Author's Note: This story can be blamed on my cousin, a skilled physician, accomplished artist and erudite scholar with a droll sense of humor. When asked many years ago if she enjoyed (American style) football, she pondered for a moment then gave the perfect answer; 'I like it when they walk away.'

While our dashing Regency heroes did not have spandex at their disposal, they did have a most worthy alternative – buckskin! The time consuming, labor intensive and, quite frankly, disgusting process of transforming raw deer hide into that strong, soft, supple material will not be detailed here, but leave it to say that the end result was, more often than not, well worth the endeavor. Several ladies in particular developed over time a heightened appreciation, not only for the material itself, but also for several wearers of it. Their stories will be told here.

Buckskin

Chapter 1 - Elizabeth

Elizabeth Bennett was out taking her exercise one day as she was wont to do, though her step was far more sprightly than usual. It was a glorious October day. The colors were in full change, and the palette, riotous. Bright sunlight filtering through the tree limbs overhead formed lacy patterns of shade and light on the pathway below, and the brisk air against her cheek had the same crisp snap as the leaves under her feet. It truly was a pleasant day.

Her thoughts were pleasant as well! Of course there was tomorrow's Assembly Ball to consider. This event had understandably become the focus of the entire neighborhood - and who was Elizabeth to put herself above her neighbors? Therefore, a portion of her active mind did deem it worthwhile to ponder such weighty matters as what to wear and how to style one's hair. And of course, there were the new acquaintances to be made upon introduction to their recently installed neighbors from Netherfield Park. These new neighbors consisted of a certain Mr. Charles Bingley and his sisters, and the very recent addition of a large party of their friends from Town, all of whom were expected to make their appearance at the Assembly. These were all weighty matters indeed, however, most of Elizabeth's thoughts lay in a completely different direction.

Mr. Henry S. Bennet, Esquire, Elizabeth's esteemed father, had recently made a significant addition to his library with the purchase of twenty two new volumes. Knowing how much his favorite daughter shared his love of reading, he had allowed her immediate access to them after his own perusal. These tomes spanned a wide range of topics, from the national politics of the day to the unfortunate events unfolding on the Continent, along with the usual subjects of philosophy, mathematics, the sciences, art and poetry. Elizabeth was currently absorbed by William Blake's 'Milton: A Poem', though to be honest, what had initially attracted her to that particular volume was not so much the writing within as its frontispiece, an engraving showing the back end of a particularly magnificent specimen of mankind, as naturally attired as Adam in the garden before the fall. Many a father might have deemed it appropriate to remove this particular page before relinquishing said book to a minor daughter. However Mr. Bennet, a lover of the arts and connoisseur of the bookmaking craft, did not.

Elizabeth often found occasion to give sincere thanks to her Heavenly Father for having bestowed upon her such a lenient earthly one. This was one of those occasions.

Such were the turns of Elizabeth's lively mind as she exited the seclusion of the wooded path, onto a narrow clearing which bordered the main road to Meryton. And lo! there, standing tall and proud, with his back facing her own happy eyes, was Blake's engraving come to life! Well… almost, for at least this version was clothed. Well... somewhat. Truth be told, Elizabeth had rarely seen any proper gentleman (for that is what she assumed him to be) in such a state of public undress as this! His shirt hung loosely about his shoulders – surely his collar must be open and his cravat untied! His hat was missing and his top coat divested, leaving the seat of his breeches bare to the world – though what fine breeches they were!

Seeking to spare the gentleman the embarrassment of discovery, Elizabeth quietly removed herself back to the pathway, finding shelter behind a stout oak which bordered the clearing, and from whence she could still hear and see the proceedings as they unfolded before her. Some might call it spying, Elizabeth called it the pursuit of knowledge. Said unknown gentleman appeared to be having a heartfelt discourse with another tall and lithesome creature, his horse.

"There, there Apollo," he soothed with a pleasant baritone, "Let's have a look, shall we?"

All while keeping his back to Elizabeth, the gentleman squatted to the ground, raised up the animal's left foreleg and attended to its shoe, which of course presented Elizabeth with yet another vantage from which to consider those breeches. They truly were extraordinary! Elizabeth suddenly felt unaccountably warm and the air much less crisp. Having only one other real life point of reference to use by way of comparison, Elizabeth quickly reached two empirical conclusions; this gentleman had not her father's figure, and those were not her father's breeches.

They were of buckskin, superfine quality, the color of butter and honey. Seemingly molded to the man's shapely thighs and upper calves, they ended with a flourish of buttons and ties at the beginning of a pair of well-made top boots. Though somewhat baggy in the seat, as such practical garments tended to be, they still managed to accentuate that gentleman's assets in a very pleasing way! Elizabeth's appraising eye was distracted, however, as the gentleman chose that moment to share his findings with his horse.

"Tsk! Seems we've been brought down by a stone, Apollo. Two nails have come loose! No more riding today, I'm afraid."

With that he suddenly rose and patted his horse's flank with affection, then quickly proceeded to button his shirt and tie his cravat. A dark green coat, which had all this time been neatly placed across the man's saddle, was now taken up and shrugged on, effectively putting an end to Elizabeth's scientific scrutiny. Next, a tall beaver, which had been resting next to his coat, was doffed and adjusted. Then, leading his horse by its reins, both man and horse proceeded down the road in the general direction of Netherfield.

From a previous brief sighting of Mr. Bingley Elizabeth knew with great certainty that this was not him. Where Bingley had been blond and of middling height, this man was dark and quite tall. She wondered if this, perhaps, was one of Netherfield's visiting denizens.

Never once did Elizabeth get to see his face, though she had high hopes of remedying that omission on the morrow. So it was with an even lighter step that she proceeded on her way.

o~O~o

Another note: My ambitious plan is to wrap this up in 10 chapters, three for each of the three ladies, then an epilogue to wrap things up. I tend to write rather slowly, and there might be extra long gaps between the three stories, but please bear with me. Unfortunately the sequel to FR is once again on the back burner while I focus on this.

And yes, that frontispiece does exist. Google it! :-)