Chapter 3

The weather had been poor that winter, and when it did break, Elizabeth was eager to take advantage of it, so when her husband suggested she return to horseback riding on what looked to be a mild day, she agreed readily.

It was very strange to be back up on Buttercup, the stout old pony Darcy had been teaching her to ride on before her pregnancy had got too far along, and riding along through the woods. Strange, yet also very pleasing, to be breathing fresh, chilly air after having to spend so much time indoors, and to find that all she had learned about riding came back to her quickly.

"You look very well, Elizabeth," Darcy said. "Being out of doors always did become you."

"That, and apparently not wearing a cap," she said.

"Are you to tease me over that, now?"

"I must get some diversion out of using some of my Parisian lace on a cap I shall not be allowed to wear for thirty years."

"If you continue to tease me over it, I might wait for nearer to forty."

"You know that will not stop me."

"I shall just have to distract you, then," he said. "Should you like to try a canter?"

"Yes, I suppose so. I feel quite comfortable," Elizabeth said, and then, for she knew it must be her topic to raise: "In fact, I think once I have practised a bit more on Buttercup, it might be time for me to try Spartan. There is less risk, now that I am no longer with child."

"Indeed?" he asked, and Elizabeth could see he was very pleased by this. "There really was not much risk before – he is a little more challenging than Buttercup, certainly, but still well within your skills. But I am glad you wish to try him now. I do think you will like him, and soon enough Buttercup shall be required for the boys to learn. I think to start them together on Buttercup while I look for a suitable pair of younger ponies. They each must have their own."

"You might hold off a little while before purchasing ponies, Darcy. They can hardly hold their own heads up, yet."

"True," he laughed. "I suppose I am just eager for us all to ride together as a family."

"That would be very nice," Elizabeth said. She had not thought of it before, but the notion of her boys being grown enough to be riding alongside their father and mother on these theoretical ponies was very pleasing to her, although she did not want her sons to grow up too quickly.

Darcy was looking at her expectantly, to begin the canter, for his horse, Kestrel, could very nearly outpace Buttercup's canter at a trot. Elizabeth flicked her whip, to send the pony into a trot, and then again to canter, and Darcy was almost instantaneously up alongside her.

They rode on like this for some time, Elizabeth smiling at the thought that they were very nearly at the end of winter, and the weather should only get better, before she reined the pony in to a walk. It was only when she did so that she noticed Darcy looking over his shoulder with some concern. She followed his glance to see dark clouds on the horizon.

"I do not like the look of that sky," she said.

"I had been thinking the same thing," he replied. "We had better return."

"Yes. I am glad at least we had a little time out here today." Elizabeth turned Buttercup around, so that they could return on the same path they had taken. Now facing the oncoming clouds, she saw they were moving quickly, and began to grow concerned.

"Do you feel up to cantering back?" Darcy asked. "I should hate for us to get caught in that."

It had been nearly a half-year since Elizabeth had last ridden, and since then, she had borne two sons and been forced to stay inside for much of the poor winter. Still, although she was not sure she was physically ready to canter all the way back to the stables, she thought it a better course than getting caught in a cold February rain.

"Let us try," she said, and once again got Buttercup into his canter. Although she had worried a little at her ability to stay at this pace, she found it more exhilarating than painful, to rush along the path with the wind increasingly whipping about her. She urged Buttercup up to such a speed that she found Darcy needed to canter Kestrel beside her, and it was only when they were in the field approaching the stables that she reined the pony in to a trot and then a walk, to enter the yard.

There, Darcy sprang down from Kestrel's back, handed the horse off to a groom, and came over to assist her down. It was only when she went to take her first few steps on the ground that Elizabeth felt the results of her exertions, and said, "Oh my, that was rather too much, too soon."

"Indeed it was – I did not think old Buttercup could still manage a gallop," he said, then turning to the groom who held the pony's reins, "Walk him down well; he has had much more than his usual exertion today."

The groom coughed, which Elizabeth thought might have been his indication that Buttercup's usual exertion in a given day was to consume his hay and oats. The Darcys made to cut through one of the stable blocks to return to the house, but the clouds reached them in a sudden violent downpour of hail, beating loudly on the roof.

"Well, I am very glad of our rushing back, now," Elizabeth said. "I would hate to have been caught in this."

They stood there at the stable door, watching the little glistening balls of ice bounce off the ground, the grooms leading those horses that had been let out in the pastures back at a rapid trot, the horses terribly unhappy at being beaten by the hail. Darcy was silent, and as the hail began to slow, Elizabeth grasped his hand and said, "Are you worried over what this will do to the fields?"

"Yes," he sighed, "the winter wheat particularly. It has already suffered so much rain. I am only glad this was not of longer duration."

As the hail seemed to have stopped, Elizabeth made her first step to return to the house and found him following behind her after a moment's hesitation. She knew Darcy worried over the success of his estate's crops far more than most landowners – more for its impact to his tenants than his own profits, although the latter could never be entirely ignored, for those profits in turn paid the wages of their servants and provided most of the income for those who worked in Lambton and Kympton. There was a whole network of people who owed their livelihood to Pemberley, and she loved her husband for giving this the import it deserved.


Elizabeth, following a hot bath that removed any last remnants of the winter chill from her person, went down to the saloon and found herself fretted over by both her mother and Jane, who feared she had been caught in the hailstorm. Once she had given them reassurances regarding her safety and seated herself, Elizabeth had a letter given over to her by Pemberley's butler, Mr. Parker.

It was from her sister Mary, and as it was the first Elizabeth had received from her sister since Mary had departed Pemberley as Mary Stanton, off to her husband David's parsonage at Wincham, Elizabeth opened it eagerly, wishing to see how Mary got on in the beginning of her married life, and was pleased to read:

"My dear sister,

"Oh, Lizzy, Wincham is everything I had hoped it would be. It cannot compare to Pemberley, of course, but I find the house to be most comfortable and well-furnished, and the servants have been very good about accepting me as their mistress. I am grateful to you for your advice before I left, about managing the household – I wish mama had spent more time in teaching us of this, but I suppose she was so concerned over finding us all husbands, she did not have time to educate us in what came next.

"We have dined with Lord and Lady Winterley once already, and they are very pleasing company. They asked particularly after Mrs. Nichols, and I was glad to tell them she is in good health and in a very good situation as your nurse at Pemberley, of which they were pleased to hear. David has ordered a new Broadwood pianoforte for me, from London, but it has not arrived yet, and Lady Winterley said I may practice on the one in her drawing-room until it does. She plays herself and was very complimentary of my playing, and to be honest I am glad to have a reason to call on her more frequently, as I really like her company. The other parishioners have been equally kind to me, and although I am still getting a sense of the neighbourhood, I feel it is a place where I can do well.

"My favourite event thus far, though, was to attend services on Sunday. I had at least met some of the neighbourhood by then, but still, it was very strange to be the centre of attention and take up my place as the wife of the rector. You might be thinking that this should not sound like it was my favourite event, but it was, for it was my first opportunity to hear David give his sermon. I expected, of course, that he was good at this, for he is intelligent, and both well-read and well-spoken, but, oh, Lizzy, his sermon was so very good! I was so proud and so happy to be his wife, especially because I could see that everyone respected what he had to say.

"Lizzy, you must know I had no expectations that I should ever marry – I rather thought, as I expect the rest of our family did, that I was like as not to become the spinster of the family. Now that I have married and been joined to such a man, I sometimes feel as though I might burst from happiness.

"I hope you and everyone at Pemberley are well. Give my love to everyone in our family.

"Your most happy and devoted sister,

"MARY STANTON"

Elizabeth finished Mary's letter with a bewildered smile upon her face. She would never have expected Mary to describe herself as near bursting with happiness, and that she should be so immediately after settling into a new home of which she must be mistress, and in a new place with so many new acquaintances, was tremendously pleasing. It was, Elizabeth thought, an indication of how much Mary had grown ever since she had been acquainted with David Stanton.

It was clear to Jane and her mother that the letter had pleased her very much, and Elizabeth shared its contents with them, omitting Mary's observation that their mother might have better prepared them for managing their households. Mrs. Bennet had become much more reasonable in company since marrying off her daughters, and Elizabeth had no wish to give her cause to return to unreasonableness.