“That is easily remedied,” Miss Darcy said quickly. “I have several, Miss Elizabeth. We are nearly of a size. You must borrow one of mine.”
“I could not possibly?—”
“Please, I should be honored if you would accept,” Miss Darcy insisted.
Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy, uncertain. His expression was encouraging. “My sister is quite right. Accept her offer, Miss Elizabeth. This would please her greatly.”
The colonel spoke up from where he leant against a column. “And if you refuse, we shall all be subjected to Georgie’s wounded feelings at dinner. I beg you, Miss Elizabeth, for all our sakes, accept the loan.”
His teasing tone broke the tension, and Elizabeth nodded. “Very well. If Miss Darcy is certain…”
“Absolutely,” she said. “We shall go through my things this evening.”
“Then I accept. With gratitude.” Elizabeth returned her attention to Atlas, stroking his neck once more. “Tomorrow. We begin.”
Atlas stamped and snorted in response, making everyone laugh, and the last of Elizabeth’s reservations crumbled.
Elizabeth returnedto Jane’s room to find her sister resting against the pillows. A tray with the remains of a light supper sat on the side table, and Jane’s color improved.
“Lizzy!” Jane set aside her book. “Tell me everything. What are they like?”
Elizabeth sank into the chair beside the bed, unable to contain her smile. Her praise of Atlas and even the groom poured from her. Then, she reported: “Miss Darcy is shy at first, but once she begins speaking of horses, all reserve disappears. She is enthusiastic and kind, with none of the pride I expected.” She grinned. “The colonel is charming. Teasing. He has an ease about him that puts everyone in their best humor. I think you would like him very much.” Elizabeth’s smile widened. “He treats Mr. Darcy abominably—mocks him quite openly—and Mr. Darcy bears it with remarkable aplomb.”
“They are close then.”
“Like brothers, I think. There is real affection there.” Elizabeth looked down at her hands. “Miss Darcy insisted I borrow a riding habit. Her maid spent the last hour adjusting it to fit me.”
“May I see it?”
Elizabeth retrieved the habit from where it hung on the wardrobe door in the adjoining chambers and brought it to the bed. The fabric, a deep, rich blue, wasfar finer than any garment in Elizabeth’s wardrobe. The tailoring was exquisite, with jet buttons running down the front and a matching hat with a jaunty feather.
Jane reached out to touch the fabric. “Oh, Lizzy. It is very fine.”
“Far too elegant for a beginner. However, Miss Darcy would not hear of it. She said if I am to learn properly, I should look the part.” Elizabeth held the habit against her length. “I will look rather like an impostor.”
“You will look magnificent.” Jane’s expression turned knowing. “Though I suspect you are thinking less of the habit and more of the gentleman who arranged for all this to be brought to Netherfield Park.”
Color rose up Elizabeth’s neck. “I do not know what you mean.”
“Lizzy.” Jane’s tone was gentle but firm. “You have spoken of Miss Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, of the groom and the stable and Atlas. You have not mentioned Mr. Darcy except as an aside. That is not like you.”
Elizabeth replaced the habit in the wardrobe, lingering over the task. When she returned to Jane, her sister watched her with curiosity.
“He was different today. The man who stood beside me in Atlas’s box, who spoke so gently to his horse, who watched me with such…” She struggled for the word. “Such kindness. He is not the man I thought he was.”
“Perhaps he was always that man. Maybe you simply could not see it before.”
Elizabeth sank into her chair. “I am beginning to think I misjudged him, Jane. Not entirely—his insult was frank, his pride at the assembly was unaffected. However, there is more to him than I allowed myself to see.”
“And now?”
Elizabeth thought of Mr. Darcy’s face when she first touched Atlas. The care he had taken to welcome her rather than treat her as foolish. How he had sent for his sister, his cousin, and a twenty-five-year-old horse simply because Elizabeth had once mentioned riding a plough horse as a child.
“I admire him,” she said. “Against all expectation and certainly against my will, I am discovering that Mr. Darcy is a man of honor. He is…he is…”
Jane’s smile was equal parts knowing and sympathetic. “Oh, Lizzy.”
“I know.” Elizabeth pressed her hands to her warm cheeks. “It is ridiculous. I have known him for mere weeks. I detested him from the beginning. And yet?—”
