Chapter 10
The next morning, the stable yard was bathed in golden light when she arrived, and Atlas stood in the paddock, his bay coat gleaming. He raised his head when he saw her, ears pricked forward. He nickered softly.
“Good morning, handsome boy,” Elizabeth called, moving to the fence. “Today is the day. Today we ride properly.”
“Talking to horses now, Miss Elizabeth?” Colonel Fitzwilliam’s voice came from behind her. “A sure sign of either great affection or mild madness.”
“Perhaps both,” Elizabeth said with a smile as she looked to where the riders were assembled. “Good morning, Miss Darcy, Colonel, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley. Good morning, Sam.”
Mr. Bingley dismounted with his usual eager energy. “I hope you do not mind my joining your party. When Darcy mentioned he was coming to Longbourn this morning, I could not resist.”
“You are always welcome, sir. My father is in his book room if you wish to call on him. The others have not come down yet.”
Mr. Bingley’s expression showed dismay at the prospect. “Ah. Perhaps—that is—I should hate to disturb him. If you do not mind, might I stay here? Watch the riding lesson?”
Elizabeth suppressed a smile. She could hardly blame him for avoiding her father’s sardonic presence. “Of course. You are most welcome.”
“Excellent! Capital!” Mr. Bingley’s relief was palpable.
Mr. Darcy dismounted with effortless grace and moved to stand beside Elizabeth at the fence. “Are you ready?”
“I have been ready since I was five years old.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Then let us make up for lost time.”
Elizabeth maneuvered onto the saddle far more assured than the day prior.
“Perfect,” Mr. Darcy said from his position beside Atlas. “You look like you were born for this.”
“I was.”
Mr. Darcy swung up onto Gracie, the chestnut mare dancing sideways with barely contained energy.
The contrast between the two horses was striking—Atlas steady and dignified, Gracie alert and eager.
Rather opposite their riders, Elizabeth thought, then felt her cheeks warm at the notion.
She was not nearly as steady and dignified as her horse.
“We shall walk to the lane and return,” Mr. Darcy said, settling Gracie with gentle pressure.
They set out in procession, and not long after, the colonel suggested he, Bingley, and Miss Darcy ride further afield to give Atlas some room.
Miss Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s easy banter floated back to her in the morning air as they rode out.
Elizabeth heard snatches of conversation—something about another race and teasing laughter that spoke of years of affection.
The rhythm of Atlas’s walk was different outside—more purposeful, his head higher, his attention on the world around them.
“Are you well?” Mr. Darcy asked, Gracie pranced beside them.
“I am, sir. This is far better than our plough horse.” Elizabeth admitted breathlessly. “I keep expecting to wake up and find this was all a dream.”
“It is no dream.” His eyes held hers. “This is real.”
They reached the lane that led toward Meryton. Trees arched overhead, their leaves still wet from days of rain, creating a tunnel of dappled light. The knot of longing Elizabeth had carried for fifteen years finally began to unravel.
“This is everything I imagined,” she said. “Everything and more.”
“Then we shall do it again tomorrow,” Mr. Darcy said. “And the day after.”
“Are you certain?”
“I never say what I do not mean, Miss Elizabeth.”
They turned before reaching the main road, and Elizabeth felt a pang of disappointment when the stable came into view. She wanted to ride for hours, for days.
“The next ride, we shall go farther,” Mr. Darcy said, as though reading her thoughts. “But not too far, too fast. Restraint is as important as enthusiasm.”
“I shall try to remember,” Elizabeth said. “Though I make no promises.”
When Jacob helped her dismount, she felt gloriously happy. Atlas turned his head to nuzzle her shoulder, and she threw her arms around his neck in an impulsive embrace.
“Thank you,” she said into his mane. “Thank you for being so at ease with me.”
Mr. Darcy grinned beside her. “Miss Elizabeth, you look as though you have been riding for years.”
“Hardly.” Elizabeth said. “But it was wonderful.”
By the time they all had returned to the stable yard and dismounted, Hill had clearly roused the household. They entered to find the drawing room considerably more crowded than when Elizabeth had left.
“There you are!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed from her favorite chair. “Mr. Bingley, how delightful. And Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Miss Darcy—such distinguished company so early in the day.”
Jane sat on the sofa, looking serene and lovely. Lydia, Kitty, and Mary seemed distinctly disgruntled at the early hour.
“We should have been allowed to sleep,” Lydia complained, earning a sharp look from her mother. “Though I suppose if we must be up at this ungodly hour, we can go to Meryton earlier to be in company with the officers.”
“The officers will not be available until afternoon at the earliest,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said with amusement. “Military discipline requires morning drills, Miss Lydia.”
“Oh.” Lydia’s face fell, then brightened. “Well, perhaps we shall see my favorite today. I do hope Mr. Wickham has returned from whatever important assignment took him from Meryton.”
A look passed between Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy—brief but significant. Miss Darcy paled.
“I believe Mr. Wickham has been called away on extended duties,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said smoothly. “One cannot always choose one’s assignments.”
“Oh, how disappointing.” Lydia pouted. “He was so very charming.”
Kitty sighed. “All the officers are handsome, but none so agreeable as Mr. Wick—”
“I am certain there are many agreeable gentlemen in the neighborhood.” Mrs. Bennet glanced toward Bingley.
Mr. Bingley had moved to stand near Jane, his attention entirely fixed on her despite the surrounding tension. “Miss Bennet, you are looking remarkably well this morning.”
Jane’s cheeks flushed pink. “Thank you, Mr. Bingley. I am much improved.”
“I am glad to hear it. Glad indeed.” He seemed to realize he was staring and turned to include the rest of the room. “And what a beautiful day it has turned out to be! Perfect for riding. Miss Elizabeth, you must be delighted.”
“I am,” Elizabeth said, unable to contain her smile.
“Lizzy has always been passionate about horses,” Jane said. “Even as a child.”
“Then it is a crime she has been denied them for so long,” Mr. Darcy said.
An awkward silence fell. Her mother’s expression suggested she understood the implicit criticism of her husband and herself. However, for once, she had the grace not to protest.
Mr. Bennet appeared in the doorway. He surveyed the crowded drawing room with raised eyebrows. “Good morning, gentlemen, ladies. My, what an impressive gathering. I believe this is more company than Longbourn typically sees in a fortnight.”
“Papa,” Elizabeth said with a grimace.
“I am merely making an observation, Lizzy.”
“Sir.” Mr. Bingley caught her father’s attention. “Miss Elizabeth’s progress on Atlas has been extraordinary.”
“So Mrs. Bennet has informed me. At length. Repeatedly.” Fortunately, his tone was considerate rather than cutting.
“I am pleased for Lizzy. She has wanted to ride for a very long time.” He moved to his wife.
“Well, since you have all descended upon us at this ungodly hour—and I use the term with affection—you might as well join us to break your fast. Mrs. Bennet?”
“Of course. Come, everyone, let us go through to the dining room.”
The meal passed in its usual commotion. Lydia and Kitty giggled until their mother silenced them with a look. Mary attempted to quote from one of Fordyce’s sermons until their father suggested she save her wisdom for after the meal, when people might be better able to appreciate it.
Through it all, Mr. Bingley could not tear his gaze from Jane. And Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth noticed, seemed equally unable to look away from her.
The realization thrilled her.
After breakfast, the guests readied themselves to depart.
“Tomorrow?” Elizabeth asked hesitantly as Mr. Darcy prepared to mount Gracie.
“Yes. And perhaps, we shall venture onto the bridleway toward Lucas Lodge if you believe you are ready.”
“I shall be ready.” Elizabeth’s heart beat rapidly.
He bowed over her hand. “I believe you.”
Then they rode away, and the next day could not come soon enough.
Early the next morning, Elizabeth hurried to the stable, eager to check on Atlas before Mr. Darcy arrived. The stable door stood open. Elizabeth’s steps slowed as a queer sensation rolled over her. Jacob always secures the door at night.
Elizabeth stood frozen, unable to process the sight before her. Atlas’s box was empty, the hay undisturbed, the water bucket full.
Was he in the paddock? She ran outside, shading her eyes against the rising sun. He was nowhere to be seen.
“No,” she cried. “No, no, no.”
She looked in the other boxes, as though she might find him hiding in a corner. She checked the tack room, the paddock again. Atlas was gone.
She pressed a hand to the door, suddenly dizzy, sick. Where was he? Had he somehow broken free? Wandered off in the night?
“Jacob!” Elizabeth’s voice came out as a strangled cry. “Jacob, where are you?”
The groom climbed down from the hay loft, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He had clearly spent the night there, as he sometimes did when checking on the animals.
“Miss Elizabeth? What is wrong…” He noticed the empty box and went white. “The horse. Where is the horse?”
“I do not know! I came this morning and found him gone. The door was open, the box empty—Jacob, where is he?”
“I do not know, miss. I swear I locked everything last night. I always do. I was up late with one of the farm horses. I didn’t hear…” He ran his hands over the door as though searching for evidence. “The latch was not forced, so the horse did not kick his way out. Someone opened it properly.”
Dread turned the blood in her veins to ice. Someone had taken Atlas. In the night. While they all slept.
“We need Mr. Darcy. And Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she said, her voice shaking. “Ride quickly to Netherfield with the message that Atlas is gone.”
Jacob hurried to saddle one of the plough horses while Elizabeth sank onto a bale of hay, her hands trembling. She pressed her face into her palms and tried not to cry.