As Lizzy ruminated on the likeness between the Darcy men, Mr. Darcy dismounted and now stood before her, aforementioned smile on his face.
“I am glad to have discovered you here,” he told her. “We have only just returned to Pemberley. I was not certain you would have arrived yet and Miss Darcy is already quite anxious to meet with you.”
Elizabeth heard this news with great relief and happiness. She and Georgiana had exchanged several letters in the course of the year, making plans to spend time together over the summer, sharing stories and secrets and generally getting to know each other as much as was possible through the medium at hand. However, Lizzy would not feel secure in the friendship until they were able to spend time together in person.
“I must confess I am likely more anxious to see her. I was so grateful to hear from both of you while at Longbourn. Thank you for encouraging Miss Darcy to write me and for the book you sent for Christmas. It was so good I finished it before Twelfth Night.”
“We must talk about it at some point. I appreciate any opportunity to discuss the books I love. It is, selfishly, at least part of the reason I share them. And you must not credit me with Miss Darcy’s correspondence. She practically demanded it, and that is rare for her. It was refreshing to see her be so firm. Fitzwilliam was on your side as well. Though I had no opposition, I was scarcely allowed to communicate this between my two children extolling your virtues and insisting.”
Elizabeth hardly knew how to respond. Simply the mention of his name was enough to cause her heart to race and stomach to flutter, but hearing that he had spoken positively about her to his family was nearly too much. Fortunately, Mr. Darcy seemed unaware of the tumult his words had caused.
“We are quite delighted with Miss Baxter,” he told her, speaking of Miss Darcy’s governess, of whom Elizabeth had heard through their correspondence. “I know I cannot credit her fully. Your letters helped as well, but I can tell Georgiana is more comfortable speaking her mind and sharing her troubles. Iam really quite pleased,” he said, his voice catching just slightly. Like with his smile, Elizabeth could tell this small display spoke of deep feelings.
“She is blessed to have such a kind brother and father who seek her comfort and well-being so diligently,” she told him, placing a hand on his arm. He squeezed her hand and smiled that small smile.
Mr. Darcy’s horse took the opportunity to nuzzle Elizabeth’s hair, possibly mistaking it for a snack. They laughed, and Elizabeth happily stroked his mane and gave him the carrot Mr. Darcy offered to her.
“He is beautiful,” she observed.
“Indeed,” Mr. Darcy agreed. “Poseidon is Fitzwilliam’s horse, but he is the finest stallion in our stables so I find myself borrowing him every now and again.”
“I won’t tell,” Elizabeth assured him.
“Thank you. Now, would you allow me to escort you back to Barlow Hall? I should like to pay my respects to your family and would enjoy some more time in your company.”
Elizabeth was flattered and readily agreed. They set off towards the path that would wend along the stream and take them through the wood to Barlow Hall’s east gardens.
“Mr. Barlow mentioned that you are inordinately fond of horses. When did you learn to ride?”
“You have spoken to Mr. Barlow?” Elizabeth asked, at once genuinely curious and eager to avoid Mr. Darcy’s question.
“Yes, when we were at Pemberley for the holidays, he was kind enough to host us for a marvellous dinner.”
“Did all of your family attend?”
“Yes, indeed, Mrs. Gardiner had her work cut out for her in drawing out my son, but she performed brilliantly," he said, laughing just a little. “This is our first sojourn back since then and my first opportunity to pay a call.”
“I am certain a visit from you would be welcome, by Mr. Barlow in particular.”
“You did not answer my question. When did you learn to ride?”
Later, when she knew Mr. Darcy better, Elizabeth would recognise questions like this. It was how he gently invited her, and others, to share something he knew they were reluctant to share. After a moment’s hesitation, she answered, “I don’t ride. I never learned.”
“Whyever not? You love horses, and I would have thought your love of nature and exploring would make you an eager rider.”
Elizabeth worried her bottom lip and tugged at her bonnet as she thought about how to answer. Mr. Darcy, who had been observing her closely, said, “Miss Elizabeth, I apologise, I do not want to make you uncomfortable. Let us speak of other things.”
“No, you are not wrong to ask,” she assured him quietly. “In truth, it is not a very interesting tale.”
“I should like to hear it all the same if you are willing to tell it.”
“My father tried to teach Jane and me together. Jane is much more patient than I am. It simply took too long—I could travel far and wide on my own two feet and that did not require lessons.”
“I see,” Mr. Darcy responded. “That makes perfect sense. It was your active nature that made the learning difficult.”
“More or less. And then when I realised that it had been silly to abandon a pursuit that would be useful and enjoyable, my father . . . he had already tried with me and did not have the time to try again.” In truth, Mr. Bennet had laughed at Lizzy, told her she squandered her chance and that if he did lessons with her, he would have to include Mary, and eventually Lydia and Kitty, who were then only five and six years old, would want to learn—this, he explained, was too much for him. She would have to be content with her walks.
They had arrived at Barlow Hall and were ushered into the parlour by Mr. Simms, who left them to alert his mistress to their presence. Mr. Gardiner was from home for the day.
