Page 66 of Yearning

“I am not a fish!” Lily let out a peal of laughter.

“Get out of there this instant!” cried the woman, who was obviously Lily’s nanny.

“She has not been bothering me,” said Mr. Darcy.

“No, indeed. He is very interesting,” said Lily. “He has a wooden leg, did you know that?”

“Oh, heavens, Lily, you cannot go about commenting on people’s wooden limbs!” cried the nanny.

“It is all right,” said Mr. Darcy. “Truly.”

Lily was making her way across the room. “I am sorry for intruding. I do not know your name, I’m afraid. I am Lily.”

“Yes, I know,” said Mr. Darcy. “I met you once, very long ago. You would not remember.”

“Was I a baby?” said Lily.

“You were,” said Mr. Darcy. “And I am Mr. Darcy.”

“Oh,” said Lily. “So, you are Mr. Darcy.”

“You have heard of me?”

“Sometimes,” said Lily, and now she was narrowing her eyes and looking him over.

“When?” said Mr. Darcy.

“Get out here,” said the nanny, frustrated.

“My papa,” said Lily. “He would say things sometimes. Very gruff-like, ‘I suppose Mr. Darcy would never have displeased you in that way.’ Things of that nature. I rather do not think he liked you, and this is a bit troublesome for me, because I like you, and I do miss my papa, and he was right about absolutely everything.”

“Lily,” said the nanny.

“It could be that you are the first thing he was wrong about,” said Lily.

Mr. Darcy was too stunned to know what to say to that.

“I am ever, ever so sorry,” said the nanny, and tugged Lily out of the room and slammed the door.

Mr. Darcy drew in a breath. Well, then.

ELIZABETH WENT TO say goodnight to Lily before dinner that evening. If she had been serving dinner as late as dinner was often served in town, Lily might have been in bed already, but she was having dinner at a sensible country hour, around six o’clock, so Lily was eating in her nursery and would be up for a few more hours yet before retiring.

“Do not be angry with me,” Lily piped up in her little-girl voice, “and also do not be angry at Nanny, for it was truly my fault, but I have met Mr. Darcy and seen his wooden leg.”

“You have.” Elizabeth sat down in a small chair in the nursery next to her daughter, who was eating chicken and bread on a plate. Often this was all her daughter would eat. Sometimes potatoes and sometimes carrots, but otherwise, the girl subsided on chicken and bread, no matter what anyone did to try to make her expand her dietary preferences. “Well, I would have liked that to wait, I think.”

“Is he going to be here for long?” said Lily.

“I do not know, but I suppose I do hope so,” said Elizabeth. “We may see rather a lot of him. I should like the two of you to get along, I must say.”

“I do not think Papa would have gotten along with him,” said Lily.

“Oh, dear,” said Elizabeth, shaking her head. She had often scolded the baron for his lack of control in front of their daughter. The man would say all manner of things, and he would say that the little girl did not understand, but Elizabeth well knew that little ears were always listening.

Lily drew in a deep breath and she set down her fork. “I have a very serious question for you, and I should like you to answer me honestly, even if you think it will pain me. I think I must know.”

“What, Lily?” said Elizabeth.