The three-mile journey to Longbourn felt interminable. As the rain fell, Elizabeth tried not to think about Atlas waiting for her in Netherfield’s stable. Tried not to mourn what she had given up, even if her disappointment hurt more than breathing.
The carriage halted in front of Longbourn. Elizabeth looked out of the window and froze.
Mr. Darcy sat astride Atlas in the pouring rain. Not Gracie. Not some other horse from Netherfield’s stables. Atlas, standing patiently in the downpour, while his master’s coat looked soaked through.
Jacob, Longbourn’s groom, hurried forward. “Miss Elizabeth! Miss Jane!” He took in the Darcy crest on the carriage, the two gentlemen riders, and the young lady inside with the Bennet sisters. “I’ll see to the horses, sir.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Darcy said.
Jacob called instructions to the carriage driver to pull under the stable overhang once the passengers disembarked, then moved to take Atlas’s reins when Mr. Darcy dismounted. The horse went willingly, and Elizabeth was saddened to see him led away.
The front door flew open, and Mrs. Bennet rushedout, heedless of the rain. “Jane! Oh, my dear Jane! Why are you here? I thought you would stay at Netherfield for weeks. Mr. Bingley was so attentive, and now—Elizabeth! What have you done? Did you offend someone? Did you ruin Jane’s chances? Where is Mr. Bingley?”
“Mama, please…” Jane tried to intervene, but their mother was not to be stopped.
Then she became aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s coat and Mr. Darcy standing beside the carriage. Her expression transformed instantly.
“Oh! Oh my! Please come in. You are soaked through. Come, come!”
Mr. Darcy stepped alongside her. “Mrs. Bennet,” he said with careful politeness. “Thank you for your hospitality. However, I wonder if Miss Elizabeth might prefer to see to the horses first? They have traveled in unpleasant conditions.”
“The horses? Lizzy?” Her mother shook her head.
Elizabeth’s eyes flew to his face. She saw the question there—the offer.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I would like that very much.”
“Splendid!” Colonel Fitzwilliam said cheerfully. “Mrs. Bennet, if you would be so kind, Miss Darcy and I are quite in need of warming tea. Miss Bennet as well. She should be warm and dry as soon as possible.” He offered his arm to Mrs. Bennet, who preened at the attention, then guided Jane and Miss Darcy toward the house with practiced ease. Within moments, Elizabeth stood alone with Mr. Darcy in the rain.
“The stables.” He raised a playful brow.
Rain pelted them as they ran toward the building, and Elizabeth laughed—truly laughed—with Mr. Darcy running beside her. They arrived breathless, her pelisse soaked through, mud clinging to her half boots, but neither seemed to care. She marveled at his persistence in protecting her from disappointment. Was this his attempt to apologize for the insult? If so, he acted perfectly to ease her heart.
When they entered the stable, Jacob was already rubbing down Atlas.
“May I finish that?” Elizabeth said, moving forward.
Jacob looked up, surprised. “Miss Elizabeth, you don’t need to?—”
“Please,” she said.
Jacob glanced at Mr. Darcy, who nodded. The groom handed Elizabeth the cloth.
As Elizabeth approached the horse, he turned his head toward her, water still dripping from his mane, and huffed softly in greeting. “Good morning,” she said in a hushed voice. She began to work, rubbing the cloth over his neck, his shoulders, his back. The motion was soothing, meditative. Atlas stood quietly, and Elizabeth exhaled, her tension easing.
Mr. Darcy moved to the horse’s other side, rubbing him down with the towel Jacob handed him.
“Miss Elizabeth, pray do not believe that I share Miss Bingley’s opinions. Though she is proud of her conduct, her cruelty belies her claim of gentility.”
Elizabeth considered each word. “I thank you, sir.”
He dipped his head. “I would be remiss if I did not beg your forgiveness for causing you pain the night of the assembly. I never should have slighted you, for it hasbeen many weeks since I concluded that you are one of the finest ladies of my acquaintance.”
Heat rushed from her chest to her hair. “I accept your apology. Pray, do not mention the assembly again.” She moved to the horse’s chest, rubbing in firm circles, and Atlas lowered his head and nudged her shoulder.
A hug.
Elizabeth’s heart melted. She stood still, the weight of his head against her neck. She pulled off her gloves and handed them to Mr. Darcy. She reached up to stroke Atlas’s cheek, and she felt a tear slide down her own—not from sadness, but from something more profound.
