Darcy looked at her curiously, but Elizabeth only turned away with a little sigh. “But that’s not always how the world works, is it?”
“No, I suppose not,” he replied, a little disappointed that she did not seem to trust him enough yet to ask whatever was on her mind. That might yet change in time. He hoped it would.
“Well, I am slated for another lesson with Lady Catherine at two. It would not do for me to be late.” She stepped up the first stair leading to the limestone terrace.
He pulled out his gold pocket watch. “Yes. It is a quarter till.” He was sorry to see her go. “Thank you very much for walking with me.”
“It was my pleasure, Mr Darcy.”
She smiled as she turned to go back into the house. Darcy watched her until she disappeared, his heart swelling when she turned around and nodded before going in. He stayed outside for a while longer, wandering about the hedgerows.
Elizabeth had meant to ask him something — but what? Reluctantly, Darcy decided he must be patient and wait for his wife to trust him. She would tell him in her own time.
Fair enough, but he suspected that waiting for that time to come would drive him half-mad.
Chapter 16
As Elizabeth struggled to control her breathing, she told herself not to be ridiculous. There was nothing to be afraid of in riding. People did it all the time. Even Jane, the gentlest soul she knew, would not hesitate to ride a horse. It was absurd of her to be afraid at all, let alone so much so that her heart would not seem to stop racing.
The day of her first riding lesson was not off to a very propitious start.
Her riding ensemble having been completed and delivered the day before, the lesson could no longer be delayed. Elizabeth stood in the centre of her bedchamber, very nearly glaring at the articles laid out over the edge of the bed. Her riding boots stood at attention on the floor, while the new riding gloves and smart hat sat beside the new ensemble. The poor garments certainly did not deserve such wrath, Elizabeth thought to herself. They were flawless in construction, above reproach in materials, and elegant and flattering in cut. Had they not been the garments she would put on to mount a horse, she would have liked them very well indeed.
“It will be well, mistress,” Stephans soothed as she prepared to help her into the riding habit. “Mr Darcy will be a patient teacher, I am sure.”
She was not worried about her husband being patient with her, but rather that she would shame herself in front of him. That he would have reason not to be proud of her. Why it mattered so much that her husband had pride in her was another matter entirely. When had his approval become so important to her?
Elizabeth sighed, building up her courage. There was no point in pretending not to see. She had become devoted to her husband in the weeks since their marriage, and there was simply nothing to be done about it.
“Very well. We might as well get it over with,” Elizabeth said aloud.
“You will do very well, I have no doubt, Mrs Darcy,” Stephans went on.
“Have you ever been riding, Stephans?” Elizabeth asked curiously.
The young woman’s cheeks flamed to life with a very becoming blush. “You will think I’m very uncouth. But when I was young, I used to ride the plough horse while it was pulling during planting. Bareback,” she admitted sheepishly. “Of course, Mama did not like it. The horses were absolutely colossal.”
“Draft horses?” Elizabeth asked, her brows raising in surprise. “Your father allowed you to ride the draft horses? How old were you?”
“Oh, perhaps four or five,” she said. “They were the biggest animals I had ever seen. And yet they were gentle giants.Once I even snuck out of the house and went to sleep in the stables with them. Mama nearly had a fit.” Stephans got a far-off look in her eye, remembering happy times. “They would not have let anything bad happen to me.”
“Well, I do not have fond memories of horses. My father had a mean old thoroughbred who threw me the first time I tried to ride him. I never tried to climb on a horse again.”
“My father says that you have to get back on a horse, even when they throw you. It makes them even meaner if they think they’ve beaten you.”
Easy for him to say…
Elizabeth forced a smile. “Ah, I see.”
All too soon, she was ready to meet Mr Darcy below stairs and head to the stables. She came down the grand staircase, riding crop in hand. Mr Darcy stood there, speaking to Mrs Reynolds. Elizabeth paused for a moment, looking at him. In his smart riding ensemble, her husband was handsomer than ever. He was dressed in a light brown pair of trousers, a waistcoat of brown and green plaid, a frock coat of dark brown, and leather riding boots. The finishing touches were added by the pair of gloves he held in his hands and a smart top hat.
A blush rising in her cheeks, Elizabeth noticed that he followed her with his gaze as she descended the stairs. Mr Darcy turned slowly, his conversation with Mrs Reynolds forgotten. He met her at the bottom step and offered her his hand. Elizabeth took it gratefully. Her stomach was a swirl of butterflies, from nerves and from some previously unknown emotion. It was becoming an increasingly common sensation, even when she was not faced with confronting one of her deepest fears.
Is this what it was to be in love, to feel a strange mixture of nausea and bliss?
“Hello,” Elizabeth said, with her best attempt at brightness, though she did not think it entirely came off. She would prefer Mr Darcy not to know how very apprehensive she felt, lest he reasonably think her a coward.
His eyes roved appreciatively over her person. “You look wonderful.”
