“As am I, but some things cannot be tolerated.” Bingley glanced at Jane. “Some people are far too important to lose over another’s pride and prejudice.”
The words hung in the air, weighted with meaning. Jane’s cheeks flushed pink. Her mother looked as though someone had just settled five thousand a year on her eldest.
After tea, they returned to the stables, where the afternoon was spent in further instruction. Elizabeth learnt to lead Atlas, to make him walk forward, and halt with pressure from the lead rope. Mr. Darcy’s assistance grew more hands-on as the afternoon progressed. His fingers covered hers to adjust her grip on the rope, his hand at her elbow guiding her position beside the horse. Each touch, though proper enough with others present, carried an awareness that made Elizabeth’s pulse quicken.
When Elizabeth examined the bridle Jacob held, Mr. Darcy stepped close behind her, his hand resting briefly at her waist as he pointed out the various parts. The touch was fleeting, easily explained as steadying her reach, but the tenderness in his eyes when she glanced back at him told her it was much more.
As the afternoon faded toward evening, Mr. Darcy called an end to the lesson. “We should gather Bingley and return to Netherfield before dark. The roads will be slow-going with all this rain.”
“Will you come tomorrow?” Elizabeth could not hide her eagerness.
“Yes.” His eyes held hers. “There is more to learn.”
“I should like that.”
They prepared to depart. Colonel Fitzwilliam handedMiss Darcy into the carriage while Mr. Darcy lingered behind. He stood close enough that Elizabeth saw the raindrops in his hair, could smell the wet wool of his coat.
“Thank you,” she said. “For today. For all of this. I know you must have better things to do than spend a rainy day teaching me about horses.”
“This is exactly where I wish to be.” The intensity in his voice made her throat constrict. “Truly.”
He held her gaze, then bowed and climbed inside the carriage. She pressed her hand to her rapidly beating heart.
She was falling in love with Mr. Darcy.
The realization should have frightened her. Instead, it felt as inevitable as the rain.
The next morning,the rain had lessened to a heavy mist that clung to the ground like a gossamer veil. Elizabeth woke before dawn, too excited to sleep, dressed in a riding habit, and went directly to the stables to check on Atlas.
She found Jacob already there, mucking the stables with practiced efficiency.
“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth. You are up early.”
“I could not sleep.” She moved to Atlas’s box, pleased when the horse nickered at her approach. “Good morning to you, too, Handsome.”
Jacob said, “He is a gentleman, that one.”
“He is.” Elizabeth let herself into the box, running her hands over Atlas’s neck, then his shoulder. Already, the shape of him mapped itself onto her memory.
The sound of carriage wheels on the drive made her turn. Even through the mist, she recognized Mr. Darcy’s conveyance.
They had come. Despite the weather, despite the early hour, they had come.
Elizabeth’s smile was so wide it hurt.
“It is not ideal riding weather,”Mr. Darcy said, eyeing the mist with evident misgiving. “But it is better than yesterday. We could walk Atlas down the stable aisle with you mounted, at least. Get you accustomed to movement.”
“Please,” Elizabeth said. “I am ready.”
They saddled Atlas together, Elizabeth performing each step with Mr. Darcy’s guidance, her confidence growing. When she was ready to mount, she needed less help than yesterday, her body remembering the movement.
Sitting atop Atlas felt more natural today. Less terrifying, more thrilling.
“Richard, if you would take his head,” Mr. Darcy instructed. “Walk slowly. Miss Elizabeth, hold the reins as I showed you yesterday—there, just so. Do not pull. Simply maintain contact. Atlas will do the work.”
The colonel clicked his tongue, and the horse stepped forward.
Elizabeth’s pulse leapt. Atlas’s gait was smooth, rolling, and she could feel every muscle shifting, every step reverberating through her body. Her hands grippedthe reins too tightly, and she felt Atlas’s mouth react to the pressure.
