Suddenly becoming very interested in her fingernails,she said, “Papa says that when I was little, I ran fast enough that he could not catch me when he wanted to put me on the back of an old mare on which Jane learned to ride.”
Softly, he asked, “Why did you run?”
Flustered, loathe to admit another flaw, especially one that was silly, she whispered, “I was afraid.” Rubbing her hands on her skirt, she glanced at the horizon before looking at him. “I can stand in the attic looking at the ground through a window and feel no fear. I can climb a tree to its top without my pulse racing and my stomach churning. However, put me on the back of a horse and I shake uncontrollably.”
“When was the last time you tried to ride?”
“I was ten.” She exhaled slowly. “The Lucas family was at Longbourn. Johnny Lucas, who is my age, taunted me, trying to get me on a horse. He even climbed the fence so he could stretch his legs over the mare, sitting backwards, facing the tail. I laughed, like I was supposed to, but I still could not overcome my anxiety. Eventually, his brothers started teasing me about being too chicken to ride. Johnny struck his older brother in the mouth, loosening one of his teeth. I appreciated Johnny’s defense. He never teased me again. He became my favorite brother of Charlotte’s. But despite his efforts, I still could not get up on the back of that horse.” She dipped her head and grinned. “Besides, my two feet have taken me everywhere I have wanted to go.”
He stretched his legs out in front of him, and said, “My father had me up on a horse before I could crawl. As a boy, I ate, breathed, and slept horses. When I was five, my father purchased a set of toy horses and had a miniaturestable built that was kept in the nursery. My cousin Richard and I spent every rainy day playing with those toys. I was the colonel in charge of the horse brigade in our mock battles while Richard was General Fitzwilliam, commanding the regiment. It is funny how close our lives are to our dreams during our youth. Richard is a Colonel in the regulars. His regiment is on the continent and has been for over a year.”
“You miss him.”
He looked directly at her. “More than you know.”
With a slight shrug of his shoulder, he said, “Did you learn enough that you could ride a horse if there was an emergency?”
“I suppose so,” she said hesitantly, hoping it never happened.
“When Georgiana was young, she was terrified of fire. Patiently, Father started with a short candle and a teacup filled with water. He would light the flame. She would put it out. When a fireplace was lit, he would walk close enough that she could feel the warmth, then move a screen to where she could go no further. In that way, she eventually learned her limits. This allowed her to control her fear in a way that gave her freedom. For many years now, she seems not to notice anything other than smoke if it gets into a room. I have even seen her stand fairly close to the bonfire during Guy Fawkes.”
“Your father sounds like a wonderful man,” Elizabeth said.
“He was a good man, the best father.”
Elizabeth could only see the side of his face, his firm jaw, the muscle below his cheek flexing. “My parents are as opposite as tea and toast. Papa is quiet and thoughtful.Mama is not. Were your parents similar in their attitudes?”
He smiled. “Not at all. Mama used to say that if you just add water, I would grow up to be an exact copy of Father. To know the best of me is to know him. My mother loved to laugh and sing, to dance at grand balls, and spend every night at the theater. At Pemberley, whenever we went looking for her, we always found her in the gardens, the conservatory, or the orangery. She would remove Georgiana from her nurse when she was a newborn to stroll to the stream and back, my sister in her arms.”
“I know it is impertinent to ask, but did they get on well together?”
“Fabulously. My parents had a rule that when we were at home, we took all our meals together, if possible. Mother would speak about the favorite qualities she noted in the guests who came to Pemberley or Darcy House. Papa would discuss an edited version of the news. Every evening, we adjourned to the library where I would lean on Mother while Father read. For me, it was the happiest of times. When I had fears, Mother would calm me, promising that she would take on any foe alongside Father. Although she was never called upon to act, I doubted not that she would.” He stilled. “I did not think I would survive her death.”
Her hand moved toward him before she caught herself, wanting to offer comfort.
He cleared his throat. “We did survive, but everything changed. Pemberley became quiet and stayed that way.”
A lump formed in her throat. Her eyes welled up. Turning fully to face him, she said, “If me climbing up ona horse and riding over hills and dales would bring them back, I would not hesitate.”
With a faint upturn of his lips, he said, “I thank you. If only it were possible.” The tension around his eyes softened. “Tell me, what else might induce you to ride?”
She scoffed. “Do you like Brussels sprouts?”
“I do.”
“Well, I do not. I never have and I never will. Yet, in spite of knowing my unswerving opinion, it is inevitable that others will say to me, ‘you have just never had them cooked properly.’ Then, they have the temerity to have a dish prepared for me heaping with the vile vegetable, fully expecting me to enjoy it as much as they do. Well, when I was younger, I had to make myself gag at least one sprout down my throat at the insistence of my mother, whereupon I would immediately cast it back up onto their plate. It took years of this before everyone finally gave up trying to share a new preparation that I might like. I loathe them with my whole being.” She shuddered. “During this same period, gentlemen offered the same sort of advice with horses. If only I tried their approach. It was one failure after another. I shall not try Brussels sprouts or horses again.”
He threw his head back and laughed. His expression was filled with so much joy that she soon joined him.
When the quiet of the day once again surrounded them, he asked, “Do you at least know how to put a bridle and saddle on a horse?”
“I do.”
“Can you do it quickly?”
“Why do you ask.”
“If there was no one around and one of your sisterswas in dire need of the apothecary, what would be the quickest way to get to Meryton and back?”
