Page 16 of Ashes and Understanding
Meg shook her head. “Better?” She gave a hollow laugh. “Better don’t exist for the likes of us. Come on, Sam.”
The man grunted in approval and grabbed Meg’s arm again, steering her away. Elizabeth took a step forward, calling after her. “What about the baby?”
Meg paused, looking back with a tired expression. “Not mine, miss, remember? I’ve done my bit. He’s your problem now.”
And with that, she was gone, swallowed into the crowd with the man.
Elizabeth stood frozen, the baby cradled in her arms, its small whimpers breaking her stunned silence. Mrs. Gardiner came over, staring at the spot where the two strangers had disappeared. “What on earth happened, Lizzy?”
Shaking her head slowly, Elizabeth peered down at the motherless baby. “I have absolutely no idea. His mother abandoned him to Meg— the girl who followed us— when the fire started.” She paused, her voice cracking. “And then Deena—the mother—I think they are both…” her voice dropped to a whisper… “prostitutes.”
“Is she coming back?”
“I do not think so.” She blinked away a tear. “She went with… the man who owns her, I guess? She did not want to stay, and she told me to take the babe to a workhouse or something.”
Mrs. Gardiner’s face softened as she reached out to the bundle Elizabeth held. “We will see to him,” she said firmly. She pulled back the blanket covering his face and gasped. “Why, this little mite cannot be more than a few months old!”
“How are we going to feed him?” Elizabeth asked, heart sinking.
“We will figure something out,” Mrs. Gardiner said firmly. “We will not leave him to fend for himself. Half of babies born die as it is.”
Elizabeth glanced down at the infant, her heart aching as his tiny fist curled around her finger. “No,” she whispered. “We will not.”
Chapter 4
The sounds of muffled yelling jolted Darcy from his repose. What is going on?
He quickly sat up in bed and looked around the room, his mind scrambling to make sense of the noise. Another shout revealed the noise to be coming from outside.Some young fool probably racing horses again.
In truth, he had notreallybeen asleep. As was his habit, he had awoken some time earlier, his mind too accustomed to rising early in the country. His bed was too comfortable to wish to leave it, so he had burrowed deeper in the blankets, allowing himself a rare moment of stillness before the day.
Mornings were his sanctuary, a brief reprieve before the duties of the day pressed upon him. As he had lain somewhere between consciousness and dreamland, his mind wandered to the day ahead. Business meetings correspondence, dinner with Georgiana, perhaps even a quiet evening of reading—his tasksalways organized themselves each morning in his mind into a neat schedule that helped lift the burden on his shoulders.
Now, any semblance of peace was shattered.
An urgent knock came on his door from his changing room, followed by the familiar voice of his valet, Bates. “Mr. Darcy, sir! Are you awake?”
“Yes, come in.”
Darcy swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching his stiff muscles. Walking to the window that overlooked the garden on the south side of the house, he frowned at the peculiar color of the morning’s fog.
Bates entered, his usual composed demeanor replaced by an anxious expression. He carried a candle, which was unusual for this time of the morning in the middle of the summer. Darcy’s sharp eyes immediately caught the tension in his valet’s movements as he set the morning tray on the table.
“What is the matter?”
The man hesitated, clutching the edge of the tray. “Sir, I… there is a fire, at the docks. It started in the night and is spreading westward. The winds are carrying it…”
Darcy stiffened, his hand stilling as he reached for the glass of water. “How far?”
“It is not yet near Mayfair,” Bates assured him quickly, though his tone lacked conviction. “But the smoke, sir—it is… alarming. And people from that part of town are gathering in Hyde Park to escape.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened as he remembered the narrow passageways and other unsafe conditions of the docks when he had inspected them only months prior.
“I knew this would happen,” he muttered in a low, bitter voice.
Bates blinked, but before he could speak, Darcy waved him off. “Fetch my clothes. I will dress now.”
Bates hurried to comply, and within just a few minutes, Darcy was striding down the stairs to the foyer, Bates just a few steps behind him with the abandoned tray carrying toast and tea. A footman hurried to open the front door, and Darcy stepped outside.
