Page 80 of Her Affections and Wishes

Grass green satin with a black velvet cap had been the Fitzwilliam colours for decades. It had pleased him at the time that she was drawn to the colour. “I did.”

When he added nothing else she said, “Well, I love the races and how you cannot tell His Grace from his groom, or man from a woman if they are both in trousers. I like the stalls and attractions as much as the races themselves. Why would I not want to see Mrs Tessier and Henry, not to mention my sister?”

Would she force him to say it? “It will bring forth terrible memories, to say nothing of how it will be noted if we attend the Epsom races.”

Elizabeth stopped walking and sighed. “Any newspaper article that mentions the society around Epsom refers to the escapade two years ago. There is no escaping that, whether or not we go.”

“If we just attend any ball or concert around Epsom Downs, even if we never watch a race, it will be remarked upon, both in gossip and in print, I can promise you,” he insisted. “Along with more talk of the madwoman who tried to murder her daughter’s romantic rival.”

She put her hands on his waistcoat. “I prefer the articles that mention the handsome and heroic Mr Darcy who saved his beloved from tragedy.”

“They always mention both,” he said flatly, ignoring her soft eyes.

“Yes, but the tone differs greatly, and you were a hero.”

“You truly want to go to Woodcote?” His heart raced away in agitation at remembering what happened there.

She threw up her hands. “If I could cope with mentions in gossip and print about the trial that summer, I can handle being mentioned if I am seen at Epsom Downs.”

Lady Metcalfe’s trial had produced an excited interest across England. A woman gone mad because her lifelong lover would not marry her when her pregnant daughter was unwed, or at least that was what the madwoman had believed. So she tried to murder the future bride of the man her daughter wanted to entrap into marriage to give a name to her child by another man. It was no wonder the outrageous scandal was on everyone’s tongues.

Darcy, Elizabeth, Woodcote’s cook, and several servants and witnesses all testified. The jury came back with a quick decision whose outcome surprised no one. A doctor from Bedlam Hospital said to find Lady Metcalfe not guilty, her being under the influence of insanity at the time the acts were committed. The Criminal Lunatics Act made the court’s sentencing decision for them: any such person acquitted due to insanity must be kept in strict custody indefinitely.

When Darcy noticed her observing him, he admitted, “My recollections of Woodcote are not happy ones, Elizabeth.”

“Then why do we not make some new ones? If you hate it⁠—”

“I am thinking more of you, dearest.”

“If I hate it,” she said, “then we will simply leave. But a fortnight with Lydia and Henry will be enjoyable, and we can visit Jane and Bingley along the way.”

He put a hand to her cheek. His wife was braver than anyone he knew. If she wanted to go, he would take her. Perhaps his own fears would not come back simply by being at Woodcote. “Would you not be distressed to see the turf and remember when you were last there?”

“If it makes you feel better, I will be like all the other dignified matrons and go in my coach and ignore the races altogether and then go home directly to dress for a concert or ball.”

He scoffed. “You prefer to watch at the ending post and feel the energy of a vast, unruly crowd all cheering for their horse to overtake the others and win.”

Elizabeth pressed a kiss to his lips. “I can handle a little chaotic bustle, I promise. Besides, you will be with me.”

May 1814

Epsom Downs

Elizabeth loved a race ground. It was not just seeing one’s friends in attendance, or the commotion of commerce, but also the horses themselves. She appreciated them in a different way now that she rode. Their speed, energy, and beauty entranced her as she and Darcy watched the Woodcote Stakes.

“The racehorses’ abilities are not purely innate, are they?” she asked him as they made their way through the crowd after the finish. He was striding away and she had to hurry to keep pace with him. Henry was with the organisers, whilst Mrs Tessier and Lydia had stayed by the carriages, but Elizabeth had begged Darcy to take her closer.

“Some think blood is all that matters with thoroughbreds, but I think there must be a matter of improvement through training, too.”

“I can admire their talents even more now that I ride myself.”

“Can you also appreciate their talents if their winning helps line your pockets?”

He spoke in jest; neither of them had wagered today. She was purely here for the entertainment, and Darcy seemed to want to do nothing more than accompany her and leave the turf as swiftly as possible. He had not been as eager to spend the day at the races with her as she had hoped.

“There is such a sense of occasion,” she said, trying to cheer him. “I just enjoy being here. There is no need to wager.”

“If only everyone was as wise as you,” he muttered, tilting his head toward a man talking animatedly to one of the many bookmakers.