He stood back again and studied her posture. “You look to have a very good seat.”
She tried to memorise the way her body felt so that she could find the posture again. “Thank you,” she said to Mr Darcy. She was embarrassed how fervent her voice sounded.
“We have barely begun,” he said.
He looked faintly amused, but his voice sounded kind, and she smiled and said, “I may thank you fairly often, during this process. Or perhaps scold you for talking me into such an unthinkably risky activity.” She tried to sound stern even as she smiled, and he chuckled as he took the reins and began giving more instruction as he urged Misty to walk.
After the end of an hour with the horses, Elizabeth was able to walk Misty confidently around the paddock. She imagined that she would never fall again, so steady did she feel in the two-pommel side saddle, but the moment she considered that the next lesson would involve trotting, she felt dread again. She tried to laugh herself out of the worry and asked, nervously, “When can we take the second lesson? I am afraid that if I wait too long, I will work myself into paralysis.”
“I will come tomorrow,” Mr Darcy promised. “But for now I should attend to my other student, also known as Mr Bingley.”
“Oh, I thought you meant Mary,” she said.
“After what I saw of her riding today,” Mr Darcy said, “she just needs more time in the saddle at varying speeds. I think that, tomorrow, Smithy might ride out with her while we attempt trotting in the paddock. Eventually, I hope to teach Mary to leap over short hedges and such.”
“Not me?” Elizabeth held her breath, not sure if she wished for him to say that he could teach her leaping—or if that was off the table.
“We will see,” he said.
“Mr Darcy, have I saidthank youoften enough?” she asked.
He laughed. “I was fairly anxious, because you were shy of onethank you, but now that you have met the required number ofthank yous, we can both breathe easy.” He helped her dismount and added, “Also, Miss Elizabeth, it was my pleasure.”
Smithy had helped Mary down, and the two young ladies went inside to say goodbye to both men, and then to whisk upstairs to change and wash up. The moment they heard the door close behind the visitors, Mary turned to Elizabeth and whispered almost fiercely, “If you ever say that Mr Darcy would never court you, I shall go right in to Papa to complain about him, because I am convinced that he is in love with you, and if it is not a courtship…well, then….”
Mary stopped talking and started blushing, but Elizabeth was rocked to her core by Mary’s assertion. She asked why she was sure of Mr Darcy’s regard, and Mary replied, “It is simply obvious for anyone to see!”
In Netherfield’s cosiest parlour,over glasses of brandy, Bingley talked on and on about his angel, but when he finally wound down on the subject, he gave Darcy a shrewd look and said, “You have not been praising Miss Elizabeth to the skies, as I have her sister, but you like her, do you not?”
“Of course I do.” Darcy’s expression was hard to read. He smiled—but it was his small enigmatic smile, not the broad grin Bingley most treasured seeing. He had not blushed or started or otherwise responded as a lover might, when Bingley had brought up Miss Elizabeth.
Darcy went on with calm and reasonable inflection, “She is a very pleasant lady. Anyone would like her, I believe.”
“You know what I mean, Darce. You spend quite a bit of time with her; I have never seen you be so attentive to any other lady.”
“I thought we were going to Longbourn together so that you could get to know Miss Bennet.”
“Yes.” Bingley thought about it, but he came back round to his observations, scant though they might be: “But, Darcy, I spend very little time looking at anyone other than Miss Bennet, as I am certain you have seen, but even I have noticed that you gaze at Miss Elizabeth a good deal. I hope you are being careful not to raise expectations.”
Darcy looked up with a rather stern expression and no smile whatsoever. “That is certainly an example of the pot calling the kettle black!”
Bingley fired up. “But I am falling in love with Miss Bennet! If I have raised expectations, I look forward to fulfilling them!”
“You are only three and twenty, and you have been in love with at least ten ladies I know of.”
“This is different,” Bingley insisted.
“Perhaps it is. Remember, I met Miss Bennet years ago, and she has corresponded with my sister for years, so I can attest that she has a very good character, and the kindliness you have seen is extended to everyone, at all times, from what I have heard. But the fact that I can vouch for her excellence just means that you must take things slowly, you must be very honest with her, and you must be sure of her feelings for you, and yours for her, before you make a lifelong commitment.”
Bingley nodded, feeling deflated by the memory that Darcy did know Miss Bennet far longer and better than he himself did. He supposed that his friend had some right to insist that Bingley be circumspect in his attentions.
Elizabeth was pleasedthat the daily riding lessons were going so well that Mr Darcy invited the ladies to Netherfield, where Mary could learn to jump. “We have a hostess, now,” he told Elizabeth. “Bingley’s aunt arrived from Bradford.”
Jane was also invited, and the gentlemen sent a carriage to pick up the three sisters.
Jane and Mr Bingley rode out together. Elizabeth was pretty certain that Jane felt a bit uncertain mounted on a gelding named Jasper, but Mr Bingley insisted he was a gentle and reliable beast. Jane had learnt best how to ride—on the basis that she was eldest and the most likely to marry well—but not knowing Jasper, and not having ridden in quite a long time, she seemed more nervous than Mary.
The latter was very excited to learn how to jump over hedges. She practiced with Lady over and over—but she was jumping over an outline Mr Darcy had drawn in the dirt. The outline accurately showed the width of the hedge but there was no height to be managed.
