Page 146 of Pride and Prejudice Resolutions

"The horse is long gone. She is probably in Richmond by now, terrorising sheep."

"Then I shall walk home."

"You will not. You will ride Black Thunder."

Caroline looked at the horse. The horse looked back. He would tolerate her presence, his eyes said, but he would not enjoy it.

"He hates me," she said flatly.

"He hates everyone. It is not personal."

"How reassuring."

Richard moved to his horse's side and held out a hand. "Come. I shall walk him back. You will ride. It is non-negotiable, Miss Bingley. You are not walking three miles through London in a torn riding habit looking like you have been dragged through a hedge by vengeful squirrels."

"I do not look—" She caught sight of her reflection in a nearby puddle. "Oh God."

"Precisely. Now mount up before someone mistakes you for a vagrant and calls the Watch."

Caroline, because she was out of options and because her feet hurt and because the Colonel was right,damn him, allowed him to help her into the saddle.

Black Thunder sighed. It was a long, suffering sound.

Caroline sympathised entirely.

The Colonel turned at the sound of continued uproar down the Row. Charles was still engaged in mortal combat with the lapdog, which had apparently decided that surrender was for cowards.

"Mr Bingley!" the Colonel shouted. "Leave the beast to its fate and ride home immediately!"

Charles looked up, the dog dangling from his sleeve by its teeth. "But the poor creature—"

"Is feral and possibly rabid. Go home. Send your carriage back to the park gates to collect your sister. She cannot ride through Mayfair looking like she has been assaulted by highway robbers."

"Oh! Yes! Of course!" Charles attempted to shake the dog loose. It held firm. "Should I bring the dog?"

"No, Mr Bingley. Go. Now."

Charles, with one final heroic shake that dislodged the demon, scrambled onto his horse and took off towards the gates at a pace that implied his mount was equally eager to escape the morning's events.

The Colonel watched him disappear, then turned back to Caroline. "We shall proceed slowly. By the time we reach the gates, your carriage will be waiting."

"And if it is not?"

"Then I shall carry you home and leave you on your doorstep like an abandoned parcel. But I suspect your brother, for all his failings, can manage to send a carriage."

"Your faith in him is touching."

"My faith in basic human competence is minimal. But even Bingley cannot fail at pointing a driver in the correct direction."

The walk back to the park gates took more than twenty minutes. The Colonel led the beast by the reins, his stride slow and steady. Caroline sat in the saddle, attempting to restore some semblance of order to her hair whilst simultaneously calculating how long it would take for this incident to reach every drawing room in Mayfair.

Answer: three hours, maximum.

By teatime, she would be the mad Bingley woman who could not control her horse. By tomorrow, the story would evolve into her attempting to elope with a chimney sweeper. By next week, she would be banned from owning livestock.

She was considering emigration when they reached the gates.

The Bingley carriage waited in the lane beyond, and Schmidt stood beside it, wringing her hands and scanning the path for her mistress.