Chapter 4 #2
“Yes.” Bingley thought about it, but he came back round to his observations, scant though they might be: “But, Darcy, I spend very little time looking at anyone other than Miss Bennet, as I am certain you have seen, but even I have noticed that you gaze at Miss Elizabeth a good deal. I hope you are being careful not to raise expectations.”
Darcy looked up with a rather stern expression and no smile whatsoever. “That is certainly an example of the pot calling the kettle black!”
Bingley fired up. “But I am falling in love with Miss Bennet! If I have raised expectations, I look forward to fulfilling them!”
“You are only three and twenty, and you have been in love with at least ten ladies I know of.”
“This is different,” Bingley insisted.
“Perhaps it is. Remember, I met Miss Bennet years ago, and she has corresponded with my sister for years, so I can attest that she has a very good character, and the kindliness you have seen is extended to everyone, at all times, from what I have heard. But the fact that I can vouch for her excellence just means that you must take things slowly, you must be very honest with her, and you must be sure of her feelings for you, and yours for her, before you make a lifelong commitment.”
Bingley nodded, feeling deflated by the memory that Darcy did know Miss Bennet far longer and better than he himself did. He supposed that his friend had some right to insist that Bingley be circumspect in his attentions.
Elizabeth was pleased that the daily riding lessons were going so well that Mr Darcy invited the ladies to Netherfield, where Mary could learn to jump. “We have a hostess, now,” he told Elizabeth. “Bingley’s aunt arrived from Bradford.”
Jane was also invited, and the gentlemen sent a carriage to pick up the three sisters.
Jane and Mr Bingley rode out together. Elizabeth was pretty certain that Jane felt a bit uncertain mounted on a gelding named Jasper, but Mr Bingley insisted he was a gentle and reliable beast. Jane had learnt best how to ride—on the basis that she was eldest and the most likely to marry well—but not knowing Jasper, and not having ridden in quite a long time, she seemed more nervous than Mary.
The latter was very excited to learn how to jump over hedges. She practiced with Lady over and over—but she was jumping over an outline Mr Darcy had drawn in the dirt. The outline accurately showed the width of the hedge but there was no height to be managed.
“Lady knows how to jump, so you just have to take it at moderate speed, portray confidence, and hold the reins so that you keep a light but steady bearing on the bit.”
Mary nodded firmly, and Elizabeth felt somewhat anxious about her sister but also very proud of her courage.
The first time Mary attempted the actual hedge, Lady and she went sailing over with plenty of room to spare.
Elizabeth cheered for her and watched as Mr Darcy, on Orion, led her sister on a rather uneven path in which they leapt over two low gates and three low hedges.
When Mary returned, she looked tremendously proud and excited, but she begged to sit down and rest. A stablehand named Melvin ran into the house and ordered lemonade and biscuits be brought out, and then he saw to Lady’s comfort.
“Are you ready to ride out?” Mr Darcy asked Elizabeth.
“You mean, ride outside of the paddock?” Elizabeth said.
She had done enough brisk walking and trotting, at Longbourn, that she felt quite confident with those gaits.
And earlier that day, while Mary was first learning from Mr Darcy about jumping, Elizabeth had dared to try a canter within the much larger paddock of which Netherfield could boast.
“It is what I mean, but if you are not ready, Misty and I are patient.”
“I tried…” Elizabeth floundered, not sure what she wished to say.
“You cantered today, for the first time. I saw you. I hope you felt very proud.”
“What I felt, sir, was very frightened.”
He nodded. “You were by yourself, making your own choices, and you dared to go faster than you did in our lessons. It would be natural to be scared. But you also were brave enough to do it, and you were competent enough to do it successfully.”
“How could I be frightened and brave at the same time?”
“If you think about it, you cannot be brave if you do something that has no chance of frightening you.”
Elizabeth just looked at him, still a bit puzzled.
“For example, say that you were a very young child and you did not understand that wolves were not to be trusted as, say, your family dog, and so you reached out to pet a wolf. Are you being brave?”
“Definitely not. But as I am not a very young child, and I do understand that wolves are not pet dogs, but I still would not be brave to pet it—I would be stupid!”
“That is correct, but let us say that you were near enough to that very young child who wished to pet a wolf. You would likely be frightened to run towards them and to snatch the child up, but if you were brave enough, you would do so anyway. But if you were not even a little bit frightened—say, you knew that the wolf was a gentle, trained animal—it would not be brave to approach it and remove the young child.”
“I do see what you mean.” Elizabeth grinned as she said, “I am so glad to claim to be much braver than you when I ride—because I am so very frightened.”
He nodded, a grin making a brief appearance and quite transforming his already-handsome face.
Elizabeth felt a ridiculous amount of palm-sweating and heart-skipping and stomach-plunging. She firmly and silently ordered herself to regain her composure.
For the most part, her body refused to comply. But she squared her shoulders and said, “My answer, then, is yes, let us ride out.”
They were fairly far from the mounting blocks, and Mr Darcy merely knelt and cupped his hands to give her a leg up.
She found her seat and held her reins while secretly peeping at how smoothly and easily Mr Darcy mounted his own stallion.
Then they walked out of the paddock, trotted a bit along a straight dirt path, and then entered a large meadow. “Shall we canter?” Mr Darcy asked.
Elizabeth wanted to say “no, thank you,” but she made herself agree. She shortened her reins and arranged her legs to give the signal, and Misty cooperated smoothly. Mr Darcy and Orion kept up easily, of course.
The wind created by their medium speed tugged at Elizabeth’s bonnet and stirred her skirts, and she liked the feeling of riding at speed but not the terror of falling.
She finally reined Misty in, as they reached the other end of the meadow, and she signalled her mount to turn and trot back towards the paddock.
Mr Darcy congratulated her warmly and asked if she liked increasing the speed, now that she was not quite as frightened.
“I am not certain if I dislike riding swiftly or if I merely dislike being scared.”
“Well, Melvin looks ready to care for Misty; maybe you can sit on Orion, with me, and I can gallop, and you can see if you like the greater speed once you are assured of your own safety.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes but dismounted and slid down to the ground. She looked up and up at Mr Darcy, who was still sitting atop his very tall horse. He reached a hand down to her and cocked his foot outwards to provide a step.
“You make it seem as if no strong rider has ever been hurt while riding, sir.”
“We all know that is not the case, but I promise you, I will not allow you to be hurt the few minutes that we gallop.”
The attraction that she felt for the man—that she told herself very strictly, multiple times a day, that she should not feel for the man—made it feel inevitable that she take his hand, step up on his foot, and reach her other hand for purchase on the saddle.
She swiftly found herself seated in front of him.
Suddenly, a much better argument than the slight possibility of her getting hurt rose up, and she said, “Oh! This is very indecorous, is it not?”
“It is a typical way to help someone learn riding,” Mr Darcy said. He must have given some signal, for Orion sprang out into a gallop. Mr Darcy was holding her firmly against his body with one strong arm, and Elizabeth clutched the pommel with both hands.
Unlike Elizabeth, Mr Darcy did not stop when they ran out of room; instead, he wheeled the horse around and began to gallop in a giant circle. “How do you like a gallop?” he said into Elizabeth’s ear.
She was shocked how much she liked it. But it was hard to separate her feelings about the galloping itself from the sensation of his arm encircling her, his thighs and chest warm and supportive….
“I love it!” she claimed.
After some minutes, Darcy slowed to a canter, then a trot. He dismounted and asked her to sit on Orion as he led them back to the paddock at a walk.
“But I am so high up!” she protested. “And this is not a side saddle!”
“Just remember your posture, use your one pommel, weight on the right hip. And if you slip, I promise I will catch you.” Mr Darcy walked at Elizabeth’s left side, ready to interrupt any precipitous descent she might undergo. She managed to keep her seat and felt quite proud to have succeeded.
Thus, when they reappeared in the stableyard, where Mary, Jane, and Mr Bingley all sat chatting and sipping from cups of lemonade, Elizabeth and Mr Darcy looked everything proper.
Luncheon at Netherfield was a quiet affair, ruled over by Mr Bingley’s elderly aunt, Mrs Abbott.
Afterwards, Bingley and Darcy gave the three Bennets a tour of some of the principal rooms of Netherfield’s manor house.
Mary and Elizabeth were very familiar with several of the rooms from all the group classes they had taken, but although the house was let furnished, each leaseholder had family heirlooms and portraits, so there were some differences.