Elizabeth could do was smile. Only for Jane had she come to Netherfield Park, and she would remain for her sake and for Georgiana. As Mr. Darcy had indicated the previous day, the sisters would have their way.
When he spotted them, Archie stood from the cushion he had been laying on in the corner of the drawing room. Remy pranced in place beside him, his tail swishing against the wallpaper and thwacking between Archie and the wall. Elizabeth wished she could confide her woes to her furry friend, but now was not the time.
“Good boy. Stay.” At that, Remy sat, wiggling in place, tongue lolling and looking like he smiled. Remy would have to stay in the spot designated for the dogs unless Mr. Bingley permitted them to join.
“Is he always so well-behaved?” asked Darcy with a crooked smile.
Elizabeth caught Georgiana’s eye, and together they laughed. “So long as there are no open carriage doors to jump through,” Georgiana teased.
“Oh, yes,” Elizabeth said with a laugh, “that is too much temptation for any dog, much less an exemplary specimen like Remy.”
Miss Bingley cleared her throat. “Archie is incredibly well-mannered and of superior intelligence.”
Arching her brow, Elizabeth was wickedly content that her archenemy was not in on their little joke. “I have no doubt of it.”
Mr. Hurst settled at one end of a couch, tapping his leg and whistling, causing both dogs to perk their ears. When he issued a clear “Come!” Remy wiggled over to rest his muzzle on Mr. Hurst’s knee. “Your best guest yet, Bingley!” the gentleman chuckled.
Mr. Bingley turned red, and Mrs. Hurst elbowed her husband, eliciting a clueless look from the man and a shifting of position of Remy so that he sat between their feet, his muzzle now resting on Mrs. Hurst’s lap, his big eyes looking lovingly up at her.
Elizabeth looked down at her hands and tried to control her countenance. Archie made a sound which sounded so much like a sigh that she was sorely tempted to call him from his pillow. She would have done so had Miss Bingley not been intent on showing how superior his manners were to Remy’s. Therefore, Elizabeth gave the canine her most sympathetic lookand determined to spare some time to throw his ball for him on the morrow.
And then Remy did the unthinkable. He placed his paw on the couch. Miss Bingley pounced at his lack of propriety. “Archie is not allowed on the couch. He is trained to lie only on his cushion. He will not leave it unless his name is called.”
Her sister and brother-in-law were too busy tending to Remy to pay her any notice, and the paw remained on the couch.
Bingley called for Archie, rewarding his obedient dog with a pat on the head and scratches behind his ears. The dog looked behind at Remy, who now lay contentedly on his back with his two newfound friends rubbing his belly and cooing to him like he was a baby.
Judging by his expression, Archie was dissatisfied with his lot, although not nearly as displeased as Miss Bingley appeared to be. After glancing at the couch, then over at his cushion, he trotted over to his corner and picked up the cushion in his mouth. Then he carried it to the couch where the Hursts sat. With a jerk of his neck, he flicked the cushion onto the sofa. Soon he was sitting on it in the space between the Hursts, who were primed toward leniency thanks to Remy.
“Bad boy!” Miss Bingley gasped.
Bingley burst into laughter. “Clever boy! He did not disobey!”
Mrs. Hurst rewarded him with some affection. “You are too clever for your own good. See, Caro, how hesits on his cushion? You cannot rightly reprimand him.”
Everyone laughed except her sister who, red-faced and stiff-jawed, rose to her feet with a forced smile. “With so little to do in the country, we must make our own entertainment. Shall I play for you?”
Nobody prevented her from sitting at the pianoforte, although no one suffered from want of entertainment.
CHAPTER 14
Elizabeth tossed and turned all night. When was she going to get away to paint? Why must she always put everyone else’s needs above her own?
A momentary lapse in her perennially positive outlook gave way to irritation. It was an unpleasant stewing sensation, and she did not like it at all. Besides, she had charted this course for herself, had worked too hard to convince her uncles to assist her. Resenting the consequences of her own choice was foolish. If only she could confide in someone—someone who would understand!
Would Mr. Darcy understand? Would he comprehend her motive? Would that weigh as heavily in his mind as Society’s reaction should they find out that she, a gentleman’s daughter, had been earning an income and doing it successfully by taking on a man’s name? They would ostracize her. Not that they cared much about her or even knew who she was. She was acountry squire’s daughter and of little consequence. But now that she knew Miss Bingley and her ilk, now that her paintings were becoming more sought-after, it would not take much to ruin everything she had worked so hard to accomplish.
