Page 10 of A Promise Made

Lizzy practiced all of the gaits, and although she found galloping terrifying, she began to wonder why she had avoided riding for so long.

Knowing that the goal was riding quietly enough that she could secretly follow Mr Darcy, Lizzy practiced choosing particularly quiet paths through forests and meadows.

After working at this for several days, Lizzy attempted to follow Mr Darcy early one morning. She rode out to the Netherfield stables when it was already light but the sun had not yet topped the horizon. She lurked in a thick portion of the forest near the stables, watching as Mr Darcy approached the stables, checked his saddle and tack, and then finally rode out. Lizzy followed from a distance.

As expected, Mr Darcy and his steed soon galloped, and she had to carefully watch in order to follow. When he slowed, she did, too, but it was no more than five minutes before Mr Darcy looked in her direction and stopped. Apparently, he had spotted her. She put a smile on her face and slowly rode towards him.

He smiled and bowed. “Miss Elizabeth, on horseback! And so far from Longbourn…. Where are you going?”

Looking around, she pretended to be confused. “I was thinking and worrying, and I must have rode further than I had wished.”

“What were you thinking about?” Mr Darcy asked.

“The Battle of Jena-Auerstedt.”

Mr Darcy looked almost comically surprised; even more so when she explained that she had been interrupted when reading about that battle. “I did not even learn who won!”

He managed to smooth his expression as he explained that the combined armies of Prussia and Saxony had lost to the French Grande Armée. His tone turned bitter as he added, “Or, I should say, the supposedly grand army. I cannot abide anyone with such a lust for power that he sends a generation of young men to their deaths.”

He said those words very firmly, and she thought sincerely. Naturally, he was not a spy, but then she almost laughed when she realised that a spy would not only live his life so that everyone agreed he could not be a spy, but he also likely practiced pretending to be angry at the forces he served.

“You pronounced the words for Grand Army quite beautifully,” Lizzy said. “Do you speak much French?”

“Bien sûr. Le français est la langue de la diplomatie et de la culture.”

She said, “J'ai appris par moi-même, et mon accent n'est pas très bon.”

“Actually, Miss Elizabeth, for a young lady learning on her own, without a French master, I think your accent is quite good. Do you read French, as well?” he asked.

Nodding, she asked if he, too, read French fluently.

“Naturellement, j'ai lu des auteurs tels que Voltaire, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Montesquieu, et Diderot.”

“You are very lucky to be a man, Mr Darcy. I wish I could go to university someday and learn as much as you have.”

“To tell you the truth, Miss Elizabeth, there were no lessons or classes in French or any other modern language at Cambridge. We studied Greek and Latin.”

“I can read some in each of those languages, too, but I never learnt to speak them. At any rate, I commend you on your excellent accent and fluency in French. Tell me, have you been to France?”

“Yes. My ancestors from Normandy came over with William the Conqueror, but I still have one branch of the family across the channel. The last time we visited them was in 1802.”

Lizzy nodded, but she was surprised. A branch of the man’s family still lived in France?

She felt a chill. She did not actually wish him to be a spy.

“May I ask, Miss Elizabeth, to what these questions tend?”

“Well, I am certain that many of us who have never yet been to France hope to see it one day…and we fear that such a day will never come.”

She watched as Mr Darcy frowned deeply. He said, “When a tyrant starts wars with everyone around him, the worst of humankind emerges. Violence, injury, and substantial numbers of deaths are indeed the most awful results. But what you point out is another unfortunate result of Napoleon’s bloodlust: many people who could afford a few weeks abroad in France will not be able to go, ever, if he continues to stir up problems.”

Mr Darcy looked, not merely solemn, but grave, and he said the remaining words especially quietly: “I feel that travel can be one of the greatest teachers in the world.”

Lizzy felt his sincerity and experienced relief. “You are not a spy, are you?” she asked.

He startled—not into a laugh, but into a wide smile that seemed to change his entire face, carving shallow dimples in his cheeks and lighting his eyes so she could see the blue. “Have all these questions been a giant test to see if I am some sort of covert agent who reports to Napoleon?”

“Of course,” Lizzy said. She wrinkled her nose at him. “You must admit that my mind is most creative in its obstinate curiosity. But even though I was almost positive that you could not be a spy, I still am quite aware that there must be some reason for you to uproot yourself from your own estate, and to work hard for weeks and weeks here at Longbourn.”