Page 50 of The Cheapside Runners
“I suppose that makes sense,” Mr Turner added while his wife just nodded.
They were interrupted by a young boy who had been watching the shop informing them that business was picking up.
The Turners thanked them for their generosity and even arranged for both men to meet the child and have luncheon after church on Sunday.
Back in the coach, they had a good laugh. They both were somewhat happy with the way things had gone. The colonelknew more than he had at the start of the day. Darcy did as well, but he also had a great deal of speculation.
He knew of two of his cousin’s other victims, but neither was anywhere close, so he thought it was time for a conversation with Mr Gardiner… or possibly even a trip to Hertfordshire, with or without Bingley, who was still dithering.
18.Next Line of Defence
“I will not ask your word as I did with your pledge of anonymity,” Mrs Black began pensively, “but I will strongly advise against sharing what you learn over the next two dayswith any manexcept your future husband.The morewomenyou share these secrets with the better, and you should of course instruct your daughters early—but it is usually best if the men in your life remain blissfully ignorant, even your guardians. Most of them would not understand, and it is not an argument worth having.”
The starkness of the warning left the ladies stunned. After their trip to the modiste, they mostly thought they were well on the way to being done with the more disagreeable parts of their training. Some even hoped they were not that far from the promised ball.
Such hopes died that morning when they awoke to find gowns so dowdy they longed for those from the first day, though they did at least get a hearty breakfast. Their gowns were labourer’s or servants’ clothing, and not from a very prosperous house at that. They were thick and scratchy to the point where it felt like they were dragging around a sack of flour (not that any of them had ever done such a thing).
The starkness of that warning brought them to understand they were likely to have an unpleasant day at best.
They were standing in a room the size of a ballroom, but it was far from elegant. They could not determine if it was part of a barn, a factory, a warehouse, or just a building so awkwardly situated that nobody could work out a good use for it.
Mrs Black seemed even more stern and unflinching than usual.
Mary was paying rapt attention, while watching her sisters and friends to see if anyone had worked out their instructor’sidentity yet. She seriously doubted it.
“I will echo Mrs Black’s suggestion,” said a man of about fifty, who stepped out of the shadows.
“Sir Walter, well met. Ladies, this is Sir Walter Gibson. He owns this building and would like to say a few words.”
She did not bother introducing the ladies. Since they were all anonymous it hardly seemed necessary.
He cleared his throat and spoke in a strong booming voice.
“Mrs Black has the right of it. We hope beyond measure that you never need to use what you learn here—but learn you must. My daughter was killed a few hundred yards away on a night that seemed like any other. She was young and pretty like all of you. She was polite, she learnt the rules of propriety, she practised them, but she was set upon by the vilest sort of man who wished to take that which was not given.”
The ladies were stunned. The story was not exactly unheard of, but none had ever met anyone who even claimed to know such a victim, let alone a father of one.
“Had she taken Mrs Black’s course, she would be alive and well today. I would be bouncing my grandchildren on my knee. Instead, I have a steady diet of regret. Listen, and listen well.”
Then he bowed to the ladies, then to Mrs Black, and departed.
“It is unlikely any of you individually will need what you learn here, but I can guarantee with absolute certainty that at least one of my students has already had to defend herself, and she will not be the last. If any of you are so unfortunate, you had best be prepared.”
Miss Amber could not quite resist asking, “Is that not unladylike and unchristian?”
“Let us take those one at a time,” Mrs Black said, then turned her attention to the group.
“Which is more ladylike—you, at this very moment, in thatdowdy excuse for a maid’s gown… a corpse, rotting in the ground… a girl of sixteen screaming in pain as she tries to deliver an unwanted child… or perhaps, a corpse who had recently tried to deliver an unwanted child but bled to death?”
They all stood stunned. Their upbringing had strongly encouraged them to pretend such things just did not happen in their neighbourhood. Perhaps inotherplaces, and tootherpeople, but not tothem!
“I can assure you that I have personally seen all of those and more; and they are not pretty. I can also assure you that every one of those girls did not think it would happen to them—that such misfortunes were forothers.”
Mary had her mouth hanging open, but she could see the point. She still thought that such things were unlikely in Meryton, but then again, if it did happen, the families would do their best to cover it up—not to mention that the town was infested with militia. Had Lizzy not said she had to intervene on Lydia’s behalf at the Netherfield ball? Would shealreadybe aware of such an example without her sister’s help?
“How about the latter?” she asked timidly.
“You mean unchristian, Miss Red? Do you honestly think your God made you just to be sport for a man?”
