Page 82 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“Indeed,” Mr. Darcy said. “I will make it a priority to ask her.”

Lizzy stroked Jeffry until he appeared to fall asleep. When he did, she rose and smiled at the Darcys. “I think I will walk home. Thank you, Mr. Darcy for a lovely drive.”

Mr. Darcy stood. “I prefer to drive you to your door, Miss Elizabeth. Pray, permit me to do so.”

“Would you care to walk with me instead?” she asked. “Longbourn House is not far.”

“Gladly,” he said.

*

Basile padded around the Netherfield corridors, his thoughts churning, searching for Caroline, who had left the parlor while he slept.

No doubt she iz with zat stupid, stupid colonel. Why did ‘e ‘ave to come ‘ere right when I am strivin’ to get Monsieur Darcy to fall in love with my person? Ze wretched colonel ‘as no money—'e is an opportunist. ‘E is nowhere near as ‘andsome as Monsieur Darcy.

Oh, ‘ow dearly do I want to scratch ze colonel’s shiny boots. Non! Not just want. Wiz all my ‘eart I wish to scratch ‘is shiny boots! ‘E won’t let me near ‘im, zat…zat...Sacré bleu, I cannot zink of a proper name for ‘im. ‘E is in my way.

He voiced his annoyance. “Le meow, le meow.”

Basile paused to sniff the air, turning his head this way and that, his orange eyes half-closed. He caught the scent of his human and turned aside his steps to follow it. Before long he could hear her.

She’s wit’ zat colonel! Where iz Monsieur Darcy?

Basile entered a small drawing room and noticed the tea table had been covered with a cloth. Two chairs, filled with a human each, sat on either side of it. The shiny boots tempted Basile greatly, and he crouched in preparation of pouncing.

“You have beat me again,” his Caroline declared, her voice gay.

“I have, but you are improving,” Colonel Fitzwilliam pointed out as he gathered up the cards.

“Thank you, but I can hardly tell.” Caroline looked down at Basile. “You are awake, are you?”

The colonel swung his legs around to the far side of his chair, saying, “Oh, ho. Not today, my bucko.”

“What is it?” Caroline asked.

“Basile longs to scratch my boots.” He tapped the table with the card deck. “I am on to him.”

“No, no, why should he?” Caroline demanded, chuckling a little. “He is much too well behaved for that sort of nonsense. Are you not, my pet?”

Basile flicked his tail, his gaze trained on the boots. The colonel stood, hastened to the sofa and took up two cushions. He returned to his seat, placing one cushion on its end, next to the chair legs, cutting off Basile’s view of the boots. The colonel held the other one near the floor, like a blocking shield.

“I am not new to the antics of cats. They all long to scratch my boots,” the colonel explained, while carefully watching Basile.

Caroline rose and swiftly caught her cat in her arms. “You are not to damage the colonel’s boots, Basile. Do you hear me?”

I do, but you do not know ‘ow satisfyin’ it will be for me to triumph over ze upstart. You are not for ze colonel. ‘E is too old and too poor for you. Basile rubbed his cheek against his Caroline’s chin.

“It is clear to me that Basile loves you,” the colonel said.

Of course I love my Caroline, you imbecile!

“He is my darling boy,” she said warmly.

Basile’s irritation ebbed as he accepted her caresses. I am ‘er darlin’ boy. No ‘uman man will replace me in ‘er ‘eart.

“We are playing cards, Basile,” Caroline told him. “The colonel is teaching me to play piquet, so I am going to place you on your favorite spot to look outside.”

Basile thought about grumbling—a low, annoyed sound deep in his throat—but decided he would enjoy looking outside. Soon, he sat on the upholstered box, set upon the window seat. From that vantage point, he could see across the garden at the front of the house, where birds flitted, humans walked, pushing wheelbarrows or carrying rakes, and the occasional red squirrel ventured into sight.