“Yes, I love horses. It is one of my favourite things.”
“Do you gallop, trot, jump?”
“Oh yes, all those. I am fortunate Papa can afford it.”
“And when you gallop, feeling the wind in your hair across a field, what is the chance your mount steps in a burrow, gets startled by a rabbit or deer, or simply loses his way or gets a twitch, sending you tumbling through the air?”
Margaret sighed. “I see your point. It is at least as likely as the wind shifting and knocking me over that edge, and probably more so, since I am riding an animal with its own feelings and quirks across terrain I did not personally inspect.”
“Yes, that is it! You will be on this edge for perhaps twenty minutes during the whole course of your life, but hour upon hour on the back of a horse; and yet you are afraid here and not there?”
“I see your point.” Margaret nodded slowly. “It makes no sense to be afraid here.”
“Ah, but therein lies the thrill. I can come up here andexperiencethe fear, because I can let my rational mind convince me it is as safe as a carriage, but my mind is as tempted as yours to be terrified. I can control it enough to enjoy the experience. I have done similar things often enough that I do not get to the edge of terror as I did when I was younger, but I still experience the thrill. The more you do it, the less thrilling, though. That is why you no longer fear riding.”
Margie laughed, stepped away from Lizzy, and let out a cry of delight while waving her hands in the air.
“That’s the spirit! Now let us enjoy the few minutes we have before your entirely sensible parents panic and call us back to responsibility and sensibility.”
Margaret laughed, and both girls walked right to the edge and peered over, as if the secrets of life itself lay in the depths of the red rock of the canyon.
Twenty minutes later, they returned to their sensible companions, Mr and Mrs Wythe were, as predicted, nearly in a full panic. Mr Wythe had almost reached the point where he might put his pipe out before it was fully empty, and might even have had the radical thought to set aside his book. Mrs Wythe looked as if she might have quartered an apple with one portion smaller than the rest. It was terrible.
“Well, girls, I see you enjoyed your excursion?”
“Oh, yes, Papa. Lizzy and I were talking about emotion versus reason. It was remarkably interesting.”
“My father and I discussed it,” Lizzy added.
“I would hope to meet your father.”
“Of course, you are all welcome at Longbourn any time. Perhaps you can leave Margie in my care sometime?”
Mrs Wythe had not heard of the nicknames before but nodded in appreciation. Margaret’s desire for an intimate friend was evidently being well satisfied.
Twenty minutes later, they had enjoyed a small repast and were in the carriage travelling south, towards the village of Sudbury and the Vernon Estate.
Farmer’s Rest
The group was in the midst of a pleasant dinner at the Farmer’s Rest Inn. They had been served pheasant and potatoes with fresh vegetables from the local market and were enjoying a traditional dessert of cobbler and milk or wine.
Mr Wythe broke the silence. “So, Miss Bennet. You mentioned your father taught you about the ancients. Do you find discussion of such topicsputs offcertain classes of gentlemen?”
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth replied cautiously.
He laughed. “I have been about the world for quite some time. There are many men who prefer their women less educated or less clever than themselves, because it allows them to feel superior.”
Elizabeth regarded him with suspicion. “You do not believe men to be superior?”
“I suppose I am either a modern man or a relic of another time, but I do not believe it to be so. Men are better at things they are taught to be better at, while women are better at the thingstheyare taught. I believe if you reversed the course of education, you would see a different result, but I very much doubt that experiment will be attempted for some time, if ever.”
“So, you are not offended byimpertinent women?”
Mr Wythe looked at his wife and smiled broadly. “Not in the least, my dear. May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Did Lady Matlock discuss my business with the estate?”
