Chapter Four #2
“I must confess I am likely more anxious to see her. I was so grateful to hear from both of you while at Longbourn. Thank you for encouraging Miss Darcy to write me and for the book you sent for Christmas. It was so good I finished it before Twelfth Night.”
“We must talk about it at some point. I appreciate any opportunity to discuss the books I love. It is, selfishly, at least part of the reason I share them. And you must not credit me with Miss Darcy’s correspondence.
She practically demanded it, and that is rare for her.
It was refreshing to see her be so firm.
Fitzwilliam was on your side as well. Though I had no opposition, I was scarcely allowed to communicate this between my two children extolling your virtues and insisting. ”
Elizabeth hardly knew how to respond. Simply the mention of his name was enough to cause her heart to race and stomach to flutter, but hearing that he had spoken positively about her to his family was nearly too much. Fortunately, Mr. Darcy seemed unaware of the tumult his words had caused.
“We are quite delighted with Miss Baxter,” he told her, speaking of Miss Darcy’s governess, of whom Elizabeth had heard through their correspondence.
“I know I cannot credit her fully. Your letters helped as well, but I can tell Georgiana is more comfortable speaking her mind and sharing her troubles. I am really quite pleased,” he said, his voice catching just slightly.
Like with his smile, Elizabeth could tell this small display spoke of deep feelings.
“She is blessed to have such a kind brother and father who seek her comfort and well-being so diligently,” she told him, placing a hand on his arm. He squeezed her hand and smiled that small smile.
Mr. Darcy’s horse took the opportunity to nuzzle Elizabeth’s hair, possibly mistaking it for a snack. They laughed, and Elizabeth happily stroked his mane and gave him the carrot Mr. Darcy offered to her.
“He is beautiful,” she observed.
“Indeed,” Mr. Darcy agreed. “Poseidon is Fitzwilliam’s horse, but he is the finest stallion in our stables so I find myself borrowing him every now and again.”
“I won’t tell,” Elizabeth assured him.
“Thank you. Now, would you allow me to escort you back to Barlow Hall? I should like to pay my respects to your family and would enjoy some more time in your company.”
Elizabeth was flattered and readily agreed. They set off towards the path that would wend along the stream and take them through the wood to Barlow Hall’s east gardens.
“Mr. Barlow mentioned that you are inordinately fond of horses. When did you learn to ride?”
“You have spoken to Mr. Barlow?” Elizabeth asked, at once genuinely curious and eager to avoid Mr. Darcy’s question.
“Yes, when we were at Pemberley for the holidays, he was kind enough to host us for a marvellous dinner.”
“Did all of your family attend?”
“Yes, indeed, Mrs. Gardiner had her work cut out for her in drawing out my son, but she performed brilliantly," he said, laughing just a little. “This is our first sojourn back since then and my first opportunity to pay a call.”
“I am certain a visit from you would be welcome, by Mr. Barlow in particular.”
“You did not answer my question. When did you learn to ride?”
Later, when she knew Mr. Darcy better, Elizabeth would recognise questions like this. It was how he gently invited her, and others, to share something he knew they were reluctant to share. After a moment’s hesitation, she answered, “I don’t ride. I never learned.”
“Whyever not? You love horses, and I would have thought your love of nature and exploring would make you an eager rider.”
Elizabeth worried her bottom lip and tugged at her bonnet as she thought about how to answer. Mr. Darcy, who had been observing her closely, said, “Miss Elizabeth, I apologise, I do not want to make you uncomfortable. Let us speak of other things.”
“No, you are not wrong to ask,” she assured him quietly. “In truth, it is not a very interesting tale.”
“I should like to hear it all the same if you are willing to tell it.”
“My father tried to teach Jane and me together. Jane is much more patient than I am. It simply took too long—I could travel far and wide on my own two feet and that did not require lessons.”
“I see,” Mr. Darcy responded. “That makes perfect sense. It was your active nature that made the learning difficult.”
“More or less. And then when I realised that it had been silly to abandon a pursuit that would be useful and enjoyable, my father . . . he had already tried with me and did not have the time to try again.” In truth, Mr. Bennet had laughed at Lizzy, told her she squandered her chance and that if he did lessons with her, he would have to include Mary, and eventually Lydia and Kitty, who were then only five and six years old, would want to learn—this, he explained, was too much for him.
She would have to be content with her walks.
They had arrived at Barlow Hall and were ushered into the parlour by Mr. Simms, who left them to alert his mistress to their presence. Mr. Gardiner was from home for the day.
“Are you still interested in learning?” Mr. Darcy asked when they had seated themselves.
“I suppose I would be, but it is too late. Is it not?”
“Of course not,” Mr. Darcy replied with feeling. “One can learn at any time, and I have full confidence you could become proficient quite quickly.”
Elizabeth could not hide her enthusiasm at the prospect, but before she could respond, Mrs. Gardiner arrived.
She greeted Lizzy and their guest. Mr. Darcy asked after Mr. Barlow and was told he was unwell.
After he expressed his regret at this and his wishes for a speedy recovery, they all spent a few minutes talking of Mr. Barlow—remembering jests and kindnesses.
Mr. Darcy offered tales of a young Mr. Barlow that intrigued Elizabeth.
The stories made her at once happy and sad.
Soon enough, refreshments were brought and the adults entered into a lively discussion about Mr. Darcy’s most recent travels to the continent.
After about a half hour, their guest expressed his apologies for not only arriving unannounced but also overstaying his welcome. The ladies assured him he could not possibly outstay his welcome. As they walked him to the door, Mr. Darcy returned to his previous discussion with Elizabeth.
“Mrs. Gardiner, if you and your husband would have no objection, I would like to teach Miss Elizabeth to ride. We could devise a schedule for her to visit Pemberley perhaps twice a week for lessons?”
“Mr. Darcy, that is extremely generous,” Mrs. Gardiner responded while Elizabeth stood beside her, feeling overwhelming excitement and just a little terror.
The terror was not at the prospect of riding—that was all excitement—but being at Pemberley.
At seeing HIM, possibly regularly. “I am sure Elizabeth would be delighted to learn but are you certain—it is not a small undertaking.”
“I am certain. Between myself, Miss Darcy, Miss Baxter, who is herself an accomplished rider, and Fitzwilliam, I know we can handle even Miss Elizabeth’s energy and enthusiasm.
It would be a great favour to me as Miss Darcy would no doubt insist on regular meetings in any case, and now we have a purpose and a plan. ”
“Well then, how can we refuse?” Mrs. Gardiner responded.
“Of course, I am told Miss Bennet can already ride, but she would of course be welcome as well,” Mr. Darcy told her.
“Oh, thank you, that is too kind, but I am afraid Jane did not join Lizzy this summer.”
After some discussion, the following morning was set for the first lesson, and Mrs. Gardiner assured Mr. Darcy she would be happy to send Lizzy in the carriage rather than have them fetch her.
Elizabeth smiled and nodded through it all, suddenly consumed with a very grave question.
As soon as the door closed behind their guest Lizzy turned to her aunt and asked, “What will I wear?!”
The carriage conveying Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Pemberley was ready at the appointed hour.
Lizzy was ready quite in advance of that.
Dressed in a riding habit excavated from the attics of Barlow Hall, she fairly bounced from the house.
Her borrowed frock had belonged to Mrs. Gardiner when she was a girl.
It therefore had the disadvantage of being many seasons out of fashion, but the advantage of being like new.
Young Miss Madeline Barlow had not been much of a rider and quickly abandoned the stables for the gardens when she visited her cousin’s estate as a girl.
For the most part, as she journeyed towards this much-anticipated outing, Elizabeth was able to discipline herself to think only of riding, Miss Darcy, the horses, the stables and Mr. Darcy (the elder).
In short, anything but her Mr. Darcy. Of course she could not help but think of him thusly, as hers, in the privacy of her own mind.
It was, after all, simply a way to distinguish between the two gentlemen in her thoughts.
And even such simple thoughts of how she should think of him caused an intense fluttering in her belly and a flush of heat to her cheeks.
“I am to see Miss Darcy and Mr. Darcy. They will teach me to ride. That is exciting. I am excited only for this,” Elizabeth mumbled to herself.
“I am excited and only for this. Only for the riding.” Elizabeth’s self-directed admonitions calmed her somewhat but did not succeed in distracting either her heart or mind from her Mr. Darcy.
Turning to the window, she focused on the new sites before her.