Chapter 4
Four
The following day was crisp and sunny, and Bingley was glad that his friend’s riding lesson would give him the excuse to spend more time with Miss Bennet.
“What time are we expected, Darcy?”
“At eleven. But I thought we would take a circuitous route to Longbourn. Since we have to go slowly enough to bring the extra horses, we can investigate fencing, hedges, drainage ditches, and culverts, just as you did with the steward on the northern half of the estate before you took the lease.”
“This will be my favourite aspect of being a landowner, Darce. The books…are books! Put me on a horse and out of doors, any day, rather than sticking me at a desk with one of those enormous tomes.”
“I have to admit that riding the estate is my favourite part as well.”
The men soon headed out, each on their own steed and leading another, more mild-mannered mount.
They only noted two problems. One of the quickset hedges had two gaps large enough for lambs to escape, and a brick barrel culvert that went under the main carriage road was becoming choked with duckweed.
Darcy showed Bingley a stagnant pool that had not been visible from the road.
“If you have workers pull up the water plants, and then carry out buckets of silt buildup, the culvert will function better to prevent flooding.”
Bingley nodded and asked if the silt would be rich in minerals or nutrients. “Could I have the men spread it elsewhere, to everyone’s benefit?”
He was not entirely flattered by the surprise indicated by Darcy’s raised eyebrows, but he did love hearing praise.
“Yes, indeed, and good thinking, Bingley. The land steward will likely wish to add the silt to the compost heaps, or there may be a tenant farm that needs it right away.” Darcy turned around, looking at the fields and forests nearby, and he said, “Well, this is probably considered part of the pleasure grounds, and if so it will be your head gardener who will decide where it is needed. I imagine he might use it as top-dressing in the kitchen gardens.”
“Oh, that is something I had not thought of. I need to learn which parts are under the rule of which man.”
“Yes, it would be an excellent idea.”
“Well, Darcy, shall we head to Longbourn?”
“Another excellent idea. Today, my friend, you seem to be on fire!”
As they had promised, Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy appeared precisely at eleven. Mr Darcy explained smoothly that he had arranged a riding lesson for Mary and Elizabeth.
“That is fine,” their mother murmured.
Mary and Elizabeth had been putting finishing touches on their unaccustomed riding outfits. Mary was tall enough to wear Jane’s clothes, and although Lydia was shooting up, nowadays, and had grown taller than Kitty and Elizabeth, her old riding habit fit the latter well enough.
Lydia and Jane, being the acknowledged beauties who would save the family, had always received far more varied and more up-to-date clothing than the rest of the Bennet daughters.
Hearing Mr Darcy’s distinct baritone voice, Elizabeth said, “We should go down.”
They were very satisfied that their mother paid no attention to the care they had put into their appearance. Instead, she was watching with immense satisfaction as Mr Bingley and Jane seemed to be having another semi-private chat within the crowded parlour.
Mr Darcy bowed. “Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary, you both look lovely today. Shall we see to the horses?”
Elizabeth tried hard to infuse her voice with courage. “We certainly shall,” she said.
There was not one horse tethered in their paddock, but three. Mr Darcy had a horse for himself—Elizabeth assumed the gigantic black stallion—and the other two were of a more moderate size. Remembering the name Misty, Elizabeth wondered if that was the beautiful dappled grey mare.
She was correct. Mr Darcy introduced them to Orion, Misty, and Lady, and he handed out small apples for them to feed to the horses as they got to know them.
Elizabeth got a great deal of pleasure stroking Misty’s shoulder and, eventually, neck as she spoke to her softly and finally produced the apple.
She had always liked horses—as long as she was allowed to keep her own two feet firmly on the ground.
But today…Mr Darcy and Longbourn’s stablehand, Smithy, explained how to use the mounting blocks to mount their mares. As they mounted, the men held the reins and addressed the horses as well as the riders.
“Can you adjust your skirts, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary?” Mr Darcy asked. “I know my sister sometimes needs help with them.”
Elizabeth struggled to ensure her ankles were fully covered, and Smithy handed the reins of Lady to Mr Darcy and then moved to make a single tweak of the fabric of Elizabeth’s habit and declared the job done. He then moved on to help Mary.
Mr Darcy, holding both horses’ reins, looked up at Elizabeth. “Are you frightened?”
“Terrified,” she said. She said it in a light, teasing voice, but she actually was not exaggerating in the least.
He turned to Mary and asked, “Do you feel confident enough to walk Lady on your own, with Smithy near you?”
“Of course. I do know the rudiments of riding,” she said with a little laugh.
He nodded and handed her the reins, murmuring something to Smithy.
Then he turned his full attention back to Elizabeth.
“You first need to achieve a good seat.” He adjusted the stirrup for her left foot, then he explained about the two pommels of the saddle—the fixed head and the leaping head.
He gave instruction in how to sit with squared shoulders and hips while still countering the fact that more weight—both legs—was on the left side.
At one point, he stopped explaining, murmured, “Excuse me,” and literally put his hands on her waist to slightly lift and adjust her.
Elizabeth felt as if her heart would leap out of her chest, and even though Mr Darcy wore gloves and her riding habit and underclothes were many layers between him and her, she fancied that she could feel warmth from the brief hold.
She focused on his words: right hip back, left shoulder forward, put a bit more weight on her right.
Although a portion of her was still reacting to her thundering heart, she made herself follow each of his instructions, and suddenly she felt as if she had achieved a balance. She said to him, “Like this?”
He stood back again and studied her posture. “You look to have a very good seat.”
She tried to memorise the way her body felt so that she could find the posture again. “Thank you,” she said to Mr Darcy. She was embarrassed how fervent her voice sounded.
“We have barely begun,” he said.
He looked faintly amused, but his voice sounded kind, and she smiled and said, “I may thank you fairly often, during this process. Or perhaps scold you for talking me into such an unthinkably risky activity.” She tried to sound stern even as she smiled, and he chuckled as he took the reins and began giving more instruction as he urged Misty to walk.
After the end of an hour with the horses, Elizabeth was able to walk Misty confidently around the paddock.
She imagined that she would never fall again, so steady did she feel in the two-pommel side saddle, but the moment she considered that the next lesson would involve trotting, she felt dread again.
She tried to laugh herself out of the worry and asked, nervously, “When can we take the second lesson? I am afraid that if I wait too long, I will work myself into paralysis.”
“I will come tomorrow,” Mr Darcy promised. “But for now I should attend to my other student, also known as Mr Bingley.”
“Oh, I thought you meant Mary,” she said.
“After what I saw of her riding today,” Mr Darcy said, “she just needs more time in the saddle at varying speeds. I think that, tomorrow, Smithy might ride out with her while we attempt trotting in the paddock. Eventually, I hope to teach Mary to leap over short hedges and such.”
“Not me?” Elizabeth held her breath, not sure if she wished for him to say that he could teach her leaping—or if that was off the table.
“We will see,” he said.
“Mr Darcy, have I said thank you often enough?” she asked.
He laughed. “I was fairly anxious, because you were shy of one thank you, but now that you have met the required number of thank yous, we can both breathe easy.” He helped her dismount and added, “Also, Miss Elizabeth, it was my pleasure.”
Smithy had helped Mary down, and the two young ladies went inside to say goodbye to both men, and then to whisk upstairs to change and wash up.
The moment they heard the door close behind the visitors, Mary turned to Elizabeth and whispered almost fiercely, “If you ever say that Mr Darcy would never court you, I shall go right in to Papa to complain about him, because I am convinced that he is in love with you, and if it is not a courtship…well, then….”
Mary stopped talking and started blushing, but Elizabeth was rocked to her core by Mary’s assertion. She asked why she was sure of Mr Darcy’s regard, and Mary replied, “It is simply obvious for anyone to see!”
In Netherfield’s cosiest parlour, over glasses of brandy, Bingley talked on and on about his angel, but when he finally wound down on the subject, he gave Darcy a shrewd look and said, “You have not been praising Miss Elizabeth to the skies, as I have her sister, but you like her, do you not?”
“Of course I do.” Darcy’s expression was hard to read. He smiled—but it was his small enigmatic smile, not the broad grin Bingley most treasured seeing. He had not blushed or started or otherwise responded as a lover might, when Bingley had brought up Miss Elizabeth.
Darcy went on with calm and reasonable inflection, “She is a very pleasant lady. Anyone would like her, I believe.”
“You know what I mean, Darce. You spend quite a bit of time with her; I have never seen you be so attentive to any other lady.”
“I thought we were going to Longbourn together so that you could get to know Miss Bennet.”