Page 23 of Time Stands Still

With a reluctance he took great care to conceal, he lifted her into the saddle, his hands lingering at her waist for a fraction of a second longer than was strictly necessary. She, for her part, did not object, though her cheeks were now flushed with a becoming rose, and her gaze was fixed determinedly on the mare’s silky mane, as if she could lose herself in its dark strands.

He kept the mare on a slow, steady walk, his hand holding the lead rein, the reins of his own powerful stallion looped over his other arm. His body was close to her leg, almost brushing against the soft wool of her riding habit, creating a silent, charged intimacy.

“You must sit taller, Miss Bennet,” he instructed, a teasing note in his voice, carefully modulated to distract her from her apprehension. “Imagine you are my aunt, about to deliver a pronouncement on the lamentable state of the world.”

“I should need a great deal more lace and a much higher opinion of myself to manage such a feat, sir,” she retorted, her hands clutching the pommel perhaps a little tighter than necessary. “Besides, I feel more like a child on a pony at the Meryton fair than her ladyship.”

He could not suppress a smile. Her wit, even in distress, was a constant delight. “An astute observation. Though I cannot imagine any ponies at the fair that were quite so well-behaved. And their guides, I am certain, were not half so attentive.”

“Your attentiveness is appreciated, Mr. Darcy, though I confess I should feel more at ease if you did not look quite so pleased with my predicament.”

“My pleasure is in your progress, not your predicament,” he replied smoothly, finding himself entirely sincere. “You have a natural balance. Feel the horse beneath you.” As he spoke, he reached out, his hand gently adjusting her posture. “Just here… allow your shoulders to fall. You are holding all the tension of your fear in them.” His fingers rested for a moment on the warm fabric of her riding habit, a touch both firm and solicitous, and he felt the slight tremor that ran through her before she obeyed, her frame softening under his touch. Satisfied, he stepped back and swung himself into his own saddle with an easy grace. He manoeuvred his stallion close beside her, their knees almost touching, a comfortable, companionable warmth emanating between them as they began to move forward at a slow, comfortable pace, following the winding path into the quieter parts of the park.

“That is better, much better,” he murmured, his voice a low encouragement. They rode in companionable silence for a few minutes, the gentle rhythm of the horses’ hooves a soothing counterpoint to their conversation. “Perhaps,” he ventured, watching her carefully, “we might try a little faster now? A gentle canter, Miss Bennet, if you feel inclined.”

Elizabeth hesitated, her gaze sweeping over the open parkland before them. A flicker of her apprehension returned, but then, perhaps remembering his earlier words, she squared her shoulders. “If you believe I am capable, Mr. Darcy.”

“I have no doubt of it,” he replied, and with a slight pressure of his knee, his stallion responded, moving into a smooth, easy canter. Anne’s mare, sensing the change in pace, followed suit with only a slight nudge from Elizabeth’s heel.

The wind picked up, carrying the scent of damp earth and spring growth, and Elizabeth’s bonnet strings fluttered around her chin. He watched her profile, the gradual relaxing of her features, the growing ease with which she held herself. Her initial apprehension gave way to a look of exhilarated delight, and for the first time, a genuine smile blossomed on her face, bright and uninhibited.

“Did Miss Darcy find it so easy a study?” she asked, her voice a little breathless, her earlier fear now giving way to curiosity.

“Georgiana was a more timid pupil at first,” he admitted, letting his hand fall away, though the memory of the contact lingered, a pleasant warmth on his fingertips. “But her love for the park at Pemberley soon overcame her fear. There is a path along the river there, shaded by old oaks, that she is particularly fond of. I believe you would like it.”

“You seem very certain of my tastes, sir,” she countered, a teasing glint in her eye. “Though I confess a path shaded by old oaks sounds entirely agreeable.”

“I am beginning to be,” he answered quietly, his gaze resting on her profile, admiring the delicate curve of her jaw, the way her dark lashes fanned against her cheek. “Hold the reins a little less tightly. The mare will not bolt. You must learn to trust her. To yield to her movements.”

“My struggle is with trusting the situation, not the mare,” she confessed in a low voice, her gaze meeting his, a profound gravity in their depths.

He met her gaze, his own serious for a moment. “Then trust me, Miss Bennet. I will not let you fall.” The words were a vow, as much to himself as to her, a promise he intended to keep in this ride, and in all the uncertain days to come.

Her eyes held his, and in their depths he saw her fear war with a fragile, burgeoning trust, a silent, powerful acknowledgement that made his heart ache with a feeling far more profound than triumph. After a long moment, she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, a quiet surrender.

“Your cousins are not very diligent chaperones, I must say,” she observed after a time, a hint of her usual archness returning to her voice as her confidence grew, a small smile playing on her lips. “They seem to have abandoned their post with remarkable haste.”

“Our conspiracy has been discovered, you think?” he asked, a smile playing on his lips, a shared amusement.

“The thought had occurred to me,” she admitted, her gaze sweeping the empty path ahead. “It appears our courtship is not so secret as we might have imagined.”

“I have said nothing to them,” he confirmed. “But Richard has always been entirely too perceptive for his own good. And Anne… she has ever been of a gentle, retiring nature, and has not many friends. I have always felt for her a tender, brotherly affection. To see her offer you such a kindness… it speaks volumes. It would seem she approves of our arrangement.”

“An arrangement to spend an afternoon in the park,” she clarified, though the blush on her cheeks betrayed her.

“The first of many, I hope,” he replied softly, his voice imbued with a meaning that transcended the simple words. He hesitated for a moment, then added, “Anne’s support is all the more meaningful, you must know, as my aunt has long held a most determined wish for us to marry. It is a constant, quiet pressure within this house.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise, then softened with understanding. “Ah. A cherished maternal ambition, then.”

“One that neither Anne nor I have ever shared, I assure you,” he said. “Yet Lady Catherine is not easily dissuaded. I have told her plainly every year that it will not happen, but her hope, it seems, is impervious to reason.”

A laugh escaped Elizabeth’s lips, a sound of pure, unaffected mirth that was as bright as sunshine. “Forgive me, sir, but I am struck by a sudden kinship with your cousin. My own mother, you see, is possessed of a similar singular focus. Though her ambitions are perhaps less specific as to the gentleman, and more concerned with the general principle that any of her five daughters must be married to any man of fortunate circumstances who happens to wander into Hertfordshire.”

The image she painted was so vivid, and her comparison so unexpected, that Darcy found himself laughing with her. “Then you understand my position perfectly, Miss Bennet. Indeed, I find I am gaining a clearer picture of your own.”

“I understand it better than you can imagine,” she said, her eyes sparkling with shared amusement and a newfound ease.

They rode on, the conversation flowing easily between them, touching upon books they had read, upon the contrasting landscapes of Hertfordshire and Derbyshire, upon the strange and wonderful account of ‘The Serpent which Eats its Own Tail’ they had discovered in the library. The constraints of their strange reality seemed to melt away, leaving only the simple, profound pleasure of a gentleman and a lady enjoying one another’s company, their minds and spirits in an unspoken harmony.