Chapter 2

A week later, Darcy was entering his club in London. He and Melody had spent the last year ensconced at Pemberley, and so he looked around for familiar faces. They had arrived in London yesterday evening, and Darcy thought he would spend the morning seeking out acquaintances. He could not really be said to have any friends, unless it were Richard and Charles Bingley. But since the marriages of all three gentlemen, they had seen less of each other. He decided to sit and read the paper while he drank a cup of coffee.

About a half hour later, he heard his name being called. He looked up and found Richard Fitzwilliam approaching. He stood to greet his cousin. "Darcy!" Richard said, clapping him on the back. "What good luck to run into you here! I have not seen you for an age! When did you arrive in London?"

"Just last night. It is good to see you, Richard. How are Rosalind and the girls?"

Five years ago, Richard had married a young wealthy widow from Spain. He had resigned his commission and now he and his wife, Rosalind, had two daughters.

"They are doing well. We shall have to have you and Melody over for supper one day."

"That sounds agreeable. Melody would like to see her cousins, I am sure."

"Matlock will want to see you too. His wife just gave birth to their fourth, if you can believe it. I never thought I would have so many children flocking about me whenever I meet with my brother."

"I hope Lady Matlock is well?" asked Darcy politely.

"Oh yes, she is a trooper, that one. How she can put up with my stuffy brother, I do not know."

Darcy smiled. The earl of Matlock, his oldest cousin, had always been a stickler for duty, as Darcy himself had been when he was younger. The difference was, Matlock had a loving wife. Darcy and Anne had never loved each other. They had married out of duty, and produced an heir out of duty. He doubted they would have had any more children, even if Anne had survived.

"Have you seen Bingley in town this season?" Darcy asked.

"The puppy?" Richard asked, using his rather derogatory nickname. "Yes, in fact he is in the other room."

"I want to greet him," said Darcy. "I have not seen him for over a year, and he is not the best correspondent."

Richard agreed, and they went into the adjoining room to find Bingley, sitting with his curly, blond-haired head bent over a paper. He looked up at their approach.

"Darcy! Fitzwilliam! How marvellous to see you!" He stood up to shake their hands.

They exchanged pleasantries and Darcy inquired after Mrs. Bingley. Charles had married one of his "angels," a young heiress of which his sisters approved, when he was only twenty-three.

"She is very well, thank you. We shall have to have you over for supper some day soon. I don't suppose you have heard, but Caroline's husband, Parkinson, died about a year ago. She has just finished her mourning. She will be glad to see you."

Darcy murmured his condolences, but inwardly he winced. Caroline Parkinson, née Bingley, had pursued him relentlessly before he had married Anne, and he was afraid that now that she was widowed she would be after him again. He would have to be careful to avoid her as much as possible. In his current state he would have trouble being polite to her if she was as fawning and obsequious as she used to be.

The next day was Darcy's fortieth birthday. He woke feeling heavy and downcast, wondering if there would be any purpose in the next forty years of his life, if he lived that long. He decided to spend the day with Melody, the only person he truly loved.

He always took his meals with his daughter, despite her only being nine years old. He did not hold with the belief that children should be seen and not heard, that they should be sequestered in the nursery only to appear before their parents for a few minutes each day. Melody was the only person he had. Why would he want to hide her away, as his parents had done to him and Georgiana?

He looked across the table at his daughter, as she eagerly devoured her eggs and cinnamon toast. He always made sure she ate balanced meals; if it were up to her, he was sure she would eat only sugar three times a day.

"Would you like to go to the park today, Melody?" he asked, cutting into his ham with his fork.

She perked up at once. "Oh, yes, Papa! Can we feed the ducks?"

They often fed the ducks at Pemberley, when the weather was right.

"I will ask Cook if she has some old crusts of bread," he said. "We will see if the ducks are hungry." He smiled.

Melody hurried to finish her breakfast and soon they started out. They took the carriage to a little-used park that was not close by. Darcy did not want to go to Hyde Park or one of the other fashionable walks where acquaintances would see him and no doubt stop to talk. He was not in the mood this morning.

The carriage dropped them off and they walked toward the lake. Two ladies were already there with four small children, who were also feeding the ducks.

"Look, Papa! They are feeding the ducks too!" Melody cried.

One of the young ladies turned at the sound of her voice. She was a lovely, fresh-faced girl who could not be any older than twenty. She was dressed in a pink gown and had curly, chestnut hair. What Darcy noticed most about her, however, were her eyes, which were sparkling with mirth.

"It is a lovely day, is it not?" she said. "Do you have bread for the ducks too?"

"Yes, I do, ma'am," said Melody, holding out the bag. "But perhaps they are full?" she asked doubtfully.

The young lady laughed. "I daresay not! I think they could eat until they burst! They are very greedy."

Melody ran forward to the lake's edge and Darcy followed behind. Another young lady, a willowy blonde, stood by the children. Darcy saw there were two boys and two girls. The youngest boy had waded into the water to try to catch the tail of one of the ducks, and had fallen on his bottom in the mud. The blond lady was helping him up, soothing him as he cried.

"Be careful, Robin!" said the brunette. "Silly boy! Now you will be cold on the walk home." She smiled at him, and the smile seemed to warm Darcy down to his bones, no matter that it was not directed at him.

"Forgive us, sir," she said to him. "I am afraid we are appropriating all the ducks. We are almost out of bread in any case." She turned back to Melody. "I am sure they will be hungry for more," she winked.

"Who are you?" Melody asked.

Darcy was about to chastise her for her rudeness, but the young lady answered. "My cousins call me Lizzy. This is my sister, Jane, and our cousins. Would you like to meet them?"

Melody nodded her head eagerly. Darcy noticed it with a pang. She rarely had other children to play with.

"This is my cousin, Miss Beth Gardiner, she is nine. Emily is seven. Ben is five and Robin is two."

"I'm nine too!" Melody exclaimed, looking at Miss Beth as if she were her new best friend.

"What is your name?" asked Beth.

"I am Miss Melody Darcy," she said proudly. "This is my papa."

The children glanced at him disinterestedly, but the two young ladies, Lizzy and Jane, curtseyed.

Darcy bowed. "Forgive us for disturbing you," he said. "There are rarely people at this park so early in the morning."

"We know. That is why we come here," Lizzy said with a twinkle in her eye. "Not that you are unwelcome, of course. We always like new playmates," she added to Melody.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" asked Beth. "I am the oldest," she said proudly.

Melody shook her head. "No. It is only Papa and me."

Melody brought forth her sack to show Beth the crusts they had appropriated from Cook. Darcy drew closer, watching with delight as his daughter played with the other children. He looked over at Lizzy, wanting to talk with her. She drew him somehow. He knew it was not appropriate, since they had no one to introduce them, but he supposed he could speak with her without exchanging names further.

"Thank you for being kind to my daughter," he said in a low voice. "She so rarely has other children to play with."

"It is no trouble," said Lizzy with a smile. "I love children. And my cousins are always eager for more playmates."

Darcy wanted to ask if they lived nearby, but felt he had already stretched the bounds of propriety. "Do you live in London?" he asked instead.

"No, we live in the country. Our father's estate is in Hertfordshire. But Jane and I have come for the season," Lizzy explained.

She must have many beaux, Darcy pondered. She was a beautiful, young thing with rosy cheeks that matched her pink dress. One dark curl had come down from her coiffure and was resting on her shoulder. Her smile was bright and her dark eyes were very fine. He barely noticed the other young lady, Jane, who was standing by her.

They stood side by side as they watched the children play. Darcy breathed in her scent; he thought it might be lavender.

Soon all the bread was gone and the children called over to their cousin for a game of blind man's bluff. With a laugh, Lizzy joined in their game, putting on the blindfold first, and darting and running about in an exaggerated fashion, careful not to catch the children too quickly.

Darcy was enchanted. If he had only met this charming creature fifteen years ago… But then again, fifteen years ago he would not have appreciated her as he did now, perhaps. She was like a sprite from some other world, called down to bring joy to his day. He watched her play with fascination, wondering if he had ever felt so carefree as she clearly did now.

Another half hour or so passed of games, when Jane and Lizzy finally declared it was time to go home. The children all whined in unison, even Melody, but Darcy called her over. "We had better go home, too," he said.

She looked downcast but waved to her new friends. "Bye, Beth! Bye, Miss Lizzy!" she called.

"Goodbye, Melody!"

"Have a good day, sir, Melody," said Lizzy with a curtsey.

With that they left the park. But she did not leave Darcy's mind. He pondered over her all day, and he found that the heaviness that had been there when he woke was gone. Miss Lizzy had driven it all away.

Elizabeth and Jane returned home to Gracechurch Street with their cousins. Elizabeth was feeling dusty and grubby and definitely needed to clean up. As Beth regaled her mother with stories of her new friend, Miss Melody, Elizabeth thought back to that girl's father. He was a sober but immaculately dressed man of middle age. She thought she had perceived something sad about him. She did not know what it was, but he seemed downcast. Watching his daughter play had clearly cheered him, however. She thought that if he were only a decade or two younger, he would be very handsome, although he did have a sort of austere attractiveness to him. She quickly shook off thoughts of the father and daughter as Mrs. Gardiner announced that Mr. Cranfield was coming by in half an hour.

"You had better refresh yourselves, girls, before he arrives," she said.

Nicholas Cranfield was a handsome young man of seven and twenty whose family owned an estate in Staffordshire. He and Jane had become engaged just recently, and Elizabeth was very happy for her sister. Jane deserved only the best, and Mr. Cranfield clearly loved her as much as she loved him.

Jane and Elizabeth had lived with their widowed father, Mr. Thomas Bennet, all their lives. Mrs. Bennet had died giving birth to Elizabeth, and Mr. Bennet had never married again. Mrs. Bennet's portion of £5,000 had gone to Elizabeth, and her father had continued adding to it by economizing over the years, so that now her dowry was £10,000. Jane had the larger dowry, of course, being the heiress of Longbourn. Since Mr. Bennet had never had a son, the estate devolved to his oldest daughter. She was the target of fortune hunters, but fortunately, Mr. Cranfield did not need her estate, already having one of his own.

Fortunately, they had a wonderful aunt and uncle who lived in town. Since Mr. Bennet despised London, they were able to come to visit the Gardiners as often as their father allowed. Mr. Bennet had hired a governess for his daughters as well as masters to teach them, and Elizabeth had found special delight in drawing and painting. She itched to get back to her newest project, but sighed, resigning herself to an afternoon of visiting instead. Not that she did not like her future brother-in-law; she did. But he often brought other young men with him, who clearly had expressed an interest in his fiancée's sister. Elizabeth thought them all shallow and immature. Aunt Gardiner joked that she was picky, but Elizabeth saw no reason not to be. If she was to marry, it would only be for love. She sighed again and went down to meet Mr. Cranfield.