Even Mary’s composure wavered. “It does show a certain attachment,” she said primly. “Though perhaps it would have been more proper had she demonstrated it in private.”
Elizabeth knelt to stroke the spaniel’s head. “You see, Pippin, even Mary disapproves. I fear your prospects in Hertfordshire society are already ruined.”
The dog thumped her tail contentedly and rested her chin upon Elizabeth’s knee, perfectly indifferent to her supposed fall from grace.
Mrs. Bennet sighed in defeat, shaking her head. “I shall never live it down. Mr. Darcy will think us the rudest family in England.”
“I dare say he already does,” Elizabeth replied, rising with a smile. “It is a comfort, then, that we have little further to lose.”
Mrs. Bennet gasped. “Elizabeth Bennet, how can you jest upon such a matter? You may think it nothing, but I declare that creature has ruined you. What gentleman of sense will pay his addresses to a young lady who allows her dog to leap about a ballroom? None! You will see, Mr. Darcy will tell the whole county what an ill-bred family we are. Oh, Mr. Bennet, do speak to her! You sit there as calm as a judge while your daughter destroys every prospect of happiness she might have had.”
“My love, if Elizabeth is to be ruined, it is at least a comfort to know she has accomplished it with so small a companion,” Mr. Bennet said with mock gravity. “Many young ladies require much greater effort.”
“Mr. Bennet, you delight in vexing me!” cried his wife, her voice trembling between outrage and despair. “You think everything a jest. You should at least reprove her. How is she ever to learn proper behaviour?”
Elizabeth, having bent again to stroke Pippin’s head, lifted her eyes to her father with a sparkle of humour. “Pray, Papa, do not trouble yourself. I am quite resigned to my fate. If I am to be ruined by affection for my dog, it is a ruin I shall bear most contentedly.”
Mr. Bennet smiled faintly. “Then let me offer my congratulations, Lizzy. Few ladies can boast such agreeable company in their downfall.”
Mary sighed in solemn agreement. “It would have been more prudent, Lizzy, to have trained her better. A want of discipline in small things often leads to great improprieties in future.”
“Oh, hush, Mary,” said Kitty impatiently. “She is only a dog.”
“And a very good dog,” added Lydia, tossing a piece of bread to Pippin, who caught it mid-air and wagged her tail in triumph.
Mrs. Bennet threw up her hands. “There! You see! All of you against me. I am sure the neighbourhood will never forget it. Lizzy, you may think yourself clever now, but when every gentleman turns his back on you, remember this day.”
Elizabeth could not resist a laugh. “Then I shall rely upon Pippin for my company. She has already proved more constant than most suitors.”
Even Mr. Bennet laughed aloud. “There, my dear, you see Lizzy’s prospects are not so poor after all. She has at least one creature who follows her faithfully.”
Pippin barked once, as if in agreement, then settled at Elizabeth’s feet, perfectly content with the attention she had caused.
***
THE AFTERNOON SUNLIGHT SLANTED softly over the hedgerows, and Elizabeth, finding the house loud with Lydia and Kitty disputing over which officer was the handsomest and when the next were expected in town, resolved to take a walk before the day grew too late.
Pippin, whose reputation still lingered in Mrs. Bennet’s morning complaints, danced about her mistress’s feet in delight at the sight of her leash.
“Do not look so pleased with yourself,” Elizabeth said as she fastened it. “You have already secured more attention this week than any lady in Meryton.”
The spaniel wagged her tail as if perfectly aware of her fame.
“Well, then,” Elizabeth continued, stepping out into the lane, “we shall begin your redemption, you and I. No scandal, no mischief, and certainly no muddy paws upon proud gentlemen’s boots.”
Pippin gave a cheerful bark, which Elizabeth chose to take as a promise. The air was brisk and bright, the road lively with the occasional passing cart and greeting neighbour. Elizabeth nodded to them all, her spirits lightening as she turned onto a quieter path skirting the meadow.
She spoke absently to Pippin as they walked. “We must not take your adventures too much to heart. Even the proudest of men must sometimes suffer a muddy shoe. Though,” she added, smiling, “I daresay that one found it an unforgivable crime. He looked at you, my dear, as if you had leapt upon the throne itself.”
Pippin yipped, tugging at the leash.
“Oh, hush,” Elizabeth laughed. “I know you meant no harm. Perhaps if he possessed half your spirit, he might appear a little less carved from marble.”
The spaniel gave another tug, this one sharp enough to slip the loop from Elizabeth’s fingers.
“Pippin!” she cried, startled. “Come back this instant!”
But Pippin, having spied a distant movement beyond the hedge, paid no heed. She darted through the tall grass, tail streaming, ears flying.
