Page 45 of Mr. Darcy's Runaway Bride
Elizabeth hesitated. “That would give me great pleasure, except for one rather significant impediment. I scarcely know how to sit a mount without embarrassing myself.”
“You’ve never learned to ride?” Surprise flickered across his features.
“My father considered it an unnecessary expense. And my mother feared one of us would break our necks and ruin our marriage prospects.” Elizabeth braced herself for the disdain she half expected, another reminder of the differences in their upbringings.
Instead, Darcy’s expression shifted to one of determination. “Then we must remedy this at once. Pemberley has several horses perfectly suited to beginners. If you’re willing, I can teach you myself.”
The prospect of appearing clumsy before him gave Elizabeth pause, but her curiosity quickly overcame her hesitation. “I would like that very much, though I warn you, I may prove a difficult student.”
“I doubt that exceedingly.” He flashed a smile. “One hour to change, and I’ll meet you at the stables.”
***
Dressed in a borrowed riding habit that had belonged to Georgiana, Elizabeth approached the stables. Darcy stood in conversation with the head groom; a dappled grey mare already saddled nearby. The tall leather boots pinched her calves, andthe heavy skirt of the habit felt foreign after her usual muslin dresses.
“This is Persephone,” Darcy said as she approached. “She belonged to my mother—gentle in temperament but spirited enough to make riding enjoyable. She’ll serve as your introduction to horsemanship.”
Elizabeth stroked the mare’s velvety muzzle, meeting the liquid darkness of her eyes. “She’s beautiful.”
“She is.” Darcy’s gaze shifted from the horse to Elizabeth, travelling from the borrowed hat perched atop her dark curls to the way the riding habit accentuated her slender figure. “The habit suits you.”
Heat bloomed in Elizabeth’s cheeks at the simple compliment, and she turned back to the horse to hide her reaction.
After several circuits of the paddock under his watchful eye, Darcy declared her ready for a proper ride.
“You possess a natural seat,” he observed as they rode side by side along a flat trail that wound through Pemberley’s expansive grounds.
Elizabeth laughed, the sound rising unfettered in the crisp morning air. “Perhaps I was an Amazon warrior in a previous life, riding into battle alongside the ancient Greeks.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “You have the fearlessness that distinguishes the finest riders.”
“Fearlessness, or simple ignorance of the dangers?” Elizabeth quipped, though the admiration in his voice pleased her more than she cared to admit.
They rode for nearly an hour, venturing beyond the immediate grounds.
Eventually, they reached a natural plateau where the path widened into a small clearing. Darcy dismounted and helped Elizabeth down, his hands encircling her waist. After her feet touched the ground, they stood close enough that she could detect the scent of his shaving soap—sandalwood and something distinctly his own.
“This is one of my favourite views of Pemberley,” he said, stepping back and gesturing towards the valley.
From their elevated position, Pemberley sprawled below in all its glory—the grand house nestled perfectly into the landscape, the lake reflecting patches of sky, formal gardens giving way to parkland.
“It’s magnificent.” The words felt inadequate for the vista before her.
“I come here when difficulties arise,” Darcy said, his voice low. “Seeing Pemberley like this—the whole estate at once, yet knowing every acre intimately—restores perspective to my troubles.”
“I understand why.” Elizabeth studied his profile, struck by this glimpse into his private self. “It would make a perfect setting for a painting—or one of my stories.”
“Your fiction and life begin to merge,” Darcy observed with a slight smile. “Has your writing progressed sincecoming to Pemberley? I notice your notebook accompanies you everywhere.”
“It has, though in unexpected ways. The house itself has inspired a new tale.” Elizabeth hesitated, then turned to him, ready to share the news she’d held close since yesterday. “In fact, I’ve received encouraging word. Nocturne Publishing has expressed interest in my manuscript.”
Darcy’s eyebrows rose, genuine pleasure lighting his features. “That’s excellent news. Why didn’t you mention it earlier?”
“I received their letter only yesterday and wasn’t certain how you would respond.”
“We married partly so you could continue your literary pursuits, Elizabeth. I’m delighted for you.” A note of pride entered his voice. “When must you send the complete manuscript?”
“In two weeks’ time. I submitted sample chapters, but the remainder needs copying in a clear hand before I can send it.”
