Page 10 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“It belongs to the Marcon estate,” Lizzy told him. “The forester who manages the woodland on that estate hates foxes.” She eyed both gentlemen as they rounded the side of the house, reaching the front. “They are rather intelligent creatures, you know. They are responsible for a good deal of vermin control. If they were eradicated from our wild places, we might be overrun with rodents.”

“They are opportunistic hunters,” Mr. Darcy stated as though he meant to close their dialogue on the matter. But then he asked, “Do you mean to keep Clive as a pet once he is mended?”

“He deserves to live free,” Lizzy said, feeling her heart clench. “If he allows it, I will keep him until fox hunting season is over. However, I will release him when it feels right to do so.”

Mr. Bingley winced. “Loving our animals too much is not always a rewarding endeavor.”

“How much is ‘too’ much love, sir?” Lizzy shot back. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and blinked at Mr. Bingley. “Please forgive me for speaking with so much heat.”

“Not at all, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Bingley said, nodding. “I take your point.”

“Ah, there is Mama, waiting for us,” she said. “I expect she will beg you to enter and partake of refreshments. You may be sitting in our breakfast room with your stockinged feet laid bare before you know it.”

“Why is your pocket squirming, Miss Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy asked, coming to a stop to stare at her apron.

“I think it might be Jeffry, though I do not recall putting him in my pocket,” she said, slipping her hand inside and curling it around the animal found there. Drawing him out, she cradled Jeffry against her midriff. “Ah, how did you get inside my pocket?”

“What is he?” Mr. Bingley asked, leaning over to look it over. “Is he a guinea pig?”

“Yes, he is. He arrived earlier today. Harry found him.” Lizzy held him up so they could easily take his measure. “Is he yours, Mr. Bingley? Or yours, Mr. Darcy?”

Both gentlemen shook their heads.

“I am convinced he is someone’s pet, but I do not know whose. I shall have to carry him around with me so I can ask people.”

Mr. Darcy chuckled. “I expect, if you do, that word will soon get about and his owner will come forward.”

Lizzy caught her breath. His features soften pleasantly when he laughs. “You may be right, Mr. Darcy,” she admitted. “Now, shall I introduce you to Mama?”

Without waiting for an answer, Elizabeth led the two gentlemen over to the porch where her mother had been waving her handkerchief at them.

“Hall-oo, Mr. Bingley,” she cried, smiling so widely Lizzy could spy her back teeth. “You naughty boy. I swear you meant to leave without coming in for a visit.”

Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy bowed, and her mama merely nodded.

“Good morning, Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Bingley said. He gestured to his right. “May I present my good friend, Mr. Darcy? He is visiting with me for a time.”

“Mr. Darcy,” her mother said cordially. “Pray, enter and take some refreshment.”

“We have been in the farmyard, madam,” Mr. Darcy said, indicating their dirty boots. “We did not wish to bring muck into your home.”

“What is a little muck, pray?” her mother asked. The look she flashed at Lizzy indicated her vexation with her second daughter.

Mr. Bingley hurried to respond. “We do not wish to make extra work for your housekeeper, madam.”

“Nonsense. Our butler will be happy to clean your boots while we drink some tea.”

“Ma-maaa,” Lizzy said, drawing her name out.

“What?” her mother snapped.

“I am certain Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy would rather trust the care of their boots to their valets.”

In a peevish voice, her mother asked, “Then why did they come calling if not to visit?”

Lizzy sighed. “They came to bring me a lamb to look after.”

“Another one of your dratted creatures?” her mama demanded, and clicked her tongue.