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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.’

What Would Lizzy Bennet Do?

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