Mr. Darcy Takes a Wife (24 page)

The foxhunt Lady Millhouse had arm-twisted at the ball was scheduled within weeks. Hence, Elizabeth dedicated her days to improving her horsemanship. Leisurely rides with her husband were quite enjoyable, he upon Blackjack, she upon the plodding, dependable Lady, but she told him she longed to run.

“We must move more aggressively if I am to join you upon the hunt.”

He was adamant that she should not.

“’Tis dangerous for an unpractised rider. I will not allow it.”

That he would not allow it was a condition Elizabeth was tempted to address rather frankly. However, as his words were tempered by his obvious concern for her safety, she did not.

“I can stay astride a horse, even if ’tis demanded in so inefficient way as side-saddle.”

Abruptly, she kicked Lady, who could manage only an indolent gallop. In one kick and two strides, he caught up to her side, both their horses finding an easier canter. It was her observance that her husband was a fit rider. Elizabeth’s simple ambition was one day, if not to match him, to at least not be a disgrace as his equestrian companion.

Eyeing him as he rode along, she admired the figure he presented astride Blackjack, for he bore a high polish upon his boot and a handsome leg above it—one that she admired as they rode stirrup to stirrup. She fancied she could see the outline of thigh muscles tightening as he posted beside her. In want of disguising what she was certain was a discernible sigh at the sight, she lifted her skirt to reveal her own disreputable footwear. Her ankle-jacks were ridiculously inappropriate. She wished she could ride astride as did he and wear a tall boot as well.

Although few questioned it, horsewomen understood that the only way acceptable for a lady to ride a horse defied the laws of common sense, if not gravity. Even with that disadvantage, it was evident to her husband the horsewoman Elizabeth could become. He discerned a natural seat and instinct for her horse that could not be taught. Still, a natural seat was no substitute for experience. It would take more than leisurely rides with him to prepare her for the hunt and he explained that patiently to her.

One person’s patience is another’s condescension. Hence, Elizabeth was unconvinced. A small, single rail fence loomed in their path, an ideal stage to disabuse Darcy of the notion she was not practised enough to take a jump. She cantered Lady to the fence and the horse, quite nimbly, jumped it. There. How could he refuse her the hunt in the face of such a cunning display of horsemanship?

“I believe ’tis quite possible, Mr. Darcy, you have not heard the last from me upon the matter.”

He smiled an inscrutable smile, knowing full well it was quite probable he had not.

They walked back to the house from the stables hand in hand, a triumph for her in that he rarely displayed affection if there was any possibility of an audience. He forsook her to the stairs and her feet assaulted them two at a time in jubilation before she managed to rein herself into a more ladylike step.

Even so lackadaisical a ride was a sweaty business. She peeled away her riding habit and took to her tub. Humming in satisfaction at her success at the rail, Elizabeth sat in the suds and marvelled at her own elation. Stretching out, she hooked her heels over its edge and waggled her feet, then wiggled her toes. As she looked at them, she pondered her most recent perspicacity. Why was it that, as impressive as her husband was when dressed, and compelling as he was when not, nothing was quite so arresting as seeing him in his riding boots?

* * *

As if by magic a pair of tall boots sat in her dressing room the very next morning. They were of fine, supple calf, but were not of that familiar masculine size that so incited her to lust. Nor were they black. They were Hessian in style, exactly the colour of butter as it just begins to bubble in the pan. Tooling of a little darker thread ran about the faux roll at the top and performed a tassel in front before curlicueing down the sides. The colour and size told Elizabeth they were for her. They had appeared just as mysteriously as her riding costume had a few weeks previous.

She picked one up and admired the workmanship, quite proud of a cobbler who could make a boot that could engulf the length of her generous foot with such brevity. She had not once said anything to her husband about boots. Truly, she had not even known that “Women Who Rode” wore such fine tall boots. Indeed, she had never been in the company of a serious female rider in her habit (and if she had, she would not have thought to lift the lady’s skirt to peer upon what adorned her feet).

If anyone had watched her examining her new footgear, one might have inferred from her expression that she was not pleased with her husband’s unanticipated gift. On the contrary, she was quite moved. It was the timing that caused the disorder. For at that very moment, she intended to embark upon an activity of a covert nature. The boots seemed almost an admonition. Her design yielded not to such grief. (However, she chose not to have them prick her conscience further and did not scruple to set them temporarily aside.)

Waiting until her husband rode out with Mr. Rhymes, Elizabeth approached the stables in her old shoes and with great apprehension. Knowing it was only a se’nnight until the hunt, she went there alone, determined to steal some time from beneath her husband’s inhibiting gaze to practise her horsemanship. It was apparent that he was convinced she had not the time to become proficient enough to join the hunt. Possibly, she reasoned, because upon their joint rides he was far too solicitous. Hence she had no opportunity to stretch her abilities. He insisted she take her riding with deliberation. Elizabeth abhorred purposeless tedium; she was too impatient to creep when she could run.

In concluding that Darcy’s conservatorship over her riding was repressive, she saw no recourse but to ride out alone. As she walked to the stables, she was anxious. However, not exclusively over her first solitary ride. She was in fear that their exceedingly indulgent staff would see her alone and converge upon her, insisting she accept their offers of assistance. With a mere flick of his head, Darcy could have the many servitors disperse as hastily as they had appeared. However, protestations from Elizabeth had the opposite effect. Evidently, they were deigned as insincere. The more firmly she protested to the servants her lack of the need, the more she was tended.

“Mrs. Darcy is unattended!”

If she dared to venture upon the landing in her dressing gown, “Mrs. Darcy is unattended!”

The cursed announcement echoed down the halls of Pemberley. Indeed, if she ventured anywhere alone, upon her heels would come a servant. Her complaint about such oversolicitousness went unheeded by her husband.

“They have been told to see to you.”

She understood compleatly how seriously the servants undertook her husband’s instructions by their sheer doggedness of her steps. Hence, she promised herself she would eventually perfect that little shake of the head that would send the servants away. Until then, she skulked. For Mrs. Darcy wanted to be unattended in her present employment. Her riding habit bade her look quite the horsewoman. Seldom, however, did appearance ever abuse reality quite so emphatically.

Elizabeth did not embrace this truth fully, but she did believe it was possible that the Mistress of Pemberley might find herself in less than dignified endeavours and wanted no witnesses at all.

The horse she had ridden each day was the very one Darcy had first chosen for her. Lady she was, in name as well as temperament. She certainly was well-bred and a great deal more spirited than fat old Nellie, hence preferable to ride. Having been atop few horses, Elizabeth believed the mare as safe as Nellie as well. Hence, having successfully eluded the house help and gotten to the stables quite upon her own, she had Lady saddled.

The journeyman groom allowed his second to leg her upon the horse. John, the young lad she very nearly caused to be turned out, did the honours and seemed quite pleased that he was allowed it. Elizabeth looked down at his young face, flushed with pride, and thought it quite probable he was as innocent a hostler as she was a horsewoman. Pursing her lips, she pressed her forefinger against them begging the boy’s silence. He smiled. They were conspirators in ignorance.

With Darcy riding beside her, Lady had not seemed so tall. As Elizabeth looked down in lonely sentry from atop her saddle then, she wondered if she would ever be able to remount if she needed to rest. (She did not dare consider the other reason she might need to remount.) As she rode out, she assured herself, “I shall persevere.”

When she found herself far enough away from the stables for no one to hear, she spoke to the mare, who responded by turning back first one ear, then the other.

“You shall be a good girl, now, will you not? We shall surprise Mr. Darcy with what we can do. Surely you too are tired of these plodding walks. We shall have a treat, just you and I.”

Soon she was well enough along their oft-travelled path to see a small tree that had fallen across the way. Propitious fortune saw it exactly the height she needed. She patted the mare’s neck, then urged her to walk over to the slim trunk. Lady put out her nose, and then deftly stepped over the obstacle. Satisfied, Elizabeth turned about and urged Lady into a little quicker walk. The horse stepped daintily over the tree once again. Relieved, Elizabeth decided that her first jump was perhaps less a fluke than she had granted. Darcy had told her she had a natural seat. Who was she to dispute his opinion?

She turned the mare about once again and, summoning up all her courage, nudged Lady into a trot. This time Lady balked, causing Elizabeth to tip precariously over her neck. Concluding they had not enough speed, she turned once more and kicked Lady’s flanks, urging her forward. Again the horse balked, almost causing Elizabeth to lose her “natural” seat.

“You can step over this little log,” she told the mare. “Why will you not jump it?”

Lady did not offer any enlightenment upon horse reckoning. In the horse’s silence upon the matter, Elizabeth refused to accept caution rather than risk. Perhaps Lady had not enough time to build speed. She would give her a longer approach. Again, she turned at a greater distance and kicked her horse more firmly. Lady responded splendidly and Elizabeth could feel her own heart take a leap just as they came to the tree trunk. Elizabeth, certain they would soar, leaned forward in preparation. This time, Lady halted, planting her feet in the turf at the very last moment. So decidedly did the horse stop, Elizabeth’s person had no warning of it and continued on neck and crop. Not only did Lady stop, she turned away from the tree at the last moment, causing Elizabeth to catapult over the mare’s shoulder and land upon the ground on her back. Hard.

Stunned, she lay there still holding tightly to the horse’s reins. When she opened her eyes, she knew she was upon her back, for she saw nothing but the almost cloudless blue sky that somehow had been gifted with a scattering of glittering stars.

“Stars in the morning,” she thought dumbly. “How odd.”

Gradually the stars disappeared and she saw Lady take a step toward her and put her nose directly above her face as if to take her due.

“You could have let me know you so little liked taking this jump, Lady. We could have discussed it.”

Although the horse did not actually reply, when Lady shook her head, Elizabeth understood the message. Lady was in obvious disgust at such a clumsy and unwise rider. Elizabeth was disposed to lie there a moment longer, trying to decide if she was impaired or not. Feebly, she moved her limbs about. It appeared no more ill had befallen her aside from possibly loosening all her teeth. Still undecided if she should simply repose as she was for a time or try to stand, she was suddenly confronted.

Col. Fitzwilliam ejaculated, “Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Are you injured?”

With no little amusement, he had been watching her attempts from the vantage of his own horse some distance away. However, when he saw her fall, he had raced over to her and jumped down, horrified that he had stood idly by and allowed her injury.

Understanding that he had witnessed all, her humiliation was compleat. She closed her eyes in defence of her mortification. First scorn from her horse; now this.

“How long did you have me in your eye?”

She started to laugh, but her body ached. She then liked not to laugh. Fitzwilliam pleaded with her not to move and insisted he would go for help. Call for a surgeon. Send for Darcy.

“No, no, I am fine, I assure you, sir.”

She slowly rose whilst he continued to insist that she not.

“Allow me to demonstrate that I am fine.”

He helped her up and she moved about a little slowly, but in perfect working order. The good colonel was certain that a gentlewoman such as herself could not possibly continue after such a spill. Elizabeth attempted to persuade him she had not the constitution of a frail, elderly aunt by changing the subject from herself to the mare.

“I cannot understand Lady, for we took a small jump yesterday with no problem. Today she is not of that mind. Darcy said she was even-tempered. Perhaps she likes me not at all.”

Fitzwilliam looked the mare over.

“Lady? This is Lady?”

Elizabeth nodded. Fitzwilliam could not but contain his mirth.

“Lady might have jumped in her younger years, but she is far too stiff in the hocks to do so now.”

“If so, why so near as yesterday did she take it in all good stead?”

“Perhaps she forgot she could not,” he suggested.

“As simple as that?”

“I can explain it no further. If you managed to have Lady take a jump, then you are indeed a horsewoman of merit.”

“Has she great age?”

“Well over twenty years, I dare say,” Fitzwilliam said. “In fine shape for her age, but for riding, not jumping.”

“Darcy gave me an old horse named Lady and did not tell me she could not jump,” she said, unreasonably miffed.

“I think he intended for you not to jump,” Fitzwilliam suggested.

“Obviously. But I shall not be deterred.”

Quite adamant about that, she really did not know what recourse to take. It would seem her husband had foiled her. Thereupon, an idea occurred.