Chapter Thirty-Three

Darcy

D arcy stood alone in his study, his hands clasped behind his back, facing the heavy responsibility of the morning ahead. He had been preparing himself to tell Maggie about her family—how she would soon be leaving Pemberley and the life she’d come to know with them. Though he’d rehearsed the words, he found himself at a loss, none seemed to hold enough kindness to soften such news. It pained him to imagine Maggie’s confusion, her inevitable sadness. Even as he steeled himself for what lay ahead, guilt gnawed at him. He found his thoughts about the task ahead often interrupted by the memory of his kiss with Elizabeth. How could joy and horror lay so very close together? How could he find joy when he was about to break the heart of a child who had come to trust him?

His fingers drifted absently to his lips, where Elizabeth’s kiss lingered in his memory. It had been a moment of startling clarity and warmth, a promise he’d hardly dared to hope for. Yet it was there, undeniable—a sense of happiness so profound that he felt almost undeserving of it. He took a steadying breath. Even in his darkest moments, he knew, he was no longer alone.

Just then, a soft knock on the door drew him back to the present. Darcy turned, his gaze softening as Elizabeth entered with Maggie’s small hand nestled in hers. Maggie’s face was alight with her usual cheer, her bright eyes flitting about the room, unaware of the weight of the moment. Elizabeth met his gaze, her expression warm but edged with worry; he knew she was as reluctant as he was to part with the child they had both come to care for deeply.

“Good morning, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said softly, as if to steady him.

He gave a faint nod, trying to summon a smile for Maggie’s sake. “Good morning, Maggie,” he replied, his voice gentle. “I… I’m glad you’re here.”

“Can we play a game Mr Darcy?” Maggie asked and smiled up at him, oblivious to his inner turmoil, and Darcy felt his resolve falter. But Elizabeth moved closer, her presence a quiet reassurance at his side, and he took strength from her, grateful beyond words that she would help him bear this moment.

“No, no games, Maggie,” she said. “We need to talk to you. Shall we sit?”

Maggie nodded though a look of concern instantly flashed across her face.

Darcy sat beside her, taking her hand in his while Elizabeth sat on her other side.

Darcy took a deep breath, his tone as gentle as he could manage. “Maggie,” he began carefully, “there is something we must tell you. Something that is not easy to hear, but it is important that you listen carefully.”

The child tilted her head slightly, her expression growing uncertain, though she sat very still, her free hand clutching her skirts.

He continued, choosing his words with great care. “We have learned what happened to your family. And you. And we found out your real name. Cecilia…”

She closed her eyes at once and shook her head.

“No, no,” she whispered, and Elizabeth wrapped her arm around her.

“Magdalene,” Darcy added. “Is that why you like Maggie? Is it a pet name?”

“Mama calls me so,” Maggie said and her eyes were awash with tears at once.

“Do you remember what happened to your parents?” Elizabeth asked. Up until now, Maggie had always refused to answer such questions, but it seemed as though something had changed in her. Maybe it was the time she’d spent with them or the comfort they provided but she sat up and nodded.

“Bad men came. They took me from the carriage. Mama cried. Papa…yelled.” Maggie’s shoulders slumped immediately, her little body shrinking inward. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them protectively as if to shut out the world. Elizabeth quickly moved closer, slipping her arm around the girl’s small frame.

“It’s all right, Maggie,” she murmured gently, pulling her close and resting her chin on Maggie’s soft curls. “You’re safe here, with us, no one can hurt you here.”

Maggie looked up at her, eyes brimming with confusion and perhaps a small glimmer of hope. “Mama?” she whispered.

With great tenderness, Darcy reached out to her, his voice quiet but filled with warmth. “Your parents…” his voice trailed off and Elizabeth feared he would not be able to break the news to the child. For how could one tell an innocent child what fate had befallen their parents?

“They are dead,” Maggie said flatly, all hope gone from her face. “I saw it, the bad men. They hurt us,” she said, as sobs emitted from her small body. Elizabeth held her while Darcy sat beside her, unsure of what to do. So she remembered. She had always remembered but perhaps she hadn’t understood what had happened to her parents—or perhaps she had hoped that she was mistaken. She’d kept it all to herself and even when she could speak once more, she’d not been able to make her true heartache known…

“Do you… remember your aunt, Maggie?” she asked softly, keeping her tone gentle.

Maggie looked up, sadness clouding her eyes, but a tiny nod, almost imperceptible, gave them her answer. The air was thick with unspoken emotions.

“Maggie,” Darcy began softly, his voice tender. “Would you like to see your aunt again? And your grandmother?”

Maggie’s face, pensive and troubled, turned up towards him. She shook her head quickly and pointed with one small hand at Darcy and the other at Elizabeth. Her voice, though whisper-soft, held unmistakable resolve. “I want to stay with you and Beth.”

Darcy and Elizabeth exchanged a look, one both touched and torn. Each had grown attached to this fragile yet fierce little girl who, despite everything she had endured, had found comfort and security with them. But the reality of their situation weighed heavily on them both, and they knew their duty. She had kin, family with rights to her care, and she must be returned to them.

Elizabeth’s voice was warm but laced with sorrow as she tried to reason with the girl. “Darling, we are so glad you feel safe with us. But your aunt and your grandmother—they have missed you very much, and it wouldn’t be right to keep you from them.”

Maggie shook her head stubbornly, her small fingers wrapping tighter around Elizabeth’s arm. “I want to stay with you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Darcy’s gaze softened, and he reached out, gently taking one of Maggie’s hands in his. “Maggie, we care for you deeply. We will always care for you. But we must think of what is best. I have written to your aunt, to let her know that we have found you.”

Maggie looked up at him, her dark eyes filled with resistance. “No… no,” she murmured, shaking her head again and burying her face into Elizabeth’s skirts as if she could hide from the entire world there.

Elizabeth wrapped her arm protectively around the little girl and stroked her back in soothing circles, glancing up at Darcy, her eyes brimming with an unspoken sorrow that he felt keenly.

He met Elizabeth’s gaze and nodded, feeling his own heart constrict. “All will be well, Maggie,” he assured her quietly, though he sensed his words held little weight for the child. “You will see, you’ll be with your family again, and we shall all be sure of your happiness.”

Maggie finally gave a small, reluctant nod but remained huddled close, her face hidden in Elizabeth’s skirts. Darcy felt a pang of pity, and not for the first time, he questioned whether this would be for the best. Elizabeth’s expression echoed his own thoughts as she continued to comfort Maggie, her hand tracing gentle circles over the girl’s back.