Chapter Thirty-Four

Elizabeth

10 th January 1812

T he days crept by at Pemberley under a heavy, unspoken sadness that seemed to permeate the very air. Elizabeth went about her daily routine, but her mind was rarely at ease, her hearts burdened by the sorrow of the little girl who had, in so short a time, come to mean so much to her. She knew that Mr Darcy too, felt sad at the knowledge that they would soon be parted from the child.

Maggie had become a shadow of the lively child who had been discovering her voice, and her newfound words were now rarely used. Elizabeth had grown accustomed to seeing her in quieter moments, her face pensive, and her once-bright eyes now clouded with sorrow. Her grief hung heavily in the household, and there was little that seemed to lift her spirits.

Late one afternoon, Elizabeth came across Maggie sitting alone in the drawing room, her small figure almost swallowed by the vastness of the high-backed armchair. She sat with the doll Mr Darcy had given her, idly tugging at the hem of the doll’s dress, her expression distant. She seemed to be lost in thought, perhaps dreaming of the past, the life she had shared with her family—a life now irretrievably lost.

Elizabeth watched her from the doorway, a pang of empathy piercing her heart. Maggie looked so small, so vulnerable. Elizabeth felt a tear prick at the corner of her eye as she imagined the child’s bewildering sorrow, trying to grapple with the permanence of loss. Elizabeth had known grief, but to endure it so young, with only fragments of memories to cling to, must have been unbearable.

The soft tread of footsteps from behind pulled her out of her reverie. Mr Darcy had approached, and as he came to stand beside her, his gaze followed hers to where Maggie sat.

“She’s been like this for days,” Elizabeth murmured, her voice a quiet ache. “She doesn’t speak unless we speak to her, and even then, it is little more than a nod or a single word.” Elizabeth hesitated, glancing over at Mr Darcy. “I cannot help but think that this has crushed her—finally accepting that her parents are truly gone.”

Mr Darcy’s expression softened as he watched Maggie. “It is no wonder,” he said quietly, his voice filled with understanding. “She must have held onto some small hope. Children can be so resilient, and perhaps she believed that somehow they would return.”

Elizabeth nodded, sensing the deep compassion in his voice. “Yes. She must have. And now that hope has gone…”

Mr Darcy’s gaze shifted to her, his eyes searching her face, as if he were seeing in her own empathy the depths of her compassion. “You have been a great comfort to her, Elizabeth,” he said softly. “She may not say it, but I am certain she feels your kindness, even in her sadness.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks warmed faintly, and she looked down at her hands. “I only wish there was something we could do.”

“There is little anyone could do in such a situation,” Mr Darcy replied. “Even adults struggle to comprehend such loss. But Maggie…” He trailed off, as though words alone could not capture the depth of what the child must be feeling. “She lost her entire world in one swift blow.”

Elizabeth’s hand brushed against his arm. “She has found a new world here at Pemberley,” she said gently. “With you.”

A hint of sadness appeared in Mr Darcy’s gaze. “For a time, perhaps,” he said quietly. “But her family is waiting. She will have to go.”

Elizabeth looked away, a heaviness settling in her chest. She had grown so accustomed to Maggie’s presence that the thought of the girl leaving was almost painful. Yet she knew it was best for Maggie, and she saw that Mr Darcy felt it as well, even if his heart, too, resisted the thought.

A soft sound caught their attention, and they turned to see Maggie looking up at them, her doll resting limply in her lap. Mr Darcy offered her a small, comforting smile, and Elizabeth bent down to address the child.

“Would you like to come for a walk, Maggie?” she asked softly, hoping to engage her.

Maggie shook her head, her fingers toying with the doll’s dress, her small shoulders drawn in, as though she were curling into herself. Mr Darcy took a slow breath and moved to sit across from her, his voice calm and reassuring.

“We know it has been very hard for you, Maggie,” he said, his tone gentle. “Losing your parents is something no one should have to face, least of all someone as young as you.” He hesitated, his gaze tender. “But you are not alone.”

Elizabeth saw a flicker of emotion pass over Maggie’s face, but she quickly lowered her gaze, clutching her doll closer to her chest. Mr Darcy leaned back, giving her space, but his expression remained compassionate.

“Maggie,” Elizabeth added softly, “there are so many people here who care about you. Even if you feel sad now, you will not always feel this way. Your aunt and your grandmother… they care for you, too. They would be so happy to know that you are safe and loved.”

The little girl didn’t respond, but Elizabeth could see her words taking root, softening some of the tension in Maggie’s posture.

The three of them sat in silence for a moment, a silence that was almost like a shared vigil, a quiet acknowledgment of Maggie’s grief and of their helplessness in the face of it. Mr Darcy finally broke the silence, his voice just above a whisper.

“I know that, for now, your heart hurts, Maggie,” he said. “But we will be here with you, for as long as you need us. And though your parents are no longer here, they will always be with you, in a way.” He paused, his voice laced with sadness. “They loved you very much.”

Maggie looked up at him, her dark eyes sombre, and after a long pause, she gave a small nod. Then, without a word, she rose and crossed the room to sit beside Elizabeth, leaning her head against Elizabeth’s shoulder. Elizabeth put her arm around the girl, holding her close, and Maggie closed her eyes, comforted in the warmth of the embrace. She knew that even when Maggie returned to her family, the memory of her would remain, leaving its quiet mark on both their hearts, and that was something that she would hold on to.