“I have a much better idea, Betsey. Will you go out to the landing and hold the top of the sack very tightly, if Tabby tries to get out.”

“She won’ wan’ to get out ‘cause she loves her kit’ns.”

Kneeling by the child in the stairwell, Georgiana took her little hands again and looked into her tear-streaked face and the swollen eyes, now even more distorted with anticipation of her father’s wrath at being awakened. “You are to stay here, Betsey, and do not make any sound, do you promise? We must all be very quiet, and I will return before you say to yourself, ‘Tabby has three kittens’ twenty times. Can you count to twenty?”

Betsey looked down at the ground, shook her matted curls, and whispered, “No ma’am,” and in an instant was cowering down next to the sack, covering her head with her arms!

Georgiana’s indignation at the child’s terrified response gave her whatever small dose of resolution might have been wanting before that moment, and, softly replacing the feather-like arms down by her sides, Georgiana said quietly, “That is much the better. We will just say, ‘Tabby has three kittens’ until I return; will you do that? Remember, Betsey, you must be very quiet and stay right here, no matter what you hear. When I return, we will take Tabby and her family, and go to my house. Do you understand?”

Betsey nodded almost imperceptibly, but seemed to sense that Georgiana meant no harm to her or the cats. If Betsey was not a mindful child, left the kittens, and appeared in the room with her father, Georgiana had no idea of what cruelty the man would be capable, and could bear no such conjectures. She turned to Betsey a last time and said, “You must be very quiet and stay right here with the kittens and Tabby. Will you do as I ask?”

Seeing a more hopeful affirmative, Georgiana took a deep breath, stood up very straight, and walked into the squalid, cramped, and windowless garret; the only light came through the cracks along the ceiling and between the tiles of the roof. Georgiana had many times visited the tenants of Pemberley, but their tiny cottages seemed palaces of order and cleanliness, compared with the room in which she was now standing. The odour inside made it nearly impossible for her to draw breath, but when Georgiana recollected what depravity, privation, and violence comprised Betsey’s hours, those images had the immediate effect of bringing her own resolution more sharply before her.