What Would Lizzy Bennet Do?

‘I – I didn’t think you’d mind.’ Which was nonsense, of course. She had known Daddy would mind horribly, so much so that he’d never have let her go off to meet Ciaran.

‘Of course I mind!’ Mr Bennet scraped his chair back and stood. ‘I very much mind. I’m disappointed in you, Charlotte. Not least because you snuck off to meet that lying Lothario; now you’re dissembling in an effort to absolve yourself of any wrongdoing. Well, it won’t do.’

‘What’s going on?’

Charlotte looked up to see Lizzy and Emma, still in their T-shirts and pyjama bottoms, crowded together at the kitchen door with startled faces.

‘Nothing,’ she snapped. ‘Daddy and I are having a… disagreement, that’s all.’

‘We’ll say no more about it,’ Mr Bennet said, his face grim as he gathered up the papers and made his way to the back door. ‘I shall be on the terrace, reading the rest of the newspapers in pursuit of the peace and tranquillity I’m so rarely afforded. Kindly do not disturb me, any of you.’

And with that he left, slamming the door behind him, leaving his daughters staring after him in astonishment.

***

Lizzy Bennet hurried across the field and climbed over the stile that separated her father’s property from Cleremont. She was nearly as anxious to put distance between herself and the tension she’d left behind at Litchfield Manor as she was to see Hugh Darcy…

…and Holly, too, of course.

As she strode towards the house, her battered Dublin tall boots making quick work of the trip, Lizzy smirked. Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth today as she furthered her acquaintance with Darcy’s fiancée.

She planned to keep her promise to her father and be all that was agreeable to Holly – and then some.

And if, in the process, she happened to show Miss James up in the saddle – which, given the fact that the girl was a Londoner, shouldn’t be difficult – then so much the better.

Good thing she’d had free use of the Cleremont stables since she was a girl. It afforded her plenty of opportunity to ride, and their father had even plumped up for riding lessons for a couple of years. She could soar over a jump, post a trot with ease, and canter and gallop with the best of them.

Holly and Hugh might be engaged, she thought now as she neared the kitchen entrance where they’d all agreed to meet. Holly might be more fashionable, and more adept at making conversation and clever remarks.

But I, Lizzy thought smugly, can ride like a dream, and I have a bedroom full of ribbons and trophies to prove it. Hugh loved nothing more than a good bracing gallop across the fields.

She smiled as she brushed a bit of grass from her breeches. She might not have Holly’s money or connections. She might not have her fashion sense or even, at the moment, a job.

But she had determination in spades. And she intended to do everything she could to unseat Miss Holly James, and make Darcy see that he’d chosen the wrong girl.

***

As the morning sun inched higher in the sky outside her window, Charlotte rested her elbows on the sill and gazed down into the garden below, chin in hand, and scowled.

It wasn’t fair.

Look at them down there now, she thought resentfully, Emma and Daddy, sipping their coffee and tea and reading the newspapers in companionable silence. As if everything were wonderful and right in the world. As if her own world wasn’t ruined, thanks to the unreasonable and unjust actions of her father.

And now, thanks to his ridiculous edict, she couldn’t even see Ciaran. It was beyond unfair – it was cruel.

She flounced away from the window. The thought of spending the rest of the day – not to mention the rest of the summer – in this room, charming as it was, with its dressing table littered with cosmetics and its garden view and its walls plastered with posters of boy bands and sexy footballers – well, it drove her mad with frustration.

What on earth would she do with all of that time on her hands?

I’ll be filming at Cleremont on Monday, Ciaran had said yesterday while they were cruising on the Meryton. I hope to see you again.

Not if Daddy has anything to say about it, she thought now. She sat before her dressing table mirror and regarded herself disconsolately. Ciaran had told her to drop by to watch the filming anytime she liked, that he’d put in a word with the set manager.

Fat lot of good it was going to do her now.

Her resentful gaze went to the far window, the one with the deep sill that Emma had fashioned into a window seat with a comfy cushion. Kneeling on the cushion and looking out now, Charli saw the apple orchard, its blossoms already fallen and carpeting the ground in pink and white. An oak tree grew nearby, its branches reaching up to her window, and she smiled.

She’d often shimmied down those branches as a child, sneaking out of her room to go and play when she was grounded for some infraction or other…

Her eyes narrowed. She suddenly had a wonderful, crazy, brilliant idea.

She might be grounded. And she might not be able to leave the house in the normal way, via the front or back doors.

But her window – and the thick branches of the oak tree just outside – waited, ready to help her leave the dull environs of her bedroom behind, and go to Cleremont to visit Ciaran Duncan.

***

The horses were ready, tacked up and waiting in the stable yard, tails twitching. Holly eyed them uneasily. There was a chestnut, a dapple-grey mare, and a beautiful seventeen-hand bay hunter named Thor.

Just the sight of him made her legs turn to jelly.

‘Nice,’ Lizzy offered as she caught sight of Holly in her breeches, boots and hacking jacket. She tossed her a helmet. ‘But you’ll need this.’

‘Thank you.’ She put the helmet on and adjusted the strap snugly under her chin.

‘Have you ridden before, Holly?’ Lizzy enquired as she did a quick safety check of the bay’s tack.

‘Not for ages, since I was twelve. I grew up in London, so horses weren’t a big part of my life. But I’ve had a few lessons. I’ve even been in a couple of gymkhanas.’ She managed a smile. ‘Of course, I hope we won’t be doing anything too… erm, challenging today, will we?’ she asked with a trace of nervousness.

‘No, of course not!’ Lizzy assured her. ‘Hugh and I might jump a hedge or two along the way, but we won’t expect you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.’ She paused, her hand resting lightly on the bay’s girth. ‘If you don’t want to go, we completely understand.’ She glanced over at Hugh. ‘Don’t we, Darcy?’

He mounted his chestnut in a single, fluid motion and nodded. ‘Of course. You mustn’t feel pressured to go along with us, darling. If you’d rather stay here…?’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Holly spoke with far more confidence than she felt. ‘I’m looking forward to it. A nice, relaxing hack across the fields is just what I need.’

And as she followed Lizzy’s lead and mounted the dapple grey, Holly was glad of the lessons her mother had insisted on, and the gymkhanas she’d taken part in, even if she’d never actually won anything, even if (for that matter) she’d never even placed.

At least she wasn’t a complete wally when it came to horses.

But as they left the stable yard and went through the gate and into the fields, and Hugh and Lizzy urged their mounts from a canter to a gallop, it was all Holly could do to remember those long-ago lessons as she gripped the reins and gritted her teeth and did her level best to keep up.

Chapter 15

After forty-five minutes of riding, Holly’s legs quivered and her face had gone red as a beetroot.

But to her surprise, she was enjoying herself.

How much more pleasant it was, she marvelled, to ride across Cleremont’s property, with its hedges and open fields and the scent of honeysuckle adrift on the air, than to circle round and round posting trots in a boring old riding ring.

It was brilliant.

And although she knew she’d be tired tonight, and her muscles would scream in protest at what she was currently putting them through, it was all worth it just to see Hugh smiling over at her from his seat atop the chestnut stallion.

‘Time to head back, I think,’ Lizzy called out, reining the bay in closer as they dropped back into a canter. ‘We don’t want to miss elevenses.’

‘I’m for that,’ Holly said fervently, and groaned. ‘My backside’s gone numb and I’m hungrier than I’ve ever been in my life.’

They returned to the stable yard twenty minutes later, and after handing the horses over to be groomed and watered, they trooped to the terrace and tucked in to platters of cookies, granola bars, and a pitcher of pomegranate juice with gusto.

‘You did really well,’ Lizzy said approvingly, regarding Holly across the glass-topped wrought-iron table in admiration. ‘You handled Lady beautifully.’

‘She did the work, I just left her to it,’ Holly said modestly. But a part of her was thrilled by Elizabeth Bennet’s words. After all, Lizzy was an excellent horsewoman.

‘Yes, you were amazing, darling,’ he agreed, and leaned over to kiss her. ‘One would never know you hadn’t sat a horse in twelve years.’

‘If you like,’ Lizzy offered, ‘we can practise your jumping when we’re done here.’ She looked at Hugh. ‘Are those jumps still set up in the training ring?’

He nodded. ‘I believe so.’

‘Good. Are you game, Miss James?’ Lizzy asked, and raised a quizzical brow.

Holly toyed with the stem of her glass. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear Lizzy was throwing down a challenge.

‘Certainly,’ she agreed. Her heart kicked up a notch as she added, ‘I could do with a little practice. Thanks.’

‘Oh, no thanks necessary,’ Lizzy assured her as she drained her juice and stood up. ‘We’ll put you through your paces, never fear. By tomorrow, when we ride again, you’ll be bounding over hedges and stiles right along with the two of us.’ She smiled over at Hugh.

Holly stood as well. ‘Okay. No time like the present,’ she said gamely. ‘Although…’ she rested a hand gingerly on her rump. ‘I’m feeling the effects already.’

‘Wait until tonight,’ Lizzy said, and grinned. ‘You’ll think you’re dying, you’ll be so sore. A bit of stretching and a long, hot bath, and you’ll be as right as rain by tomorrow. Come on, then,’ she added briskly, ‘let’s go get in a few practice jumps before I leave.’

***

When Lizzy returned to Litchfield Manor later that afternoon, her father was in the kitchen, humming along to Radio 3 as he prepared a fresh batch of scones.

‘Rosemary and thyme,’ he informed his daughter as she trooped in and sank onto a chair at the kitchen table. ‘I thought I’d try my hand at a savoury scone for a change.’

Flour, salt, sticks of butter and baking powder cluttered the counter; a rolling pin and a floury dishcloth lay abandoned on the table. The scent of rosemary filled the air as the first batch of scones baked in the oven.

‘They smell good,’ Lizzy said. ‘Where is everyone?’

‘Well, Emma’s gone off to the village to fetch a few things I needed from the grocery,’ he said as the oven timer dinged and he thrust a potholder over his hand, ‘and your sister Charlotte’ – he bent down to open the oven and retrieved the tray of scones – ‘is upstairs in her room, sulking, no doubt.’

‘Yes, about that,’ Lizzy ventured, and frowned. ‘What on earth happened this morning? Em and I woke up to the sound of you and Charli shouting at each other.’

Mr Bennet deposited the tray of scones on top of the stove. ‘My apologies. I’m normally a fairly calm person, you know,’ he added as he removed the potholder and sat down across from her. ‘But I have to admit that Charlotte’s antics yesterday pushed me beyond the limits.’

‘Why?’ Lizzy asked, alarmed. ‘What did she do?’

He levelled a glance at her and sighed. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t heard. It was in this morning’s Tattler, on the front page. That’s one of the reasons why I was so… irate.’

‘No, I was out riding all morning with Hugh and Holly. How did Charli end up in the newspapers?’

Briefly he explained that her sister had snuck off to spend the afternoon with the film star next door, Ciaran Duncan, on his private yacht. ‘And I never would’ve known, either, if Harry Darcy hadn’t seen her and gone aboard to fetch her home. Mr Duncan punched him in the face for his trouble.’

‘Oh, Lord.’ Lizzy subsided into silence, overcome with chagrin both at her sister’s actions, and her stupidity.

‘It’s at times like these,’ Mr Bennet admitted, ‘that I miss your mother the most. She would’ve known what to do, how to handle the situation.’

She stretched out her hand and laid it gently atop his floury one. ‘You’re doing a brill job, Daddy. Mum would’ve got into a screaming match with Charli and probably would’ve slapped her for being such an idiot.’ She let out a breath of frustration. ‘Honestly, what’s wrong with that girl? She hasn’t an ounce of sense.’

‘I suppose it’s just the fact that she’s young and reckless, with raging hormones thrown in for good measure. At any rate,’ he added as he scraped his chair back, ‘I’ve grounded her for the remainder of the summer. She’s very put out with me,’ he said, and chuckled. ‘She slammed her bedroom door so hard, the portrait of your Aunt Henrietta fell right off the wall.’

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