Charlotte agreed without hesitation, and threw Miss de Bourgh a glance: was this why she had been brought here? It seemed not; the gypsy woman called over her shoulder, and a slighter, shyer woman emerged from the mouth of one of the caravans. Her tale, while similar, was an even sadder one, and it took the coaxing of the older gypsy, along with Mrs Talbot’s comforting ministrations, to extract the entire sorrowful story, with no small amount of tears shed.

Her little girl, killed in a fall from a wagon, had lain in unconsecrated ground for seven years because Mr Collins’s predecessor had refused to accept that the child had been correctly baptised.

‘Ma’am, I baptised her myself, when I was first delivered.’ The woman hung her head. ‘I knew it might not be proper, but I wanted her little soul to be safe. And then when we were up Northumbria-way for the eel-picking, we had her christened again in the parish church. But we had no way of proving it. We didn’t ask for a paper. My man went all the way back there to see if the vicar might write a note or some such, but he had died, and the church was all shut up. Can you help us? We have no education, we can write no letters. We are properly heartscalded, ma’am.’

Charlotte was first horrified, then incensed, to hear of such unnecessarily protracted misery. She gave every assurance of assistance she could, taking careful note of all the particulars. The grateful women in turn pressed a new-woven rush-basket on her, and refused to take any coin for it. At last the thick, smoky tea was drunk, Mrs Talbot disappeared into a caravan with her patient, and the others took their leave. As they proceeded home, Charlotte felt her rage growing, mounting to fury at the pettiness of such cruelty.

She rarely gave her husband direct instructions, preferring to hint and persuade until he fell in line with her suggestions, but as soon as she gained her front door, she went in search of him, and did not mince her words: ‘Mr Collins, I require you to write at once to whoever is in charge of—diocese, the Bishop himself if need be. There is a child who lies outside the boundaries of our Christian graveyard, denied the dignity and sanctity of decent burial because at the time of her unfortunate passing, there was no proof that she had been baptised. That proof must exist, and I must insist that you find it. There is a family grieving because no proper prayers were ever said over the body of their baby. I should also like you to conduct a Christian ceremony over the grave at your earliest convenience.’