—Pride and Prejudice(1995 screenplay)
The next day, Mr. Henshall came and found Sarah in the library-office. “I wonder if ye might help me with something?”
“Of course, if I am able.”
“I face a feat nigh on impossible. One that has defeated many a man before me.”
“Good heavens. As bad as that?”
“Aye.” Grim humor glimmered in his eyes. “For I risk fierce censure from a treasured female should I fail.”
A treasured female?Was he referring to her? Or to someone else?
Her mouth dried. She swallowed and managed, “Go on.”
“Will ye help me choose a gift for Effie?”
“Oh.” Disappointment flared, then quickly faded as he continued.
“Last year’s wool stockings and Fair Islekep—a knitted cap—earned me a week’s cold shoulder. She accused me of trying to dress her like a cod fisherman.”
“I see.” Sarah bit back a smile. “Practical choices to be sure.”
“I thought so. Though clearly not what a girl wants. So will ye help? I took her to a few shops here hoping she would takeinterest in something and give me a clue. But little seemed to please her.”
“I am not sure I shall succeed in pleasing her either, but I will certainly offer what assistance I can.”
“I’d appreciate it. When might ye have time?”
With their cook ailing, Sarah really shouldn’t go but found she could not resist. “How soon were you hoping to give her a gift?”
“New Year’s Day, or Twelfth Night, perhaps? What is customary here?”
“Varies by family. But we can surely find something before then. Shall we say this afternoon?”
“Perfect.”
Georgie returned to the charity school that day, and Colin Hutton tagged along, saying he was on his way to the eastern town anyway to do some errands.
On this visit, they did not see scrappy Cora among the children playing in the schoolyard, and Georgie wondered if she had stayed home with her ailing grandmother again.
When Mr. Ward stepped outside, Georgie asked him, “Where is Cora?”
He winced and pointed inside. They looked through the door and saw Cora huddled in a corner, sobbing. A few girls were gathered around her, trying to comfort her.
“What’s happened?” Colin asked.
“Her grandmother died,” Mr. Ward replied. “Her last living relative, as far as we know.”
“Oh no. What will become of her?”
“We shall meet with the governors to decide what is best to be done. We shall likely have to send her to the orphanage in Exeter. The vicar has offered to give her a place as a scullery maid, so that is an option as well.”
“Surely she is too young to enter service,” Colin said. “She is only, what, eight or nine?”
“What else would you suggest?”
“I ... well, there must be something. Orphanages are rather bleak prospects, are they not?”
