“And miss a day with Atlas? Never.” After greeting everyone, Elizabeth went directly to the animal, unable to resist stroking the horse’s soft nose. “Good morning. I hope you slept well in our humble quarters.”
Atlas huffed warm breath against her palm, and Elizabeth’s spirits lifted despite the dismal weather.
“He settled beautifully,” Jacob reported. “Ate his breakfast. No signs of distress.”
Mr. Darcy’s groom joined them, brushing raindrops from his coat as he walked toward the box. Sam nodded his approval as he ran his hand up Atlas’s neck to scratch behind his ears. “He is a contented fella, indeed.”
“Excellent.” Mr. Darcy’s expression was warm. “I hope you do not mind our invasion, Miss Elizabeth. I know the weather is not conducive to riding, but I thought we might begin your education, regardless.”
“Begin?” Elizabeth could not hide her eagerness. “Even in the rain?”
“Especially in the rain,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a grin. “One cannot control the weather, after all. Better to learn in less than ideal conditions and be prepared for anything.”
“My cousin exaggerates,” Mr. Darcy said. “We will not be riding today. However, there is much to learn before you ever sit in a saddle. Would you like to begin?”
“Oh, yes. Please.”
What followed was the most instructive morning. Jacob and Sam showed her how to groom Atlas, how to use the currycomb and brush properly, how to check his hooves for stones, and how to run her hands down his legs to check for heat or swelling that might indicate injury.
“A horse cannot tell you when he is in pain,” Mr. Darcy explained, running his ungloved hands along Atlas’s leg. “You must learn to read the signs. Here—thisis how the bone should feel. Cool, firm. If you ever detect heat or swelling, that is cause for concern.”
Elizabeth absorbed everything—the geography of Atlas’s body—the powerful shoulders, the sensitive areas behind his ears that made him lean into her touch, the spot on his chest he loved scratched.
“You have good hands,” Mr. Darcy said as she worked. “Gentle but confident. That is important. Horses sense hesitation.”
“Like people,” Elizabeth said, then flushed when she realized she had spoken aloud.
“Yes.” His eyes held hers. “Very like people.”
Jacob stepped forward with a bridle. Sam carried a side-saddle that must have belonged to Miss Darcy. Sam said, “It is our job to see to the horse, miss. However, Mr. Darcy’s father insisted that Lady Anne and Miss Darcy learn to saddle a horse.”
Miss Darcy showed her how to fit the bridle, how to hold the bit so Atlas would take it willingly. “Never force. Wait until he opens his mouth. See? Like this. He is willing. You need only to be gentle.”
The saddle came next—far heavier than Elizabeth had imagined. She struggled to lift it, and Mr. Darcy stepped in to help, his hands steadying hers as they set it onto Atlas’s back.
“The girth must be snug,” he explained, his voice close to her ear as he showed her how to fasten it. “But not too tight. You should be able to slide two fingers beneath it. Here, try.”
Her hands fumbled with the leather straps, acutely aware of Mr. Darcy’s nearness. Atlas stood still through it all.
“Well done,” Mr. Darcy said when she finally had the girth properly secured. “Now. Would you like to sit on him?”
Elizabeth felt like she might burst from anticipation. “I can ride?”
“No riding today,” he explained. “Simply sitting. Sam will hold his head, and I will be right beside you.”
“I see. However, just know that Atlas is welcome to move if he wants to.”
A smile tugged at Mr. Darcy’s lips.
Her heart hammered as he led Atlas into the center aisle, where there was more room. Sam took a position at the horse’s head, one hand on the bridle, murmuring reassurances. Jacob positioned the mounting block.
“The side-saddle requires a different balance.” Miss Darcy ran her hand over the leather. “Both legs go on the left side, and your right leg hooks over this upper pommel for security. It seems precarious at first, but Atlas is so steady you will hardly notice.”
“It looks complicated.”
“It is,” Miss Darcy said candidly. “Which is why we start slowly.”
“Miss Elizabeth, if you will step up on the block and face me,” Jacob instructed. “I shall make a cradle with my hands for your left foot.”
