Caroline Bingley: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (15 page)

"Are you well?" he asked, his blue eyes earnest. "We do not have to ride if you are unwell."

He was offering her the option of making her excuses, just as she had been scheming to do earlier, but his suggestion of it infuriated her.

"I am certainly able to ride!" Caroline snapped. "It is only that I am unused to this tack." She gestured broadly about her with her crop, hoping that "tack" was indeed the correct word for one of the things strapped to the horse.

She glanced at Mr. Charlton, hoping that he had not observed her awkwardness, and was delighted to discover that he and Lavinia were deep in conversation. Their horses strode slowly about the yard in a circle. They presented quite an elegant picture, and Caroline hoped that she looked as well as they did.

Then Mossy shifted her weight, causing Caroline to gasp at the unexpected movement.

Everyone looked at her, and she managed a tight smile. "There was a bee," she lied.

"Dashed insects," Mr. Charlton said. "Let us be off before they swarm and ruin the ride before it begins."

With that, Mr. Charlton, Lavinia, and Mrs. Pickersgill led the way out of the stable yard. Caroline urged Mossy to join them while Mr. Rushton mounted his own horse.

The mare's gait seemed smooth enough, but Caroline's feeble confidence seemed to erode with each stride away from the security of the stable.

Caroline tried to steel herself against her weakness.

Yes, fear was indeed her weakness.

Fear of exposure. Fear that her family's dubious background might haunt her forever. Fear that she might never have a home of her own. Fear that she might be flung from the back of this pony and humiliated in front of Mr. Charlton, Lavinia, Rosemary, and Mr. Rushton.

But, she reminded herself, people had been riding horses since time began. Certainly, they were no more capable of controlling the animals than she was. She could keep her seat and contain her fear on a leisurely stroll about the grounds.

Mr. Rushton had taken a bit longer to move off and was quite a bit behind her. Caroline and Mossy, as well, had fallen rather behind the others and were quite alone. Ahead, the horses seemed content. They were not snorting fire or prancing. Perhaps Mossy would take her cue from the rest of the herd.

That, however, was not the case, for suddenly, her mare seemed incapable of maintaining a slow pace. In fact, she sped up progressively. As Mr. Charlton and the ladies continued further down the wooded path, Caroline was forced to circle her obstinate pony continually in the hopes that she might calm down enough to walk like a civilized creature.

The animal remained, however, uncivil.

Caroline's hands clutched the reins, and her leg muscles ached from gripping the pommel of the side saddle as the group rounded the far end of the fish pond on their frustratingly controlled mounts.

When Mossy lost sight of the other horses, she became even more animated in her movements. Her head raised and her gait changed from smooth to springy. Caroline fancied that she could feel her pony's back muscles tense through the layers of skirt and saddle leather.

Yes, the animal was indeed tense.

This would result in no good, certainly.

Caroline looked about her, hoping to find some aid from the rocks and trees, but instead, she discovered that Mr. Rushton had ridden his mare beside her.

"Miss Bingley," he said, tipping his hat as if he were meeting her in Hyde Park for a morning excursion. His eyes held a look of superior amusement that irritated her. But almost frozen in fear, Caroline found that she could not issue a proper set down for his sardonic tone.

Instead, he continued, "I have never seen this pony become so agitated. What have you done to her?"

Something broke free within Caroline, and she snapped at him. "What have I done? What have
I
done? Sir, I can assure you I have done nothing but attempt to ride the beast. There is something amiss with this animal, not me!"

She saw Mr. Rushton set his jaw. "Stop her," he said, as if Caroline had the power to arrest the movement of a creature that outweighed her by quite a good deal.

"If I could stop her from this infernal bouncing, I would have done it long ago. I have pulled back on the reins and circled since we left the stable yard."

He looked her over from stirrup to reins and issued the following order: "Unclench yourself, Miss Bingley. You are making that pony nervous."

"Ha! I am making her nervous. Tell her to calm down first and I shall, as you say so vulgarly, 'unclench.'"

He studied the bouncing mare again, then reached inside his saddle bag and drew out a leather strap. He aligned his horse with her pony, leaned down, and fastened the clasp to her pony's bit.

"What are you about, Mr. Rushton? I do not see how another piece of leather is going to make this situation any more pleasant."

"Release the reins," he ordered. "I will lead you for the remainder of the ride."

Caroline refused. The reins were her only hope of gaining any semblance of control. "I do not think this a wise idea."

He did not seem to be listening as he slowly reeled in Caroline's pony until its head was near his horse's shoulder, and she found her body bumping against his leg.

"Release the reins," he repeated, "and trust me to help you out of this mess."

She looked up at him. His face held no amusement now. She found that she must trust him.

So she did as he requested and dropped the reins, but she punctuated her action by grasping at the pony's mane and saying, "I do not care for horse riding."

"You are afraid of horse riding," he replied in a conversational tone.

It was the tone that disarmed her. Had he made such a comment with smugness or conceit, her hackles would have raised still further and she would have felt the need to defend herself. Instead, she allowed him to continue.

"Do not be ashamed. Many people find moving at such heights and speeds disconcerting."

Caroline could not see what Mr. Rushton was doing to the pony, but her gait was beginning to smooth, and their pace slowed. They rode along quite calmly now and were following the same course that the others in their party had taken. She could barely see their companions ahead, and this provided her some relief, for though Caroline had desperately hoped to remain near Mr. Charlton, it was better that he did not witness her ineptitude.

She and Mr. Rushton continued in quiet for some time, and eventually, Caroline was able to relax herself further. Though she felt no more confidence in her current position--being banged about on Mr. Rushton's riding boot--she began to feel a bit of her customary passion return.

"I believe my mare has calmed herself sufficiently. You may release us, Mr. Rushton."

"Indeed, I shall not. At least not until you can prove that you may control this animal without sending her into a panic."

"I can assure you that we shall be fine now. Look. We are both calm."

"You assure me of nothing until you take up the reins and show me."

So, with hidden trepidation, Caroline gathered the reins and hoped that she would not humiliate herself again.

Mr. Rushton uncoiled his leather lead, giving Caroline a bit of slack and thus the opportunity to be in control of her own mount.

She was excessively pleased that the mare did not immediately set to bouncing like a ball.

Instead, she seemed to slow down.

That did not seem such a bad prospect, and so she did nothing to encourage the pony to move any faster.

This turned out to be an error in judgment, for eventually, her pony and--by extension, Mr. Rushton's horse, for he was still connected loosely by the lead--began to dawdle beside the pond.

The ground was damp by the water's edge, and the mare's hooves made sucking sounds as she plodded along. The other horses had already reached the tree line, and she saw that Lavinia and Mr. Charlton had turned around to check their progress. Though she wished to join them and shed herself of Mr. Rushton, Caroline's mount slowed to a stop beside the tall reeds and then threw her head down, yanking the reins from Caroline's fingers, to snatch at the burgeoning grass.

Mr. Rushton appeared amused, but he did nothing to aid her. He simply allowed his horse to amble along beside Mossy.

"What is wrong with this animal?" Caroline demanded. "First, she would not stop; now, she will not go. If you have chosen this mount as a jest, I assure you, it is not amusing!"

"This is the calmest pony in the stable, Miss Bingley. I would never over-horse a rider such as yourself."

"A rider such as myself?"

"A fearful novice."

"Humph." Her embarrassment--and the knowledge that Mr. Charlton might be observing her even now--caused her to act more bravely than perhaps she ought. She put her reins in one hand and moved the crop to the other. She hesitated and then administered a very light tap to the horse's right flank.

The mare did not move. She continued to munch grass.

"Miss Bingley! I caution against the use of the crop."

Caroline ignored him.

A harder tap.

The mare's head came up, ears back. Mossy was displeased but not motivated enough to move and dove again for the grass.

Caroline grasped the crop tighter and contorted herself to give the horse a good smack. The crop hovered in midair, preparing to fall on the mare's haunches, when several ducks suddenly flapped out of the reeds.

The mare moved then.

The onslaught of ducks had caught the pony by surprise, causing her to spin sideways and trot quickly along the pond's edge away from the ducks. Caroline closed her eyes to block out the fear, and through sheer force of will and the extreme desire not to embarrass herself, she managed to keep her seat.

And then she heard a splat as if something had landed on the boggy ground. Laughter rang out from the tree line.

She opened her eyes, wondering what had happened. Mossy had already returned to eating grass as if the startle had never occurred.

Caroline looked to the tree line where Mr. Charlton, Lavinia, and Rosemary were laughing. Even from the distance, she could see clearly that Mr. Charlton was amused. He called, "Miss Bingley, do see to Mr. Rushton. We are off on a gallop."

Only then did she look down and see Mr. Rushton lying face first in the muck beside her pony, his hands still resolutely holding the lead. His horse stood alongside him, and Caroline swore his mare had a quizzical expression on her equine face, likely wondering what her rider was doing on the ground.

Caroline was wondering the same herself.

Unsure of what she ought to do, she remained on her pony, which was still grazing on the lush grass that grew alongside the pond.

Mr. Rushton began to pull himself out of the mud. For long moments, Caroline could not see his face, but certainly, he would be angry.

Gentlemen did not care for public humiliation any more than she did.

Caroline felt the familiar temptation to exploit the situation. She could offer the snide remark that came so quickly to mind, but something prevented her from doing so. And that was odd. Here was the opportunity to prove her superiority of wit. To turn the accident to her advantage.

But was not his current humiliation her doing? She had opted to ride despite her distaste and displeasure in the activity, not to mention her complete ineptitude.