Richard flicked a glance at Darcy before answering. “Are the servants on trial tomorrow, too?”
“Yes.” The duke nodded at Darcy. “Your man Reed has been enormously useful to him. I understand he has spoken widely to the tenant farmers and to my servants, gathering evidence of what they said about Wickham and about each other. Most have been willing to lay the blame completely at the feet of the Darcy coachman and his deputy — which is where we thought the blame must be, anyway.”
He laughed. “I intend to take Reed from you, Darcy. He is wasted with your security, now Wickham is gone, and I can give him good employment.”
Darcy raised his eyebrows. “Mr. Reed will make his own decisions, but I will not agree to let him go without argument, Your Grace. He is employed as my personal steward, and I think it likely he will take on Pemberley for me, given it has lost many loyal staff in recent years.”
The duke looked rather put out, and Darcy determined to have a quiet word with Reed to see what his wishes were in the matter.
The door opened, and the butler entered. “The Earl of Matlock, and Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy turned round in shock. He knew Richard had thought his own father might appear, but Darcy had certainly not anticipated he’d bring his own father with him.
As soon as his father saw him, he hurried over to him. “Son! Why did you risk everything to follow them? I might have lost you again!”
Darcy suffered his grasp for a moment before standing back slightly. “Be composed, Father. Everything is finished, and you can see I am safe.”
Seeing his father was about to sit down with them, he put a stop to such rudeness. “Please come and greet Her Grace, who has been kindness itself; and also Georgiana and Miss Bennet, who’s been indispensable to your daughter.”
He allowed the hard edge to his voice, and sensed Richard’s sudden attention. But it didn’t matter if people thought Elizabeth was not of their station, he would ensure she was afforded every courtesy.
A few minutes later, he was reluctantly sitting in the library with all the gentlemen again, listening as the duke told the earl and his father what had happened. They had had no news since Darcy and Richard had left London, of course, having not waited for the post before embarking on their journey.
“Remarkable! Remarkable!” The earl pulled out his pipe, but thought better of lighting it, merely turning it around in his hands. Darcy was happy the duke didn’t rise to the unspoken request. “It seems Wickham will be unlikely to be free to make another attempt to gain the Darcy fortune.”
Darcy watched his father. The man the earl was talking about was his favourite, and the older man looked diminished and tired.
“I hope you’re well, Father,” he interrupted. “I’m sorry this must have come as a shock to you.”
The older man’s voice had a quaver to it. “It has, indeed. You were such good friends when you were younger; you must be discomposed, too.”
“I can’t remember it. It doesn’t upset me in that way. But I am angry he has betrayed your trust so terribly.”
“Well spoken!” the duke interrupted. “You have been fortunate to discover your son so well recovered, and gentlemanly, after what he has endured over the last years.”
The conversation moved on, and Darcy stared out of the window. He didn’t want everyone at the trial. Only he and Richard and the lawyer needed to be there — oh, and the duke was giving evidence too, of course. It seemed the others were merely going to attend to vicariously enjoy all the morbid details. Elizabeth’s embarrassment would be spread round the family — as her whereabouts had been — leading her into such danger.
“Excuse me,” he muttered. As he shut the door with rather more force than he intended, he knew he could not prevent them going.
He strode out into the gardens. Perhaps returning to the stream where he’d talked to her would calm him somewhat.
“What ails you, cousin?” Richard was soon alongside him, matching stride for stride.
“You don’t want to know,” Darcy grumbled. “There’s nothing I can do, I know it.”
“If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have followed you.” Richard slowed his pace very slightly, expecting Darcy to follow suit. Smiling grimly, Darcy didn’t, and Richard had to speed up again.
“Come on, tell me. Perhaps you and I together can change whatever it is that you can’t do alone.”
Darcy flicked him a glance. “I doubt it.”
“Why not give me a chance?” Richard heaved a sigh. “I know our friendship will never be what it was, and that’s as it should be, I suppose. But I would be sorry to feel you cannot trust me to be beside you.”
Darcy hesitated. “I do not trust either of our fathers not to spread the sordid details of Elizabeth’s embarrassment around the family. It will be harder for her to be Mrs. Darcy.”
Richard grimaced. “Have you made her an offer?”
Darcy shook his head, dispirited. “I think she never wants to see anything of this family again.”
“Except you.” Richard chanced a smile. Darcy didn’t return it.
“Now Wickham is out of the picture, you ought to marry Georgiana and take on Pemberley. I can go back to my old life with her, without all the ghoulish picking over her unsuitability.”
“I don’t want to marry Georgiana, remember?” Richard’s voice was less sure than before, and Darcy huffed a laugh.
“I think your feelings have changed. You ought to be honest with yourself.”
His cousin groaned. “She’s too young, Darcy. And my mother will gloat.”
“What does that matter? And we’re very close to Scotland.” Darcy was remorseless, suddenly seeing a chance of escape.
“Don’t be an idiot, Darcy. You need the security of Pemberley to be able to offer for Miss Bennet. And this whole affair will be forgotten with the next scandal.” Richard slowed down again, and this time Darcy allowed it, slowing too. “And don’t forget, Pemberley is many miles from London. You’d not get many visitors, and you and she would enjoy the privacy and the countryside.”
55
Darcy looked round the large, imposing room. It had been roughly converted to a courtroom for the quarter sessions, and the scattered mixture of herbs smelled almost as bad to him as the stench of the unwashed prisoners it was designed to cover up.
He stared straight ahead, sitting upright next to the lawyer, and surrounded by the other gentlemen who were going to give evidence. He was relieved his father had decided he did not wish to observe Wickham’s trial, and the earl had been reluctantly persuaded to remain with him at Blackwell Court.
The press of other plaintiffs and witnesses around him was oppressive, and when the shackled prisoners were all led in, he attempted to keep himself detached. For all he knew, some of them could be innocent, framed for an alleged crime by someone with a grudge, or even someone who’d been displeased by an error of service.
He’d seen it himself; a fellow stable-lad accused of stealing some oats for another’s horse. That lad had been dragged away and transported to the colonies. Darcy knew justice was sometimes not served.
He must not think too much about it. Without Wickham, Elizabeth and Georgiana would be safe, he must think of that, and nothing else.
Richard’s stolid presence beside him was comforting in its own way, and Darcy allowed himself a glance at the prisoners, feeling the venom of the stare Wickham had fastened on him. There must be thirty or more offenders, and Darcy sighed. It would be a long morning.
Mr. Soames leaned towards him. “I was fortunate enough to have a word with Lord Bramall, the presiding judge,” he murmured. “I think he intends to deal with the servants before Mr. Wickham. He believes it is likely to lead the jury to think that his crime is all the greater, that he cared not of the possible consequences to other men.” He smiled. “Several of the servants will give evidence against him, of the threats he intended against the ladies.”
Darcy nodded. It was nothing to
him, all he wanted was to be certain they were safe. It might have been easier to call him out back at the cottage, to have run him through in his anger. But now justice, such as it was, must be seen to be done.
He wished it finished. The Darcy servants’ cases came up fifth of the list, and he listened, keeping his face impassive as always. The duke was called to give evidence of what he had seen and heard at the cottage, and several of the defendants gave evidence against their more senior servants, alleging they’d been forced to obey.
They were unlucky. It seemed the jury, even if they weren’t of the gentry themselves, had decided disloyalty, especially when it meant physical danger to ladies, was not to go unpunished.
Darcy watched Wickham’s features darken with anger as the case progressed. He leaned over to Richard.
“I’m pleased my father is not here. It would distress him too much, I fear.”
“I’m rather discomposed myself,” Richard murmured back. “I’ll never assume the loyalty of staff again.”
Darcy smiled humourlessly. “I think they may have felt detachment from my father as his grip on the estate weakened. Perhaps they felt it was as well to be loyal to the man they could see taking the estate. In any event, loyalty needs to be earned, and not taken for granted.”
When Wickham was brought before the bench, he stood disdainfully and proudly, as if his gentlemanly demeanour might yet influence the jury to believe there had been some terrible mistake.
Darcy and Richard listened in surprise as he explained how important it was to ‘dear Miss Darcy’ for him to make sure she felt secure and happy with her future as heiress to Pemberley and know she would be safe with the man who’d been there for her since she was a baby.
Darcy’s fists balled as he listened to Wickham.
“I also need to tell you, my lord. This man who purports to be Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, is not. I would know, we grew up together as boys. He is an imposter, intent to steal the estate from a vulnerable young girl.”
Richard’s peal of laughter disturbed the whole room, and Lord Bramall banged his gavel.
“Silence in court!”
Richard jumped to his feet. “I apologise, my lord.” He sat down again quickly, and Mr. Soames leaned towards him, looking disturbed.
“I had not thought we might have to prove the identity of Mr. Darcy. What evidence do we have?”
Richard was still chuckling quietly. “I was there when Darcy first met his father, who was instantly certain of his identity. It was Darcy who was still not sure, and his father examined the scar that Darcy has borne on his hand since he was a child. I was there, sir. I heard him, and I saw it. My father was there, too.”
The duke broke in. “If you feel it is of importance, Mr. Soames, both the earl and Mr. Darcy senior are at Blackwell Court. I can have them sent for at once.”
The lawyer thought for a moment, looking at the jury carefully. “If it is possible, Your Grace, it might be useful. Lord Bramall is likely to direct the jury in our favour, but I see Mr. Wickham is able to charm them, and may yet persuade them that he has been grievously used and connived against.” He shook his head in apparent amazement.
The duke leaned back and beckoned his steward. Looking angry, he scribbled a hasty note and dispatched the man. As they continued to listen, the livid bruises on Wickham’s face were claimed as evidence that Darcy and Richard had arranged for their servants to abuse their childhood friend out of jealousy that Mr. Darcy senior had preferred him.
Darcy could feel Richard was almost apoplectic beside him, and it seemed to settle his own anger into more controlled rage. He welcomed it. He’d need to keep his wits about him when he was cross-examined by Wickham. That man would try and unsettle his equilibrium. He must remain calm.
He watched as their lawyer rose to his feet to cross-examine Wickham. He began by referring to the cases of the servants, which had been disposed of a few moments before.
He looked owlishly over the top of his spectacles. “Mr. Wickham, I remind you of the evidence given by Jonas Spires, and that of Stephen Pitt, and that of Peter Naylor, and several others I have listed here. They told the jury that you knew Miss Darcy did not wish to marry you, that you knew she was afraid of you.” He leaned forward. “And the respectable jury here believed them. Are you telling the jury they were wrong?” His raised his voice dramatically, disbelievingly, and Richard chuckled quietly.
“He’s good!”
Darcy set his jaw so he didn’t smile while Wickham struggled to regain the upper ground. After he’d faltered his way through a reply that he obviously hoped wouldn’t offend the jury members, Mr. Soames switched tactics with a suddenness that seemed to take him off guard.
“Now, let us turn to your allegation that Mr. Darcy is an imposter.” He smiled and looked at the jury. “I put it to you, Mr. Wickham, that you are the one driven by jealousy. Because you have been driven your entire life by the fact that Mr. Darcy was the heir to Pemberley, and you were merely the son of the late steward of Pemberley. Yet you attest to this jury that you know that the gentleman sitting here is most certainly not Mr. Darcy.”
His voice turned silken. “You are staking your reputation as an honest man on your assertion.” He got up and walked across the room to pick up a sheet of paper. He brandished it at Wickham as he returned to his place of cross examination.
Darcy grinned to himself. The paper was unconnected to this argument.
“So, Mr. Wickham. I will be calling Colonel Fitzwilliam to give evidence. I am sure you know the colonel. He grew up with you and Mr. Darcy as boys together. He will give evidence to the court of the time young Darcy injured his right hand, gaining a scar he would carry for a lifetime. Perhaps you remember the occasion yourself, Mr. Wickham?”
He smiled and looked at the paper. “The colonel will also give evidence of the day he accompanied Mr. Darcy to see his father for the first time after he had been told who he was. He will tell the court what he saw, that the elder Mr. Darcy immediately acknowledged Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy as his son, and when pressed for evidence, mentioned the scar at once, and examined it.” He paced the floor again. “The colonel’s father was also there. He is the Earl of Matlock, you will recall.” Mr. Soames turned to face the bench.
“My lord, Mr. Darcy senior and the Earl of Matlock are in the area. They did not wish to discompose Mr. Wickham by being here to witness his trial, but we have sent for them in the event that you wish them to be cross-examined about this incident.” He spun round to face Wickham.
“So, Mr. Wickham.” His voice dripped with irony on the word mister. “You are portraying yourself as an honest gentleman who has been sadly accused falsely of heinous crimes. Yet we have four highly-regarded gentlemen of high society, esteemed for their true gentlemanly behaviour.” He waved back at his witnesses.
“Their evidence will show you to be a liar. The Earl of Matlock will also give evidence you have amassed over nine thousand pounds in gambling and drinking debts, and he has evidence you have ruined at least three young women and cast them off to poverty and homelessness!” His voice was disgusted. “Yet you are trying to tell the jury they ought to believe everything you say?”
He turned to the judge. “My lord, I have submitted all the evidential statements from the witnesses. Is there any of them you wish to question?”
“My word!” Richard leaned over to Darcy. “I wouldn’t like to be on the wrong side of Soames. Would you?”
Darcy shook his head. “Certainly not!” He frowned. “I didn’t know he had spoken to your father about the debt — or about the ruin of the girls. I didn’t know about them.”
Richard shrugged. “David will have collected the evidence after you asked about it. Wickham won’t have been called to account if the girls could not afford to pursue the injustice.”
Darcy nodded. “I’d better find out what I can about them and see if funds can be found to assist them.”
Richard glanced at him. “You cannot take on the
problems of the whole world, Darcy.”
“I can try!” Darcy turned and stared at the courtroom. He’d had help from the good people of Bishopstoke. Without their help he’d be dead. He leaned back to Richard. “Are you glad strangers took me in when I was severely injured? I’d be dead if they hadn’t.”
“I’m sorry, Darcy. I didn’t think of it.” Richard shed his act of bonhomie, and Darcy was glad of it. He glanced at Wickham. While he didn’t know the man, and was determined to see the ladies safe from him, he still couldn’t glory in his diminished features and demeanour. Wickham seemed suddenly to have seen the shadow of the noose in front of him.
The duke leaned over to him. “You have a deep humanity, Darcy. It is absent in many of us who have had easy lives, and is to be admired, and nothing to be ashamed of.”
Soames’ line of questioning had been inspired, Darcy had to admit to himself. Wickham was not permitted to ask many questions of them, and the judge had punctuated many of his statements with a raised eyebrow, which had been enough to cause the jury to whisper amongst themselves.
He was relieved to take the coach back to Blackwell Court. He would not allow himself to think about having to return to witness the hanging until he had to.
56
Elizabeth looked up from her needlework as the door opened. It had been a long day, and she’d found it difficult to attend to the conversation among the ladies. And when a note had arrived, requesting the earl and the senior Mr. Darcy attend the hearing, her heart had raced away. Was there a problem? Would she be summoned next?
The duchess smiled. “Please don’t be anxious, Miss Bennet. I’m sure the gentlemen will do all in their power to prevent you having to attend.”
Georgiana had seemed near tears. “It’s all my fault, Elizabeth. I’m so sorry.”
Elizabeth had shifted closer. “It’s not your fault, Georgiana. No one thinks it except you.” She thought of something. “And if all this hadn’t happened, remember we’d still be sitting in London, wondering where the danger to you and your brother might lie.”
The Lost Heir Page 24
