Page 21 of Stranded at Michaelmas

Elizabeth’s cheeks coloured at his suggestion, but she did not look away.

“Perhaps,” she said, adding nothing more.

She walked nearer to Darcy’s horse. “Will you introduce me to this fine creature?”

Xanthus was a large, dark bay gelding, a Derbyshire-bred hunter standing nearly seventeen hands. He was powerfully built through the chest and hindquarters, though there was nothing heavy about him. Even standing still, he seemed alert and ready to move, his dark ears flicking forwards as Elizabeth approached.

“This is Xanthus,” Darcy answered.

Recognition immediately flickered across Elizabeth’s face.

“Xanthus?” she repeated. “As in one of Achilles’ horses at Troy?”

He stared at her for a moment.

“You are familiar with Achilles?”

Elizabeth raised a brow.

“Mr Darcy, you are not the only person in Hertfordshire who reads.”

“No, I had not supposed otherwise,” Darcy replied, though his brows rose before he could prevent it. He regarded her for a moment with renewed interest. “But I have met very few ladies who are familiar with Homer.”

A faint smile touched his mouth.

“Though I confess I ought not to be surprised. We managed to canvas a remarkable number of authors during our first conversation.”

“And yet we apparently failed to discuss Homer,” Elizabeth said, just a hint of her familiar impertinence in her tone.

His smile grew. “A regrettable oversight. When I call at Longbourn today, we shall have to discuss your thoughts on both the Iliad and the Odyssey.”

Elizabeth laughed and reached out cautiously to stroke Xanthus’s nose. The gelding lowered his head towards her hand, apparently deciding that she was worthy of his attention.

“He approves of you,” Darcy observed, taking the opportunity to steer their conversation away from literature.

“I am relieved,” she admitted. “I should hate to begin our courtship by earning the disapproval of your horse. But he seems a fine fellow, and I confess I am not nearly so frightened of him as I ought to be, considering his size.”

Darcy laughed at her comment, and Elizabeth looked altogether too pleased with herself.

Soon, Elizabeth glanced at the sun and declared that she ought to return to Longbourn. Darcy reluctantly agreed, and they parted only a few minutes later. He was pleased to have had even this brief time with her and now found himself anticipating his more consequential conversation with her father.

Several hours later, Darcy arrived at Longbourn with Georgiana, Mrs Annesley, and Bingley. They were shown into the drawing room, where Mrs Bennet greeted them with considerably more enthusiasm than she had displayed during their previous visit.

Mr Bennet, however, was nowhere to be seen.

After the first civilities had been exchanged, Darcy turned to his hostess.

“I had hoped to speak with Mr Bennet this morning, ma’am. Is he at home?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Mrs Bennet replied with a wave of her hand. “Mr Bennet is in his bookroom. He is always in his bookroom. You may go to him there, Mr Darcy—and perhaps you might persuade him to join us for refreshments when you have finished. He has scarcely shown himself all morning.”

A few minutes later, Darcy found himself settled into a comfortable chair across from Mr Bennet’s desk.

“Well, sir, what have you come to see me about this morning?” the older gentleman asked.

“Your wife sent me to enquire whether you might join the rest of the family for tea,” Darcy replied drily.

Mr Bennet let out a chuckle. “I doubt that is your only purpose, sir, but I am not surprised that my wife would use you as her emissary.”