this earlier part of the day, Rotten Row was far from empty. Several equally fine carriages were making their way west along the avenue, mixing in with the dozens of pedestrians and equestrians roaming up and down the graveled track. The clamor of hooves, wheels, and raised voices was intense, even with the relative sparsity in noontime visitors. Lizzy and Georgiana began waving at people they knew, Darcy nodding sedately as well, but the driver did not halt. Under orders from Mr. Darcy to proceed west until signaled to stop, he urged the horses at a stately pace.
They traveled roughly a mile, slowing for occasional brief conversations with known acquaintances either mounted on magnificent steeds or reclining in opulent carriages. Finally, when nearing a grouping of tall cedars and a bubbling fountain near a diverging footpath, Darcy addressed the driver and instructed him to halt. It was here that the occupants disembarked for their exercise.
The Darcy House footman jumped down to open the calash doors and then turned to assist Mrs. Hanford from her perch next to the driver. The perambulator was untied from the rear footboard and a protesting Michael secured inside the cushioned bed with a wide, leather strap spanning the opening. Darcy had been forced to emergently fashion a restraint for the small baby carriage two days before they departed Pemberley, after Michael exploded in a fit of temper while strolling with his parents and brother through the private garden. He had dropped his favorite toy, a ring of metal keys that clanged so beautifully when shook, arching his back and kicking his legs so violently that it was only Darcy’s swift reflexes that saved the contorting infant from tumbling to the pebbled pathway. It was an incident that had never remotely occurred with Alexander, taking both parents utterly by surprise. The agitated father had marched into the stable yard and enlisted the aid of the mechanical wizard Stan in the project. So far the shackle was working fairly well to keep Michael in place, but Darcy remained vigilant.
“Calm down, you rascal!” Darcy knelt by the pram, tucking the folded blankets and padding around his irate son, propping him safely so he could see over the edge without escaping. “Here are your keys and your rattles. Elizabeth, do we have one of those biscuits he loves? Excellent. Here you are, sweet. Yum. There, much better, yes? Now can we take our walk? So many pretty flowers and people to capture your attention. Let us pray, that is.” He leaned to kiss the soft forehead, wiping the tears off the ruddy cheeks. Michael gnawed on the hard cookie and reached one hand toward the beloved face of his father. Darcy snatched the chubby fingers between his lips, nibbling until Michael erupted in bubbling giggles.
“And what, pray tell, will you do when he begins to walk? Put him on a leash?”
Darcy glanced upward into the grinning face of his cousin Richard, a smiling Lady Simone on his arm. “I certainly hope such a drastic step will not be necessary, but with this one I may have no option.” He smiled at his son, bestowing another kiss before rising. “Glad you could join us, Cousin. Lady Simone.” He bowed. “A delight to see you. You are well, I trust?”
“Quite well, Mr. Darcy. Thank you. Elizabeth, you look especially radiant. I was so worried for you.”
“Thank you, Simone. I am fully restored, partially due to your husband’s efforts. I have not had the opportunity to thank you properly, dearest Richard.” Lizzy reached to take his hands, squeezing firmly.
“Please, Elizabeth, you shall embarrass me!” Darcy coughed at that ridiculous statement, the colonel ignoring him. “I was delighted to be of service. Besides, your husband needed me to watch his back. Pathetically inept without me to take care of him.”
She shook her head, face serious. “I shall not allow you to jest or make light. I know what you did for us, and I can never adequately express my appreciation. If not for you, your associates, and your intervention, we may not be here. And William could have been…”
She choked on the words, lowering her head to compose her emotions. Darcy touched her lightly on the small of her back, a tender caress as he spoke into the unsettling moment. “Mr. and Mrs. Bingley approach, dearest. Alexander, run and greet your cousin Ethan.”
Lizzy smiled, her emotions again in check as she scanned the group of people milling about the lawn. She looked up at her serene spouse. “I see you have indeed invited everyone we know to join our excursion to Hyde Park.”
“I may have mentioned it to one or two people. How they chose to spend their time is outside my purview.”
Lizzy laughed at his bland statement and squeezed his arm once before joining Simone to accost her sister. The women welcomed each other, voices musical as they ambled the trail leading toward the river’s edge where the blankets were spread. Lizzy’s joy in the out-of-doors was evident to her husband, who turned a carefree face toward Bingley as he neared.
“Elizabeth appears her usual lively self,” Bingley noted, inclining his head to George and Richard in greeting, “and the weather today is perfection for a picnic. Grand idea, Darcy. We have the tents erected and enough food to feed half of London.”
“That is unlikely once I eat my fill.”
“We considered your attendance, Dr. Darcy, and have provided accordingly,” Bingley countered with a wink to his friend.
The four gentlemen assumed a knot trailing leisurely behind the ladies with the children and nannies in between. They exchanged pleasantries for several minutes until Darcy touched Richard’s sleeve, pausing in his steps.
“What is the verdict from Newgate?” he asked, eyes intent upon his skipping son.
“Guilty, all of them, on numerous charges. As pathetic as they were as guards, each one of them possessed histories of crimes that continued to grow with further investigation. In the end, my brilliantly fabricated story was irrelevant. Rather disappointing in a way, but I am glad to see it done. Frankly, I am weary of remembering the night, as exciting as it was in some respects.”
Darcy frowned, but George chuckled. “Rethinking your decision to retire, Colonel?”
Richard shook his head. “Not in the least. Domesticity fits me, I have discovered to my surprise.” George snorted humorously, Richard continuing with a laugh, “I have happily foregone tramping through blood and mud, as have you the jungles and deserts, all for the sake of a fine meal and warm bed. We are not so dissimilar, Dr. Darcy.”
“True, true.” George mourned.
“Surely there are no legal consequences, is there, Darcy?”
“No, Bingley. Mere formalities to appease the authorities. They only spoke with me once, and Colonel Fitzwilliam twice. Orman remains silent and his helpers are grossly ignorant and untrustworthy, so nothing damning there.”
“What did you find when you went to Bethlam, Dr. Darcy?”
George shook his head, his expression unusually serious when he answered Bingley’s question. “Horrid place. Diseases of the mind have never held much interest for me, I am afraid, so I cannot judge with confidence. But his caretakers and the doctors say he is beyond being cured.”
“Based on what the newspapers have written, I was under the impression that the new building in Southwark is impressive and modern. Is this untrue?”
“Oh, it is a fine building, Mr. Bingley. Well constructed, spacious, on a lovely plot of land, and with a fresh water supply. It is the attempts at psychology and healing of mental illnesses that leave much to be desired. Not that I have any enlightened ideologies, but what takes place at the aptly named Bedlam is frequently inhumane, although they do try.”
“I have difficulty mustering any remorse for what Orman may be suffering.” Darcy’s voice was strained, his eyes hard as he stared straight ahead toward his wife and son.
“I comprehend your sentiment, William. We all do, naturally. But I think even you would be softened by what takes place there.”
Darcy did not respond to his uncle’s assertion, feeling not a twinge of compassion for the insane Marquis.
George continued, “Be that as it may, Orman has earned a private cell and is receiving better than normal care. His wealth affords that, at least for now.”
“His wealth is not as vast as one might expect. Mr. Daniels did further probing and, in addition to what the inspector told me today, I believe Lord Orman’s fortune has been largely squandered. For years I have heard the rumors of his decadent lifestyle and mismanagement of his estates. I witnessed it myself. It is just one of a dozen reasons why I loathed him long before he attacked my wife.” Darcy’s normally warm baritone was cold, the
