Even Elizabeth had to admit she cut a fine figure in Darcy's riding attire. She was particularly taken with his black, glossy Hessian boots. She had always liked them on men. So elegant. She admired each of Darcy's muscular legs in the looking glass. She was less certain about his jodhpurs, sliding one leg, and then another into them uncertainly while Sutter pulled them on her. It was strange to have so much fabric around her legs. But Darcy's clothes were so comfortable compared to her usual dresses and chemises she was laced into. Both warm and roomy. They were exceedingly well made and tailored to fit his body with beautiful, soft fabrics. She almost wished she could show Jane how comfortable the items were.
Jane. How did Jane fare? How might she come up with an excuse for Darcy to visit her?
"Speaking of Miss Bennets. Have you visited Miss Bennet this morning?" Elizabeth asked as she and Bingley made their way to the stables.
Bingley nodded. "Yes, I stood outside the door as Caroline visited. She seemed pleased to see me, which is heartening."
Elizabeth watched Bingley's face turn pink. "So you do like her? I knew it!" Hopefully, soon, she could tell this to Jane herself.
"Darcy, don't be a git. I've told you I think she is an angel."
An angel. Elizabeth's heart swelled for Jane. "No, I did not know you esteemed her so highly."
Bingley scoffed. "Don't be stupid. She is all I have spoken of since we met. Sometimes, Darcy, I really think you do not hear a word I say."
Elizabeth said nothing as they left the house and headed to the stable. It was a fine autumn day of bright sunshine. One of the grooms approached leading a tall, intimidating black horse.
"Mr. Bingley, your mount is ready. My lord, Gunpowder is coming shortly." the man nodded and held still the snorting beast for Bingley.
Gunpowder. What kind of a horse was named Gunpowder?
Another groom held a second immense horse that threw its head and whinnied in an ear-splitting manner.
So this was Gunpowder? Elizabeth's heart sank as she watched it paw the earth, feeling no gumption to mount such a wild creature. "Sir," he said to the groom. "I wish to ride a more gentle horse this afternoon. Is there not a smaller one I can ride?"
The groom looked confused but nodded quickly.
"I've saddled Belle for myself. You have no wish to take Gunpowder again? You rode him two days ago."
"No, I have a bit of a bottle-head," Elizabeth said lowly so Bingley might not hear her. Bingley, who pulled on his gloves, did not seem to notice. "Might we switch mounts?"
The groomer smiled easily, the way men did with each other. "Of course, my lord. If you're certain?"
Elizabeth nodded and walked toward Belle before Bingley might complain.
"Oh, God, you're not riding that, are you, Darcy?" Bingley shook his head with disdain. "This will be the stupidest ride in all of England! Shall I saddle a horse for my grandmother as well?'
Elizabeth ignored him, understanding now why perhaps Darcy often said so little. She realized that as Darcy she would be required to ride astride the horse, rather than sidesaddle as she learned years ago. But as she approached her horse, she realized just how tall she was now in Darcy's form. The horse, a brown mare, knickered at her, and Elizabeth reached out and stroked her muzzle. "There, there, girl. Let's have a short, calm ride and then I'll give you all the grain you'd like," she whispered.
The groom took the horse's reins and offered her a leg up. A moment later, she was in the saddle, looking around at the Netherfield stables from her new, high position. She squeezed her legs and her horse started forward, following Bingley's. Fortunately, Belle was easily controlled by her hand motions and seat. How different riding astride was! How much more balanced and centered she felt with no fear of sliding off the horse now. Riding this way was nowhere near as hard as sidesaddle.
Bingley's clucked at his horse and it sprang forward in a vigorous trot, and Belle did likewise. The wind blew against Elizabeth's face as she grasped the horse's mane to hold herself. Unfortunately, the saddle banged painfully on her underside with each bump.
Ow, ow, ow. OW, she whispered to herself with each landing. The saddle hit a tender appendage on her new anatomy and for a moment, she saw nothing while white-hot pain shot through her. Good night, it was painful!
Bingley turned back to her and she noticed him posting in his saddle, so she began rhythmically rising on her legs likewise so that the bumping did not render her blind–or infertile–again. She had a hard found new appreciation she had for males' tender private areas. Who knew strong, muscled men were so delicate? She had to remember to tell Jane.
Jane! As she rode, her heart tugged at the thought of her sister and how she longed to speak intimately with her again. She had seen Jane briefly at breakfast and only as she passed out of the room with Mr. Darcy. Her sister had smiled at her politely, but obviously not known she was there, peering out from Darcy's body.
"Are you quite well?' Bingley asked.
Elizabeth flinched, knowing Darcy would not have such a poor riding seat.
But Bingley simply laughed and shook his head. "Darcy, I've not seen you so out of sorts in a long while. You're not going to cast up your accounts, are you? You're riding like a positive chit."
A chit? She knew men certainly talked this way when alone, but it was still startling from someone as polite as Bingley. Did Darcy also speak such words? Well, when in Rome…
"Let me remind you, Charles," she called out, "that any chit," the word felt strange in her mouth, "must ride sidesaddle, which neither you nor I could not do for love or money."
Bingley barked out a laugh. "Ha, true. Not the some of the girls we knew at university!"
Elizabeth kept herself from rolling her eyes. Men always made fun of disadvantaged women when in reality women could not be disadvantaged without a man's considerable help.
"You wish," she hissed.
"What's that?" Bingley slowed a bit to hear his friend better.
"That's right," Elizabeth said, exhaling with relief at the slower gait.
"I can see you are only just out of your cups. Why don't we dismount and let the horses graze as we walk to the stream?"
Walking sounded wonderful, so Elizabeth gratefully slide off Belle's back. She was perspiring heavily now, which smelled a bit like the brandy from earlier.
"The stream is just up here somewhere in the trees. The owner said it had excellent fishing."
The stream and the land around it was quite beautiful. Elizabeth knew it well. They used to swim here as children. Bingley gave his horse a long lead and tied one rein to a tree branch and Elizabeth did the same.
From a saddlebag, Bingley produced two apples and tossed one to Darcy. Elizabeth was impressed with his forethought.
"Thank you for bringing the fruit." She realized how hungry she was and took a juicy bite. Were men always this hungry?
"Are you surprised? I know forethought is usually your department, eh? Thought I'd return the favor."
Elizabeth considered this. Darcy was a good planner? Well, she supposed someone in his position must be. It would be difficult to run a large estate if he were not. Still she knew of several important people who simply hired others to do their difficult work. Anyway, it didn't make him less rude to young ladies.
The stream was full and running fast this time of year. Bingley and Elizabeth eyed it as they approached. She knew the stream well from playing in as a child. It was deeper than it looked despite its narrow width. Bingley pulled off his boot and peeled off a stocking.
"What are you doing?" Elizabeth asked, alarmed.
"I'm going to jump in the stream to cool off. Surely you cannot find fault with that."
Elizabeth's stomach turned. Did Bingley mean he would disrobe? As if in answer, he pulled off his riding jacket and doffed his white shirt.
Gads. Elizabeth's heart pounded again. How many undressed men's bodies would she be forced to view? She swallowed, her throat suddenly very dry.
She averted her eyes from Bingley's bare backside as he strode ahead. Thankfully the long grasses he stepped into hid most of his bottom when he took off his pants.
Lord, she should not be viewing this.
Bingley looked back at her and laughed. "Don't be such a prude, Darcy."
If she were truly Darcy, Bingley as his friend should not think twice about undressing before him. She bite the inside of her lip and forced herself to step closer to the gurgling stream.
"Ah, it's heaven!" Bingley called as he stepped in to his ankles "Darcy, you must come in."
Sweat trickled down her temple. She was quite warm and her shirt stuck uncomfortably to her wide ack. But she could not disrobe in front of Bingley even if she was Darcy. Her mind searched for a credible excuse.
Still scandalized, she stood frozen at the side of the stream. She averted her eyes from his naked figure as he stepped into the stream. She had to admit he, like Darcy, had a pleasant, athletic body. Too bad she could never provide this information to Jane.
Bingley flicked water at her and she turned as it hit her face.
"Bingley, I'm not coming in." She was unamused.
"Your loss. The water is delicious." Bingley went in up to his neck and submerged his head and spraying water around him.
She was terribly warm.
"Have a care. There are currents there, even if you cannot see them."
Bingley floated on his back and spit water in a playful squirt. "No, no, this is a very gentle stream." Elizabeth had to look up at the sky so as not to view his manhood floating up in the water. She willed him to roll over.
"You are wrong. The Bennet sisters talked of this stream. One said it was deeper than it appeared and had a strong current."
Bingley leaned back, luxuriating in the water. "Was it Miss Jane Bennet? If I marry her, I shall bring her here."
Elizabeth's cheeks blazed as she studied the passing clouds. She did not wish to hear Mr. Bingley's marital plans for her sister. She peeked down at him swimming.
"Do be careful."
Bingley laughed again. "You are the model of a worry-wort, Darcy."
Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from responding. Bingley was still on his back, but thankfully, his torso was covered by water so she did not have to see his Colonel Tom Johnson (she had heard Lydia once call it) floating in the stream. Bingley's head was in the water, but only his face was barely out. He smiled and stroked an arm backward. In his motion, his face disappeared from the stream. For a moment the stream calmed and there was no sign of him. The water smoothed over where he had been.
"Bingley!" Elizabeth paused, pulling off her boots, and jumped into the water to retrieve him. She grasped him by the chest and pulled him forward, sputtering.
"What in God's name are you doing?" Bingley stood up, pushing her off. Elizabeth realized the water he floated in was perhaps three feet high.
She let go of him. "I thought you had gone under."
"I am a proficient swimmer, you know," Bingley said, clearly annoyed.
"Yes, well, I forgot." Elizabeth stood thigh-deep in the water, now soaked to her chest.
Bingley started to walk up the bank and out of the water, disgusted with Darcy. "You nearly did drown me just now. And now you're soaked."
"I thought you were flailing."
Bingley spat water and coughed. "We may as well head back. You seem quite determined to ruin a perfectly pleasant day."
That was happy news to Elizabeth. She decided had seen enough naked men for one day.
Darcy sat in his dress next to Jane Bennet trying to embroider. He fumbled as he pulled the needle and yarn through the thin fabric. He very much did not enjoy it, but he was trying to appear competent, and failing miserably.
"Lizzy, your border is very crooked," Jane said, leaning in toward him from her chair.
He sighed. Not only was embroidery dull, but it was also damned well nearly impossible to do well.
Jane smiled sympathetically. "You are very out of sorts today, Lizzy. Look how your hands shake."
Darcy said nothing. Of course he was out of sorts. He was alone with a strange woman he had only just met. One who would not stop talking about Mr. Bingley.
"I am restless," he said finally.
Jane patted Elizabeth's shoulder. "We will be back to Longbourn tonight, and then you may rest. This visit has been difficult for you, being in such close quarters with Mr. Darcy and Bingley's sisters."
Darcy startled at Miss Bennet's mention of him. "Why would I be concerned about Mr. Darcy?"
Jane's looked surprised. "You did tell me how he refused to dance with you at the Assembly and how he said you were 'not tolerable enough.'" Jane smiled conspiratorily.
Darcy sat, defeated. So she had heard what he'd said. Unfortunate, that.
He truly hadn't meant it, and only spoke harshly because he did not wish to bullied into dancing, particularly with so many strangers watching. Of course he had not considered that Elizabeth might hear the remark. It had been a terrible thing to say, even he could see that now. No wonder she was so quarrelsome with him.
"I do not think Mr. Darcy meant to insult. Perhaps he simply did not wish to dance." Darcy said, and noted the shocked expression Jane's face had taken.
"I am surprised to hear you say so, Lizzy. Regardless of his meaning, it was very unkind."
Unkind.
The word niggled at Darcy. He knew some people thought him proud, even haughty because he did not converse well with strangers. But he was consoled by the fact that his true friends knew and admired him. So he was not a gregarious rake, he was still a good man, once someone got to know him.
Unkindness was not something he'd ever think himself labeled although he could see why the Miss Bennets might think so. He realized something else. Miss Jane Bennet really did esteem Charles Bingley. He had thought her behavior too placid to indicate love at the assembly, but now after spending hours in her company, he could see he'd been wrong. Jane Bennet spoke of almost nothing else. She was not a fortune hunter and seemed quite taken with his friend. He had initially joined Bingleys' sisters in discouraging the match. He had certainly gotten many things wrong.