informed him that I was no horsewoman, and he assured me that riding lessons would commence as soon as the weather permitted. I met his declaration with the same enthusiasm I would have exhibited had he served me a beaker of pickle juice.
On what proved to be the final day of clear weather for some time, Mr. Darcy announced at the breakfast table that he would take Georgiana and me on a ride in his phaeton. She clapped her hands in delight, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
“A phaeton?” I asked. “Will it not be rather crowded with three passengers and cold as well?”
“Oh no, Elizabeth,” Georgiana declared. By that time, we had progressed to addressing each other by our first names. “The wind has disappeared, and the sun is out today. We can fit if we squeeze close together. Tucked under a rug, we shall be quite cosy.”
Sipping my tea, I raised my eyes to observe Mr. Darcy’s reaction. He appeared completely satisfied with the idea, unconcerned with any discomfort such intimacy might cause. Well, if he could sit close beside me without problem, I should do as well. After all, he is your brother, I reminded myself. I quickly swallowed the remains of my cup, but in so doing, I choked and coughed to the point that I was forced to excuse myself from the table.
A half hour later, I descended the stairs and saw the phaeton waiting at the side entrance. Attached to a beautiful white mare, the shiny green conveyance with its huge yellow wheels looked like something out of a painting, even down to the bells hanging around the horse’s collar. My sister carried a white muff and wore a fur coat and hat. Mr. Darcy had swathed his neck with a flannel scarf, but he frowned when he saw my plain wool coat and bonnet.
“Do you have no fur?”
“My coat is adequate.”
He shook his head and ran up the stairs two at a time, calling for a servant. I followed Georgiana outdoors. She climbed up into the vehicle with aid from a servant and urged me to join her, but before I could, Mr. Darcy returned with a fur hat and cape.
“Exchange that bonnet for this hat,” he demanded. “I shall not have you catch your death.”
When I hesitated, he untied the ribbons himself. Before I knew what had happened, he handed my bonnet to the maid, placed the warmer covering on my head, and then wrapped the cape around my shoulders.
“Whose garments are these?”
Georgiana smiled. “They are mine. Wills, we must see to a more suitable wardrobe for Elizabeth.”
“Yes, we must.”
“No,” I protested. “I shall not accept—”
“’Tis better than coming down with a chill, is it not?” He raised one eyebrow while he completed tying the bow under my chin. I shivered slightly, uncertain whether it was caused by the weather or the intimate nature of Mr. Darcy’s concern for me.
Stepping up into the carriage, he held out his hand to assist me. “Now, let us arrange the blanket, and we shall be off.” He sat between Georgiana and me and securely tucked the warm throw around each of us. I held my breath as he leaned over me, his head so close that his hair brushed against my cheek. “Warm enough?” he asked.
“Perfectly,” Georgiana announced. I could manage nothing more than a nod.
Not even a hair could have squeezed between us, and I became keenly aware of the warmth of his leg touching mine. This is a mistake, I thought. But how was I to escape? Before I could think of an excuse, Mr. Darcy flicked the reins, and the great horse picked up her heels and trotted off. The cold wind fanned my cheeks, and I gasped to catch my breath. How fortunate that I could blame the elements for the rosy colour of my countenance.
That day, I discovered Mr. Darcy had a passion for driving fast. We had scarce left the outskirts of the park before he urged the horse into a brisk gallop. Georgiana squealed as we rounded a corner and laughed gaily when I protested.
“Do not fear, Elizabeth,” she cried. “Wills is an excellent
On what proved to be the final day of clear weather for some time, Mr. Darcy announced at the breakfast table that he would take Georgiana and me on a ride in his phaeton. She clapped her hands in delight, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
“A phaeton?” I asked. “Will it not be rather crowded with three passengers and cold as well?”
“Oh no, Elizabeth,” Georgiana declared. By that time, we had progressed to addressing each other by our first names. “The wind has disappeared, and the sun is out today. We can fit if we squeeze close together. Tucked under a rug, we shall be quite cosy.”
Sipping my tea, I raised my eyes to observe Mr. Darcy’s reaction. He appeared completely satisfied with the idea, unconcerned with any discomfort such intimacy might cause. Well, if he could sit close beside me without problem, I should do as well. After all, he is your brother, I reminded myself. I quickly swallowed the remains of my cup, but in so doing, I choked and coughed to the point that I was forced to excuse myself from the table.
A half hour later, I descended the stairs and saw the phaeton waiting at the side entrance. Attached to a beautiful white mare, the shiny green conveyance with its huge yellow wheels looked like something out of a painting, even down to the bells hanging around the horse’s collar. My sister carried a white muff and wore a fur coat and hat. Mr. Darcy had swathed his neck with a flannel scarf, but he frowned when he saw my plain wool coat and bonnet.
“Do you have no fur?”
“My coat is adequate.”
He shook his head and ran up the stairs two at a time, calling for a servant. I followed Georgiana outdoors. She climbed up into the vehicle with aid from a servant and urged me to join her, but before I could, Mr. Darcy returned with a fur hat and cape.
“Exchange that bonnet for this hat,” he demanded. “I shall not have you catch your death.”
When I hesitated, he untied the ribbons himself. Before I knew what had happened, he handed my bonnet to the maid, placed the warmer covering on my head, and then wrapped the cape around my shoulders.
“Whose garments are these?”
Georgiana smiled. “They are mine. Wills, we must see to a more suitable wardrobe for Elizabeth.”
“Yes, we must.”
“No,” I protested. “I shall not accept—”
“’Tis better than coming down with a chill, is it not?” He raised one eyebrow while he completed tying the bow under my chin. I shivered slightly, uncertain whether it was caused by the weather or the intimate nature of Mr. Darcy’s concern for me.
Stepping up into the carriage, he held out his hand to assist me. “Now, let us arrange the blanket, and we shall be off.” He sat between Georgiana and me and securely tucked the warm throw around each of us. I held my breath as he leaned over me, his head so close that his hair brushed against my cheek. “Warm enough?” he asked.
“Perfectly,” Georgiana announced. I could manage nothing more than a nod.
Not even a hair could have squeezed between us, and I became keenly aware of the warmth of his leg touching mine. This is a mistake, I thought. But how was I to escape? Before I could think of an excuse, Mr. Darcy flicked the reins, and the great horse picked up her heels and trotted off. The cold wind fanned my cheeks, and I gasped to catch my breath. How fortunate that I could blame the elements for the rosy colour of my countenance.
That day, I discovered Mr. Darcy had a passion for driving fast. We had scarce left the outskirts of the park before he urged the horse into a brisk gallop. Georgiana squealed as we rounded a corner and laughed gaily when I protested.
“Do not fear, Elizabeth,” she cried. “Wills is an excellent
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