Chapter Five #9
“Exactly,” Georgiana affirmed, then, turning to Elizabeth, she clasped her hands. “But if you desire our company, we can proceed as planned. It will be a lovely outing.”
“No, of course you must do as you desire. You both possess such skill and passion for sketching and painting that I would never suspend any pleasure of yours. But I can simply enjoy being with you instead of riding to the lake.”
“No, you must!” “Absolutely not,” Georgiana and Mary said at the same time.
“Miss Elizabeth, if you still desire to ride to the lake, I was also looking forward to the outing, so it is not trouble for me to accompany you.”
“Yes! Thank you, Miss Baxter!” Georgiana exclaimed. “And Fitzwilliam was also anticipating joining you, so you must not disappoint him either.”
“It is settled then,” Miss Baxter declared, rising from the sofa and moving to the interior door which led to her own chamber, “I shall bid you ladies good night, trusting you will be sleeping soon in light of the fact that Colleen will be here in just a few short hours to bid you rise and make you ready for your respective adventures.”
Though they intended to heed Miss Baxter’s parting admonishment, the girls found themselves unable to settle down to attempt sleep for another hour, all three aware that their time together was growing short.
The Bennet girls would return to Barlow Hall the following afternoon and would not see the Darcys again that summer, as they planned to set off for Cornwall in two days’ time.
An hour before sunrise, Colleen, Georgiana’s lady’s maid, crept into the dark room holding a candle aloft.
The three girls were cuddled together in the centre of the bed, heads resting on each other’s shoulders, with arms and legs going in every direction.
She looked fondly upon the young girl she had known since she was but a toddler chasing after her big brother on unsteady limbs before attempting to rouse her.
The aforementioned fondness was stretched to a near breaking point, and Colleen more than earned the generous wage Mr. Darcy paid all his household staff, trying to cajole her charge from the bed.
Elizabeth and Mary, more used to rising early, stumbled from their blankets and pillows quickly and began to help one another dress and get ready for the day.
“I have put your clothes just there,” Colleen said, even as she continued to gently shake her charge, quietly urging her to rise.
As Elizabeth had outgrown Mrs. Gardiner’s old riding habit, the Darcys had gifted her a new one at the start of the previous summer.
Though she could not wear it anywhere other than the fields and trails of Derbyshire, it was Elizabeth’s favourite outfit.
This was partly because when she donned it, she knew she would be doing something she loved.
The other part of her favouritism was simply because it was the finest thing she had ever worn.
The quality of the fabric was beyond anything she owned, and the precision of the cut—she had been fitted by a Lambton seamstress, who made many of the clothes for the Darcy family—meant it fit her better than the gowns, often second- and third-hand, that she and her sisters made and remade.
After they had dressed and before they began on their hair, Elizabeth and Mary helped convince their very reluctant friend to leave the warmth of her bed. Colleen thanked them, and she and Georgiana disappeared into her dressing room.
“Let me do your hair first,” Mary said, guiding Elizabeth to sit in front of the mirror at the vanity. “You must leave sooner to make it to the lake before sunset. Georgiana and I have more time.”
“Thank you, Mary,” Lizzy said as her sister’s fingers quickly braided and twisted her long brown tresses into the simple style Lizzy favoured.
Miss Baxter came in a few minutes later, greeting the sisters and moving to find Georgiana, whose excited chatter could now be heard.
“I am surprised she sounds so cheery,” Miss Baxter commented. “Mornings are not her favourite.”
“That was more than apparent ten minutes ago,” Lizzy laughingly responded.
When Mary finished, Lizzy sprang from the seat. “It is perfect, Mary. You are better than Jane! Enjoy your sketching; I will look forward to seeing your masterpieces.”
“You have a lot of faith in us,” Georgiana said as she emerged from the dressing room.
“I do indeed.” Elizabeth smiled and hugged her friend. “Shall we be off, Miss Baxter?”
“Yes, I am ready.”
“If you keep your squirming to a minimum, I can do both you and Miss Mary’s hair in time for you to catch your sunrise.”
“Thank you, Colleen,” Elizabeth said as she and Miss Baxter hurried from the room.
When they reached the landing at the top of the stairs, Darcy looked up from his post at the bottom.
A smile lit his eyes and went so far as to stretch his mouth into a near grin.
His curly brown hair bounced as he moved to await them at the centre of the steps.
The sight of him in his dark green coat and brown breeches was a familiar one at this point.
Familiarity, it seemed in this case, did not breed indifference.
Her nerves jumbled and danced within her as they did every time she looked at him after an absence of more than an hour. Every time.
“Good morning, ladies,” he greeted them when they were close enough. His deep voice tinged with pleasure only increased the fluttering inside her. She kept her head down and took the final few steps, working to slow her heartbeat and steady her breathing. She heard Miss Baxter offer her greeting.
“Is it too early to expect a smile and a hello from you, Miss Elizabeth?” he teased.
She had just gotten herself under control, and he had to go and speak her name and tease her. Had he no mercy? After one more deep breath, she ventured to speak.
“Of course not.” She smiled up at him but made an effort to not look into his compelling eyes, keeping her gaze somewhere near his shoulder.
“But as you are often reminding me of my extreme youth, I thought it best to concentrate on the stairs lest I stumble. I have not been in the habit of descending without help for nearly as long as you.”
“A wise choice, I commend you. Now that you are on solid ground, I am all anticipation.”
“Good morning, Master Fitzwilliam,” she said, her voice sickly sweet. Then she dared a look right at him to offer her overbright smile. “I hope you are well on this fine day, that your night was restful and you are as eager as I for this magnificent outing we are about to embark upon.”
He chuckled softly, and though this did nothing to calm Elizabeth’s nerves, her pride at having elicited such a thing trumped all else.
“It seems you are becoming quite proficient in small talk. You could perhaps enquire after my digestion and comment more minutely on the weather if you seek perfection in the field, but I confess I should be sorry if you traded your usual conversation for trivial niceties.”
“I shall make a note of your preferences,” she responded, keeping, for the most part, her elation at the implied compliment from her voice.
“See that you do,” he quipped before indicating the side door which would take them to the path to the stables.
The familiar route to the stables and routine of greeting the hands and horses, mounting and setting out, still thrilled Elizabeth even two summers after having earned the privilege of riding a full-grown mount and being given almost exclusive use of the swift and steady Hephaestus.
She ran her fingers through his black mane and began, as was her custom, to tell him of all the grand adventures they would have together that day.
“We are short on time,” Darcy called over his shoulder. Elizabeth rode directly behind him with Miss Baxter in the rear. “Shall we ride hard?”
“And take the shortcut?” Elizabeth asked excitedly.
It had two jumps, one over a small rock wall and one a fence. Nothing thrilled her more than jumping at full speed.
Darcy considered this for a moment, still looking at her as their mounts knew the path to the trail well. “Very well,” he said at last. “Is that all right with you, Miss Baxter?”
“Certainly.” She was at least as accomplished a rider as Darcy, and Elizabeth suspected she enjoyed the jumps and any opportunity for a good gallop as much as herself.
“Hup!” Darcy urged his mount on, and they took off.
Elizabeth followed and she heard Miss Baxter do the same.
For the next ten minutes, Elizabeth thought of nothing but what was in that moment: the sound of hoofs pounding, loud and sharp on the paths and muted and steady through the fields.
The way her heart raced and settled in turns, seeming to keep pace with that of Hephaestus.
The blur of green and brown as they flew past the trees, and the smell of smoke and flowers.
Though she was excited to catch the sunrise over Pemberley Lake for the first time, she was sorry when, only a quarter of an hour after it began, the ride was over.
“It is hard to believe you have not been riding your whole life,” Darcy said to Elizabeth as she and Hephaestus arrived in the clearing and moved next to his horse Poseidon as Darcy tethered him to the hitching post and pulled some hay from the trough to rub him down.
Darcy moved to help her dismount, and though her heart leapt at his touch, it was over so quickly she was able to talk herself into normalcy fairly quickly.
By the time she and Miss Baxter had rubbed down their horses, she was reasonably steady.
“If you ladies are interested, the prospect is completely unobstructed from a spot below—just down this path. The way is a bit rocky, but the view is quite worth the effort,” he explained, pointing to the ancient trees which lined the path and the lake.