Chapter Fourteen

Darcy

A s Darcy and Maggie stood by the ancient oak, gazing up at the abandoned bird’s nest perched high among the boughs, he found himself unexpectedly charmed by the child’s quiet enthusiasm. Maggie’s wide eyes traced the delicate structure of twigs woven tightly together, her small face alight with wonder. A gentle tug on Darcy’s coat drew his attention downwards, and he saw her finger pointing skywards, urging him silently to observe the nest more closely.

Darcy obliged, smiling as he followed her lead. “Do you have many birds where you live, Maggie?” he asked softly, his voice measured so as not to startle her.

Maggie nodded, a small but expressive smile curling at the corners of her lips, though she remained, as ever, silent. Darcy watched her for a moment, noting the serenity she seemed to find in nature. Her little hands clutched at the fabric of his coat, grounding herself as she stood at his side, still as a mouse.

“Do you like animals, then?” he ventured further, curious to uncover more about the silent child who had, without words, captured his attention. “Which is your favourite?”

Again, Maggie nodded, and this time, her face brightened. She let go of his woollen coat and turned to face him, her eyes gleaming. In one swift motion, she spread her arms wide, as though to indicate something large—far larger than herself—and then, with a sudden movement, mimicked the silent roar of a great beast, swaying her small body dramatically from side to side.

Darcy raised an eyebrow in bemusement, trying to discern her meaning. “A lion?” he guessed, his voice betraying a slight amusement.

Maggie shook her head with firm insistence, her hands becoming more animated as she depicted something even larger, her fingers curling like claws. She stomped her feet, her brow furrowing in concentration.

“A tiger?” Darcy tried again, watching her intently.

Another shake of the head, more forceful this time. Maggie let out a soft huff of frustration, her hands curling into fists as she wrestled with the challenge of conveying the image in her mind. She glanced up at Darcy with wide, pleading eyes, imploring him to understand.

Crouching down to her level, Darcy offered her a kind smile. “You’re very good at acting it out, but I’m afraid I cannot quite guess correctly. Perhaps we might find something to help you show me?”

An idea sparked in his mind, and he rose to his feet. “There is a bookshop nearby,” he suggested, gesturing towards a Tudor building two doors down from the coaching inn. “Shall we go and see if they have pictures of animals? We might find your favourite there.”

Maggie’s face lit up, her earlier frustration melting away in an instant. She nodded eagerly and reached for Darcy’s hand. Together, they set off along the frosted path, the crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot the only sound breaking the peaceful silence. He glanced briefly towards the bench where his sister and Elizabeth were sitting, the young women appeared to be deep in conversation, however Georgiana briefly glanced up, he nodded at her and gestured to the bookshop.

The soft chime of a bell greeted them as they stepped inside the small bookshop. Shelves of well-worn volumes lined the walls, and the air was rich with the comforting scent of aged parchment and leather. Maggie’s eyes darted around the room, her expression alive with curiosity and anticipation.

Darcy led her to a low shelf where several illustrated books lay open, their pages depicting animals from far-off lands. He knelt beside her and pulled out a large volume titled The Animal Kingdom . As he turned the pages, Maggie leaned in, her eyes scanning each image with serious concentration.

“Do you see it here, Maggie?” Darcy asked, turning the pages slowly so she might have time to inspect each one.

For a long moment, Maggie was silent, her eyes carefully tracing the pictures. Then, suddenly, her hand shot out, tapping one of the pages with certainty. Darcy looked down to see a detailed illustration of a towering grizzly bear, its massive form dwarfing the trees around it.

“A bear?” Darcy’s surprise was evident as he glanced at Maggie, who nodded with enthusiasm, a small but triumphant smile tugging at her lips.

“A grizzly bear?” he asked again, intrigued. “Have you ever seen one?”

Maggie nodded once more, her eyes shining as if recalling a distant memory.

Darcy felt a stir of astonishment. “A bear, in England?” he mused, though the likelihood seemed remote.

Then, the answer dawned on him. “Could it be… Old Martin?” he asked, his voice gentler now, probing the thought that had just occurred to him.

Maggie’s face brightened with instant recognition, and she nodded vigorously.

Old Martin, the famous bear who resided in the Royal Menagerie in London was well known—and this also indicated that Maggie had been to Town at least once.

“So you’ve been to London before,” Darcy remarked, watching her closely for a reaction.

Maggie gave a small shrug and she clutched the book to her chest, as if holding fast to the shared discovery.

As Darcy rose to his feet, his eyes drifted towards the window, and to the park where Georgiana and Elizabeth were sitting. A sense of quiet relief washed over him as he observed them together. Georgiana’s face showed the faintest trace of a smile. Whatever the two were talking about had eased her sister’s heavy heart it appeared. Elizabeth had no way of knowing what Wickham had done, but he knew how much the mention of that man’s name must have troubled his poor sister.

He still wished the matter of Wickham had never been brought up but it could not be helped. Besides, he knew that eventually Georgiana had to confide in somebody—and perhaps that somebody could be Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

He allowed himself a small smile, grateful for this unexpected source of solace.

Turning back to Maggie, who had become engrossed in another page of animal illustrations, Darcy knelt beside her once more, content to let the quiet moments unfold.

“Shall we go? I will buy the book for you if you like, so you can keep it,” he said and took her hand as they went to pay for the tome. Once done, he and Maggie made their way back to the door when the silence was interrupted by the voices of two women standing nearby. Darcy’s sharp ears caught their whispers as their eyes followed Maggie with thinly veiled disapproval.

“Did you see the child’s appearance?” one woman said disdainfully. “How can any father allow his daughter to parade about in such a state?”

“The poor thing,” her companion replied. “Mud stains all over her dress—it speaks ill of his care.”

Darcy’s gaze dropped to the hem of Maggie’s dress, where small patches of mud, acquired during Maggie and Elizabeth’s dash through the woods, had gone unnoticed by him. It was a trifling matter, the sort of mess any child might accumulate during a day of innocent exploration. Yet the malice in the women’s voices made it sound as though Maggie were the victim of neglect.

One of the women, emboldened, added, “He ought to be ashamed. Letting her go about in such a state! It is hardly the mark of a gentleman.”

Darcy felt a surge of anger rise within him. How dare they speak so of Maggie, an innocent child, and cast judgement upon him so carelessly? His protective instinct flared, and he glanced down at the girl, who had not noticed the exchange. Her attention was still wrapped in the excitement of their recent discovery at the bookshop.

But Darcy would not allow such words to go unchecked.

Stepping forward, he drew the full attention of the two women. Their fans lowered, revealing faces startled by his approach. His voice, though steady and controlled, carried a weight of cold disdain as he addressed them.

“Ladies,” Darcy began, inclining his head with a slight bow, though his manner was far from conciliatory. “I trust you are aware that idle gossip, especially when directed at a child, is neither charitable nor becoming of one’s station.”

The women blanched, their faces flushing with a sudden realisation of their mistake. One stammered a response, her voice trembling. “We meant no harm, sir—”

“I am sure you did not,” Darcy replied coolly. He would not usually address anyone—let alone a lady—in so blunt a manner, however now he found he could not let the matter go unaddressed. This was a child in peril after all and the last thing she needed was vapid ladies talking about her behind her back.

The other woman, clearly shaken, grasped her companion’s arm. “Let us be gone,” she whispered hurriedly, and with a flurry of skirts, the two women hastened away, their footsteps uneven with the weight of their shame.

Maggie, who had caught only part of the exchange, looked up at Darcy with curiosity. Glancing again at her muddied dress, he suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility for the child at his side.

“Maggie,” Darcy said, kneeling down to her level, his voice softer now, “how would you like a new dress? I know this one is a little dirty and you’d want to meet Mr Bennet again in a pretty gown, would you not?”

Maggie blinked at him, her expression curious. For a moment, she seemed to consider his offer, her small hand clutching at her current dress, examining its fabric as if pondering the need for another. Then, with a shy but eager nod, she agreed, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Very well then,” Darcy said with a warm smile of his own. “I saw a dressmaker’s shop just around the corner. Let us see what we can find.”

He extended his hand, which Maggie took without hesitation, and together they walked towards a modest yet elegant shop tucked between two larger establishments. He hoped that they would find something suitable, while he knew from his own experience, that tailoring a new outfit took days of hard work, perhaps the shop may hold something readymade and suitable for a child. The shopkeeper, a kind-faced woman with greying hair tied into a neat bun, greeted them warmly as they entered.

“Good day, sir, and to you, young miss,” she said with a smile. “How may I assist you today?”

Darcy nodded politely. “We are in need of a new dress for the young lady here,” he explained, gently placing a hand on Maggie’s shoulder. “We are travelling north, my daughter has muddied her gown and I was wondering perhaps if you had any dresses suitable? We travel in an hour, so I am aware that a tailored gown will not be possible.” Darcy paused, as he glanced around the modiste’s shop he saw naught but rolls of fabric and bound books, presumably containing the latest fashion plates from Paris.

The shopkeeper’s eyes brightened at the task. “Of course, sir. I may have just the thing. A client ordered a dress for her daughter a while back, but when it came to the fitting it was too small. It may be a little large on your daughter, but I can take it in.”

“Excellent,” Darcy said. He glanced over at Maggie, the little girl was staring at the rolls of fabric on the counter. As the shopkeeper was being so helpful, he decided to reward her in kind, “My daughter is growing too tall for her current wardrobe, while I am here, I shall purchase some fabric and take them to my wife’s dressmaker.”

The woman smiled brightly, “Of course, sir. I shall bring out a few selections as well as the dress that I mentioned. Miss, would you care to look at the fabrics yourself?” she asked, directing her attention to Maggie, who nodded shyly but with interest. He noted that she didn’t seem out of place at a dressmaker’s shop, as if she had been in one before. But then again, what did that mean? Everyone took their children to shops at some point. Unless one was a pauper living in the rookeries of St. Giles and places such as those—and he’d never thought Maggie came from such dreadful origins.

When the shopkeeper returned, she laid out an array of fabrics in soft, muted tones, alongside a few brighter colours that caught the light. Maggie’s eyes lingered on a particular fabric—a delicate blue cotton with small, embroidered flowers along the edges.

“This one, I think,” Darcy observed quietly, seeing the way her gaze held on it. “Do you like this one, Maggie?”

Maggie nodded once more, her small fingers reaching out to touch the fabric lightly, as though testing its softness.

“An excellent choice, if I may say so, sir,” the shopkeeper chimed in with approval. “It will suit her beautifully.”

“I shall take that, and also some heavier woollen cloth for a new winter coat.”

Once he had selected something suitable, the woman folded up the fabrics while her assistant wrapped up his purchases. Then she held out the dress against Maggie, “I think this may fit your daughter without any alterations.”

Maggie reached out and touched the deep blue fabric.

“Do you like that poppet?” she asked.

Maggie nodded.

“Your daughter is as quiet as a mouse,” the woman remarked.

“I’m afraid she doesn’t speak,” Darcy said. He saw the alarm on the shopkeeper’s face and added, “she has been seen by numerous physicians and they do not know why. But we manage, don’t we, Maggie?”

The little girl’s face broke into a wide smile.

“Would you help her change, please?” he asked.

Moments later, the shopkeeper returned with Maggie in her new gown. She looked like a proper little lady. Darcy paid for the items without a second thought and he bid the shopkeeper farewell. He felt a strange but undeniable sense of contentment as he watched Maggie, her small face aglow with a quiet happiness.

As they stepped back into the crisp air, Darcy glanced down at the child, his heart swelled with an unfamiliar but welcome warmth. The weight of his responsibilities often bore down on him, but in this moment, he found that caring for this little girl brought him a kind of peace he hadn’t anticipated.