3. Chapter 3

Author's note:

For those of you who read and enjoyed Given Good Principles, I have good news. Volume 1 of Given Good Principles: Darcy's Decision will be released for publication soon. The published version has had hundreds of hours of editing and is not identical to the version here. (I think it is vastly improved!) You can read the prologue and keep up with the latest news on publication dates and availability (and maybe even some coupon specials!) on my Face Book author's page. FFN will not allow links posted, but just search 'Maria Grace' on Face Book and you will find it!

Looking forward to see you there. Drop a note on my wall saying you found the page from FFN and I'll put your name in a drawing for a free book when it comes out!

Now back to your originally scheduled reading...

Chapter 3

Dawn peeked out over the horizon, beckoning those who would seize the moment with its siren song. Lizzy huffed as she threw the heavy saddle on Toppur, the tall chestnut stallion named for his shocking white forelock. He whinnied as the saddle settled onto his back, and she patted his cheek affectionately. The groom is right; Toppur is an entirely improper mount for a lady, just as this saddle is entirely inappropriate for a gentlewoman. But he does need to be exercised, and that a lady might do. She laughed to herself as she cinched the strap tight.

"'e certainly takes that saddle better from you than from any of the stable boys, ma'am," the groom said from over her shoulder as he reached over her to check the saddle. "I know it ain't gonna take no rider this morn, but I cannot 'elp meself." He chuckled. "Perhaps if ya keep takin' 'im out like this, 'e will be fit ta ride yet." He slapped the horse's rump kindly. "'e's all fit ta go. Ya be a good 'orse for 'er now."

She nodded to him, and he handed her the reins. She led the stallion from the stables and down the wooded path toward Oakham Mount. I must make certain no one sees! All the more reason to be off at dawn. It is too early for any of our neighbors to be about, and back at Willard's field, there will be no one to scandalize. I will be back before anyone notices my absence. As soon as she was out of sight of the house, she swung up astride the horse. I am sorry, Mama, but riding sidesaddle is truly dreadful, and today I must run. She flicked the reins and kicked the horse into motion.

Soon they were trotting down the secluded path to Willard's field, just outside the boundaries of Netherfield Park. The field, left fallow this year – and far out of the way of traffic – made for the best possible place for her to gallop unencumbered. Toppur knew the routine well enough that she paid little attention to guiding him. Headstrong thing you are; you would head this direction whether I wanted you to or not. How many times have I found you here when you decided the stable was not to your liking? She patted his neck. Too much like me, I suppose. Storm clouds loomed on the horizon. Surely they will hold off long enough. I do not think I can face the day without these few minutes to myself. She urged the horse into a faster gait.

Suddenly they were upon the field. The knee-high grasses bowed as a chill wind blew through. Goose bumps prickled along her neck. Sensing her anticipation, the horse quickened his pace further, exploding onto the field at a gallop. The wind whipped at her face and tore her bonnet back until it clung valiantly only by the ribbon around her neck. She shrieked in glee at the raw power beneath her as they flew across the landscape, slowing only slightly to turn the sharp corner at the end of the field. Suddenly Toppur's head whipped around. An unfamiliar horse appeared on the other side of the meadow, a huge black stallion. Toppur slowed for a moment and whinnied in challenge.

That horse! She gasped, staring to get a better look at the animal. That is the stallion I spoke of when I described Mr. Darcy . Suddenly she realized the animal was galloping toward her. She stiffened for a moment. Toppur reacted immediately, but his posture confirmed that she was in no danger. So she gave him his head and allowed him to run full out.

The black stallion cut across the field and caught up to her, but she did not slow. The horses quickly glanced at each other, and as if by silent agreement sped side by side, tracing three sides of the field. As they rounded the fourth corner, they slowed, pacing each other in a trot, then a walk.

Lizzy looked over at the other rider, a wild grin on her face, forgetting, for a moment, to be embarrassed at her unladylike seat and state. Her heart pounded, and she panted with excitement. No one before had ever seen her, much less ridden with her, on her solitary morning escape, but today's company had been exhilarating. She lifted her eyes to those of her companion. "Mr. Darcy!" she gasped in recognition. She pulled her panting horse up short.

"Miss Elizabeth?" He pulled his horse to an abrupt stop. His shirt was partially open, and without a hat, his hair was disheveled.

She could not help but stare at him; she had never seen a gentlemen in such a state before. His blue eyes sparkled, and his face was flushed. Her pulse quickened further. In her state of distraction, she did not notice his staring at her wild curls and windblown face. A cold raindrop hit the back of her neck, pulling her back to reality. "Please excuse me, sir…" she stammered, struggling to replace her bonnet. She blushed hotly as she felt his eyes on her.

"By God, that's a fine horse you have!" he exclaimed, grinning. He cringed as he heard himself. "Please forgive me. I am a great admirer of horseflesh, and rarely have I seen so fine a specimen, and handled so admirably." And never have I seen a woman so beautiful.

"Thank you. I am afraid you have happened upon me at a most awkward moment," she choked out as she tied her bonnet a bit too tightly. No one was to have seen me. I am so embarrassed. Her blush deepened.

He bowed his head. "I fear I have intruded upon your privacy, and as such, I cannot judge." Several raindrops plopped heavily on his cheeks. He urged his horse into a walk; Toppur followed. Without looking at her, he observed. "I've known few men with a seat as good as yours. That was as fine a race as I have had in many a day."

She smiled as she looked down, unaccountably pleased with his compliment. "You have a very fine stallion yourself, sir; what do you call him?"

"Surtur."

"The fire giant or the black horse?" she asked, head cocked teasingly.

Darcy could not help but smile. "The giant." She knows? How singular.

"The name is well earned." Toppur tossed his head and snorted. She leaned forward to pat his neck. "You are a jealous one," she chided.

"Does your mount have a name?"

"Toppur."

"Ah, the contrasting forelock. That does make him a striking fellow." Darcy nodded. He began to comment further, but another cold gust ripped across the field.

"The rain is coming in soon." She brushed stray hair from her face and struggled to tuck it under her bonnet.

"It is coming fast; I believe Netherfield is closer than Longbourn from here. Please come; it would not do for you to be caught out in such a cold storm," Darcy insisted, guidingSurtur towards the path to Netherfield.

She shivered as several cold drops ran down the back of her neck. "It is already quite improper that you have encountered me astride this horse. I cannot…"

"I understand, Miss Elizabeth." He nodded graciously. More raindrops fell. "There is a copse of trees near the Netherfield stables. We could approach from that side, and not even the grooms would see. You could dismount and walk Toppur to the stables."

"Our own grooms believe me to be exercising him now, trying to get him accustomed to the saddle. I suppose your grooms would assume the same. I have done this often enough." She agreed reluctantly. "He is quite a spirited fellow and does not abide the grooms very well." The sky flashed with lightning; a sharp clap of thunder followed. "You are right; we should hurry. It would not be good for the horses to take a chill either."

"Come." They urged their tired mounts into a quicker pace, but the storm was upon them well before they made it to the stables. By the time they had left the horses in the hands of the grooms and arrived at the house, both were soaked to the bone by the frigid rain. Lizzy's teeth chattered so hard she could not speak as Darcy pulled her into the house. The housekeeper met them at the door.

"I came upon her while I was riding," Darcy explained carefully. "She must get warm!"

Mrs. Price quickly guided them to the roaring fire in the kitchen, as the other fireplaces had not yet been lit. Blankets were wrapped around them and mugs of hot broth were pressed into their hands.

"I will send word to Longbourn, madam, that you are well. It would not do to worry your papa," Mrs. Price assured, tucking Lizzy's blanket more firmly around her. "I have ordered a hot bath for you." Turning to Darcy, she said, "I have taken the liberty of alerting your man and starting water in case you should wish for one as well, sir."

"I will, thank you," Darcy answered between sips of his broth.

"Betsy will be here to attend you when you are ready, Miss. Cook is here in case you need anything before she or your man arrives." Mrs. Price curtsied and hurried off.

After a moment of awkward silence, Darcy asked softly, "Do you always take such… exercise in the morning, Miss Elizabeth?"

"I do, sir," she confessed, burying her head in her mug. Patiently, she waited for the last of her shivering to stop before she said, "Please, I find I must ask a favor of you." She did not look up.

"What can I do for you?" He gazed intently at her blanket-wrapped form.

"Please do not tell my father I was riding Toppur… or that I was racing through Willard's field. He worries so. He knows I ride but thinks that when I do, I am upon the old mare taking a staid pace up Oakham Mount." A heated flush crept up her cheeks.

"He would try to stop you if he knew." Their eyes met, and they searched each other, recognizing a kindred spark.

"He would. It is so very improper… and dangerous." She swallowed hard and looked away. "You must understand, I cannot deny him anything. But…"

"But what?" He touched the tip of his riding boot to hers.

"Perhaps you can understand. I am told that you run an estate yourself." She chanced a glance toward him and saw compassion. "It is the only time I have to… to be alone, to be away from the problems and responsibilities of running the estate. I fear I should go mad without it." She dropped her eyes again, her cheeks burning with the admission.

He did not reply until she looked up. "I quite understand. When my father died, the running of the estate fell on me. There were moments when it was almost overwhelming." He smiled wistfully. "At home, I maintain a field much like yours for the very purpose of racing Surtur." He looked into her eyes for a moment before reassuring her, "Your secret is safe with me."

She smiled brilliantly, rewarding him amply for his good promise.

Several hours later, the rain continued to beat a steady pattern on the landscape. The clouds seemed to have grown darker, and even drearier. Lizzy, in a morning dress that clearly did not suit her, as it was borrowed from Mrs. Hurst, joined the Netherfield residents in the morning room. A welcoming fire crackled in the fireplace, stirred by one of the maids. Several servants bearing platters and dishes entered and spread the meal out on the sideboard.

"Dreadful weather!" Hurst exclaimed, piling his place with cold meat.

"Is the weather usually so wretched this time of year?" Louisa asked, glancing disdainfully out the window.

"I do not believe the weather worse here than any other part of England," Elizabeth replied, trying to ignore the way her hands shook as she served her plate from the side board.

"Tell me again how you came to be caught in this dreadful downpour," Lousia looked critically at Elizabeth. "I do believe it started shortly after dawn. Is that not frightfully early to be taking one's exercise?"

I would suggest, dear bittern, that you do not select me as your prey today. I will not go down very easily, nor will I settle well. Lizzy carefully sat down.

"It is singular that you should be so far from your home and without an escort of any kind," Caroline commented as she poured coffee.

"The grounds of my father's estate are quite safe, Miss Bingley. The countryside is not like the streets of London." She raised her eyebrows knowingly. "Besides, I do not find anyone else who favors my early hours to accompany me when I go out." Lizzy pulled the shawl more tightly about her shoulders, surprised at the sudden chill she felt.

"Such behavior would be considered quite shocking in town." Caroline seated herself between Darcy and Elizabeth. "I am surprised, though, that the customs for ladies ," she drawled over the word staring with narrowed eyes at Elizabeth, "are quite different in the country. I would have thought it more fashionable to emulate the ways of higher society."

Lizzy flushed angrily as she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. I will not be a fit meal for a heron either. She bit her lip, stealing a glance at Darcy. The corner of his lips quivered, but he said no more. "Indeed we are quite different, here. Some have thought us worlds apart from the society of the ton . I suppose you might even consider us uncivilized ."

Bingley and Hurst exchanged glances and cringed. Bingley noted the tense lines on Darcy's face, contrasted by the placid expression Louisa wore. He cleared his throat. "Some might, I am sure, but as for me, I find country ways quite charming."

Caroline opened her mouth, but Louisa silenced her with a wide-eyed stare. "You are, of course, correct, Charles, we must allow for such differences. That is the only civilized thing to do."

Darcy scowled. How ironic that the one who rides so indiscreetly and understands the management of an estate is the only true lady in the room.

"Mr. Darcy's estate is in the country as well; perhaps he can speak to this matter," Elizabeth noted, delicately nibbling her buttered bread.

Darcy choked a bit as he felt Caroline's eyes on him. "You would not permit dear Georgiana to traipse about unescorted at dawn on your estate, would you?" she asked. "Surely you have higher standards for you sister."

"My sister is but seventeen," Darcy replied tersely, "I believe the same age as Miss Elizabeth's second youngest sister."

"Georgiana is a most proper young lady, and so accomplished!" Caroline gushed. "She speaks perfect Italian and plays and sings all day."

"That would be an exaggeration," Darcy mumbled.

"She does play very well," Bingley agreed, sitting up very straight. "I most enjoyed the concerto she played for us when we were last at Pemberley."

"Indeed, what was that piece she played?" Louisa asked.

"I cannot recall the composer." Caroline batted her eyes at Darcy. "Perhaps you recall. I believe she said you gifted her with the music for her birthday."

The conversation continued around her as Elizabeth clutched her temples, then massaged them hard as she closed her eyes.

"Miss Elizabeth?" Darcy asked softly. "Are you well?"

"It is but a headache," she muttered as the first wave of nausea hit.

Darcy sprang to his feet, calling for Mrs. Price. "Miss Elizabeth is unwell and is in need of a room to rest."

The housekeeper hurriedly sent a maid to prepare a room for Elizabeth. A quarter hour later, she lay in a darkened room, under a soft comforter, a warm fire lighting the space, Mrs. Price herself seeing to her needs. With a sigh, the housekeeper closed the door to the bedchamber and turned to find Mr. Bingley pacing the hallway.

"Mr. Bingley," Mrs. Price said hesitantly, "she is truly not well. Miss Elizabeth is not disposed to such spells as more fashionable ladies might be. I believe we should send for the apothecary, Mr. Palmer."

"Yes, yes, immediately," Bingley agreed quickly.

Darcy found himself pacing the study as he waited with Bingley for the apothecary's pronouncement.

"You are quite agitated, Darcy," Bingley observed as he poured two glasses of port.

"I am the reason she was caught in the storm." He took the glass from Bingley and drew a long sip. "I came upon her whist riding and delayed her return home. I feel responsible."

"You take too much upon yourself, you know." Bingley sank down into a soft chair by the fireplace. "You are not responsible for everything, even at Pemberley." He looked knowingly at Darcy.

Darcy grumbled under his breath and took another sip of port.

Mrs. Price opened the door and admitted the apothecary. He was a short man with hunched shoulders and glasses. With short brisk steps he made his way to the two gentlemen. "She has a fever, but I do not believe she is infectious. It would be best not to move her, particularly in this weather," Mr. Palmer explained somberly. "Miss Elizabeth is a strong young woman, who has rarely needed my care. I have every reason to expect that she shall make a good recovery."

"Of course, of course, she is more than welcome here for as long as needed," Bingley insisted, wringing his hands. "I will send word to Longbourn immediately." Bingley hurried off to find the housekeeper.

Darcy considered the apothecary for a long moment. Finally he asked, "Mr. Palmer, is there anything else Miss Elizabeth might need to facilitate her recovery?"

"I have provided her with a number of preparations to assist in her healing. There are a few additional tinctures I would recommend, but they are more expensive, and not strictly necessary. Few of my patients wish to procure them." The grey-haired man cocked his head up to look at the much taller gentleman.

"I will cover the charges for those additional preparations."

"Indeed, sir?" His glasses rose as he lifted his brows.

"Do not speak to anyone of this," Darcy warned with a scowl. "I do not wish for her reputation to be tarnished."

Mr. Palmer nodded somberly, a question in his eyes.

"I lost my way, and she came upon me and showed me the way back. It is my fault that she was caught in the rain," Darcy explained. I hate disguise, but she certainly does not deserve to have her reputation tarnished.

"I see, sir. I shall go make ready the remaining medicines." He bowed and excused himself.

Bingley returned and settled back into his chair. "Well, that is done. What an alarming turn of events, would you not say? I do hope she makes a good recovery, as Mr. Palmer predicts. Her family has faced enough tragedy. I do not believe they could bear her loss as well."

"It does seem that Mr. Bennet depends upon her a great deal." Darcy stared out the window. It was a day much like today that I learnt of Father's death. I depended upon him so much. I hope Mr. Bennet does not face such a loss .

A wet and shivering messenger arrived at Longbourn and handed off his missive before Hill led him off to the kitchens. Wallace quickly took it to the study where Jane read to her father.

"Oh, Papa!" she exclaimed, scanning the hastily scrawled note." Lizzy has taken ill. Mr. Palmer has seen her and says it is a fever, and she is not to be moved."

Mr. Bennet's face turned white. He drew a deep breath to speak.

"No, Papa, we cannot go to her tonight. It is still storming, and there is no moon. We cannot travel in the dark, especially in this weather." She put her hand on his arm.

He snatched it away. "Why ever not? I do it every day!" He sprang from his chair and stomped a few angry steps away. Behind him, he heard Jane exhale a shuddering breath. Walking back softly, he found her shoulder with his hand. "I am sorry, child, I forget myself. I should not have shouted at you."

She laid her hand over his. "She is my strength, too, Papa." She patted his hand. "Mrs. Price will take good care of her."

"I am sure you are correct, dear. But we shall go at the earliest decent hour for travel. I will have Hill and Wallace pack a trunk just in case, for I shall not leave Netherfield without my daughter."