A/N: Thank you so much to the Guest who left the link to that awesome site about the correct forms of address. It's a really great reference page and if any of you guys want to check it out I highly recommend it. And another thank you to all those who have taken the time to review, favorite and follow. :)
Chapter 4: July 1817
Georgiana exclaimed in delight as the horse was led from her stall and out into the stable yard. The lovely white creature arched her neck and stepped gracefully, as if she knew she was being admired.
"How beautiful she is. What is her name?"
"Fleurette," her brother replied.
"Little Flower," cried Georgiana delightedly.
Lizzy smiled a little, knowing that Georgiana had not been consciously showing off her French.
"May I ride her today?"
"I think not. Look at how skittish she is still," as Fleurette shied at the slamming of a stall door back in the stable. "She needs training before she is fit to carry a lady."
"But you know what a good rider I am."
He knew, and he was proud of her for it. "Well, I shall let you go around the yard a few times and we will see how she takes to you," he relented.
The horse was fitted with Georgiana's side saddle and Darcy helped her mount. She set off at a walk around the circular area but soon broke into a gentle canter, horse and rider moving with the same easy motion.
Lizzy watched the pair in delight and Fitzwilliam nodded appreciatively. "She rides like a Darcy," he commented dryly. "I think she can manage her."
"Where is Periwinkle?" asked Lizzy. "I think Georgiana will leave without us if we do not join her soon."
The gentle pony was brought around, and Lizzy stroked her soft nose. "We shall never be like them, with their tall horses and fine skills, but we understand each other, don't we?" she whispered. The dappled grey pony nudged at her shoulder and Elizabeth laughed.
Ulysses too, was led out and soon the threesome had headed out of the gate and off down the path, Fleurette tossing her head and trotting fast, steady Ulysses and gentle Periwinkle following at a more uniform pace.
The day was fair, and the white clouds were not foreboding as they had been last year. The weather was still cooler than usual for June, but there had been enough sunny days to ensure a harvest, albeit a moderate one, and this was enough.
They rode past the meadow sown with oats and Darcy stopped beside the wheat field to speak to the foreman.
Fleurette was still energetic and Georgiana, taking part in her excitement, began to circle the field.
The snake was gone before Georgiana could see it. All she knew was that Fleurette erupted under her like a volcano. She kept her seat, but the frightened horse took off straight across the field at breakneck speed.
Darcy saw her first and gave a startled shout, but he was too far to reach her.
The scenery was a blur before Georgiana's eyes as she pulled desperately at the horse's head trying to turn her. The reins were jerked out of her hand as she reached the end of the field. The field hands were scattering before the horse's flying hooves. All but one…
He caught her as she fell and, for the first time in her life, Georgiana felt strong, young arms which were not Fitzwilliam's holding her.
Darcy was beside her in an instant and was bending over her, concern and guilt written on every line of his face.
"Are you hurt?"
Her rescuer had lowered her to the ground but was still supporting her with one arm.
"I think I am uninjured. Do not be alarmed Fitzwilliam," she managed to say, struggling to sit up.
"Be still," Darcy commanded her.
Elizabeth had reached them now and was also kneeling beside her. Georgiana flushed, suddenly ashamed that such a fuss should be made.
"I am truly fine. It was not so very bad."
"You might have been killed Georgiana," said Darcy sternly but Elizabeth laid a hand on his arm and he finished more gently, "Can you ride back with me on my horse?"
Georgiana made another attempt to rise and was assisted by both her brother and the man who had caught her, the face of whom she had not yet had the courage to look at.
"I can ride Ulysses on my own if you will take Fleurette. Poor thing, she must have been so frightened," she said, looking around for the filly, who was being led back from the far end of the next field by one of the farmers.
"No more frightened than I was," Darcy muttered. He turned to her rescuer and said, "I cannot thank you enough Wakefield."
Georgiana raised her eyes for the barest second and caught a flash of tanned face and wavy brown hair before she lowered them again and, without a word, began walking shakily towards Ulysses.
Darcy remained where he was long enough to say, "If there is ever anything I can do for you please don't hesitate to ask." Then, lowering his voice a little, "I am sorry my sister is too shaken to thank you herself."
The youth shook his head, as if dismissing the apology. "I hope she is unhurt, that is all," he said.
Darcy offered his hand, despite its being unusual for a gentleman to offer his hand to a tenant, and the young man took it.
By this time Georgiana had mounted Ulysses, albeit with less than her usual confidence. Darcy and Elizabeth hurried to their respective mounts and then rode on either side of her, back to the house.
The next morning, Georgiana, awoke, rather stiff and sore from her rough ride and subsequent fall, but in a much more positive frame of mind.
Going downstairs, wincing a little at the ache in her back and legs which every step occasioned, she found Fitzwilliam and Lizzy in his study, for Elizabeth often liked to keep him company, while he worked there for an hour after breakfast.
"How are you feeling Georgiana?" asked Elizabeth, as Darcy rose to offer her his arm and lead her to a seat.
"Much better, thank you," she half lied. "I am sorry for causing you both so much distress."
"It was my fault Georgiana, I should never have let you ride that horse until it was properly trained," Fitzwilliam said seriously.
"And I shall ride her again tomorrow if I am allowed. I will not be frightened out of riding her ever again."
Elizabeth smiled a little, "Indeed I think you shall be able to ride her again, but perhaps not tomorrow. I think you must be rather sore."
Georgiana looked at her in surprise.
"Don't think I don't notice how you are sitting, as if equally afraid to move or relax."
Georgiana smiled although Darcy still looked grim. "A little," she admitted.
"Georgiana," began her brother. "You must promise me not to take Fleurette out until I give you leave. I will not see you so endangered again."
Georgiana looked at him defiantly for a moment. What right had he to treat her like a little girl when she was in her twentieth year? But she saw the real worry and concern in his face. She had never been able to deny him anything and she nodded slowly.
"I promise to wait until she is better trained. I hope you will not withhold me from riding her after that?"
"She shall be at your disposal as soon as she is ready," Darcy agreed.
"Thank you," Georgiana said, rising to embrace him.
"Have you eaten yet?" Lizzy inquired.
Georgiana replying in the negative, she was sent to the breakfast room, and Elizabeth and Darcy returned to their books and papers.
A week passed, and still Georgiana did not feel quite easy about her behavior after her accident. It had been abominably rude to walk off like that without thanking her rescuer.
Leaving the house quietly, while Elizabeth was in the nursery and Darcy was in Lambton for the day, she made her way to the stables. Ordering a groom to saddle a steady brown mare for her, she went over to Fleurette's stall and stroked the soft nose. Fleurette blew into her hand and nudged her arm. To Georgiana it seemed almost as if she was asking forgiveness.
"We shall be riding over the hills again soon, Little Flower," Georgiana told her, sliding her hand down along the graceful white neck. "Never you mind."
The brown mare was soon saddled, and Georgiana set off, after bidding the groom to say that she had gone for a ride about the grounds if anyone asked. She did make for the wooded paths on the west side of the house, but soon turned away from this course and headed across the wooded hill behind the house, and on down the path which eventually forked, one branch leading towards the village and the other to the east fields. Georgiana took the latter path —the one which they had taken on the morning of her accident. On her either hand the green and gold fields lay shining in the sun. Sparrows, finches and wrens flitted hither, thither and yon in the air and among the hedgerows and somewhere in the distance men were singing. As she approached the wheat field where Fleurette had bolted, she saw that there were indeed men working there as she had hoped. She drew up the mare and lifted herself slightly in the saddle, her eyes moving from worker to worker, searching.
A voice, nearly at her side, made her start and sit back with a jerk. A young man with black hair and laughing brown eyes stood grinning up at her. "Is there anything I can do for you Miss Darcy?" he repeated his inquiry.
"Oh… thank you, but I was just watching."
"Very well Miss. Good day." He tipped his cap and started off.
"Wait a moment," Georgiana called after him, wishing very much that she had spoken earlier. "Can you tell me where Mr. Wakefield is to be found?"
The brown eyes laughed again. "Aye Miss." Then, "Nathaniel!" Georgiana winced at his shout. "There's someone to see you."
Every one of the ten or twelve men in the field looked up, and one of them laid down his tool and came forwards. His steps were neither quick or slow, but steady and purposeful.
When Nathaniel had approached, the brown eyed lad said, "Here's your man. Good day Miss Darcy," and walked off, whistling a merry tune.
Nathaniel moved around to stand by the horse's side and took a hold of the bridle, although there was little fear of her running.
"Mr. Wakefield?" Georgiana asked uncertainly, not knowing how to begin.
He looked up at her then, and she could see him clearly for the first time. He was no more than twenty-five, almost as tall as Fitzwilliam. He did not wear a tie in the July heat and his shirt was open at the throat. His eyes... The bluest she had ever seen. They were the deep blue of the sky above a brilliant sunset—a dark, clear azure with depths that mere sight could not fathom.
He smiled, a bright smile, inviting friendship, and for a moment Georgiana longed to give it. When had she ever had a friend, outside of her own family?
"Good afternoon Miss Darcy," deferentially.
"Good afternoon."
He stood, quietly looking up at her and she realized it was for her to speak. "I believe that I never thanked you for your assistance the other day. Forgive me… I was very shaken… and please accept my gratitude now." She spoke rather primly, afraid of appearing childish and shy.
"I am happy that you have recovered. But no thanks are necessary, Miss Darcy," he replied seriously, as he gently rubbed the horse's neck.
"Nevertheless, I wish to thank you," Georgiana pressed and then stopped.
He bowed a little—certainly not with the grace of someone accustomed to doing it—but with no clumsiness or awkwardness in his manner.
"I shall bid you good day then," Georgiana said in what she hoped was a dignified yet friendly tone.
"God keep you," he returned her farewell courteously.
Georgiana turned to mount, and Nathaniel stepped forwards to assist her into the saddle. A moment later he had handed her the reins, nodded respectfully, and set off in the direction of his work.
"So, what did the lady want?" drawled the brown eyed youth, laughter again in his eyes.
"I did her a small service last week and she wished to thank me."
"Last week? Well it took her long enough to say a simple thank you."
"She didn't need to come at all Tom," returned Nathaniel as he picked up his hoe again.
Tom turned to look after Georgiana as she disappeared up the road. "She's always been a handsome girl, but that's the first time I've got close enough to see just how handsome she's got. She'll make some Lord or Earl a fine wife."
"Indeed," replied Nathaniel shortly as he returned to his work.
Riding up the road, back towards the house, Georgiana felt a confliction of emotions which were entirely unreasonable given the trivialness of the situation.
Something in the way he had smiled, in his blue, blue eyes, in his voice, had been… different. He had spoken to her calmly, without any attempt to flatter her, but with a sincere desire for her wellbeing—like Fitzwilliam or Richard might. There was a warm feeling in the center of her heart, contrasting with the coldness in her fingers, for they were cold despite the heat of the July day. It was very strange.
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