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D arcy slipped into the library vestibule, shaking snow from his coat and hat before proceeding inside. The musty smell of old books, ink and paper, along with the heavy quiet, was like slipping into another world far away from the noise and bustle of Meryton.

Georgiana had told him Maggie would be finished with this new “story hour” at eleven o’clock, and he needed to get Maggie back to her mother at the Woolworth’s lunch counter before meeting with his attorney at half-past twelve.

Impatient, he pulled his hand from his coat pocket and checked his watch. Where is the little imp anyway? It’s five minutes after.

He heard children’s voices and walked toward the sound, but what he saw made him stop short and forget his haste.

Sitting in a chair like a queen on a throne—in front of an adoring audience of about a half-dozen four and five-year-olds—was Elizabeth Bennet.

He folded his arms and leaned his shoulder against the books in the stack, a smile, unbidden, twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Holding up the picture book for the children to see, Elizabeth read The Tale of Peter Rabbit in lively character voices. She leaned forward, eyes vibrant, and asked them in hushed but exaggerated tones, “And what do you think happened then?”

The children shouted out various answers, and she laughed, gesturing for them to lower their voices. “Shhh! Mr. Sears will make us all leave if we’re too loud.”

She turned the page. “Let’s see what Peter did next…”

After she declared “the end” and closed the book, she dismissed the children, saying, “Would you all like to hear some more stories next week?”

A chorus of “Yes!” filled the room.

“All right, then. I will be here next Wednesday at ten o’clock, and I hope you’re here too.”

“Goodbye, Miss Lizzy!” Several voices called out as the children collected coats and hats. She helped some with buttons and mittens and sent them to their parents, most of whom were milling about the library.

Elizabeth stilled as if she had sensed his eyes on her.“Oh, did you come to get Maggie? She’s helping put the carpet mat back in the closet.”

“I didn’t know you were the story lady.”

Elizabeth blushed. “I volunteered. I enjoy it as much as the children do, and it isn’t really Mr. Sears’s kind of fun.”

“No, I would imagine not.”An image of the short, balding, middle-aged man who ran the Kent County Library made him smile. He considered a moment. “I’m taking Maggie to have lunch at the Woolworth’s counter with her mother. Would you care to join us?”

“Oh, yes!” Maggie’s voice rang out beside her.“Please come have lunch with me.”

Elizabeth looked surprised, but he saw her pause and consider her answer to not hurt the little girl’s feelings.

“Thank you for inviting me, but I need to get back to my uncle Ed’s so I can finish my work for today.

” Elizabeth looked up at Darcy. “He’s been good enough to let me be away from the office for story hour, but I really do need to be back within a reasonable time. ”

“Aww.” Maggie’s face showed her disappointment. Darcy gave her a stern look, and she pursed her lips together in an expression that Georgiana always said looked just like his.

“Of course, we understand. Don’t we, Maggie?”

“I will walk out with you though,” Elizabeth said to Maggie. “I have to pass Woolworth’s on the way.”

“Good!”This seemed to appease the little girl. “Will you hold my hand?”

“Of course.”

Darcy’s eyes followed Elizabeth as she picked up her coat. He stepped forward and held it for her as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. He held the door for them, and Elizabeth thanked him before setting off at a brisk pace through the snow, Maggie’s hand swinging in hers.

“Well, Miss Darcy, what should we read next week at story hour?”

“I don’t know.” Maggie was silent for a minute, considering.“Maybe we should read a cowboy story.”

“A cowboy story?”

“Yes, I think a cowboy story would be good.”

“So, you like cowboy stories?”

“Not particularly. But there was only one boy at the library today. Boys should come to story hour, too, ’cause boys need books just as much as girls.”

“I agree.”

“And boys like cowboy stories. So, if we have one, they might ask their mamas if they can come.”

Elizabeth nodded, amused, yet impressed with the little girl’s reasoning. “I see what you mean. We need to have stories for all kinds of children, so I will try to find a cowboy story for next week. But how will we let other boys in town know about it?”

“Hmm.” Maggie pursed her lips, all business. Then her eyes lit up, and she turned her shining face up to Elizabeth. “I know! I will tell the boys at Sunday School and…”

Elizabeth smiled at her, encouraging. “And?”

“And you tell the boys and mamas that come in the vet office.” Maggie smiled triumphantly.

“That sounds like a good plan to me.”

The little girl beamed with pride. “Thank you.” She laid her cheek against Elizabeth’s forearm and squeezed her hand.

They stopped outside the Woolworth’s, and Elizabeth turned to make her goodbye ’s.

Darcy addressed his niece in a gentle voice.“Run along inside, Maggie Moo. Your mama’s over at that table, see?” He pointed inside to where Georgiana was waving at them. “Tell her I’ll be right there—I’m going to escort Miss Bennet to her uncle’s office.”

“Yes, sir. Bye, Elizabeth!”

“Bye.” She turned to him.“Mr. Darcy, you do not need to escort me. I know the way.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.” He gestured forward with his arm—polite, but directive. They walked on in silence past the hardware store, then the drug store.

“Maggie is a very bright little girl.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“She can retell stories, and she’s asking what sounds the letters make.I think she’s ready to start learning to read.”

“Honestly?” Surprise showed in his voice.“You don’t think she’s too young?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “Some children are ready to read at four. Like I said, she’s very bright.”

He smiled to himself.

“What do you find so amusing, sir?” she asked in a saucy voice.

“Not amusing, exactly. Although, your Farmer MacGregor voice was quite entertaining.”He paused. “No, I just find your efforts at the library interesting…and commendable.”

“Reading stories to children? It’s hardly an onerous task.”

“It’s—well…I guess you found a way to be a teacher after all, didn’t you?”

Elizabeth halted and stood looking at him, surprised.“I suppose I did. I hadn’t considered that before.”

“Reading like that, in different voices—is that one of Dr. Montessori’s methods?”

“That? Oh no, not particularly. My father used to read to us like that when we were younger. I enjoyed it, so I figured these children would too.”

“Ah.”

“I’m surprised you remember that conversation we had about Montessori.Her work isn’t well-known, because some educators here in America have been critical of her methods.”

“I remember a great many things you’ve said, Miss Bennet.And, as I told you that day at Bingley’s, education is an interesting topic to me, because of my nieces.”

“I was under the impression that you believed Montessori’s ideas were ‘rubbish.’”

“I hope I am always willing to listen to new ideas. But I keep my own counsel as to whether the ideas are good ones.”

“You seem to have a great faith in your judgment.”

“I suppose I do.I believe I’ve lived a sufficient amount of time and seen enough of the world to earn that confidence.”

“So, you’re infallible?”

“Of course not. That would be impossible for anyone.”

“I see.”

“But I do make it a priority to weigh my decisions carefully. For example, I didn’t build Pemberley by following the latest fads in agriculture without thinking them through.”

“My understanding was that you didn’t build Pemberley. It was left to you, was it not?”

He looked at her, astounded at her blunt reply. Again, a reluctant smile tugged the corners of his mouth. “I could hardly argue with you about that, without sounding—”

“Arrogant?”

“I was going to say condescending.”

“Well, I suppose you are responsible for maintaining Pemberley, and that seems to be a big enough job,” Elizabeth conceded. “Which you do rather well, from all accounts.” She realized they were standing outside the vet office. “We are here.”

“Yes.” Darcy paused, as if to say something else, but then he touched his hat.“Have a good afternoon, Miss Bennet.” He turned up the lapels of his overcoat and hunched his shoulders against the cold wind as he trudged off down the street.