“Soften your hands,” Mr. Darcy said, walking beside her. “Trust him. He knows what to do.”
Elizabeth breathed deeply, forcing her hands to relax. Atlas continued his steady walk down the length of the stable, turned, and walked back. Forward and back, forward and back, until Elizabeth’s body began to move with him rather than against him.
“Beautiful,” Miss Darcy called from alongside Sam. “Miss Elizabeth, you look beautiful!”
Elizabeth was lost in the rhythm of riding the magnificent animal.
When they finally halted, and Jacob helped her dismount, Elizabeth’s legs shook and her face hurt from smiling.
Mr. Darcy said, “If the weather clears, tomorrow we shall try the lane. Just a short walk outside. Would you like that?”
“More than anything.”
She did not add that she would like it even more if he continued to walk beside her, his presence steadying, his encouragement warming her more than any sun could manage.
But perhaps he already knew.
10
The next morning, the stable yard was bathed in golden light when she arrived, and Atlas stood in the paddock, his bay coat gleaming. He raised his head when he saw her, ears pricked forward. He nickered softly.
“Good morning, handsome boy,” Elizabeth called, moving to the fence. “Today is the day. Today we ride properly.”
“Talking to horses now, Miss Elizabeth?” Colonel Fitzwilliam’s voice came from behind her. “A sure sign of either great affection or mild madness.”
“Perhaps both,” Elizabeth said with a smile as she looked to where the riders were assembled. “Good morning, Miss Darcy, Colonel, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley. Good morning, Sam.”
Mr. Bingley dismounted with his usual eager energy. “I hope you do not mind my joining your party. When Darcy mentioned he was coming to Longbourn this morning, I could not resist.”
“You are always welcome, sir. My father is in his book room if you wish to call on him. The others have not come down yet.”
Mr. Bingley’s expression showed dismay at the prospect. “Ah. Perhaps—that is—I should hate to disturb him. If you do not mind, might I stay here? Watch the riding lesson?”
Elizabeth suppressed a smile. She could hardly blame him for avoiding her father’s sardonic presence. “Of course. You are most welcome.”
“Excellent! Capital!” Mr. Bingley’s relief was palpable.
Mr. Darcy dismounted with effortless grace and moved to stand beside Elizabeth at the fence. “Are you ready?”
“I have been ready since I was five years old.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Then let us make up for lost time.”
Elizabeth maneuveredonto the saddle far more assured than the day prior.
“Perfect,” Mr. Darcy said from his position beside Atlas. “You look like you were born for this.”
“I was.”
Mr. Darcy swung up onto Gracie, the chestnut mare dancing sideways with barely contained energy. The contrast between the two horses was striking—Atlas steady and dignified, Gracie alert and eager. Rather opposite their riders, Elizabeth thought, then felt her cheeks warm at the notion. She was not nearly as steady and dignified as her horse.
“We shall walk to the lane and return,” Mr. Darcy said, settling Gracie with gentle pressure.
They set out in procession, and not long after, the colonel suggested he, Bingley, and Miss Darcy ride further afield to give Atlas some room. Miss Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s easy banter floated back to her in the morning air as they rode out. Elizabeth heard snatches of conversation—something about another race and teasing laughter that spoke of years of affection.
The rhythm of Atlas’s walk was different outside—more purposeful, his head higher, his attention on the world around them.
“Are you well?” Mr. Darcy asked, Gracie pranced beside them.
