Page 97 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

Mary bowed her head and covered her hot cheeks with her palms. “Please, forgive me. I did not intend to be hurtful.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Georgiana said, swiftly taking her hand in both of hers. “I am merely being overly sensitive.”

Mary sighed, clasping her friend’s hands and giving them a little shake. “I was so looking forward to showing you the infirmary. If I cannot go, then neither can you.”

Georgiana pulled away. “Oh, no. Fitz would never let me go now that there is typhus there.”

“Poor little boy,” Mary said, frowning.

“Yes, indeed. It must be horrid to be ill in a strange place.” Georgiana stood. “Shall we walk some more?”

Mary stood and smoothed her skirts. “Yes. Let us continue. Would you care to visit the goats? We can see how Mr. Bingley’s lamb is faring.”

“Delightful.”

*

Darcy looked up at the Georgian façade of the lending library. It had been trimmed in black and painted a pale gray. Tubs of pink and orange snapdragons adorned either side of the glass and wood-framed door. The doorman, an older man with an impressively curled mustache, bowed.

“Miss Elizabeth, ma’am,” he said. “Sir. Welcome.”

“Good morning, Harris. As you can see, Harry has come to keep you company,” Miss Elizabeth informed him. She indicated Darcy. “This is Mr. Darcy. He and his sister are visiting Mr. Bingley.”

“You’re most welcome, sir,” Harris said to Darcy. Then, he looked down at the dog. “You’re welcome too.”

Harry chuffed and found a spot next to the snapdragons to sit.

Darcy chuckled. “Is he attempting to look innocuous?”

Miss Elizabeth stroked her dog’s head. “He is innocuous. He knows better than to bother the patrons, do you not, Harry?” Her dog licked her gloved hand. “Just as I thought. We will be back in a little while.”

“Just a moment.” Darcy offered her the basket. “Do you wish to see if Harris might know something about Jeffry?”

Several patrons approached, and Harris hurriedly opened the door for them, before returning his attention to the basket.

“Jeffry, miss?” Harris asked.

Miss Elizabeth opened the basket without taking it from Darcy. “Kindly look inside, and tell me if you know anything about this guinea pig that Harry found.”

A frown of curiosity caused Harris’ mustache to twitch. He peered inside the basket. “Is this what a guinea pig looks like, miss? Not much in the ear department.”

“True, their ears are rather small,” Miss Elizabeth acknowledged. “But he seems to hear very well indeed. Have you heard of anyone missing their guinea pig?”

“Can’t say I ’ave, miss.”

“That is a shame.” Miss Elizabeth closed the basket lid. “We mean to ask the patrons if they have heard anything about Jeffry.”

Harris appeared dubious. “I’m not sure, miss, if Mrs. Moore will like that.”

“I assure you, I will ask her permission first,” Miss Elizabeth told him warmly. “Thank you for allowing Harry to wait here with you.”

“Not a problem, miss,” Harris said, opening the door for them.

Darcy followed Miss Elizabeth into the large, comfortable space where settees, upholstered chairs, tables, and straight-backed chairs lay strewn about the room, centered on carpets of all types. Patrons sat drinking tea and eating pastries. Some browsed the books on shelves jutting out from the walls. Two roof lanterns of significant size allowed light to flood down into the space. Fireplaces—unlit on such a warm day—adorned opposite walls, next to the vast counter where the proprietors served their patrons.

“Mr. and Mrs. Moore, I presume?” Darcy murmured, indicating the couple.

“Yes,” Miss Elizabeth said, strolling over to the counter to wait their turn.