Page 16

CHAPTER 16

T hree days later, I slipped my knife into my boot and Elizabeth’s handkerchief into my coat pocket, then opened my bedchamber door and peeked down the hall. Seeing no one, I padded softly down the carpet, watching for movement and holding my breath until I reached the stairwell and gained the lower floor. The doorman saw me, and I held my finger up to my lips, greeting him silently and bidding him to do the same lest he alert anyone in the household.

After so many failures, I was determined this plan should succeed. No Richard. No Bingley. No surprises. I would stoop to desperate lows if Persephone required it, and I would rather have no audience to observe my humiliation.

Rounding the stairwell, I went to the kitchen. The cook was happy to hand me two apples, as she had done the previous two days. These I slipped into my greatcoat pockets. The good woman asked no questions, and I offered no explanation.

From the stables, I borrowed a halter. I continued on foot down the drive to the path leading to the Gray estate—a mere two miles, an easy distance. It felt odd to walk over the fields, but I was about to have my hands full and would need to work quickly.

The ease with which I had departed from the house troubled me. It had been too easy. Every unexpected sound made me flinch and look over my shoulder. Had Richard or Bingley seen me leave from their windows? Would they follow me?

Suspicions rising with every step, I picked up my pace, eager to arrive at the Grays. The groom greeted me, but as nothing noteworthy had happened during my two visits following my introduction to the horse, he continued about his duties. Mr. Gray had already been paid the requested sum and stated I was free to come and go as I pleased so long as Persephone was gone by the end of the week. Now it only remained for me to collect the mare and lead her to Longbourn. The group of servants that had gathered around the paddock those first days had dwindled; there were only two boys lingering in hopes of a spectacle.

I patted my pockets once again, reassuring myself that my enticements were in place. I would have to be judicious with my bribes or risk running out of treats before arriving at our destination. My knife would enable me to offer new slices of apple along the way.

For the past two mornings, I had spent time with Persephone, grooming her, talking to her, and allowing her to grow accustomed to my presence, to my scent and the sound of my voice. She did not trust easily, just as Elizabeth had said.

When I arrived that day and found her standing alone in the paddock, she watched me warily, her ears flickering. Nodding to my small audience, I received waves of encouragement but overheard one of the boys wagering against me.

I turned my full attention to the mare. Softly and soothingly, I talked to her, doing my best to put her at ease as I opened the gate.

“Darcy!” The loud voice of the man I had worked so hard to avoid boomed behind me. My shoulders bunched up toward my ears. It might have been a herd of elephants behind me for all the care Richard took to soften his step. How had I not heard him approach?

“There you are!” proclaimed Bingley triumphantly, as though he had found a lost stray.

I silently cursed this unwanted company, then shushed them and cast a warning glare at the boys chuckling on the other side of the fence.

Persephone watched me closely. I was sure she had seen the halter. If I did not do something quickly, she would lie down and make it impossible for me to budge her. Swiftly, I pulled Elizabeth’s handkerchief from my pocket and held it out to her nose. I was not sure she would pick up on Elizabeth’s scent—she was not a dog after all—but I would be remiss if I did not try every tool at my disposal.

My conscience rationalized my continued possession of the pilfered item as being indispensable for this particular endeavor. It was an honorable use—far more justifiable than taking comfort in the softness of the square in my pocket or pressing the soft fabric against my face to catch the smell of Elizabeth’s rosewater on it.

To my delight, the mare took a step in my direction. Encouraged, I backed toward the opening of the paddock, holding the handkerchief in front of her nose all the while. When she stretched forward to get a good sniff, I slipped the halter over her ears, holding the leading rope loosely between us. The onlookers uttered respectful murmurs of praise for me when she did not pull against me or step away.

I led her out of the paddock and continued down the path that would take me to Longbourn. Just as Mr. Gray’s estate disappeared behind a dip in the hilly pasture and I became confident my plan would succeed, the horse planted her hooves in the mud and refused to take another step.

To my chagrin, Richard and Bingley had chosen to show their support by trailing behind us, occasionally uttering a useless bit of encouragement.

“They can conquer who believe they can!” called Richard.

“You think a quote from Virgil will inspire the horse to move?” I asked.

“Why not? She follows the scent of Miss Elizabeth’s handkerchief like a dog on a scent. How did you snatch that pretty little memento anyway, Darcy?”

I gritted my teeth together, refusing to reply.

Bingley raised his finger into the air with a gasp. “I have it! Who was it that said he speaks Italian to God, French to women…”

“No, no, no! You have got it all wrong, Bingley. It is Spanish to God, Italian to women, French to men, and…” to Richard’s voice, Bingley added in unison, “German to my horse!”

“Charles V,” Richard said with a bow.

I stared at them. “You want me to speak German to the horse?”

Bingley shrugged. “It cannot hurt.”

“Do you know any German?” I asked, looking at a blank Bingley.

Richard raised his hands when I looked at him. “Eu n?o falo alem?o.”

“That’s not German.”

“Just trying to be helpful.”

“I wish you would stop.” I tugged on the halter once, twice. On the third attempt, I dropped my voice and said, “Guten morgen, fr?ulein.”

Persephone did not move. I looked about, calculating the distance to Longbourn. If my conclusion was correct, we were about one-third of the way there. Close enough to pull out the first apple.

The mare reached forward to snatch it out of my hand, but I deflected her nose with my arm. “Clever girl! But no, you must earn your treat.” Pulling my knife out of my boot, I quartered the apple. Holding a slice in front of her, she took a few steps, which I rewarded with the juicy piece. This worked well.

As judicious as I was in paring out her incentive, we still had not reached Longbourn when I ran out of apples to slice. I had hoped she might recognize her surroundings and not need additional encouragement to continue. Regrettably, no amount of waving Elizabeth’s handkerchief in front of her nostrils or whispers of German greetings inspired her to move.

I knew what I had to do but, given my present company, was disinclined to do it. In my conversations with Elizabeth, she had revealed a secret that no doubt set her apart from everyone else who attempted to ride the stubborn mare. I had spent most of the previous three nights attempting to recall enough to perform the skill competently.

Richard and Bingley silently waited, proving themselves to be absolutely useless.

Smoke curled from a chimney in the distance. In all likelihood, it came from Longbourn’s parlor. I was close enough to smell it.

Tugging on the reins once more, I begged the mare to comply and spare me the need to humiliate myself lower than my pride could bear in front of these two witnesses, who would callously mock me.

Another tug. Another plea. Both met with a staunch refusal to budge.

I took another look at the smoke, imagining I saw the top of Longbourn’s chimney stack, and summoned my courage. Taking a deep breath, I sang the only song whose lyrics I could confidently recall. It was the song Georgiana’s nurse sang every night to put my baby sister to sleep.

Slumber, dear maid

Richard guffawed, but I continued.

Green boughs will cover thee

The mare took a step forward. Richard howled. Bingley was too polite to laugh aloud, though I could see him struggling against Richard’s influence.

Cometh breathe over thee

Where though art laid.

Slumber dear maid.

I sang, more confident now with the horse walking at a brisk clip. Perhaps she was as eager as I was to reach her destination and put an end to my serenade. When the song ended, I repeated it.

Longbourn finally came into view, to my immense relief. I continued my song all the way to the side of the house where I hoped Elizabeth would be seated by the window.

There was a flurry of movement behind the glass, and I saw her hop closer to press her fingers against the pane. Our eyes met. For a glorious moment, she directed her happiness toward me and not the gift I had brought her.

My heart swelled in my chest. Finally, I had brought Elizabeth a gift worthy of the sentiments I felt for her. And while she was clearly delighted to have her precious horse returned to Longbourn’s stables, she smiled at me. She reached up to her cheek, swiping her fingers over her skin.

Without a thought, I held her handkerchief up toward her. She did not seem to realize it was hers, but Mrs. Bennet, who stood beside her, surely did. She clasped her hands together at her bosom, swayed in place, and said something that changed the way Elizabeth looked at me.