Chapter 6
After changing into half boots and gathering her coat, they hurried to the stables. Miss Darcy kept up a steady stream of conversation—describing Atlas’s favorite treats, warning her that he would nuzzle your pocket if he suspected you carried a treat.
“He is quite shameless about it,” Miss Darcy said. “No dignity whatsoever when food is involved.”
“Unlike Gracie, who maintains her queenly bearing even when begging,” Mr. Darcy added.
“Gracie does not beg,” Colonel Fitzwilliam corrected. “She merely makes it clear that a tribute is expected and overdue.”
Elizabeth smiled despite the nervous flutter in her stomach. The banter between the three of them spoke of deep affection.
The stable yard lay peaceful in the fading light, most of the grooms having finished their evening duties. The scent of hay and horses and leather enveloped Elizabeth as they entered, familiar and achingly nostalgic.
“Sam!” Mr. Darcy called. “Are you about?”
A man emerged from one of the boxes, wiping his hands on a cloth. He was perhaps fifty, with graying hair and the weathered face of someone who spent his life outdoors. His eyes were kind, his expression respectful but not servile.
“Mr. Darcy, sir. Miss Darcy, Colonel.” He nodded to each of them, then to Elizabeth.
“Sam, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Miss Elizabeth, Sam has cared for Darcy horses since before I was born. He knows more about horseflesh than any other man in England.”
The groom’s weathered face creased in a smile. “I do my best.”
Miss Darcy said, “When I was too small for my legs to reach the stirrups, he would lead me around the paddock for hours.”
“Happy to do it, Miss Darcy. You were a born rider, even then.” The groom turned to Mr. Darcy. “Atlas is in the loose box at the end, sir. He traveled well, with no signs of distress. Had a good rub down and ate his supper. Seems content.”
“Excellent. Miss Elizabeth would like to meet him.”
The groom’s expression shifted to one of approval. “Would she now? Well, Atlas will be pleased with the company. He’s a social creature, that one. Never happier than when he’s got people about.” He gestured toward the far end of the stable. “This way, miss.”
They walked down the center aisle, past horses whose curious heads appeared over the half-doors.
Elizabeth recognized Gracie’s copper coat, then the gray mare Miss Darcy had ridden—Starlight, she had called her.
Each horse was beautiful and well-cared-for.
Their boxes were clean and spacious. And at the end, in the largest box, stood Atlas.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. She had seen him from the window, but that had not prepared her for the reality of standing before him.
He was tall—even taller than she had thought—with that rich bay coat that seemed to glow in the lamplight.
His black mane fell thick along his neck, and his dark eyes watched their approach with intelligent interest.
“Atlas,” Mr. Darcy said, moving to the door. “Come.”
The horse’s ears pricked forward. He took a step toward the door, moving with a deliberate grace. When he reached his owner, he lowered his head, and Mr. Darcy’s hand came up to stroke the broad forehead with obvious affection.
“Good lad,” he said in an undertone. “There is a lady here I want you to meet.”
Miss Darcy’s hand found hers, squeezing gently. “Come closer.”
Elizabeth nodded, her excitement threatening to bubble over.
Mr. Darcy stepped aside, making room at the door.
Elizabeth approached, her heart hammering.
She extended her hand. The horse studied her, his dark eyes calm and assessing.
Then he stretched his neck forward, his nose coming close enough that Elizabeth felt his breath against her palm.
His nostrils flared as he investigated her scent, soft velvet brushing against her skin.
“Good evening, Atlas. I am Elizabeth, but you may know me as Lizzy, for I believe we will be the best of friends.”
The horse snuffled softly, as though in greeting. Elizabeth grinned.
“He likes you,” the groom said approvingly. “See how his ears are forward? How relaxed his eyes are? That’s a horse at ease.”
“May I…?” Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy. “May I touch him?”
“Of course.” Darcy opened the box gate. “Come inside. He will not mind.”
Elizabeth stepped inside, acutely aware of the horse’s size. Atlas watched her with curiosity, making no sudden movements. She reached up and laid her palm against his neck.
His coat was sleek under her touch, the powerful muscles unmistakable. Elizabeth ran her hand along his neck, marveling at the simple miracle of it. Soon, she would be sitting on his back.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, but you are wonderful.”
Atlas turned his head toward her, his large eyes gentle, and Elizabeth could have sworn he understood.
Behind her, she heard Miss Darcy’s charmed laugh. “I knew you would love him. I told my brother that you would.”
Elizabeth could not look away from Atlas. She stroked his neck, his shoulder, learning every contour. “Thank you,” she said, her voice thick. “This is…” Her voice broke. “I cannot find the words.”
“No words are necessary.” Mr. Darcy stood close enough that Elizabeth could sense his presence at her shoulder. His tender expression surprised her, as though her happiness was his own.
“He will take good care of you.” Mr. Darcy continued. “I promise you that. Atlas has never failed anyone who trusted him.”
“I do trust him.” Looking into the horse’s calm eyes, Elizabeth knew it to be true.
Miss Darcy asked, “Do you have a riding habit with you?”
The words landed like cold water. Elizabeth’s hand stilled on Atlas’s neck. “I—I am afraid I do not.”
The admission burned with shame.
“That is easily remedied,” Miss Darcy said quickly. “I have several, Miss Elizabeth. We are nearly of a size. You must borrow one of mine.”
“I could not possibly—”
“Please, I should be honored if you would accept,” Miss Darcy insisted.
Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy, uncertain. His expression was encouraging. “My sister is quite right. Accept her offer, Miss Elizabeth. This would please her greatly.”
The colonel spoke up from where he leant against a column. “And if you refuse, we shall all be subjected to Georgie’s wounded feelings at dinner. I beg you, Miss Elizabeth, for all our sakes, accept the loan.”
His teasing tone broke the tension, and Elizabeth nodded. “Very well. If Miss Darcy is certain…”
“Absolutely,” she said. “We shall go through my things this evening.”
“Then I accept. With gratitude.” Elizabeth returned her attention to Atlas, stroking his neck once more. “Tomorrow. We begin.”
Atlas stamped and snorted in response, making everyone laugh, and the last of Elizabeth’s reservations crumbled.
Elizabeth returned to Jane’s room to find her sister resting against the pillows. A tray with the remains of a light supper sat on the side table, and Jane’s color improved.
“Lizzy!” Jane set aside her book. “Tell me everything. What are they like?”
Elizabeth sank into the chair beside the bed, unable to contain her smile.
Her praise of Atlas and even the groom poured from her.
Then, she reported: “Miss Darcy is shy at first, but once she begins speaking of horses, all reserve disappears. She is enthusiastic and kind, with none of the pride I expected.” She grinned.
“The colonel is charming. Teasing. He has an ease about him that puts everyone in their best humor. I think you would like him very much.” Elizabeth’s smile widened.
“He treats Mr. Darcy abominably—mocks him quite openly—and Mr. Darcy bears it with remarkable aplomb.”
“They are close then.”
“Like brothers, I think. There is real affection there.” Elizabeth looked down at her hands. “Miss Darcy insisted I borrow a riding habit. Her maid spent the last hour adjusting it to fit me.”
“May I see it?”
Elizabeth retrieved the habit from where it hung on the wardrobe door in the adjoining chambers and brought it to the bed.
The fabric, a deep, rich blue, was far finer than any garment in Elizabeth’s wardrobe.
The tailoring was exquisite, with jet buttons running down the front and a matching hat with a jaunty feather.
Jane reached out to touch the fabric. “Oh, Lizzy. It is very fine.”
“Far too elegant for a beginner. However, Miss Darcy would not hear of it. She said if I am to learn properly, I should look the part.” Elizabeth held the habit against her length. “I will look rather like an impostor.”
“You will look magnificent.” Jane’s expression turned knowing. “Though I suspect you are thinking less of the habit and more of the gentleman who arranged for all this to be brought to Netherfield Park.”
Color rose up Elizabeth’s neck. “I do not know what you mean.”
“Lizzy.” Jane’s tone was gentle but firm. “You have spoken of Miss Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, of the groom and the stable and Atlas. You have not mentioned Mr. Darcy except as an aside. That is not like you.”
Elizabeth replaced the habit in the wardrobe, lingering over the task. When she returned to Jane, her sister watched her with curiosity.
“He was different today. The man who stood beside me in Atlas’s box, who spoke so gently to his horse, who watched me with such…” She struggled for the word. “Such kindness. He is not the man I thought he was.”
“Perhaps he was always that man. Maybe you simply could not see it before.”
Elizabeth sank into her chair. “I am beginning to think I misjudged him, Jane. Not entirely—his insult was frank, his pride at the assembly was unaffected. However, there is more to him than I allowed myself to see.”
“And now?”
Elizabeth thought of Mr. Darcy’s face when she first touched Atlas. The care he had taken to welcome her rather than treat her as foolish. How he had sent for his sister, his cousin, and a twenty-five-year-old horse simply because Elizabeth had once mentioned riding a plough horse as a child.
“I admire him,” she said. “Against all expectation and certainly against my will, I am discovering that Mr. Darcy is a man of honor. He is…he is…”
Jane’s smile was equal parts knowing and sympathetic. “Oh, Lizzy.”
“I know.” Elizabeth pressed her hands to her warm cheeks. “It is ridiculous. I have known him for mere weeks. I detested him from the beginning. And yet—”
“And yet he brought you a horse.”
Elizabeth’s voice caught. “He moved heaven and earth to give me my heart’s desire.”
“That is no small thing.”
Elizabeth agreed. “No small thing at all.”
They sat in companionable silence, Jane’s knowing smile and Elizabeth’s flushed cheeks speaking volumes that neither needed to put into words.