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“That is a noble cause,” Elizabeth had answered. “But what has brought your cousin to mind today? I do not recall you ever mentioning her before.”

“First, allow me to apologise for violating the confidence you placed in me when you recently told me about your sister Lydia. Soon after you had, I realised that Clara would likely be the one person in all of London who might chance upon her. Without asking your permission, I sent for my cousin and related your story to her.”

“I-I hold no ill will towards you for trying to be of help,” a surprised Elizabeth stuttered.

“In any case, my cousin immediately realised that a woman taken in only months before might be your Lydia.”

At the prospect of finding her sister, Elizabeth’s heart began to race. Apparently, she also turned pale, for Lady Cargile asked, “You are not going to faint, are you? Should I send for my vinaigrette?”

“No! I-I am well. Please continue.”

“Mind you, normally Clara does not speak of the women in her care. More often than not, they do not want their relations to know how far they have fallen. Such was the case with this young woman—Fanny, she calls herself. Clara suspects it is not her given name and is hopeful she is your sister, for only a relative may be inclined to take her on, given her present situation.”

“Her present situation? What does that mean?”

“This woman ended up at the charity after a horrible carriage accident on the road that runs alongside their building. The disaster left her horribly disfigured by a deep scar that begins on the left side of her forehead and runs diagonally across her nose to her jaw on the right. The accident also left her with a pronounced limp, the result of a broken bone in her right ankle.”

Unwittingly, Elizabeth had sucked in a deep breath during the description of Lydia’s injuries. “But-but at least she lives.”

“Yes, though Clara said that Fanny has become quite depressed since delivering her child.” At Elizabeth’s look of astonishment, Lady Cargile said, “You had no idea that she was pregnant?”

“No,” Elizabeth murmured.

“Clara suspected she was seven months along, if a day, and though the man travelling with her promised to return, he never did. The benevolent physician who kindly sees the women without recompense was uncertain at first if she would lose the babe, but, fortunately, she was delivered of a healthy little girl over a month ago.”

“A baby,” Elizabeth murmured wistfully under her breath.

“Yes, but Clara is faced with quite a dilemma now.” As Elizabeth’s brows rose in question, Lady Cargile continued. “Fanny wants Clara to find a home for the child. She insists that she will not bring her up as a fatherless waif.”

A Charity House

Learning her sister was alive had prompted Elizabeth to visit the charity the very next day. Moreover, she had been to see Lydia every day that she had off for the past weeks, and each time as she neared the building, she recalled her first encounter with Lydia there.

As she followed Lady Clara to Lydia’s room, the director commended Lydia’s efforts in their bakery. “Though she has not been baking long, she has proved an excellent student.”

Whilst barely listening to what the woman was saying, Elizabeth focused on whether her sister might bolt from the building upon being discovered. Suddenly, they had stopped in front of a nondescript door and the administrator reached for Elizabeth’s now-trembling hand and squeezed it. With a warm smile, she cautioned, “I have found that in these circumstances, it helps to listen far more than it does to speak.”

At Elizabeth’s nod, Lady Clara rapped on the door, turned the knob, and entered the room. “Fanny, you have a visitor.”

Lydia was sitting in a well-worn rocking chair, embroidering a handkerchief when she glanced up to see Elizabeth. Immediately, she scowled. “I might have known it was you. Of all our family, you would be the one not to give up until you knew the truth.” Turning so that the full extent of the scar on her face was visible, Lydia added, “Is this what you hoped to see? My punishment for being a fool.”

Wishing only to rush to Lydia and take her in her arms, Elizabeth was shocked not only by the extent of her sister’s ire, but also by the ugly scar that appeared to slice her face in half. Still, she struggled not to show any surprise or condemnation.

“George not only left me, but he left me so hideous that no man will ever look at me again. Being the sister who thought so well of redcoats, do you not think that hilarious?” Not waiting for Elizabeth to answer, Lydia continued angrily, “Do you intend to shame me by telling our parents my letter was all a lie, or have you done so already?”

Elizabeth hated to lie outright, but she knew she would have to tell Jane, and by extension, Lord Morgan, that she had discovered Lydia. She would need their help to concoct a plan to help their sister. “I-I am the only one who knows your circumstances,” she said quietly, “and, unless you grant me permission, I will tell no one.”

Lydia must have believed her, for she buried her face in her hands and began to weep. “Oh, Lizzy, you are kinder to me than I deserve. Instead of attacking you, I should have apologised. I cannot say how sorry I am that my stupidity ruined us all.”

“Jane is not ruined. Lord Morgan, the new tenant at Netherfield, fell in love with her, and in six months they were married. They have already had their first child; a girl they named Alice.”

“Thank God there is at least one honourable man left in England!”

Elizabeth was about to reply that Mr. Darcy was honourable, too, but she was prevented when Lydia said, “And what of you, Lizzy?”

Reaching out to take Elizabeth’s left hand, Lydia appeared confounded. “Why you are not wearing Mr. Darcy’s ring is beyond my comprehension. Wickham was certain that Mr. Darcy was in love with you. As you probably know by now, George is well acquainted with that gentleman, and he felt certain you would return from Kent engaged, if not married.”

“Actually, I was told that Mr. Darcy married his cousin not long after I left Hunsford.”