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“No, not today. Perhaps you might have a ride at another time.”

“When might that be?”

“The next time I see you. How does that sound?” Darcy responded as he lowered the child to the ground and mounted his horse. He suffered the pain of his bruised shoulder even more having lifted the child. He was eager to return to Netherfield to have it examined and tended.

As Darcy rode away unhurriedly, Sir Lancelot shouted, “Have I your promise?”

Darcy turned about slowly. “Yes, young knight, you have my promise.”

Later that night, as was his habit, the young man beseeched, “Mama, tell me the story of the Lady of the Lake.”

“Ben, will you never tire of that story? What say you to another?”

“Then, perhaps you might tell me a tale of Camelot. You see, I met King Arthur today. He is my new best friend!”

“Ben, what have I told you about that imagination of yours?” she asked, playfully placing her finger atop the tip of his nose.

“But it is true. I did meet King Arthur! He is very kind.”

“If you say so,” said she, as she sat on the bed and cradled her young son in her loving embrace. “So you would like to hear another tale of Camelot.”

She began to weave an enchanting tale for her son’s pleasure, secure in the knowledge that in a matter of minutes, he would contentedly fall asleep. She considered he must have had quite a day. What an imagination! Sure enough, he was asleep within ten minutes’ time.

She brushed his dark unruly curls from his forehead and imparted a gentle kiss. She then picked up the candle from the table, and headed for her own room, just across the hall.

Pausing at the doorway, she turned to look back at her son. There is nothing on earth that I would not do for you, my little Sir Lancelot.