Page 68 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

Darcy took out one of his cards and passed it over. “Can you write your direction on this?”

The man produced a pencil and wrote his direction in barely legible letters. He handed it over. “That’s me name—John Munk—from Longbourn Village, sir. Ask at The Holly Bush Inn—anyone can direct ye t’me place.”

“Very good. Thank you.” Darcy turned and slipped the mug and card into Georgiana’s basket. He took her elbow and led her along the aisle.

“Who is the mug for, Fitz?” Georgiana asked.

“It is for the Bennet’s cook,” he explained, grinning at her raised eyebrows.

“The cook?”

“Miss Elizabeth told me their cook is writing a cookery book,” he revealed. “The trouble is, everyone uses their own cups and spoons for measuring, so how can she standardize her measurements?”

“Ah,” Georgiana said, enlightenment shining in her eyes. “If everyone had the same cup, then the recipes would work for them.”

“You are a clever girl,” Darcy praised. “I suggested as much to Miss Elizabeth. A cup similar to this one could be a bonus gift that comes with the purchase of the book.”

“So many books are borrowed from circulating libraries, though,” Georgiana reminded him.

“The library could have the mug on display so members might compare their cups with the tin mug,” Darcy pointed out.

“Did Lizzy like the idea?”

“She said she would suggest it to their cook, but I do not know the results of their discussion.”

“You can ask her during your drive,” Georgiana said. She lifted the basket a little. “And, you can give her your gift.”

Darcy blinked. He had not thought of the mug as a gift. “Should I buy a square of fabric to wrap it in?” Then, he said, “Unnecessary, I think.”

Georgiana twinkled up at him. “Perhaps.” She pointed her nose ahead. “Look there, a stall selling wooden boxes. One could hold the mug.”

They stopped at the stall and compared the mug to several simple boxes with hinged lids. Darcy chose one, paid for it, and put the mug and card inside it. He held it under his arm.

“We should have brought a footman,” Darcy muttered. At Georgiana’s giggle, he said, “I will tell Miss Elizabeth the mug and box is a gift for her cook.”

Georgiana gave a delicate snort. “If you must.”

“I told you, it is not a gift for Miss Elizabeth.”

“So you keep saying. But, remembering what she told you about her cook is a gift in and of itself.”

I suppose she is right, in a way. But I will not tell her so. Oh, no. If I do, I will never hear the end of it.

Chapter Eleven

Wickham watched Georgiana turn in his direction, and he ducked behind a tower of baskets, cursing that he had only brought his regimentals with him. A red coat did not offer any disguise. Once he had seen Georgiana yesterday, Wickham had convinced Denny to stay one more night in Meryton, claiming it behooved them to see what the market had to offer. Since the regiment paid for their lodgings, Denny had no good reason to object.

Darcy or Georgiana must not see me too soon. If Darcy sees me here, he will surely take his sister away. I must think of the best method to surprise my errant bride-to-be with my presence in Meryton. I would like to see her alone, before she gets a new companion.

Wickham carefully slipped away, back to their lodgings at the George Inn. Upon entering the taproom, which smelled of wood smoke, spilled ale, and the various substances sticking to the bottom of the patrons’ boots, his friend, Lieutenant Chamberlayne, stood from where he sat at a table in the middle of the crowded room. An impressively tall and able younger son, Chamberlayne smiled a greeting.

“I am surprised to see you here,” Wickham claimed, taking off his hat and clasping his offered hand.

“I have brought your traps. They are already in your room. I brought Denny’s, too,” Chamberlayne said, and then waved him to a chair at his table. “Fear not, my batman packed them.”

Wickham pulled out the ladder-back chair and sat, placing his hat on his lap since he could not rely on taproom tables being clean. Though Chamberlayne had the money for a batman to keep his clothing clean, Wickham did not. He paid a stipend to share Denny’s batman’s services, who had, of course, accompanied them to Meryton. Wickham did not want to make extra work for him or else he might need to pay him more. “That is a relief. But why did you bring our traps? We were returning to camp this afternoon.”

“The colonel’s orders. He wants us to find quarters for all the officers now that the decision to use Meryton as our winter base has been made.” Chamberlayne held up two fingers to the barmaid. Two pints of porter soon arrived at the table. She set them, dripping, on the table. She wiped the table free of porter and left.