Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice Sequel Bundle: 3 Reader Favorites (34 page)

Knowing that she had reached new heights of carnal pleasure, both sensual and vocal, Elizabeth did not come down to breakfast the next forenoon, feigning illness. The lie only exacerbated circumstances, for when she finally appeared, her mother rushed to an outlandish conclusion.

“Perhaps you are with child, Lizzy! Oh, Mr. Bennet! A son for Mr. Darcy! Our Lizzy will give him a son!”

“We have not been married five weeks, Mama.”

The mirror was stashed beneath their bed for the duration of the Bennets’ stay. However, the dust had not settled from their departure before it was retrieved. (Thenceforward, that looking-glass witnessed more carnal pleasures than did a knocking-house piano player.) It was secreted again beneath the bed for convenience sake and, without question, another adornment found its place upon the wall. As far as Elizabeth knew, the looking-glass and its hiding place were their little secret. In time, she laughed at her own naïveté. For she eventually realised that each time they drew it from beneath the bed, the glass was always dusted.

T
he foxhunt Lady Millhouse had arm-twisted at the ball was scheduled within weeks. Hence, Elizabeth dedicated her days to improving her horsemanship. Leisurely rides with her husband were quite enjoyable, he upon Blackjack, she upon the plodding, dependable Lady, but she told him she longed to run.

“We must move more aggressively if I am to join you upon the hunt.”

He was adamant that she should not.

“’Tis dangerous for an unpractised rider. I will not allow it.”

That he would not allow it was a condition Elizabeth was tempted to address rather frankly. However, as his words were tempered by his obvious concern for her safety, she did not.

“I can stay astride a horse, even if ’tis demanded in so inefficient way as side-saddle.”

Abruptly, she kicked Lady, who could manage only an indolent gallop. In one kick and two strides, he caught up to her side, both their horses finding an easier canter. It was her observance that her husband was a fit rider. Elizabeth’s simple ambition was
one day, if not to match him, to at least not be a disgrace as his equestrian companion.

Eyeing him as he rode along, she admired the figure he presented astride Blackjack, for he bore a high polish upon his boot and a handsome leg above it—one that she admired as they rode stirrup to stirrup. She fancied she could see the outline of thigh muscles tightening as he posted beside her. In want of disguising what she was certain was a discernible sigh at the sight, she lifted her skirt to reveal her own disreputable footwear. Her ankle-jacks were ridiculously inappropriate. She wished she could ride astride as did he and wear a tall boot as well.

Although few questioned it, horsewomen understood that the only way acceptable for a lady to ride a horse defied the laws of common sense, if not gravity. Even with that disadvantage, it was evident to her husband the horsewoman Elizabeth could become. He discerned a natural seat and instinct for her horse that could not be taught. Still, a natural seat was no substitute for experience. It would take more than leisurely rides with him to prepare her for the hunt and he explained that patiently to her.

One person’s patience is another’s condescension. Hence, Elizabeth was unconvinced. A small, single rail fence loomed in their path, an ideal stage to disabuse Darcy of the notion she was not practised enough to take a jump. She cantered Lady to the fence and the horse, quite nimbly, jumped it. There. How could he refuse her the hunt in the face of such a cunning display of horsemanship?

“I believe ’tis quite possible, Mr. Darcy, you have not heard the last from me upon the matter.”

He smiled an inscrutable smile, knowing full well it was quite probable he had not.

They walked back to the house from the stables hand in hand, a triumph for her in that he rarely displayed affection if there was any possibility of an audience. He forsook her to the stairs and her feet assaulted them two at a time in jubilation before she managed to rein herself into a more ladylike step.

Even so lackadaisical a ride was a sweaty business. She peeled away her riding habit and took to her tub. Humming in satisfaction at her success at the rail, Elizabeth sat in the suds and marvelled at her own elation. Stretching out, she hooked her heels over its edge and waggled her feet, then wiggled her toes. As she looked at them, she pondered her most recent perspicacity. Why was it that, as impressive as her husband was when dressed, and compelling as he was when not, nothing was quite so arresting as seeing him in his riding boots?

As if by magic a pair of tall boots sat in her dressing room the very next morning. They were of fine, supple calf, but were not of that familiar masculine size that so incited her to lust. Nor were they black. They were Hessian in style, exactly the colour of butter as it just begins to bubble in the pan. Tooling of a little darker thread ran about the faux roll at the top and performed a tassel in front before curlicueing down the sides. The colour and size told Elizabeth they were for her. They had appeared just as mysteriously as her riding costume had a few weeks previous.

She picked one up and admired the workmanship, quite proud of a cobbler who could make a boot that could engulf the length of her generous foot with such brevity. She had not once said anything to her husband about boots. Truly, she had not even
known that “Women Who Rode” wore such fine tall boots. Indeed, she had never been in the company of a serious female rider in her habit (and if she had, she would not have thought to lift the lady’s skirt to peer upon what adorned her feet).

If anyone had watched her examining her new footgear, one might have inferred from her expression that she was not pleased with her husband’s unanticipated gift. On the contrary, she was quite moved. It was the timing that caused the disorder. For at that very moment, she intended to embark upon an activity of a covert nature. The boots seemed almost an admonition. Her design yielded not to such grief. (However, she chose not to have them prick her conscience further and did not scruple to set them temporarily aside.)

Waiting until her husband rode out with Mr. Rhymes, Elizabeth approached the stables in her old shoes and with great apprehension. Knowing it was only a se’nnight until the hunt, she went there alone, determined to steal some time from beneath her husband’s inhibiting gaze to practise her horsemanship. It was apparent that he was convinced she had not the time to become proficient enough to join the hunt. Possibly, she reasoned, because upon their joint rides he was far too solicitous. Hence she had no opportunity to stretch her abilities. He insisted she take her riding with deliberation. Elizabeth abhorred purposeless tedium; she was too impatient to creep when she could run.

In concluding that Darcy’s conservatorship over her riding was repressive, she saw no recourse but to ride out alone. As she walked to the stables, she was anxious. However, not exclusively over her first solitary ride. She was in fear that their exceedingly indulgent staff would see her alone and converge upon her, insisting she accept their offers of assistance. With a mere flick of his head, Darcy could have the many servitors disperse as hastily as they had appeared. However, protestations from Elizabeth had the opposite effect. Evidently, they were deigned as insincere. The more firmly she protested to the servants her lack of the need, the more she was tended.

“Mrs. Darcy is unattended!”

If she dared to venture upon the landing in her dressing gown, “Mrs. Darcy is unattended!”

The cursed announcement echoed down the halls of Pemberley. Indeed, if she ventured anywhere alone, upon her heels would come a servant. Her complaint about such oversolicitousness went unheeded by her husband.

“They have been told to see to you.”

She understood compleatly how seriously the servants undertook her husband’s instructions by their sheer doggedness of her steps. Hence, she promised herself she would eventually perfect that little shake of the head that would send the servants away. Until then, she skulked. For Mrs. Darcy wanted to be unattended in her present employment. Her riding habit bade her look quite the horsewoman. Seldom, however, did appearance ever abuse reality quite so emphatically.

Elizabeth did not embrace this truth fully, but she did believe it was possible that the Mistress of Pemberley might find herself in less than dignified endeavours and wanted no witnesses at all.

The horse she had ridden each day was the very one Darcy had first chosen for her. Lady she was, in name as well as temperament. She certainly was well-bred and a great deal more spirited than fat old Nellie, hence preferable to ride. Having been
atop few horses, Elizabeth believed the mare as safe as Nellie as well. Hence, having successfully eluded the house help and gotten to the stables quite upon her own, she had Lady saddled.

The journeyman groom allowed his second to leg her upon the horse. John, the young lad she very nearly caused to be turned out, did the honours and seemed quite pleased that he was allowed it. Elizabeth looked down at his young face, flushed with pride, and thought it quite probable he was as innocent a hostler as she was a horsewoman. Pursing her lips, she pressed her forefinger against them begging the boy’s silence. He smiled. They were conspirators in ignorance.

With Darcy riding beside her, Lady had not seemed so tall. As Elizabeth looked down in lonely sentry from atop her saddle then, she wondered if she would ever be able to remount if she needed to rest. (She did not dare consider the other reason she might need to remount.) As she rode out, she assured herself, “I shall persevere.”

When she found herself far enough away from the stables for no one to hear, she spoke to the mare, who responded by turning back first one ear, then the other.

“You shall be a good girl, now, will you not? We shall surprise Mr. Darcy with what we can do. Surely you too are tired of these plodding walks. We shall have a treat, just you and I.”

Soon she was well enough along their oft-travelled path to see a small tree that had fallen across the way. Propitious fortune saw it exactly the height she needed. She patted the mare’s neck, then urged her to walk over to the slim trunk. Lady put out her nose, and then deftly stepped over the obstacle. Satisfied, Elizabeth turned about and urged Lady into a little quicker walk. The horse stepped daintily over the tree once again. Relieved, Elizabeth decided that her first jump was perhaps less a fluke than she had granted. Darcy had told her she had a natural seat. Who was she to dispute his opinion?

She turned the mare about once again and, summoning up all her courage, nudged Lady into a trot. This time Lady balked, causing Elizabeth to tip precariously over her neck. Concluding they had not enough speed, she turned once more and kicked Lady’s flanks, urging her forward. Again the horse balked, almost causing Elizabeth to lose her “natural” seat.

“You can step over this little log,” she told the mare. “Why will you not jump it?”

Lady did not offer any enlightenment upon horse reckoning. In the horse’s silence upon the matter, Elizabeth refused to accept caution rather than risk. Perhaps Lady had not enough time to build speed. She would give her a longer approach. Again, she turned at a greater distance and kicked her horse more firmly. Lady responded splendidly and Elizabeth could feel her own heart take a leap just as they came to the tree trunk. Elizabeth, certain they would soar, leaned forward in preparation. This time, Lady halted, planting her feet in the turf at the very last moment. So decidedly did the horse stop, Elizabeth’s person had no warning of it and continued on neck and crop. Not only did Lady stop, she turned away from the tree at the last moment, causing Elizabeth to catapult over the mare’s shoulder and land upon the ground on her back. Hard.