Did he speak? Did he flirt? Could you tell right away he was royalty? Is he sensitive, Clever, Well-mannered, Considerate, Passionate, Charming, As kind as he's handsome, As wise as he's rich, Is he everything you've ever wanted?

Did I abuse her Or show her disdain? Why does she run from me? If I should lose her, How shall I regain The heart she has won from me? Agony! Beyond power of speech, When the one thing you want Is the only thing out of your reach.

r. Darcy had been sitting at his desk since breakfast, working on the mountain of papers that his steward had placed there the day before. He was tired and stiff from sitting, so when he heard a familiar sound out in the corridor, a smile came unbidden to his face. As he expected, the sound, which one could only describe as a pitter-patter, was followed by the sound of a clumsy hand on the latch of his room. Darcy tried desperately not to look towards the door which had been opened just a crack, but one glance told him who was there. His smile brightened, as it always did.

In the crack of the door there was a thin sliver of a small face the color of fine linen, with an eye peering in which was as dark as the buttons on Darcy's coat, and with hair as golden as corn silk. Her name was Emily, or more properly, Miss Emily, and the fact that her face was the color of linen, her eyes of buttons, or her hair of corn silk should surprise no one, for Miss Emily was none other than a rag doll, made up of just those things by Mrs. Darcy for her daughter Anne. After Miss Emily had a good chance to see what was inside the room, she was supplanted by a four year old girl, made up of her mother's eyes and her father's smile. She peered inside and saw her father hunched over his desk. She could not see how hard he was working to stifle a laugh, to keep his face impassive, and keep his eyes on his papers.

A sudden sound down the hallway gave Miss Anne and Miss Emily a fright, and in a moment they were in the room with the door closed behind them.

That Anne was supposed to be up in her nursery with Miss Saunders, Darcy had no doubt whatsoever; that Miss Saunders did not give Miss Anne permission to go in search of her father, he also had no doubt; that he should send her back upstairs at once, he also knew to be true; that Mrs. Darcy would be cross with him for encouraging their daughter to do things she was not supposed to be doing, he also knew, but he knew too that Mrs. Darcy had been prophetic when she said, even before Anne Elizabeth Darcy had been born, that if the baby were a girl, he would be able to deny her nothing, and she would have her father wrapped around her little finger from the moment she was born. In fact he could not turn his little Annie away. He loved to have his daughter to himself, and he was tired of his work. Anne, and Miss Emily, would provide an excellent diversion--Mr. Darcy would weather all of Mrs. Darcy's ire, later.

He looked up from his papers and saw his daughter standing near the door looking at him. She had a sheepish look on her face, for she knew she should not be where she was, but she also knew that her father would let her stay. One look into the big brown eyes had decided it, Mr. Darcy could never say 'no' to those eyes.

"Are you supposed to be here?" he asked.

"No, Sir," she stated, with her eyes down-cast in assumed shame.

As he studied her, Darcy thought that he saw a slight, sly smile come to her lips. She was playing with him, like the young ladies at balls used to try to do, but where the young ladies who attended balls before his marriage never had much success, his Annie was winning the game. She was good.

"Does Miss Saunders know where you are?"

"No, Sir."

"Then why are you here, and not where you should be?"

"'Cause I wanted to draw!" she said, finally looking up at him again with an eager smile.

He wanted to laugh at that smile, but instead, he assumed the most serious expression and tone that he could manage, when he said, "Is there not paper and pencils in the nursery? Can you not draw with Miss Saunders? Certainly, you can."

"But your paper is so much better for drawing, and your pencils are easier to hold on to."

"My paper and my pencils are the very same that you have upstairs. Now go away, and get back to the nursery before your mother finds out you are missing."

Anne did not move an inch, but continued to look up at him with pleading eyes.

"Go," he repeated and then turned back to his papers. He knew it would not be long before he relented, and he knew that he did not want her to go. After a minute of distracted paper shuffling, he looked up at her again.

"What? Are you still here? I thought I told you to go back upstairs."

Anne still did not move an inch.

"Well?" he asked, "Are you going?"

Anne continued to stare up at him.

He could stand it no longer, though he knew he was giving in much too easily. He gave a laugh and said, "Well, then. I suppose I must find you a scrap of paper and see what kind of drawing you can do."

Anne let out a little peep of glee and raced over to her father and gave him a hug. He picked her up and placed her on his lap. He sat Miss Emily up on the desk. "Miss Emily will have a very good view of your talents from here," he said, as he kissed the dark curls on the top of Annie's head and returned her a hug. He took out a piece of paper and a stub of an old pencil that he kept in his desk just for his daughter's use.

She began to doodle, and to write out some of the letters that she was learning. Darcy saw her write "Miss Emily" on the page and draw a facsimile of her doll next to it. He returned to his papers, but kept one arm around his daughter and took the occasional look at her work. In this manner they passed half an hour together. Darcy was surprised that no one had yet come looking for Anne, but they probably had already learned where she was. After doodling over several pieces of extra paper that he had given her, Annie became tired of it. She began to beg for a story.

"A story? You want a story, do you?" the father said.

Annie nodded as she stood up on his leg--leaving a bruise behind, he was sure--to reach Miss Emily.

"Very well. A story it shall be."

Darcy pushed the three of them away from the desk and carried the two young girls over to the sofa. When they were seated and all snug together again--Anne in Darcy's arms and Miss Emily in Anne's--Darcy began to wonder what story he should tell. Annie tilted her head to one side and examined him as he though about it.

"I know just the story for you. Would you like to hear a story about an ogre?" he asked.

Anne shook her head. "No! Ogres are mean and nasty, I want a pretty story. With a princess!"

"Well, how about a pretty story about an ogre and a princess? Would you like that?"

"A pretty story with an ogre?"

"Yes, and I princess. I promise."

"Well, as long as it is a pretty story, you can tell it," she relented.

"Thank you. Now, let me see. Where to begin?"

"With 'Once upon a time...', Papa. Everyone knows stories begin with 'Once upon a time...'!"

"Do they? Well then.....

"Once upon a time there was a terrible ogre. He spent his days fighting and frightening, and growling and galling, and pounding and pummelling, and ranting and raving, and stomping and snorting. Everyone was afraid of him and ran away in terror whenever he approached. Some would plead with him, some would bribe him, some of the bravest would try to fight him, but all was in vain. And so it went, year after year after year after year after year."

"Papa, stop! You promised a pretty story. That is not a pretty story."

"But it is a pretty story, my little one. I promised you a pretty story, and I am a man who keeps my promises. May I continue?"

"If it gets pretty soon, yes."

"Thank you. Where was I? Oh, yes, I remember. He was a mean and nasty ogre and all the people were afraid of him.

"Now this ogre, as all ogres must! had a weak spot. It was a very very small weak spot, a very specific weak spot. Do you want to know what it was?"

Annie nodded, "Yes, Papa."

"There was in the world a beautiful princess,..."

"Hurrah! the princess!" Annie's face lit up.

"A beautiful princess, whose sparkling eyes and fiery spirit were like a key, which could unlock the ogre's armour and release the gentler, sweeter man who laid within--for hidden deep within all ogres there is a gentler and sweeter man..."

"Is that true, Papa?"

"Yes my dear, I believe it is. Though many ogres will remain ogres all of their lives, some can be changed into good people.

"Now, if our ogre were ever to meet this princess, he could never be ogre-like again; he would become that most hated of all things--to an ogre, at least--a gentleman! He would be thrown out of the Ogres' Guild, all the other ogres would snub him, all the ogresses would mourn the loss of such a fine example of ogrehood, and he would be cast out forever from all of the best, or should I say, the worst of ogre society."

"O-ger-er-esses?" questioned Annie.

"Yes, my dear. Female ogres are ogresses," he kissed the top of her head again and continued,

"Now, the ogre did not know of the princess's existence, and if he had known, he would have never have gone into the country in which she lived, for fear of meeting with her. Now ogres are not in general susceptible to fear, but because the ogre liked to fight and fright, and growl and gall, and pound and pummel, and rant and rave, and stomp and snort, he did not much like the idea that anything could bring an end to it.

"But since he did not know that the princess existed, and because he did not know the effect her sparkling eyes and fiery spirit would have on him, and because he did not know that she lived in Shireshire, he found himself one day in the very area in which she lived.

"And so it happened on the most rainiest of days, that the ogre and the princess met.

"Through the rain and the thunder and the lightening and the hail, the ogre first saw the princess's sparkling eyes, and they began to work their magic on him, but for the princess, there was no magic which could work on her. She saw before her only an ogre, who liked to fight and fright, and growl and gall, and pound and pummel, and rant and rave, and stomp and snort. She wanted nothing to do with him, and went away as fast as she could."

"She is gone? I wanted a story with a princess, but she is gone already," Annie complained.

"She shall be back again, my love. You must learn some of Miss Emily's patience. She is sitting here quietly listening to my story unfold."

"I am sorry, Papa. I shall not stop you again."

"Thank you.

"The princess had gone away from the ogre as fast as she could. At first, the ogre was still enough ogre-like that he was glad she was gone. He felt he was being altered somehow by her sparkling eyes, and he was afraid of where the alteration might lead! He felt certain that he would be better off without her around to affect him. Though her magic was still at work in him, he had only experienced her sparkling eyes, and had not yet felt the force of her fiery spirit, so his transformation could not be complete.

"He vowed never to return to Shireshire, and thus, he felt safe that he should never see her again.

"But, O! Fate has a way of being cruel to ogres!

"He was so worried that his ogrishness was fading, that he decided it would be best to go visit the Queen of the Ogres. Certainly, he thought, being near to one so vile and cruel would help him to remember how fun it is to be an ogre and how much he liked to do all the ogrish things. He asked his cousin to join him, for even when the ogre had been at the height of his ogrishness, he had not liked to be alone in Queen's presence. Though he admired her vileness and cruelty, he could never withstand the full force of it for very long.

"His cousin had been born an ogre, but his weak spot was not so small or so specific as our ogre's was, for his weak spot was a sunny day. If he ever encountered a sunny day, then all his ogrishness would disappear, and he would become a gentleman, and since he was born on a sunny day, he had been a gentleman all his life--or at least, when he was a boy, a future gentleman. The cousin was also the nephew of the Ogre Queen, and, as a gentleman, felt it his duty to pay a call on his Aunt every year. So he agreed to join the ogre on his visit to the Court.

"As I said, Fate has a way of being cruel to ogres, for in the employ of the Queen was a troll, whose job it was to agree with everything the Queen said and to provide her with a constant stream of compliments on her viciousness, and this troll was married to a very sensible woman--though how sensible could any woman be, who married a troll--and the sensible woman was a good friend of the princess.

"The ogre arrived at court, and to his great shock was told that the princess was there, visiting with her sensible friend and the troll. The ogre trembled, he actually trembled, when he heard this news!--and believe me, the sight of a trembling ogre is frightening, indeed.

"Upon seeing her again, the magic that the princess had placed within him had again resurfaced, and he found himself drawn more and more towards her. And that is how he first began to be exposed to the princess's fiery spirit.

"He was DOOMED!" Darcy said in a booming voice, as he looked down to see the smile on Annie's face.

"Doomed to become a gentleman, and to never again be an ogre. His ogre friends would snub him, the ogresses would mourn him, ogre society would be closed to him. It was a terrible day for all ogredom, to lose an ogre who was so good at doing ogrish things.

"But the process of such a change is usually a slow one; one can not go from being a vicious ogre, who likes to fight and fright, and growl and gall, and pound and pummel, and rant and rave, and stomp and snort, to being a perfect gentleman all in one day.

"Happen it must. There was no hope of escape for the ogre now--her sparkling eyes and her fiery spirit had done their work. And done it well. For not only was he becoming a gentleman and losing his ogrishness, he was also falling in love with the princess..."

"Hurrah! It is a pretty story," Annie was pleased to say.

"Yes, my dear, as I promised it would be. Now, where was I, again...

"The ogre was falling in love with the princess. It was impossible to stop. Nothing could be done. Each day made him more of a gentleman and less of an ogre, and made his love for the princess grow.

"But while this change was occurring, the princess could see nothing different about the ogre. What she had seen on that first most rainiest of days, was what she continued to see. He was an ogre when they first met, and she saw nothing which could convince her that he was not still every bit as much of an ogre now, as he ever was.

"Despite the change from ogre to man, Fate was still determined to be cruel to the ogre. He had fallen in love. So much in love, that he felt he could not live without the princess and he decided to ask her to marry him. The ogre was certain that she would say yes. No one ever had refused him anything before in his life--they had all been too afraid to do so, for no one wants to deal with a cross ogre. They are bad enough when they are in good spirits!

"Now there is not a respectable princess in all of the kingdoms who would willingly marry an ogre, and so she, very understandably, said no."

"No, Papa?"

"No, my dear...

"The ogre was stunned to be refused the one thing that he wanted more than any other. Some of the remaining ogrishness resurfaced in him, and he became furious with the princess. Once again he ranted and raved and growled and galled, but her fiery spirit was strong enough to withstand his rage, and he soon stomped away. The princess was happy to see him go.

"The ogre left the court the very next day and went home to his cave in the north. The princess again returned to Shireshire.

"Over the next few months, the last remaining bit of ogrishness faded away from the ogre. As a man, he became ashamed. Ashamed of all of the ogre-like things that he had done in his life, ashamed of the way people would run away from him, ashamed of the fear he had given to so many. But most of all, most painfully of all, he was ashamed at having become furious with the princess, and having ranted and raved and growled and galled and stomped away, when she refused him. As a man, he could also understand perfectly, why a beautiful princess with sparkling eyes and a fiery spirit would not wish to be the wife of an ogre.

"He was sad to have lost her. Very sad, indeed."

"That is not the end, is it, Papa? That would not be a pretty ending."

"No, there is more.

"One day, several months later, the princess was traveling in the north with her uncle, the Merchant King, and his wife, the Queen. The Queen had once lived in town very near to the ogre's cave, and she, naturally, wanted to see all her old haunts again. One such haunt was a field which bordered the ogre's home.

"And so it came to pass that on the most sunniest of days, the princess and the man who was the ogre, again set eyes on one another.

"In the middle of a field filled with wild flowers, with the music of happy songbirds, with the sunny buzzing of the bees, and with the warm and gentle whispers of the wind, they greeted each other.

"This time it was the man who worked his magic on the princess. The magic was not like the magic that had transformed him from an ogre into a man. This was the natural magic that sometimes occurs when a gentleman meets a lady, or when a lady meets a gentleman. This kind of magic is very special, and very rare, and must be cherished whenever it is found.

"His magic made her sparkling eyes see a man filled with kindness and generosity. His magic made her fiery spirit feel the new-found goodness of his heart. She could barely believe that the man she saw before her was the ogre that had ranted and raved and growled and galled and stomped away from her just a few months before. The man was so different, so gentle and so sweet, that she fell in love with him."

Annie gave up a cheer and clapped her hands.

"But Fate was still not satisfied, and was determined to again be cruel to the man."

"Papa! You can not take her away again."

"It is not I who will separate them, but Fate. Wait and see, my dear.

"This is what Fate made to happen: Back in the kingdom of the Merchant King there appeared a dragon, and a worse dragon there never had been! This dragon laid waste to everything he came across, demolishing and destroying all that stood against him, and even worse, for the man and the princess and her family, the dragon had stolen one of the princess's sisters. Now the princess was scared for her sister, and the Merchant King was determined to rush to fight the dragon and save his niece, but the man knew that the Merchant King did not have the strength to fight so strong a beast.

"So, without telling the princess, the man raced ahead of the Merchant King, and found the dragon. He summoned up every last bit of ogrishness he had in him, and began fighting and frightening, and growling and galling, and pounding and pummelling, and ranting and raving, and stomping and snorting. It took all of the viciousness and cruelty that he had left in him, but when he was finished, the dragon had been vanquished, and the sister was safe. And there was now not the slightest residue of ogrishness left in the man. If you did not know that he was once an ogre, you would never have guessed it.

"Shortly after the dragon had been defeated, the man returned to Shireshire and met again with the princess. Finally, after all that had happened, Fate was determined to be....." Darcy stretched out the word, and Annie looked up at him in expectation; she was prepared to be very cross with him, if there was going to be more trouble in the story, "...... kind to the man," he finished, and saw the relief in Annie's eyes.

"He asked the princess to marry him, and she, this time to his very great surprise, said yes. And they were married and lived happily together in the man's cave--which had been completely redecorated to make it more house-like and less cave-like.

"It was not long before the man and the princess were joined by a daughter. The man enjoyed very much telling stories to his daughter. He would tell her stories of rabbits and puppies and castles and princesses. One day he told her a story of an ogre, who fought and frightened, and growled and galled, and pounded and pummelled, and ranted and raved, and stomped and snorted, but who became a man, and married his princess, and had a beautiful daughter with sparkling eyes and a fiery spirit, and lived happily ever after."

Darcy looked down again at his daughter, who looked pleased by the story. "Did you like it, Annie?"

"Yes, Papa. It was a very pretty story."

"Good. I am glad you liked it, but now, I have let you stay with me much too long. It is time for you to return to the nursery, and me to return to my work."

"Papa, can I not stay a while longer?"

"No." This time he was firm. "Get along with you. Your Mamma will be angry enough at me as it is, for keeping you down here so long. Now go." He picked her up off the sofa and placed her back on the floor.

"Au revoir, Papa." Annie said, demonstrating her morning's lesson.

"Au revoir, Annie. Au revoir Miss Emily." Annie smiled and ran to the door and down the hallway.

When she was gone, another door into the room opened. This one led into Mrs. Darcy's office, and Darcy cringed at the familiar sound of the squeaky hinge. It was time to face his wife's anger.

Instead of an angry Elizabeth, Darcy was surprised to find his wife laughing at him. "Really, Mr. Darcy! Mr. Collins, my cousin, a troll?" she laughed again at the thought, "and I would never have described you as an ogre, my dear. But the Ogre Queen...maybe so."

"So my princess with the sparkling eyes and fiery spirit was listening at the keyhole?"

"The door was ajar, and I came looking for my errant daughter," she said accusingly. "When I heard you telling her a story, I stopped to listen, and it was so entertaining that I could not interrupt until I had heard the end of it."

He reached out his hand and pulled his wife closer, to sit beside him. He held her and gave her a gentle kiss, and she was lost again in the sweetness of his arms and kiss.

"You should not have let her stay," she said.

"I know."

"You are going to keep letting her get away with this, are you not?"

"Probably."

"Then I should give up hope that you will stop?"

"Probably."

"Even if I rant and rave and stomp and snort?"

"Even so," he said.

"I'm DOOMED!" Elizabeth cried with as booming a voice as she could manage.

They both burst out laughing.

The End