Chapter Twenty-Five

Darcy

D arcy’s gaze froze on the scene before him. His aunt stood in the hall, her figure rigid and proud, flanked by two nuns in simple grey habits. The sisters held expressions of gentle patience, as if accustomed to the resistance of tearful children, and their eyes softened as they spotted Maggie clinging to Elizabeth.

“Ah, there you are,” Lady Matlock said, her voice brisk but laced with an unpleasant satisfaction. She looked pointedly at Maggie, then back at Darcy and Elizabeth. “I have arranged for young Maggie to go with the sisters here. They are prepared to take her in at once. She will have a place in a respectable orphanage, where she can be brought up properly.”

Elizabeth immediately bristled. “Lady Matlock,” she began, her voice taut with indignation, “you cannot simply send Maggie away as if she were some abandoned creature to be cast aside. She is a child, one who deserves more than this—”

Lady Matlock’s eyebrow arched, her calm tone a pointed contrast to Elizabeth’s fervour. “Miss Bennet, Maggie is not your child, nor your ward. She is, for all intents and purposes, a waif. I had assumed that you, as a lady of sense, would recognise the importance of propriety and station.”

“Propriety?” Elizabeth repeated. Darcy could scarcely believe what he was hearing. He glanced down at Maggie, who was peering from behind Elizabeth’s skirts, wide-eyed and trembling. “What about compassion, Lady Matlock? What of her welfare, her happiness?”

The older lady straightened, her mouth thinning. “And how do you propose to secure that, Miss Bennet? By letting her trail along in a family who is not her own, with no claim to inheritance, no assurance of her heritage? How is this in her best interest?”

One of the nuns spoke, her voice soothing yet firm. “Miss Bennet,” she said, her expression sincere, “the convent is well-suited for a child such as Maggie. She will have food, education, and guidance. And we are skilled in attending to children of less certain beginnings.”

Beside him, Miss Bennet drew herself up, as if fighting back her rising anger. “Maggie could very well come from a noble family, and what then? You propose to take her away from us, and on what evidence? She was found, yes, but that does not mean she is a pauper or a castaway.”

Lady Matlock’s eyes narrowed. “Do be reasonable, Miss Bennet. The girl is most likely the daughter of some poor farm woman—”

Darcy felt his chest tighten with fury at his aunt’s high-handedness, and he could no longer remain silent. Maggie’s tear-streaked face and Elizabeth’s determined defiance stirred something deeper in him, compelling him to action.

“Aunt,” he said, his voice cutting through the tension in the hall. All eyes turned to him as he spoke, “It may surprise you to learn that while Elizabeth may have no standing in this matter, I most certainly do.”

Lady Matlock’s eyes narrowed. “What are you implying, nephew?”

Darcy took a deep breath, the enormity of his next words settling heavily on him, yet he spoke with resolute clarity. “I am saying that Maggie is under my care because… because she is my daughter.”

A collective gasp echoed through the hall as Darcy’s declaration hung in the air.

The hall fell deathly silent, his aunt’s expression frozen between disbelief and outrage. Lady Matlock’s lips pursed so tightly they seemed bloodless, while Elizabeth’s wide eyes darted from him to Maggie and back again, her shock mirrored in the faint flush creeping up her cheeks.

“Nephew,” Lady Matlock’s voice sliced through the silence, cold as the stone walls surrounding them. “Surely you cannot mean what you just said. You—this child… she is yours?”

Darcy’s jaw clenched, but he kept his tone steady. “Yes. Maggie is my responsibility. She will not be sent away to an orphanage. Not today, and not in the future.” He looked down at the little girl, her small hand clutching Elizabeth’s skirt as if her life depended on it. He inhaled sharply. “For she is mine.”

Elizabeth’s brows knitted in confusion as she met Darcy’s eyes, her lips parting as if she wanted to speak but didn’t know where to begin.

Lady Matlock let out a disdainful huff, her head held high, and fixed Darcy with a stern, disbelieving gaze. “This is absurd. Do you mean to tell me you have been raising this child in secret?”

“That is indeed what I am saying. Maggie is mine to do with as I please, as I am her family,” he said, hating the ease with which the lies came out of his mouth. He knew his aunt did not believe a word, but as he had uttered this in front of witnesses—women of the cloth no less—then as far as society went, he had made his declaration, and to recant could cause a scandal.

“Lies.” Her eyes narrowed, her voice edged with sharpness. “What will society say, Fitzwilliam? Are you willing to ruin your reputation and this family’s good name?”

Darcy’s spine straightened, his voice unyielding. “Yes. I am I do not wish to, but I shall if it means Maggie is kept out of the orphanage. I am certain my uncle will understand. Pray, is he aware of this scheme?”

“He would agree with me, if he were here,” Lady Matlock said. “Alas, he has gone hunting and will not be back until evening.”

“Then why do we not wait for him?” Elizabeth chimed in.

One of the nuns stepped forward, hands clasped in a calming manner, her gentle tone striving to restore some semblance of peace. “Lady Matlock, I understand this is an emotional moment. But perhaps we should consider the child’s wellbeing above all else. She needs stability and care, a loving home.”

Lady Matlock’s expression hardened. “Precisely. Which is why she would be far better suited among others of her kind, receiving the guidance and moral instruction only the church can offer.”

Elizabeth drew herself up, her voice thick with indignation. “Guidance and instruction are hardly limited to an orphanage. She has been cared for, loved, and protected here, by Mr Darcy and… and myself.”

Lady Matlock’s eyes turned steely as she shifted her focus to Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet, with all due respect, you have no place here. This matter is beyond your comprehension or concern. Whatever bond you may feel towards this child is admirable, but it does not entitle you to decide her future.” She turned her glare on Darcy. “And you, Fitzwilliam—this is reckless. Thoughtless. Surely you cannot be serious. You, have a child out of wedlock? Who would believe it?”

Darcy’s voice was as firm as steel. “I assure you, Aunt, I am entirely serious. She is mine. It is no one’s place but mine to determine Maggie’s future. Not yours, nor anyone else’s. This is not open for debate.”

Lady Matlock’s eyes narrowed in reproach, her voice dripping with condescension. “Do you even know what you are saying? To associate yourself so openly with a child who… You must think me a fool to believe that she is yours. Even if she were, it would be disastrous to the family if you admitted to a dalliance with—”

“A maid,” he said, and beside him, he saw a flicker of a smile on Elizabeth’s face.

Lady Matlock looked at the nuns. “None of this is true. My nephew has simply formed an attachment to the child.”

“But you cannot prove it, and it is my word against yours. She is mine to protect and nurture, and I shall do so on my own.”

“Do you realise the scandal it would create? You would jeopardise any future connections, any prospects for an honourable marriage, for an alliance that befits your rank—”

“Rank?” Darcy’s voice rose, his face flushed with indignation. “And what use is rank if it denies us compassion and basic decency? If I must choose between the good opinion of society and the wellbeing of an innocent child, then I choose her, unequivocally.”

Elizabeth took a step closer to Maggie, placing a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder, who looked up at her with anxious eyes.

Lady Matlock shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You are blinded, Fitzwilliam. Blinded by some misplaced sense of duty, or—” Her eyes flicked to Elizabeth with a look of accusation. “Or by something far more troubling. Do you not see what this woman has done to you? She has filled your mind with these notions, convinced you to abandon reason for sentiment. Look at yourself!”

Darcy took a steadying breath, his voice chillingly calm. “Miss Bennet has done nothing but treat Maggie with kindness, and she has been nothing but a support to me during this time. It is your prejudice, not hers, that clouds your judgement.”

Lady Matlock turned her fury on Elizabeth, her tone scornful. “And what of you, Miss Bennet? Do you find this to be some romantic tale? A noble gentleman rescuing a lost child? Perhaps you see yourself at his side, basking in the glow of his misguided heroics?”

Elizabeth’s face flushed, her chin lifting defiantly. “I only seek what is best for Maggie. A child is not an inconvenience to be swept away to suit the comfort of others. She deserves love and stability, and it is quite obvious she has found it here.”

Lady Matlock’s lips twisted in a faint sneer. “You are naive, Miss Bennet. You are quite fortunate that your meddling has not yet sullied your own reputation.”

Elizabeth’s eyes flashed, but before she could respond, Darcy took a step closer to his aunt, his voice low and dangerous. “Enough. I will not allow you to insult her.”

The nuns, sensing the rising tension, exchanged uneasy glances, but one of them attempted to mediate. “My lady, perhaps it is best if we take some time to think this over. I understand these are difficult decisions, but—”

“No,” Darcy interrupted, his voice firm and resolute. He took Elizabeth’s hand, looking at her with determination and resolve. “Maggie is staying. And I believe, Aunt, that we shall no longer require your interference in this matter.”

Lady Matlock’s lips thinned, her gaze hard and unyielding, but she could see that Darcy would not be moved. With a sharp intake of breath, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the hall, leaving the three of them in her wake.

Darcy knelt down beside Maggie, who clung to Elizabeth’s hand, her small body trembling. He reached out, taking her other hand in his. “Maggie,” he said softly, his voice gentle and reassuring. “You are safe. No one will take you from us.”

Elizabeth knelt beside him, offering Maggie a warm smile, her voice soothing. “Yes, Maggie. We are here, and we will always be here for you.”

As they embraced Maggie, Darcy felt a weight lift from his shoulders, replaced by a newfound resolve. They had stood together, against all odds, and for the first time, he felt certain that they would face whatever challenges lay ahead, united in purpose and bound by something far deeper than duty.