Page 24 of Her Affections and Wishes

Elizabeth did not even notice, and continued to look at the vendors and performers unimpeded. He was not sure if she even had any money on her, but better to be sure than sorry. There was a great tumult and hubbub at a race meeting, and some men even attended armed.

She continued at a sedate, womanly pace, but he noted she was not the only woman in men’s clothes. On their way past the stalls, booths, and attractions, he noticed groups of ladies dressed as men that fooled no one who had the sense to look. And look they did because they were loud and amused with themselves and the novelty of their clothes. However, these ladies were attended by actual men.

Elizabeth was alone.

After another half an hour, it was nearing the start time of the first stakes with more people around the course. Darcy observed Elizabeth watch some minstrels and acrobats, but the crowd jostled her and pushed her deeper in. The drunken and rowdy were only a breath away. Elizabeth did not know how to give as good as she got and shove back. Well, perhaps in her heart she did, but she did not know that in breeches she could get away with it.

Darcy edged his way into the crowd toward her, throwing an elbow here and a shoulder there to press through. He would not take her arm and guide her through the crowd as he would a woman, but neither could he stand here and let her be trampled. When he was behind her, he pushed back two loud drunk men arguing over if the stakes today were colts or fillies. One still shoved her, and she gave a little shriek of dismay, but at least Darcy stopped them from spilling a drink on her.

Part of him was angry at her for putting herself in such a situation, but someone must have foolishly advised her that she could do it safely. If she wanted to act the boy for the day, so be it, as long as it was not alone amidst a drunken crowd. He could not allow her to spend another moment alone at Epsom.

“Good afternoon, Bennet.”

She spun round with her mouth agape. He touched his hat, and Elizabeth started to curtsey before he made a short sound of disapproval and tapped his hat again in emphasis. She caught herself and repeated the gesture, stammering, “Mr Darcy.”

“Come now, is that how you greet a friend?”

She tilted her head in confusion, but finally understood him. She stifled a giggle and said in a mock low voice, “How do you do, Darcy?”

“I am well—aside from this crowd. Follow me, close as you can.” He trusted her to follow and made a route through the throng out to the pathways along the rows of booths and stalls.

Julia had insisted she would spend all morning in bed, but Elizabeth was determined to enjoy herself at the races without her. Julia would have been a surly companion, anyway. She could not even be troubled to come down to breakfast since the men were gone. Then Lady Metcalfe convinced Mrs Tessier there was no reason to send anyone with Elizabeth since she was dressed as a boy.

“There are no grand races today, after all,” Lady Metcalfe said to their hostess, “compared to what will be held tomorrow, so the crowds will be nothing. Let her enjoy herself. Besides, Henry will not want to spend the day with her when he might be with his friends.”

And Elizabeth had enjoyed herself immensely—until it approached the start time.

There must be tens of thousands of people at Epsom Downs, and the number would increase tomorrow and Thursday. The crowd by the acrobats became too pressing, the men taking up too much space. The loud and drunk were gaining ground against the mild and sober. A woman would never push so, likely because they would have had a man with her to assert himself for her. She grew fearful of how she could extricate herself when a familiar, confident voice called her name—her surname—and guided her from the throng.

Darcy stopped where it was less crowded and bought her a coffee. His eye darted all over her. She supposed she would be equally distracted if she saw him in a gown. Seeing him after their conversation about kissing felt embarrassing and exciting, especially since he rescued her. What did he think of her since he confessed being willing to kiss her?

Struck by a thought, she asked him, “How did you recognise me? Even the stableboy I passed at Woodcote did not look at me twice.”

Darcy’s amused look faded as his eye trailed down her body, and Elizabeth felt suddenly conscious. He could not have seen her hips or legs and known her at a distance.

“You do not take up space like a man does, and you often looked down at your shoes, but I presume you were actually looking at your legs now that they are on display?”

Men at a race meeting did not blush, so she dipped her head and made a humming sound of acknowledgement.

“But I would have known you as soon as you looked at me,” he went on. “Your eyes are remarkably expressive.”

Darcy’s voice was warm, and he smiled before realising he had given her a forward compliment. The way he turned pink and apologised was charming. Perhaps men did blush.

“Don’t apologise,” she murmured. “I am flattered, to be honest. What a long way you have come from ‘tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me.’”

“Indeed.” He was as inscrutable as ever. Finishing his coffee, he returned the cup to the vendor and said, “Come along, Bennet. We are going to the betting post. We missed the first race, but you cannot come to Epsom races and not bet. I do not approve of reckless gambling, but a young man must learn how to make a sensible wager.”

She grinned and caught up to him. “One is astonished at the commotion and noise made on these occasions.”

“During the race week, Epsom has the appearance of a crowded city. At an early hour, persons of all ranks, and carriages innumerable, pour into the town. All the accommodations and provisions that the surrounding villages can supply were put in requisition weeks ago.”

“I am amazed at all the stalls and business being conducted, and the gaming tables, too. If I can wager on a horse, can I play even and odd, or hazard?”

He gave a long look. “There is also business done as far as swindling. I hear one black-legged fellow cleared a thousand pounds by tricks at the E.O. tables today before he was shut down. Another at a faro table when he was detected with a palmed card. You may as well just let a pickpocket take your purse. Speaking of that, Mr Bowes, half-brother of the Earl of Strathmore, was robbed of a gold watch and a purse containing thirty guineas at Epsom races last year. Many others shared a similar fate. Upward of thirty carriages were robbed coming from the races.”

“You are severely limiting my fun as a man if I cannot wager to excess and be cheated at cards.”

“You have a narrow view of what it means to be a man, Bennet.”