Page 23

Darcy hesitated before saying any more; most would believe that he should not bring up this subject before his young sister. However, he had given the matter a great deal of thought. His cousin Anne had been kept naïve and ignorant—just as a proper young lady ought to be. Regrettably, a desire to shield might only serve to protect the wicked. He turned to face his sister.

“We are taught to judge others by their appearance, their charm, their address,” he said. “By driving to Sheffield in this grand ducal carriage, by overtly displaying such eminence as we possess and then visiting a young lady, we signal to the other residents that she has powerful friends, that shunning her, or trying to make an example of her, will anger those friends, and that they ought to be very careful of how they treat her. In my opinion, that is a fine use of influence.”

Georgiana nodded at him, seeming uncertain.

“Nevertheless, simply because we are dressed nicely, speak well, and display the trappings of refinement, it does not mean we are good people.”

“It does not mean we are bad people either,” Sarah Fitzwilliam put in. “Merely that we possess advantages.”

“Correct,” Darcy agreed. “There are men who will use their affluence, or charm, or both, in order to exert unjust dominion over others. There is a man in Sheffield by the name of Lord Rochford. He asserted his power over one of his servants and got her with child. It was very wrong of him for many reasons, beyond those marriage vows he carelessly broke. For instance, even if the servant consented to allow him into her bed, because they were so unequal, she had no real right to say ‘no’ to his lordship without a threat of losing her post. Could she truly, of her own free will, agree?”

“Perhaps we ought to discuss this at another time,” the colonel interrupted, with a meaningful look at Georgiana.

“I believe your cousin has specifically chosen this time and place and company for a reason,” Mrs Fitzwilliam told her husband, her usual easy expression now grave.

“I have.” Darcy took his slightly bewildered sister’s hand. “Lord Rochford’s wife was publicly humiliated by her husband’s choice to impregnate her servant. Unfortunately, some women in this position salve their bruised feelings by punishing the servant. I think we can assume that she was promptly turned out of her position, and has probably lived in desperate circumstances ever since.”

Georgiana stared at him, wide-eyed.

“A young lady for whom I care deeply, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, has hired the woman, the servant, thus abused. The servant’s child is also allowed to live with her. Because of this, several prominent women in the community will not befriend this young lady, not wishing to anger or further humiliate Lady Rochford.”

“Lord Rochford is the one who ought to be shunned, not your-your friend!” Georgiana blurted.

“Exactly,” Mrs Fitzwilliam agreed.

Darcy nodded. As unlikely as it might seem, he had been considering the possibility of some unknown scoundrel deceiving poor Anne, and of Anne, alone in seedy Shoe Lane, perchance unaware that she need not remain there until a stranger offered her a way out. “Men who would abuse their integrity are not limited to the Lord Rochfords of this world. A man might lack wealth but use his attractiveness, his ability to speak well and behave charmingly, with the worst intentions. Such a rogue might only want your fortune, and be willing to do and say anything to get it. Or, a man may be impoverished and without connexions, and yet possess more honour than a lord. You cannot judge solely by outward appearance.”

“But how is a girl to know?” Georgiana cried, the words seeming to burst from her. She turned bright red, and he squeezed her hand more tightly.

“Mrs Fitzwilliam,” he said, addressing his cousin’s wife, “how did you know that this fellow here in the pretty red coat was worthy of your hand?”

Fitzwilliam’s brows shot up as he looked towards his wife. “Please, dearest, do not weary them with your sentiments regarding my exceedingly handsome mug.”

She giggled as her husband took her hand in his own; Fitzwilliam was not a man of extraordinary beauty. “Georgiana, dear, if a man truly loves you, he will try to love your family as well—even if your father is the sort to be obsessed with the reproduction capabilities of dragonflies. He will listen more than he talks; he will be kind to his servants. He will respect his parents always, but allow no disrespect towards you from anyone—least of all himself. He will have friends who are also good and respectable, and he will be proud of you, and show others you are important to him. Nothing will be done in secret—villains love their secrets.”

Darcy nearly winced at her words—he had certainly failed in too many respects towards Elizabeth. He had not been worthy of her, and she had done right to refuse him. Still, in this moment, his focus was upon his sister. It was imperative that he be forthright.

“Georgiana, all of what Mrs Fitzwilliam says is true. Even so, none of us is without fault. You might make a mistake, in judgment or in deed. You might be fooled, at least temporarily, by a deceiver. What is absolutely essential is that you realise that every one of us in this carriage has made our own mistakes. We will understand if you do, too. You may turn to any of us, regardless of those errors, for help, for advice, for comfort, or for protection. The one thing that would hurt me the most would be if you felt you could not come to me, or to any of us, at any time, for any reason. Do you understand?”

She still appeared a bit bewildered; she was as innocent, really, as a girl could be, and oh, how he wanted her to remain that way! But she was growing older, growing up, and no one escaped unscathed.

“Yes, Brother,” she answered quietly. “I do know it, and I thank you.” She smiled her sweet smile.

Fitzwilliam reached over and awkwardly patted her knee.

“Perfect,” Mrs Fitzwilliam said, grinning at them all. “Now, let us show the good people of Sheffield just how impressive are Miss Bennet’s powerful friends.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

FAMILY MATTERS

It was Michael who alerted them to the unusual procession. He forgot the dignity that he had lately tried so hard to adopt, and nearly skidded into Elizabeth.

“Miss! Miss! Outside, only look!” the child cried.

Elizabeth and Mrs Philips both peered out the parlour window to see the source of his excitement. They certainly were not expecting anyone—they had had no callers all week.

A large, shining black carriage with gleaming brass rails, pulled by four huge, matched horses, complete with liveried footmen and outriders, was pulling into the drive. When it came to a stop, one of the footmen let down the steps, and four people emerged—one of whom was Mr Darcy! And Colonel Fitzwilliam, in his regimental undress uniform! Two elegantly dressed ladies were helped down as well.