“Miss Lizzy!” Branson’s voice boomed as he came into view from the nearest stall. As she looked around, Elizabeth noted it was the only occupied stall of the ten visible.
“I am right glad ye came.”
And in that moment, as Branson smiled at her, hat in hand, and the Darcys’ gift, an actual horse meant to be hers, stood mere feet away, shaking his head and stomping his hooves, she found she was happy as well.
“I think this one is glad too,” Branson said, lifting his arm to indicate she should move towards the stall.
She did so, almost as if in a trance. Her eyes connected with the animal’s, and Elizabeth fell in love.
The same and different nature of the summer continued for Elizabeth, most especially in her time with Neptune. She had named him almost immediately upon making his acquaintance and remained in a state of near disbelief that he was hers and that being with him filled her heart in ways she had not known it needed.
For the remainder of the summer, Elizabeth could be found at the Pemberley stables several times a week. She did not ride him; this felt like a step too far without them. She brought different treats until she discovered he liked apples and carrots best. Even though the only ones available were the not-yet-ripe ones she collected from the ground of Barlow Hall’s orchard, Neptune would snatch them from her open hand and consume them with only a few bites. Though he liked the apples she brought, he loved carrots. Consequently, Elizabeth raided theroot cellar before most of her visits. Mary joined her twice and the Gardiners once each.
The sketch Georgiana had given her at Christmas was an incredibly accurate rendering. As it was done almost a year earlier, Mary decided to bring her sketch pad and pencils and make another for Elizabeth. These earned pride of place in her journal as well, and Elizabeth was deeply touched by her sister’s thoughtfulness. Caring for Neptune, talking with Branson and just being at Pemberley served to bolster her spirits in a way nothing else had. These visits became a new part of her summer routine, some familiar and something new. She, of course, included details of these visits in her letters to Georgiana.
Elizabeth had written her friend almost immediately after receiving the news of Mr. Darcy’s death from her aunt. Georgiana’s reply was understandably a little long in coming, but Elizabeth received it the week before she set off for Derbyshire. In her own reply, which she sent the next day, Elizabeth reminded Georgiana to direct any future correspondence to Barlow Hall while also reassuring her that she was not required to write at all, but Elizabeth would continue to send letters regardless in the hopes of comforting and perhaps entertaining her dear friend. She did receive two letters during her time at Barlow Hall, which were a mix of honest and vulnerable sorrow and minute details of how her brother and other family were keeping her and themselves busy. In Elizabeth’s letters, which she wrote weekly, she shared all manner of things with Georgiana—reports of her music lessons, accounts of her chess matches with Mr. Barlow, descriptions of the trees, flowers and landscapes of Derbyshire. She also shared every detail of her visits with Neptune. She did not shareanything at all about a young gentleman she met with partway through the summer.
The Robertsons came to dinner at Barlow Hall a few days after Elizabeth’s sixteenth birthday and twice more in the following weeks. It seems after the Twelfth Night gathering, the families had begun to socialise more regularly. John, who would return to Oxford for his final year in the fall after which he hoped to be offered a curacy, made no secret of his admiration for the Gardiner’s young niece. Elizabeth, however, did not see it until her aunt teased her about it after their second dinner party together.
“I was certain that your face must have something of great import etched on it,” she said, gently holding Elizabeth’s chin, and turned her head. “But I can see nothing.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Our aunt is likely referring to the fact that Mr. John Robertson was looking at you all evening,” Mary informed her sister in her usual matter-of-fact tone.
“Surely you jest?” Elizabeth responded, her mind reviewing the dinner and subsequent interactions when the party regathered after the separation.
“Not at all,” Mary said, sharing a look of amusement with Mrs. Gardiner. “He was fairly blatant. At one point, I heard his brother admonish him for it.”
“I did not notice,” Elizabeth confessed, thinking back on all of their interactions. “I enjoyed our conversation and had not thought anything inappropriate transpired.”
“No, of course not, my dear,” Mrs. Gardiner rushed to reassure her. “There was nothing inappropriate at all. Mary and I are teasing you. It was amusing to see his preference so clearly on display. I must say it endears him to me all the more, and you know I am already quite fond of him. It shows he has great taste.”
Elizabeth did know her aunt thought highly of John Robertson, indeed, of the whole Robertson family, but she had been especially vocal about John. Having grown up as the daughter of a country vicar, Elizabeth imagined that the combination of his religious commitment, scholarly curiosity and attachment to Derbyshire resonated with her aunt. It was likely her high opinion that caused Elizabeth to be so open and curious with him. Elizabeth and her aunt were quite similar, and so if her aunt liked the young man, Lizzy was sure she would as well. And she did. Though until this moment it had not occurred to her that his interest, or hers, was anything beyond friendship.
It had been many years since she looked on young men as romantic prospects. And then she was a little girl not quite certain what she was supposed to like about the boys who seemed more nuisance than anything else. That particular piece of her life and her imagination had long ago been filled. Of course, that did not mean that the attention and interest of a handsome, intelligent and kind young man was something to which she was impervious. Still, the information was new and confusing, and so Elizabeth did not know how to discuss it.
“Mr. Barlow and I are due for our chess match. If you will excuse me.”
For the first time in a long time, Elizabeth lost to Mr. Barlow.
“You are distracted,” he observed.
“You do not believe yourself capable of besting me?”
“No, my child,” he laughed. “I know I have not been capable of beating you in years!”
“And yet you just did,” she hedged, uncertain if she wanted to invite his enquiry so that she might seek his counsel.
“Well, might I suggest you either tell me to what I owe my victory or ready our pieces so that I might claim another.”
“Fine, then,” she said on a sigh. “It is something my aunt and Mary said about John Robertson.”
“That he is smitten with you?”
Elizabeth hid her blushing face behind her hands for a moment before responding. “More or less.”
“Lizzy, you are a beautiful, interesting, accomplished young woman. Certainly, young John Robertson is not the first gentleman to express an interest in you.”
