Page 88 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“O’course, miss,” Mrs. Godbed said, nodding kindly.

“Perhaps your husband will do me the honor of discussing the features of British whites with me on Tuesday when I bring Georgiana here?” Fitz asked.

“I’m sure he’d be right pleased to talk w’ye about them,” Mrs. Godbed said.

Georgiana pulled on her gloves, waited while Fitz donned his and put on his hat, before they said their farewells and climbed up into the gig.

*

Monday morning dawned fresh and clear. Lizzy and Harry ran through the home wood, laughing and barking with the pure delight that comes from good health and fresh air. When they returned to the house, she scampered upstairs to wash and change into clothing appropriate for the breakfast table, while Harry flopped down on the terrace. Lizzy did not wish to incur any more remarks from her mother about tardiness and her foolish love of animals. She arrived at the door to the breakfast room at the same time as her mother.

“Humph,” Mama said, eyeing her through narrowed eyes. “You are early, my girl.”

“I am, Mama,” Lizzy replied sunnily. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” was the reply. “Did you?”

Lizzy merely nodded, choosing not to tell her how a dreaming Harry had woken her several times during the night.

They entered the room together, discovering everyone else had arrived early as well. This seemed highly unfair to Lizzy, after she had done her best to arrive before at least some of her family members.

“There you are,” her papa said, though he was looking at his wife. “Shall we sit?”

“Yes, dear,” her mama said, waiting for him to hold her chair.

On the way to his own chair, Lizzy’s father asked, “How is your guinea pig fairing, Lizzy?”

“Jeffry seems happy,” she admitted, frowning a little as she unfolded her napkin and put it on her knee. “I thought he might pine—missing his human family, you know. But he does not seem to be.”

“I suppose that is a good thing,” he said in a reflective voice. Then, he clasped his hands together as a signal to prepare for grace, which he said in his calm way.

After they all said “amen”, he asked, “What is everyone doing today?”

“We have our reading to do this morning,” Lydia said in forced cheerfulness. “But, afterward, Kitty, Maria, and I are visiting Aunt Phillips.”

“You are kind to do so,” Papa said, nodding once. “And you, Mary?”

Mary chose a slice of toast and passed the toast rack along the table. “Miss Darcy is coming this morning so we may practice a duet on the fortepiano.”

“Unexceptional.” He lifted a platter of kippers, offered some to his tablemates, before taking one himself. “Jane?”

Jane picked up her fork and stabbed at a curried potato and egg fritter on the platter before her. “I am accompanying Mr. Bingley to the botanical gardens at Tring Park.”

Papa fixed her with a contemplative gaze. “How is he conveying you there?”

“I believe we are taking his chaise in case it comes on to rain later,” Jane replied.

“That means there is room for you to take Hattie,” he said, nodding emphatically.

“Yes, Papa,” Jane said in a mild voice.

“Husband,” their mother cried softly, holding her knife in one hand and her fork in the other, at the ready, as though preparing to do battle, “there is no need for a maid, surely.”

Biting off his words, their father said, “In a closed carriage? And with an hour drive, both ways? You are mistaken, my dear.”

“I trust Mr. Bingley to behave in a gentlemanly manner,” his wife said, close to snapping.

Lizzy and her sisters stared at one end of the table, and then at the other. No one dared to interrupt the brewing argument.