I have written now three times to Darcy and each time he sends the same reply: that I must not expect anything further from him, that he has helped me all he intends to help me, and that I must now face up to the consequences of my actions and mend my ways before it is too late.
To hear him preaching to me made my blood boil. I was about to write to him again, angrily, for what did I have to lose, when something happened which distracted me. There was, visiting the prison, a woman who had come to bail out her sister. She cast an approving eye over me and I smiled in return. She spoke to me, I bowed to her, and the upshot is that she paid my bills and I am now living with her in her house.
‘Why should I not have a pretty face to look at?’ she asked, as she introduced me comfortably to her friends. ‘I was a good wife to my dear David, God bless him, and now that he’s gone I want a bit of fun.’
It is a strange turn of events, and not one I wish to last, but for now, she is undemanding, generous, and appreciative, and it will do.