Page 17 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“She does. The biggest problem, she says, is that every housewife does not have a set of scales, or the same type of measuring tools she uses. Cups are different sizes, you see. And even spoons come in all sorts of sizes.”

They soon came to a narrow stream that had a single stepping stone in the middle to bridge its gurgling path. Miss Elizabeth stopped beside it. She whistled and Darcy heard a single bark and a single howl.

“One whistle means they must sound off so I know where Harry is—and Conny, too. Look what I have here,” Miss Elizabeth said, digging in her pockets. “You will want a drink of water now—I always do—and I have a cup.” Frowning, she pulled forth a bundle of fur. “Jeffry? What are you doing here? Do you see what I mean, Mr. Darcy?”

“Perhaps his owner is a gypsy traveler,” he suggested.

“You may be right. If that is the case, Jeffry may become my permanent guest.” She tucked him into the crook of one arm and dug into the same pocket once more. “Ah, here it is.”

The guinea pig went back into her pocket. She displayed a round silver box similar to some snuff boxes. She pulled the top off completely and revealed a recessed silver object. She dumped it onto her palm, put the box into a pocket, and proceeded to poke the bottom of the disk until the form of a cup appeared.

“Have you seen one of these before? It is the same collapsible cup my father had as part of his toiletries when he went on the Grand Tour.”

“I have. My father had something similar, though his fit in a leather holder.”

Miss Elizabeth passed the cup to him.

“This water is clean,” she told him. “The spring is not twenty yards away.”

Darcy set the bundle of debris on the ground, and crouched beside the stream to fill the cup. He stood and offered the cup to her first.

“Thank you,” she said, taking it and swallowing a gulp of water before handing it back to him.

“This is extremely convenient,” Darcy admitted. He drank down the remaining water, refilled it, and drank some more. He filled it one more time and offered it again to Miss Elizabeth. She accepted it and drank it dry. “Not quite as useful as a water flask, but perfect for rambling in an area where you know you can find clean water.”

“I agree completely,” she murmured. “Perhaps you can find your father’s cup.”

Miss Elizabeth is a remarkably sensible woman…though a little odd. He ignored how his heart raced a little when he considered her, thinking himself foolish to admire a woman who traipsed all over sundry with little animals in her pockets.

Darcy took the cup back from her and dried it with his handkerchief before collapsing the cup, and handing it to her. He pointed at the cup as she put it back in its box. “That gives me an idea that might help your cook. Would you care to hear it?”

“Certainly, I would.”

Miss Elizabeth gave him such an engaging look that he almost forgot his idea. Blinking a few times first, he managed to order his tumbled thoughts. “I wonder if a tin cup, of the appropriate size, could be sold along with the book? Or, it could be given away with the purchase of the book?”

“Mr. Darcy!” she gasped, taking a step away and opening her eyes so wide he could see the whites surrounding her dark-brown irises.

“What is it?” he asked, blinking.

She clapped her hands over her pockets—presumably protecting her pets—and jumped up and down, crying, “That is a positively brilliant notion! I cannot wait to suggest it to Cook!” Miss Elizabeth pulled the guinea pig out of her pocket, held him up to her nose, and asked, “Did you hear that, Jeffry? Is not Mr. Darcy an amazingly intelligent gentleman?”

Of course I heard him. It was my idea, Jeffry thought, laughing to himself. She did not hear him, though, since Aunty would not approve of him revealing his magical secrets to Lizzy. He chutted instead, settling into a nap position.

“What an interesting array of noises guinea pigs make,” Lizzy remarked, tucking him away in her pocket once more. She gave two sharp whistles between her thumb and forefinger. Harry barked twice. “The dogs will come now, Mr. Darcy. I must return to the house right away to tell Cook about your idea so she might take her time thinking over the idea.”

“May I accompany you?” he asked, his eyebrows high.

“It is polite of you to ask, but there is no need,” she assured him, taking both bottom corners of her apron up in her hands as she did so. She folded them over and over, laterally, and then tucked the ends through her waistband. Mr. Darcy appeared puzzled by her actions. She picked up the sack of debris and explained. “I mean to run, you see. I love running.”

“You do not think I am capable of running alongside you?”

Lizzy thought he sounded miffed, but that made no sense to her. “I am certain you can, since you are healthy and appear to be sound in limb. But why should you? I am perfectly safe. Goodbye, sir,” she said, curtsying. “Hold on, little ones.”

Lizzy turned, then, and broke into a slow jog, then a speedier jog, and then she stretched her stride into a loping run that covered ground with significant speed. Harry soon joined her. Connie did not. Since Lizzy did not hear Mr. Darcy following, she supposed he agreed that she was perfectly safe on their own land.

He likely thinks I am a mad woman. Lizzy did not know if she should chuckle at the idea or groan at it. She hoped he would not tell her mother about how she had harried away as if she were a fox with hounds nipping at her heels.

Darcy watched Miss Elizabeth hie off toward her home. He glanced down and met Conny’s soulful gaze.