“Little Robin Redbreast,” said the child, stirring to sit upright.
Mother and child began to sing.
Little Robin Redbreast,
Sitting on a pole,
Niddle, noddle went his head,
And waggle went his tail.
The mother had a sweet, melodious voice. He smiled as the high-pitched voice of the little child rose up to join her mother’s. He tried to remember if his mother had ever sung with him. If she did, he must have been too young to recall it. He settled back into his seat and let the voices wash over him, lulling him into sleep.
He woke up when the carriage came to a halt. All at once, he jerked to his feet. Orders needed to be issued, fires had to be stoked, hot drinks needed to be prepared. A bath would have been welcome, to wash the water of the Serpentine from him, but it would take too long for water to be heated and brought up. He just wanted to peel off his clothes and change into something dry.
Stepping inside, he was met with anxious enquiries. He became all calm efficiency, now that he was at home and on familiar ground. Once he was certain that his orders were clear and that the staff would not question anything, he turned back to little Maggie.
“You had better go upstairs with Mrs. Durrell,” he said, bending down to smile at her. “She will look after you. She is very nice, even if she looks a bit bossy.”
Darcy stood up and turned to the young woman, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs looking around at the whirlof activity. She looked uneasy, as if it was all suddenly too much for her.
“You need not worry,” he said, reassuringly. “My staff will make sure you are warm and provide you with everything you need. They will know what to do for you and the child.”
He bowed. “And now I will take my leave.”
Even as he said the words, he felt a strange sense of regret. He wanted to find an excuse to linger, but he told himself firmly there was no point. It would not change the outcome.
This was a final farewell, and there was no way to change that.
Chapter 4
There was something uncompromising about the tone of Mr. Darcy’s voice that made Elizabeth’s stomach clench. Passing through the threshold of his very fine home did not help, either. A chasm had opened between them. Here, he was the master, and she was nothing more than a temporary guest.
“Thank you for everything,” she said, curtseying hastily as she recalled her manners. “Pray go up, Mr. Darcy,” she said, earnestly. “You need not worry about us. You must look after yourself.”
He nodded and moved inwards through a large antechamber, where he paused to issue more commands to the butler. He thenturned to his sister who was walking at his side. Miss Darcy, Elizabeth presumed.
“Georgiana, will you see to it that our guests have everything they need? In case I have forgotten something?” he said. “And have a note sent round to their address to inform her family they will be delayed, and not to worry.”
“Of course.”
He began his ascent up the elegant marble staircase, confident his orders would be followed.
Elizabeth had been so preoccupied with the rescue, she had not been paying much attention. Everything had indicated that the gentleman who had saved Maggie was very wealthy: the carriage, his attire, his manner of speech. It was only now that she realized this was no ordinary London townhouse. It was full of objects that had been collected over centuries, watched over by portraits of gentlemen going back to at least the Tudor times.
She had an inappropriate impulse to laugh. The man’s dignified withdrawal was ruined by boots that were sloshing in a heavy, leathery way as he climbed the stairs. Meanwhile, Maggie’s dress was making a puddle onto a marble floor so pristine and shiny that Elizabeth hardly dared walk on it. Her own clothes were leaving a trail of water as she moved. It was absurd to think of something like this when Maggie had almost drowned, but she had never felt more out of place.
Luckily, the housekeeper appeared at that moment, bustling with solicitous energy.
“Oh, you poor things!! What happened?” She bent down to Maggie’s eye level. “Did you take a dip in the lake? Swim with the ducks?”
“Not with the ducks,” said Maggie, with a little laugh, “with the eels.”
The housekeeper looked suitably horrified. “Oh, heavens! You must have been very brave.”
Maggie nodded solemnly.
“This is Mrs. Durrell,” said Miss Darcy. “She will be taking care of Miss Margaret. Meanwhile, if you will give me your address, and tell me who to write to, I will pen a note.”
