Chapter 7 #2
“Oh, no, not at all,” she said with a laugh. “I was thinking how well Lady Metcalfe sat on her horse and how animated she looked whilst riding.”
Did she sound wistful? “You told Sir John on Tuesday that you do not ride,” he remembered.
She gave him the arch look that he was so accustomed to. “Were you listening to my conversations? Julia must have been more tiresome than I realised.”
“I often attended to your conversations to learn more of you before I ever talked to you myself. You cannot suppose me to stop now when you are of even more interest to me. Why did you never learn to ride?”
“Too few horses at Longbourn and too many daughters needing to learn. Jane, as the eldest, is the most accomplished rider. Mary had no interest, but the rest of us might have learnt if we had the chance. Perhaps we should have shared better,” she added with a laugh.
“But seeing the skill and speed of the horses at the races yesterday made me regret never having learnt.”
Mr Bennet should have bought a mare exclusively for his five daughters to share if he could not afford one for each who wanted to ride. And he should have taught all of his daughters himself. But if Elizabeth was serious about riding, Darcy would happily teach her.
Elizabeth checked her watch. “We ought to return for breakfast. Are you and the men going to the races by yourselves?”
“Yes, and whilst the races will be better than yesterday, the company will be far less enjoyable.” Mr Travers would talk wagering, Sir John would talk about women, and he would have to shield Henry from them both.
“If you change your mind, you can join us proper ladies in the carriages. I hear from Mrs Tessier that the downs present a lively and interesting picture on Thursday, which is considered the most fashionable day for visiting the races.”
“Just do not wander alone as you did yesterday,” he entreated.
“Do you think someone will throw a vase at me?”
He threw her a look. “Several members of the royal family, and most of the nobility, attend these races, and since the weather is fine, there will be no less than sixty thousand persons assembled.” Only half that number even lived in Bath.
When Elizabeth stared blankly, he said, “Where that many people are assembled with money, many attend with a view of robbing the bystanders.”
“Oh.” She grew alarmed. “I thought you were overly concerned yesterday when you mentioned the crime during race week. I will stay with the carriages, and there will be footmen and grooms with us.”
“I do not mean to be overbearing, dearest. I want to keep you safe.”
Elizabeth stroked her fingertips over his forearm before she dropped her hand as they returned to the house. “Thank you for wanting to look after me.”
Satisfaction burst through him that he would be the one to care for her for the rest of her life. “Think kindly of me as I spend the day amongst the betting men seeking excitement or enough winnings to justify the cost of their own careless wagering.”
“I wonder which is Mr Travers?” she mused. “If he will not help you choose a winner, perhaps you can find a sportsman’s guide with all the hedging details to guide young adventurers like yourself to lay bets to the best advantage. You could make your fortune at the Derby Stakes.”
“I will simply rely on Pemberley’s rent income and the four percents.”
“How fortunate for me that you are not staking our livelihood on how fast a three-year-old colt can run.”
They continued in this lively vein until they parted in the hall. It would not do to enter into breakfast arm in arm, smiling, and exchanging secret smiles that proved their mutual happiness.
“No, my lad, I saw the horses this morning, and Octavius is seven to one,” Mr Travers said to Henry when they were all at the betting post. “He will finish fourth, I promise you.”
Darcy had just joined them, having first posted his and Elizabeth’s letters and then taken the coin she gave him to a silversmith in Epsom.
It had taken a while to put a hole through the coin, and even longer for Darcy to come up with an inscription, but he now had a token for Elizabeth until he could go to London for a true engagement gift.
As Darcy had moved through the dense crowd, he saw and talked with many familiar faces from town, and some of Mrs Tessier’s guests from last night tipped their hats. Now, he reunited with Henry in enough time to see him listen in rapt attention to Mr Travers’s alleged intimate racing knowledge.
“Comus is the favourite, you say?” Henry asked Mr Travers, still needing direction as they stood before a bookmaker furiously recording wagers in his betting book.
“Most certainly,” he insisted, “three to one. It will be Comus, then Manuella.”
“It is just…” Henry fidgeted with his excessively elegant neckcloth. “One hundred guineas on one wager is more—”
“One hundred?” Darcy interrupted. This was the sort of thing Tessier warned him would happen. His brother was comfortably provided for, but he still had little inheritance and no profession yet. “Do not risk so much on Mr Travers’s say-so.”
“But he is a knowing one,” Henry hedged. “He knows racing horses, their strengths, weaknesses, movements. He knows all the jockeys and strategies.”
“Comus is being ridden by Frank Buckle,” Mr Travers said, as though this should sway their young friend. “We will make our fortunes today.”
Darcy feared this was a statement Mr Travers had made many times and said to Henry, “Can you afford to lose one hundred pounds without having to beg your brother to pay your debt?”
“He is his own man,” said Mr Travers. “Let him play.”
“If he is his own man, a man you respect, why pressure him to wager?” Darcy asked with a heavy look. “Would you beleaguer me to wager beyond my income?”
Mr Travers glared, but backed down. “I only want the boy to win. I know what it is like to not be your own man and live on an allowance. Not that you would understand.”
Henry looked between them both, indecision clear on his face as Mr Travers left to speak to the bookmaker.
“Mr Tessier,” Darcy said when Mr Travers turned away, “Mr Travers may know all the merits and powers of horses, but these racing men profit by manipulating the betting market, and you do not know what wins and losses have been arranged between the owners.”
“He is surely right about this one, though,” said Henry. “And I would have a two-hundred-guinea profit.”
“You would wager so much of your allowance on which of fourteen horses will run the last mile and a half of Epsom the fastest? How is that sensible? And why would you do that to your brother? Wager a few coins, but do not ruin yourself or your brother over the thrill of a three-minute race.”
Henry hesitated, then dropped his shoulders. “Ten guineas on Comus.”
Darcy nodded approvingly. “A wise choice.” After noting that Octavius’s jockey wore green, he went to a bookmaker and wagered the same amount on Elizabeth’s behalf. He could afford the loss, and if he won, he would spoil his new bride.
They pressed through the crowd to get a view of the course, and Darcy felt the building excitement as the horses gathered at the starting post and thousands of people’s attention centred in the same place. Mr Travers joined them, and Darcy sensed the tension pouring from him.
Octavius moved up on the turn into the straight with the favourite, Comus.
But Comus dropped back inside the last quarter mile, leaving Octavius and another colt racing to the finish in a desperate style.
Manuella, who started second favourite, looked to Darcy like her jockey pulled her at the last, perhaps to lengthen her odds for tomorrow’s Oaks Stakes. Octavius, in green, won by half a neck.
Mr Travers tore off his hat with a vicious curse, raking a hand through his greying blond hair.
Darcy did not know how much he had wagered, but it was far more than ten guineas like Henry.
Mr Travers stormed off in a rage, and he was not the only one.
Darcy looked at Henry, seeing in the young man’s relieved face that he did not have to emphasise the point.
Still, the enthusiasm of the crowd and the excitement of following the horses was captivating. No man should pretend to any knowledge of a thrilling life unless he had at least once seen the Derby run for. Although they were not together, he was glad Elizabeth got to experience it.
Elizabeth could both see and feel that today’s crowds were nothing to yesterday’s.
The course at Epsom was on downs intersected by three hills in parallel lines.
Many spectators came in coaches that without the least dispute about precedence were arranged in three or four lines in the front of the hills, and on the top of all was scaffolding for the judges who were to decree the prize.
The day by the carriages had the feel of a picnic, with thousands lined up all around the course, sharing hampers and chatting.
She and Julia had walked with Mrs Tessier to greet neighbours and friends, since thousands came from London for the day.
They had all clambered to the roof of the carriage with the help of the coachman to watch the Derby Stakes, standing seven feet above the ground with a clear view of the course.
“Is it quite safe up here?” she called down to the coachman.
“Aye, ma’am. See how the horses are standing at rest?” The horses stood with their heads and neck low and one of their hind legs cocked. “So long as no child or dog crashes into them, nothing here will startle them.”
“They would be unbothered if you did not holler so much,” said Julia, nudging her with her elbow as she moved past for a better view and pretending it was an accident.