The attraction that she felt for the man—that she told herself very strictly, multiple times a day, that she shouldnotfeel for the man—made it feel inevitable that she take his hand, step up on his foot, and reach her other hand for purchase on the saddle. She swiftly found herself seated in front of him.
Suddenly, a much better argument than the slight possibility of her getting hurt rose up, and she said, “Oh! This is very indecorous, is it not?”
“It is a typical way to help someone learn riding,” Mr Darcy said. He must have given some signal, for Orion sprang out into a gallop. Mr Darcy was holding her firmly against his body with one strong arm, and Elizabeth clutched the pommel with both hands.
Unlike Elizabeth, Mr Darcy did not stop when they ran out of room; instead, he wheeled the horse around and began togallop in a giant circle. “How do you like a gallop?” he said into Elizabeth’s ear.
She was shocked how much she liked it. But it was hard to separate her feelings about the galloping itself from the sensation of his arm encircling her, his thighs and chest warm and supportive….
“I love it!” she claimed.
After some minutes, Darcy slowed to a canter, then a trot. He dismounted and asked her to sit on Orion as he led them back to the paddock at a walk.
“But I am so high up!” she protested. “And this is not a side saddle!”
“Just remember your posture, use your one pommel, weight on the right hip. And if you slip, I promise I will catch you.” Mr Darcy walked at Elizabeth’s left side, ready to interrupt any precipitous descent she might undergo. She managed to keep her seat and felt quite proud to have succeeded.
Thus, when they reappeared in the stableyard, where Mary, Jane, and Mr Bingley all sat chatting and sipping from cups of lemonade, Elizabeth and Mr Darcy looked everything proper.
Luncheon at Netherfieldwas a quiet affair, ruled over by Mr Bingley’s elderly aunt, Mrs Abbott. Afterwards, Bingley and Darcy gave the three Bennets a tour of some of the principal rooms of Netherfield’s manor house. Mary and Elizabeth were very familiar with several of the rooms from all the group classes they had taken, but although the house was let furnished, each leaseholder had family heirlooms and portraits, so there were some differences.
When they reached the library, Elizabeth immediately commented on the Netherfield chess set apparently languishing in the middle of a game. “You play chess with one another?” she asked. Somehow, Mr Bingley did not strike her as a man who would like to play chess—contemplating strategies and moves to counteract an opponent’s tactics seemed quite un-Bingley-like. To tell the truth, Mr Darcy’s lean energy also did not seem consistent with the long periods of sitting that were sometimes required to play The Royal Game.
Mr Bingley laughed. “Oh, do not accuse me of something so dry as the Game of Kings! That is Darcy’s purview. And did you see that he has another board over there?” He pointed to a small travel-sized chess set that lay on one of the library’s tables, also in the middle of a game. “Darcy always has at least two games going at once.”
“And when you play against yourself, sir,” Elizabeth asked, turning to see Mr Darcy’s imperturbable face, “do you tend to win?”
He gave her one of his elusive smiles as he answered, “I play long-distance games with my man of business. I have four games going right now, but I am only working on two while away from Pemberley.”
“Ahh, I see.” Elizabeth flicked a glance at Mary and said, “Pemberley is the name of the Darcys’ estate in Derbyshire.”
Mary nodded. “Thank you for explaining, Lizzy. Mr Darcy, if you play chess, you ought to play Lizzy. Her only opponent is our father, and she would probably love the chance to engage someone else.”
“You play?” Mr Darcy asked, and Elizabeth heard something warm and approving in his voice.
“I do. Next time you come to Longbourn, we should have a trial of skill.”
He studied her and then surprised her by saying, “I warn you, I very much dislike a long-drawn-out game.”
“Believe me, sir, I do as well. My father and I rarely go beyond an hour.”
She watched as his eyebrows arched in surprise, but he nodded and said, “In that case, why wait to play? Let us clear this board and play now.”
Elizabeth nodded, eager to test her skill against a new opponent.
She knew where a former leaseholder, Mrs Popkins, used to keep writing materials, and she checked that desk drawer and was pleased that it still offered the things she needed to notate the positions of the chess pieces in the now-interrupted long-distance game. In the meantime, she saw that Mr Darcy conferred with Mary, who was glad to explore the shelves of the library; next he rang for tea, wine, and fresh well water.
He then approached the Netherfield board and saw that Elizabeth was recording the positions. He said, “You need not bother; I will remember the positions.”
Looking up from her efforts, Elizabeth teased, “Pray, allow me to continue. Because I fear that, when I defeat you, your head will surely be spinning and your faculties exhausted.”
“That sounds dire.”
“I only say this to provide you with the opportunity of demonstrating courage. After all, sir, I have it on good authority that you cannot be brave unless you experience fear.”
Mr Darcy chuckled but murmured, “And yet, I remain unafraid of you, Miss Elizabeth.”
As Mr Bingley and Jane walked to a set of chairs near the fireplace, Mr Bingley called over his shoulder, “I should warn you, Miss Elizabeth, that Darce was undefeated at Cambridge.”
