A Loyal Companion Read Online Free PDF Page B

bitch or a mare in foal, poppet, I know what to do. But women get queer as Dick's hatband. It's more'n a man knows what to do."
    Sonia had her arms folded over her chest and her chin thrust out.
    "It's only till after the baby comes, Sunny."
    "If Fitz goes, Muffy goes." She turned on her heel and left.
    Squire had another glass of brandy. This was going to be one very long pregnancy.
     
     
    Miss Sonia tried, she really did. She stayed in her room, she stayed in the kitchen, she even stayed in the schoolroom. Fitz stayed with her, of course. She stayed out of the house till her nose turned blue and icicles hung off Fitz's fur; then she stayed in the warm stables, drying and brushing the dog till there wasn't a loose hair to fall out of that animal for a week. Jennifer took to putting her hands over her protuberant belly every time she saw Fitz, protecting the unborn babe.
    Matters came to a head the day Jennifer refused to go to church in the family carriage if the dog came along, even if Fitz rode with the coachman as he'd done since her arrival.
    "It is not seemly," she said, waving her fur muff around. "I refuse to be a laughingstock in the village where I expect to live the rest of my life." And she sat right down on the hall bench, put her muff on the floor beside her, and started untying her bonnet.
    The servants disappeared. George was scarlet-faced with embarrassment, and Miss Corwith was suddenly memorizing her hymnal. The older Randolph looked beseechingly at his daughter. Sonia looked back at her father, and for the first time saw not a hero, not a god, just an ordinary, peace-loving, incompetent male. She looked outside; it was raining too hard to take the pony cart. She looked at the clock; they were already too late for her and Fitz to walk. She looked at Fitz; yes, he'd race them to town no matter what, meet them on the church steps, and likely shake raindrops all over Jennifer's ermine-edged pelisse. "Very well," she said, gesturing for them all to precede her out the door, and quickly. "Fitz stays home. This time." She never looked at Jennifer at all.
     
     
    Squire invited the Pinkneys to take luncheon with the family after church. The Pinkneys were prosy old windbags, but a man couldn't be selective when he was looking for a smoke screen. Before they were all out of their carriages and inside the door, General Pinkney was bending George's ear with the same old tales of the Mahratta Wars. Mrs. Pinkney was giving Sonia and Miss Corwith her interpretation of the vicar's sermon. The host followed last, escorting his daughter-in-law at her slower pace. It wasn't until they were all gathered in the hall to hand over their wraps that Fitz came slinking down the stairs.
    The big black dog didn't bound down the hall to welcome Sonia the way he usually did if she left him home. Furthermore, he wasn't quite as black and shiny as when they'd left. Instead he seemed to have played in the snow, only there was no snow on the ground. He didn't bark his usual welcome, either. He couldn't, his mouth was full. A piece of something white and furry dangled from between his long, white fangs. A piece of—
    "Muffy!" Jennifer screamed. And screamed and screamed for two hours solid until the doctor could be found, out by Peg Wilson's. Not even dangling Muffy in her face, felis intactus, could halt the hysterics. George scrambled around finding bits and pieces of ermine skin and satin lining to prove the hand muff's demise. Miss Corwith burnt feathers. The squire suffered a very boring luncheon with the Pinkneys… and Miss Sonia wrote a letter to her sister in Bath, accepting Catherine's longstanding invitation.
     
     
    A few days later Sonia burst headlong into her father's study the way she used to when there was a new litter of pigs, or the first dewdrop was out.
    "Papa, is it true? Did you really tell George to hire some workmen to fix up the Dower House? Oh, Father, that's the best idea you've ever had! Now things can get