A Lady’s Choice

by Jane Hunter

  As the carriage rolled toward Lambton and the clouds above rumbled with thunder, Elizabeth began to dare to hope that what had happened at the stables was a precursor to something more, that perhaps Mr. Darcy would renew his proposal.

  If his thoughts and wishes remained unchanged—he had said those words, had he not? If that were true, then the ardent love and admiration he had expressed to possess for her in Hunsford remained just as strong. He wanted her to be his wife, and if he asked again, she was not sure that she would refuse him again.

  * * *

  To Be Continued…

  A Ride with Mr. Darcy

  Elizabeth Bennet was a proverbial wreck.

  She had sat quietly in the carriage that took her and the Gardiners back to the Lambton Inn and remarked upon the beauty of Pemberley as her aunt spoke of the lushness of the rolling hills and her uncle guessed at how many brown trout he would be presenting to Mrs. Gardiner after his hours spent fishing in Mr. Darcy’s well-stocked lake.

  “You should have seen them jumping, Lizzy,” he had exclaimed, and Elizabeth could only smile in reply and express her regret that she had not seen it for herself.

  “And an invitation from Mr. Darcy himself, I had never expected to receive such an honor,” Mrs. Gardiner gushed. “Lizzy, you are not upset? You described Mr. Darcy so differently that I half-expected him to chase us away from his house on horseback while waving a riding crop!”

  Elizabeth could only laugh weakly in response. That reception would have been what she, herself, expected. But the reality was so very far from the truth that she did not quite know how to respond. How could she possibly compare the two versions of this formerly disagreeable gentleman—he had begged for her forgiveness, apologized for being so callous and cruel… But the way he had made her feel as his hands had roamed over her body, as though he already possessed her—as though she had already accepted his offer of marriage.

  She tried to remember why she had refused him so many months ago, but the answer came easily. He had been rude, had admitted that he was in love with her in spite of his own conscience. And worst of all, in his letter he had admitted his part in keeping Jane and Mr. Bingley apart. There were insults that she could forgive, but to have put poor Jane in such a position for so small a reason, so meaningless a reason—there could be no forgiveness for that.

  Elizabeth did her best to retain that spark of fury, but as she sat across from her aunt at the supper table at the Lambton Inn and ate sparingly of the dry roast beef on her plate she could not help but think about Mr. Darcy in an altogether different light. She tried to participate in the conversation between her aunt and uncle, but spent much of the meal silent and withdrawn. If either of them noticed, they did not mention it.

  Those thoughts persisted even as she took the stairs up to her room and left her aunt and uncle to share a second glass of port.

  They would be returning to Pemberley tomorrow, and it was likely that Mr. Gardiner would leave in the early hours of the morning so as to take the most advantage of Mr. Darcy’s generous offer.

  Elizabeth stepped out of her dress and pulled her sleeping gown over her head before pulling the pins and ribbons from her hair. She laid them all upon the vanity and counted the pins. She had borrowed them from Jane before departing Longbourn and Elizabeth wanted to be sure that each pin was returned safely. They were not simple hairpins; they had been a gift from their grandmother, Mr. Bennet’s mother, and each one was topped with a tiny pearl.

  She counted them carefully, lining them up beside her velvet ribbons. “Six…”

  But there should be seven.

  Frantically, Elizabeth re-counted the pins and then dragged her fingers through her dark curls as she searched frantically for the last pin. But it was not there. Gone.

  Tears pricked at her eyelids and she struggled not to let them fall. After everything that had happened today—this was too much. It must have slipped from her hair at the stables, when Mr. Darcy… when they—

  Angrily, Elizabeth picked up her hair brush and pulled it through her hair with sharp strokes. She had been careless, not just with such a precious item, but with her reputation as well. She would have to ask Mr. Darcy if he had seen the hairpin, perhaps go back to the stables herself to search for it. It was such a small thing, anyone who was not looking for it would never find it.

  A wayward tear slipped down her cheek and Elizabeth swiped it away furiously. A knock on her chamber startled her almost enough to make her drop her hair brush, but Elizabeth gripped it tightly and walked quickly to the door. She pulled the door open to reveal her aunt standing in the hallway with a small glass jug filled with dark red wine. Mrs. Gardiner laid a finger upon her lips to silence Elizabeth’s apology at opening the door so rudely and held up the jug.

  “To help you sleep, Lizzy,” she said softly. “You have been very quiet since our visit to Pemberley, but I will not press you to tell me why. Your uncle will depart early in the morning, perhaps you would like to go with him. I shall follow later in the day, I think.”

  Elizabeth took the jug from her aunt’s hand and smiled gratefully. “Thank you,” Elizabeth murmured.

  Mrs. Gardiner leaned forward and kissed her niece on the cheek gently. “We will speak more tomorrow,” she said before pulling the door closed. Elizabeth sighed and turned the latch before going back to the vanity. She set down the hair brush and took one last look at the pearl-headed pins. She would have to look for the missing one tomorrow at Pemberley’s stables. Perhaps it had fallen behind one of the saddles.

  She poured the wine into an empty glass that sat upon her bedside table and sat down upon the edge of the narrow bed. Whatever tomorrow would bring, she would have to face Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy once more. There was no lie she could tell, no possible excuse that she could tell Mrs. Gardiner to avoid this engagement. How could she sit across a supper table from a gentleman she had allowed to—

  Elizabeth gulped at the wine and refilled her glass. The rich red liquid was already making her feel lightheaded. She got up and moved around the room on unsteady legs to blow out the candles. She set down the glass and looked into the mirror. With a strangled sigh, she flung her unbraided hair over her shoulder and crawled beneath the coverlets. She lay on her side and stared at a bar of moonlight on the wooden floor.

  Dawn would come soon enough, and then she would have to make a decision.

  Elizabeth was waiting in the breakfast room with her tea when Mr. Gardiner entered. The innkeeper had given him the morning’s newspaper, and her uncle was in good spirits when he took his seat across from her.

  “I did not expect to see you here so early this morning, Niece,” he said warmly.

  Elizabeth smiled and poured her uncle’s tea. “I thought it would be best if I came with you,” she replied. “I was not able to take full advantage of Pemberley’s charms yesterday afternoon. I thought it would be a perfect time to enjoy it. You will be fishing, and I will walk the grounds until my aunt joins us.”

  “A wonderful idea,” Mr. Gardiner said with a smile. “I have already told Mrs. Gardiner, but I will tell you the same thing. I cannot promise I will not be fishing for the better part of the day.” Elizabeth smiled at the mock sternness in her uncle’s tone. He took his fishing very seriously.

  “Of course, Uncle. I would expect nothing less.”

  “Mr. Darcy is most generous,” Mr. Gardiner said. “Most generous, indeed.”

  “Yes, Uncle,” Elizabeth agreed and focused on her tea. Mr. Gardiner muttered to himself good-naturedly as he read the newspaper until the carriage arrived, allowing Elizabeth to imagine the conversation she wanted to avoid upon arriving at Pemberley. It would be nigh on impossible to avoid Mr. Darcy upon the grounds of his own estate, but she would have to try.

  * * *

  They rode together in silence, Mr. Gardiner no doubt lost in thoughts of the trout he would be catching while Elizabeth planned her approach to the stables and how she would carry out her search for
Jane’s pearl-headed pin.

  As the carriage descended the gentle slope of the road that led to Pemberley, Elizabeth felt the same swell of something altogether unexplainable as the graceful lines of the house rose into view. Would it not be something to feel like this every time I approached such a place? She wondered. Was this the feeling of pride and longing that a mistress of a great house was supposed to experience?

  But she was not the mistress of a great house. In fact, she was… nothing. The second eldest daughter of a country gentleman without great inheritance or accomplishment to recommend her. Less than nothing if her reputation were to be ruined by her interactions with Mr. Darcy.

  As the carriage lurched to a stop in Pemberley’s courtyard Elizabeth took a deep breath in an attempt to fortify herself. The carriage door opened and Elizabeth stepped down to the pale gravel without the assistance of the footman who appeared at the carriage wheel. Mr. Gardiner fell to talking with the young man and Elizabeth was grateful for the distraction. She did not want to be followed, or answer any questions as to where she was going.

  Elizabeth left her uncle in the courtyard and walked as quickly as she could toward the gardens. She could hear Mrs. Reynolds’ greeting as the housekeeper emerged from Pemberley’s front doors and increased her pace. Elizabeth ducked behind an ivy-covered stone wall and waited for just a moment to be sure that she had not been discovered.

  Mr. Gardiner’s uncle’s broad, jovial voice carried through the morning air and Elizabeth sighed in relief before turning into the garden once more.

  Elizabeth’s feet took her through the winding garden path and between hedges in an effort to shield herself from any prying eyes that might be watching from Pemberley’s windows. She only had a precious few moments before someone would come looking for her.

  She rushed past the rose garden and through the trees and did not pause when the branches pulled at her hair and her gown, but the stables were just ahead, and she increased her pace.

  The stableyard looked deserted and Elizabeth picked up her skirts and ran toward the low buildings. The horses whickered at her approach and kicked at their stall doors for their breakfast. Someone would be here soon to care for them, and she was running out of time.

  She pressed herself against the whitewashed wall and crept into the open door that led into the saddle room. She swallowed thickly as the memory of Mr. Darcy’s hands and the heat of his mouth flooded her senses. The smell of the leather would always bring it back for her; a memory she could never escape.

  But she was not there for memories. She was there to find her hairpin. Elizabeth bent down to make her search easier, looking for any sign of the hair pin, hoping to see the glint of silver on the hard-packed floor. Her fingers brushed over the ground and Elizabeth could feel desperation tightening her chest. Her knees ached and her vision was blurred by frustrated tears, and she was alert to every sound, every movement in the stalls, hoping that she would not be discovered—

  But the the sound of approaching hoofbeats made her heart leap in her chest. Elizabeth scrambled to her feet and tried desperately to think of what she should do… she had already been in this position once, and she could not—would not—allow it to happen again. Without daring to look out into the stableyard, Elizabeth dashed from the tack room toward the chill darkness of the trees.

  It seemed ridiculous to run away, she would surely be seen and confronted. But Elizabeth was not ready to be caught yet. Panic gripped her throat and stole away her breath as she tried to make herself as small as possible behind one of the trees and closed her eyes tightly. She willed whoever was approaching to ride on by and look past the tree that sheltered her. For all the times she had wished to be taller, Elizabeth now wished that she was smaller.

  The horse’s stride was long, and she could feel the vibration of its hooves as they struck the dark dirt. She held her breath as it passed by and then smothered a gasp under her hand as she heard the animal skid to a stop. There was a thud as the rider jumped down from the saddle and Elizabeth choked on a yelp as an apple hanging from the branch near her head broke free and fell to the ground. The traitorous fruit rolled down the small hill and came to rest against the side of a mud splattered black boot.

  “This is a terrible hiding place, Miss Bennet,” said a stern voice. The grove of apple trees was silent, but it was clear that he knew she was there. Elizabeth peeked out to see Mr. Darcy bend to pick up the apple that had come to rest against his boot.

  He brushed it off on the front of his vest and smiled fondly at it. “These trees have been in this grove since Pemberley was first built. They are meant for the kitchens, but I daresay that a good many of them go missing each season due to the deft fingers of our stable lads.” He took a thoughtful bite of the apple and chewed carefully as he stepped closer to Elizabeth’s hiding place.

  “Perhaps you would do well to keep a closer eye on your produce.” Elizabeth’s voice wavered just a little, but Mr. Darcy’s expression remained neutral.

  “Indeed, the lads do not listen to me, but perhaps they will take more care if it is a lady who scolds them instead of me.”

  In spite of herself Elizabeth laughed softly at the image of herself lecturing a group of dirty boys about stealing apples from the nearby orchard. With a sigh, Elizabeth realized that hiding was of no use.

  Now she would have to answer his questions, and the very thing she had wanted to avoid was now very much happening. Being alone with him was uncomfortable, but only because of the way he made her feel. In his presence she was conflicted, confused by her own emotions, and betrayed by her own body.

  “Do you ride?” he asked suddenly.

  Elizabeth blinked at me in surprise and she felt heat rush to her cheeks. She had expected a brusque question about her presence in the stables, but this had taken her completely off guard. “I confess I am not a horsewoman,” she replied sheepishly. “I have always felt too small and too nervous around such large beasts. My father says they are unpredictable…” She eyed Mr. Darcy’s horse nervously as he snuffled at the grass at his feet.

  “Are you afraid?” he asked gently.

  Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, she did not want to seem weak in front of him. “No, I am not afraid. Only cautious.”

  “What if I invited you for a ride?”

  Elizabeth’s fingers twisted together as she considered his words. “My uncle… he will be wondering where I am—it does not seem—”

  “Proper?” he chuckled. “We are away from prying eyes here, Miss Bennet, I promise I shall tell no one of our adventures. Your uncle, I daresay, is the happiest man in Kent—he will not miss you.”

  Elizabeth flushed and smiled ruefully. Mr. Gardiner’s enthusiasm for fishing was a well-trodden joke. Elizabeth looked over at Mr. Darcy’s horse tried to weigh her options. She had not been on the back of a horse in some time and she did not want to embarrass herself, no did she want to insult Mr. Darcy who had been kind enough to invite her uncle to Pemberley to pursue his passion for trout fishing—but had it all been a ploy to bring her back to Pemberley? Was she stepping into something even more scandalous… and did she care?

  “I will, I thank you,” she said finally. Mr. Darcy smiled and offered her his arm and Elizabeth laid her hand lightly upon it. At their approach, the large horse whickered softly and raised his head. Mr. Darcy put the apple that had given Elizabeth away into her hand and gestured toward the animal. The horse’s ears flickered forward and Elizabeth felt nervousness creep up over her shoulders.

  “Bribe him a little,” he said with a smile. It was obvious that the horse could smell the apple, and Elizabeth hoped that those large teeth would be kept far away from her slender hands. “He loves anyone with treats.”

  “Really? Like a hound?” she asked skeptically.

  “A very big one,” Mr. Darcy replied. Elizabeth looked back to the horse and extended her arm toward him with the apple clutched tightly in her fingers. “Keep your hands flat,” Mr. Darcy admoni
shed, “and your steps slow. He will not harm you.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she muttered. Elizabeth stepped forward with the golden apple balanced on her palms as the horse stretched his muzzle toward her. She stiffened slightly but her steps did not falter. Her eyes were wide as the beast sniffed at her arms and then took the apple gently from her hands.

  The horse’s teeth crunched into the apple and Mr. Darcy stepped close to lay a hand on his neck. Tentatively Elizabeth reached out and laid a hand beside his and a smile crept over her face as she stroked the horse’s shining hide.

  She gasped as the horse pushed his nose against the skirts of her dress in the search for more apples. Mr. Darcy laughed as she jumped closer to him and he pushed the horse’s nose away gently. “Are you still inclined to come for a ride, Miss Bennet?”

  Elizabeth looked up at him and her lips pressed into a determined line as she nodded shortly. “But you must promise not to go too fast.”

  Mr. Darcy raised an eyebrow and crouched down beside the horse as Elizabeth stared at him curiously. He laced his fingers together so she could step into his hands and waited for her to make the connection as to what she was supposed to do.

  It only took Elizabeth a moment before she took hold of the saddle’s pommel and placed her foot in his hands. She cried out softly as he lifted her up toward the saddle and helped her gain her seat. Like any lady riding sidesaddle, she hooked a leg over the pommel and held on tightly as Mr. Darcy tightened the stirrups and led the massive horse back to the path that wound through the apple grove.

  Elizabeth bit her lip as Mr. Darcy placed his foot into the stirrup and swung himself up into the saddle behind her. Before she could protest at being in such close quarters, Mr. Darcy took up the reins and Elizabeth did her best not to choke on her surprised breathing. “Are you ready, Miss Bennet?” he asked.