Chapter Twelve
The next morning Elizabeth and Darcy set off. It was a fine day and Elizabeth thought he looked so handsome in his tight white breeches and blue coat, holding the reins in one hand and the coachman’s whip in the other. He flicked the whip and made it crack, but fortunately for Elizabeth’s tender feelings he did not touch the horse. They trotted along at a good speed and soon Elizabeth fell into a daydream. She was pressed up against Darcy, her thigh touching his, and she began to imagine that she herself was the horse, naked except for her harness, a black plume on her head, leather reins attached to a bit between her teeth, more leather around her bare bosom and a third piece of harness pulled tight between her legs. As she cantered along, Darcy sat up on the phaeton, flic
