Page 38 of When Elizabeth's Cat Chose Darcy
CHAPTER TWELVE
THROUGH THE KITCHEN DOOR
Elizabeth
Of all thevisions of my life, including chasing a goose through a drawing room, climbing a tree, and falling into a pigpen to Lydia’s jeers, I had never once imagined leading the granddaughter of an earl through my mother’s kitchen door.
Georgiana Darcy didn’t seem to mind.
Her once pristine muslin was frayed where she had slid off the weathered top of the stile. Her half-boots were muddied, and she wore a streak of dust and apple juice across her cheek, but her eyes were lively as she stared at the skinned rabbits hanging on hooks, and Cook stirring a cauldron of soup while the kitchen maids bustled about.
“Is that a rabbit?” She pointed at the brace awaiting their fate on the dressing table.
“Two rabbits. They become pie. If you stay for dinner, you can get a taste.”
She glanced about furtively, as if her guardians would detecteven the whiff of impropriety; her presence at our home, without her brother’s knowledge or permission, was a breach.
I had not planned this visit. We had been following the boundary stream, and Longbourn was there. Georgiana had shed so much of her haughty Darcy reserve across the morning that I could not bear to end it with a sensible march back to Netherfield.
“Sit, sit, Miss Darcy,” Mama said, clearing a spot on the well-scrubbed pine table. “Tea first.”
Instead of calling for Hill or even Cook, who was peeling root vegetables, Mama filled the kettle from the pump and set it on the range. “And you shall have biscuits, Miss Darcy, because your companion has neglected to feed you properly, and I can see from the apple juice glistening on your chin that you have been foraging like field mice.”
Georgiana’s hand flew to her chin, and I handed her my handkerchief.
“They were Bramleys, Mama. From Mrs. Jolliffe’s orchard. Very respectable apples.”
“Bramleys are a cooking apple, Lizzy, not a luncheon.” She arranged the steaming biscuits on a blue-and-white plate—the good Wedgwood, I noticed, not the everyday crockery. “Eat, child. You are too thin and polite, and I intend to remedy both before you leave my kitchen.”
Georgiana accepted a biscuit with the careful gratitude of a girl who had been offered things before and learned to examine the terms. As she took her first bite, her eyes widened in delight.
“These are…” As she searched for the appropriate word, I heard Darcy’s voice pronouncingcommendablebefore his sister said, “tasty. The best biscuits I have ever eaten.”
Mama preened at the compliment. “Walnut biscuits, Miss Darcy. My grandmother was a Clark, baker to the former king.” She never missed an opportunity to mention this fact, much to my father’s fond exasperation.
“They are truly excellent, and I am honored, Mrs. Bennet.”Georgiana took another dainty bite. A crumb fell on the table, and she did not appear mortified but picked it up and licked it off her finger.
Somewhere in Derbyshire, an etiquette master wept into his starched cravat. I bit my lip and said nothing, because the girl who had once greeted me with a curtdo youwas eating biscuits with her fingers in my mother’s kitchen, and if that was not progress, the word had no meaning.
“Now then,” Mama began, her tone light but her eyes keenly observant, “do tell me what adventures you and Lizzy have embarked upon. Has she demonstrated her renowned flour-sifting technique?”
Georgiana covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. “We baked Shrewsbury cake already, and even though my brother disapproved of educating me on the culinary arts, he has since devoured several cakes when he believed himself unobserved. Mr. Bingley was in raptures.”
Jane happened into the kitchen at the mention of Bingley, her eyes brightening at his mention. “Miss Darcy, I am so pleased to meet you. I am Elizabeth’s eldest sister, Jane.”
She took Miss Darcy’s hands, both of them, into hers, a natural gesture when she met someone she liked, but to an earl’s granddaughter, it must have felt too forward as Georgiana went still.
“Miss Bennet,” she said with a measure of reserve, and I wondered what she had heard about Jane from Caroline.
“You must have tea,” Jane said, letting go of Georgiana’s hands as she fetched the kettle. “And you must tell me all about Netherfield Park. Are you finding Hertfordshire to your liking?”
“Hertfordshire is very pleasant. The countryside bears a passing resemblance to Derbyshire, though the hills here are of a gentler nature.”
“I should love to see Derbyshire one day,” Jane said. “Elizabeth tells me you are a wonderful musician. I hope you will play for us if you feel comfortable. Our pianoforte is dreadfully out of tune, but it has a forgivingtemperament.”
“You are very kind, Miss Bennet.”
“Jane is kind to everyone,” I said, attempting to ease Miss Darcy’s reserve against my sister. “It is her terrible affliction. She cannot help it. Doctors have been consulted.”
