Page 144 of Pride and Prejudice Resolutions

Before either Caroline or the Colonel could intervene, Charles kicked his horse into a gallop.

"Mr Bingley, no—" the Colonel began, but it was too late.

Charles thundered down the Row, his brass buttons glinting in the pale sunlight, his cravat streaming behind him like a pennant of doom. The dog, upon seeing a large horse bearing down on it, did what any sensible animal would do: it panicked.

It bolted directly towards Caroline.

Seraphina, who until this moment had been the picture of equine composure, took one look at the approaching ball of white fluff and decided that her life was in mortal danger. The mare reared, her front hooves pawing the air, and released a whinny that sounded like a dramatic soprano discovering a spider in her dressing room.

Caroline's crop went flying. Her hat followed shortly after, the feather spinning through the air like a tiny, defeated flag.

"Miss Bingley!" The Colonel's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. "Sit back!"

Caroline was attempting to do precisely that, holding on the reins for dear life, but her horse had other plans. The mare came down on all four hooves, bucked once for good measure, and then took off at a dead run straight for a line of trees.

The world became a blur of grey sky, brown earth, and the horrifying realisation that she was about to become intimately acquainted with a rather large oak.

Behind her, she heard the thunderous drumbeat of hooves. Black Thunder, because of course it was Black Thunder, was gaining on them with the relentless inevitability of divine retribution.

"Let go of the reins!" the Colonel roared.

This went against every instinct Caroline possessed. Letting go of the reins meant surrendering control. It meant trusting gravity and fate and a penniless Colonel who spent his spare time insulting her wardrobe.

The oak loomed closer.

She let go.

His arm came around her waist like an iron band. For one weightless, terrifying moment, she was airborne, yanked sideways out of the saddle and hauled onto Black Thunder as if she weighed no more than a sack of carrots.

Seraphina, now riderless and free to pursue her true calling as a wild creature, veered left and galloped off towards the Serpentine, with the maid's screaming dog in hot pursuit.

The Colonel pulled Black Thunder to a halt. The warhorse obeyed instantly, transitioning from full gallop to standstill with the precision of a machine. Caroline, meanwhile, transitioned from terror to rage with equal speed.

"You—" She gasped, still clutching his coat sleeve. "You pulled me off my horse!"

"You were about to die."

"I was fine!"

"You were about to meet God. I saved you the introduction."

She was sitting sideways across Black Thunder's withers, pressed against his chest, one arm wrapped around his shoulders in a grip that could have strangled a bear. Her hat was gone. Her hair was coming loose. And her very expensive riding habit was now covered in dust.

"Put me down, you brute," she hissed.

"Gladly. Though I feel compelled to point out that we are still on a horse. Dismounting will require coordination, Miss Bingley. Do you possess any?"

"I possess the overwhelming urge to strike you."

"Please do not strike me whilst I am controlling a seventeen-hand warhorse. It ends poorly for everyone involved."

Black Thunder snorted, as if to underscore the point.

Caroline became suddenly, horribly aware of how close she was to the Colonel. Close enough to feel the solid warmth of his chest through layers of wool and linen. Close enough to see the way his jaw tightened when he was suppressing amusement.

He was laughing at her.

She released his coat and attempted to pull away, which proved difficult given that she was balanced precariously on a saddle designed for one person and that person was not her.