Darcy's Trial

by M. A. Sandiford

  Miss Kaye faced him nervously, and Elizabeth was momentarily shocked to see so little rapport between brother and sister. ‘Arthur, this is Miss Bennet.’

  He bowed, casually as if it were a game, observing her closely and with ill-concealed admiration. ‘Miss Bennet. How pleasant to have your company.’

  Quickly releasing herself from his gaze, Elizabeth thanked Lord Harbury again, said farewell to Miss Kaye, and returned to the Beaumonts’ box for the final act.

  To avoid the crowds they stayed behind for ten minutes at the end of the performance, giving Elizabeth a chance to talk with Mr Beaumont, and so make amends for her earlier absence. By the time they passed through the foyer there was no sign of the Harburys, but to her alarm Elizabeth noticed a familiar figure gliding not ten yards in front of her, wearing an elegant gown and feathered hat. Miss Bingley! And by her side, Mr and Mrs Hurst! Luckily they did not turn her way, and Elizabeth with an apology to Bridget detoured away from the exit, declaring herself eager to take another look at the auditorium from the stalls.

  In the carriage, the Beaumonts were too tired, and Elizabeth too emotionally exhausted, to make much conversation. On arriving at Gracechurch Street the Beaumonts declined to come in, with Mr and Mrs Gardiner probably already abed, but Bridget jumped down to give Elizabeth a final hug accompanied by a whispered exhortation to exercise prudence.

  Chapter 13

  Next morning Elizabeth overslept, and by the time she came down Mr Gardiner had left. Her aunt kept her company, and as a keen lover of theatre plied her with questions about the performance, to which Elizabeth gave detailed answers, while taking care not to mention the Kayes.

  At length Mrs Gardiner rose, as if satisfied that there was nothing further to learn, and declared that she was needed in the nursery. But before leaving, she took the newspaper, and with a sigh pointed out a passage that her husband had marked.

  ‘You had better read this, Lizzy. I’m sorry if it causes you distress.’

  Grateful to be left alone, Elizabeth studied the passage, which ran as follows:

  Trial date set

  The trial of Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, accused of killing Sir Osborne Kaye in a duel, is scheduled to start in two weeks at the Old Bailey.

  As reported earlier, the duel was fought over an insult for which Mr Darcy refused to apologise. The nature of this insult has not been confirmed, but it is believed that Mr Darcy unwittingly intruded on a private personal situation, from which he refused to withdraw. The prosecution has been brought by the new baronet of Wistham, Sir Arthur Kaye. It is understood that although an earlier date was favoured by the Kaye family, who wished to bring the matter to a conclusion as soon as possible, they agreed to postpone the trial so that Mr Darcy would have time to recover fully from the injuries that he sustained during the duel.

  Two weeks! The imminence of the trial gave Elizabeth a lurching feeling in the stomach, and she feared she might be physically sick. She took a few slow deep breaths. The tone of the report infuriated her, in its casual bias—as if the Kaye family had displayed lenience over the matter of the date, whereas in reality Darcy was far from well. She imagined how Darcy might react, sacrificing his own welfare in the hope of achieving the earliest possible resolution for the sake of his sister.

  In despair, she cast around for ways in which she might affect the outcome. In her brief foray into the enemy camp she had learned two or three things that might prove of relevance. First, that Helena Kaye seemed a conscientious and gentle girl, unlikely to harbour feelings of vengeance. Unfortunately, there was no reason to believe she would have any influence on her brother, who had struck Elizabeth as vain and immature. No, the most promising line of approach might be through Lord Harbury, the only person to whom Arthur had demonstrated respect. Elizabeth recalled Lord Harbury’s advice: ‘Your decision. But take care.’ If these words referred to the prosecution, why exactly was he advocating caution? Was he afraid that Darcy, in his defence, might present information that would be damaging to the Kayes—and by extension to the Harburys? And if such information existed, had Darcy or his legal representatives uncovered it? If only he would take her into his confidence!

  Unfortunately, Elizabeth could think of no way in which a meeting with Darcy could be arranged. The Gardiners would never agree to it. Darcy too had made his position quite clear. She could try sending a message on her own initiative, or turning up unannounced at Darcy House, but this would mean breaking her promise to her uncle, who would never trust her again. In truth, she had already broken this promise, in spirit at least, by her impulsive decision to befriend Helena Kaye at the theatre. Still, if she could discover something relevant—say a weakness that Darcy could exploit in his favour—then as a last resort she could reveal the whole matter to Mr Gardiner and leave the rest to him.

  Miss Kaye’s card gave an address in Tudor Street, conveniently near the Strand, where the Royal Academy of Arts was located directly on the river in New Somerset House. This coincidence suggested a ruse: Elizabeth set off with the declared purpose of viewing the exhibition of landscape artists at the Academy—and the concealed purpose of calling on Helena Kaye afterwards.

  Tudor Street was a narrow but busy thoroughfare running parallel to the river on one side, and Fleet Street on the other. Making her way to the address, Elizabeth was grateful for the bustle, which made her feel less conspicuous, but her heart was still racing—partly because she was again deceiving her uncle and aunt, but mostly through fear that she might once more encounter the predatory gaze of Sir Arthur Kaye.

  After a deep breath she rang, praying that he would be out, and gave her card to the servant with a request to see Miss Kaye, if she was in. Seconds ticked by as she waited in the hall, until the servant returned accompanied by the familiar thin figure in black—mercifully alone.

  ‘I hope this is not inconvenient,’ Elizabeth said, struggling to keep her composure. ‘I was in the area and thought I might take the opportunity to call.’

  ‘No … I mean, this is a good time. I have no other engagement,’ Miss Kaye responded, in evident nervous excitement. ‘Shall we go to the parlour?’

  Following her down the corridor, Elizabeth asked, ‘I hope we will not disturb your brother, if he is at home.’

  ‘Arthur is at his club. He usually lunches there and does not return until evening, or even later.’

  Elizabeth felt her whole body relax. ‘Are you left here on your own?’

  ‘Usually I am accompanied by my maid, Agnes, but this is her morning off.’ They reached the parlour, which was an elegant room but dated in style, and Miss Kaye offered her a comfortable but well-worn armchair.

  ‘May I … may I offer some refreshment Miss Bennet? Tea? Coffee?’

  ‘Coffee would be most welcome.’ Elizabeth smiled encouragingly. ‘And please feel free to call me Elizabeth.’

  ‘Of course. How silly of me. Then call me, ah, Helena, if you would like to.’

  With coffee and cakes ordered, they sat in silence for a few seconds before Elizabeth said, ‘This must be a difficult time for you.’

  ‘Difficult?’ Helena Kaye looked puzzled, then guessed Elizabeth’s meaning and coloured. ‘Oh I see. Yes, I cannot really believe it. I wake up every morning expecting to find my father at the breakfast table, and everything as normal.’

  ‘Do you have many visitors? Cousins perhaps? Aunts and uncles?’

  Helena pondered this for a while, then shook her head. ‘Not often. I fear I am uninteresting to my uncle and aunt. Even when my father was alive, I was often alone in the house with my maid, or earlier my governess, as companion. Like Arthur, my father liked his club.’

  ‘You get on well with Agnes?’

  ‘Well enough, though she is quite new.’ Helena hesitated, before blurting out: ‘I hope I can keep her.’

  Refreshments arrived, and Elizabeth welcomed the opportunity to divert the conversation to practical questions like how many sugars, and which colour of cake, before asking,
‘Why should Agnes leave? This must be a pleasant position for her.’

  ‘No doubt I am fretting about nothing, as usual.’

  ‘Perhaps you have been unlucky in the past.’ Elizabeth devised a white lie. ‘I remember a year when I lost several maids, which I found upsetting.’

  Helena immediately nodded, as if gratified that Elizabeth should have had the same experience. ‘Perhaps now Agnes will stay.’ She looked away for a moment, then continued: ‘I hope she will be happy at Wistham, for we will be returning to Leicestershire at the end of the month.’

  ‘Do you like it there?’

  ‘I like the village life, and the walking and riding.’ For a moment her face lit up, like the flicker of a dying fire. ‘Not that I am an accomplished horsewoman.’

  ‘Will your brother accompany you to Wistham?’

  ‘Only for a few days; after that he has business back here in London.’ She looked up to observe Elizabeth’s reaction, and reddened. ‘You’ve probably read about it in the newspaper. A man shot my father in a duel, and is to be tried. Arthur and my uncle think it best that I should stay away from town until the story has died down.’

  ‘Perhaps they are right. The whole affair must be most upsetting for you.’

  ‘I wish …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Oh, nothing.’ She hesitated, then continued suddenly: ‘I wish they could let it drop.’

  Elizabeth gently prompted, ‘I read that your brother has decided to prosecute this man, Mr …’

  ‘Mr Darcy. Yes. He says Mr Darcy behaved dishonourably by refusing to apologise, and left father no alternative but to fight him.’

  ‘And do you agree?’

  Helena stared at her. ‘I suppose my duty is to support Arthur. I just don’t see why he thinks it so—important.’

  ‘Honour,’ Elizabeth suggested. ‘For honour, two men must die.’

  Helena nodded, unable to speak—and yet, it seemed to Elizabeth that she was more embarrassed, by her inability to understand the ways of men, than grieved by the tragedy of one, perhaps two, pointless deaths. Still, whatever Helena’s exact feelings, it seemed heartless to press her further, and Elizabeth managed to steer the conversation to more tranquil waters before taking her leave.

  On returning to Gracechurch Street in the early afternoon, Elizabeth was met by an anxious Mrs Gardiner, who drew her directly into the parlour and said in a breathless voice, ‘We have a visitor.’

  Elizabeth, upset to see her normally imperturbable aunt so ill at ease, tried to lighten the atmosphere. ‘Someone very important, it would seem. Let me guess. The Prince of Wales.’

  Mrs Gardiner managed a tolerant smile. ‘No.’

  ‘The Czar of Russia.’

  ‘Lizzy, this is no time for games.’ Mrs Gardiner pulled Elizabeth to the divan and sat opposite her. ‘It is Mr Darcy.’

  Elizabeth gasped. ‘What does he want?’

  ‘He called on your uncle at work this morning and said he needed urgently to talk, on a matter relating to—yourself, Lizzy. Not realising that you were out, your uncle brought him here, and they have been deep in conversation in the library ever since, awaiting your return.’

  ‘I cannot imagine …’ Elizabeth hesitated, her mind racing. ‘How is Mr Darcy? I was not expecting him to be out and about yet.’

  ‘He moves carefully, as if to avoid pain, but otherwise seems in reasonable fettle considering the ordeal he has suffered.’

  ‘That is some consolation.’ Elizabeth took a deep breath. ‘I suppose I will have to make my presence known, and face the music.’

  Elizabeth paused for a few seconds outside Mr Gardiner’s study, listening to the murmur of male voices within. Unable to make out what they were saying, she tapped on the door and pushed it open.

  ‘Lizzy!’ Her uncle jumped up from a leather armchair and motioned her to take his place. Darcy, in the other chair, stood up very slowly and bowed.

  ‘Miss Bennet.’

  ‘Sir, you need not rise on my account.’

  ‘Do not be alarmed. I am greatly recovered.’

  ‘But probably not so recovered as you pretend.’ With an arch smile Elizabeth moved into the proffered armchair, while Mr Gardiner transferred to the seat behind his desk. She looked back and forth between the two gentlemen. ‘To what do we owe this honour?’

  Mr Gardiner coughed. ‘Mr Darcy has some concerns about the, ah, company you have been keeping, Lizzy, which he has very properly brought to my attention.’

  ‘Indeed!’ Elizabeth faced Darcy with her temper rising. ‘I am aware, sir, that you serve along with Colonel Fitzwilliam as guardian to your sister, but had not realised that your responsibilities now extended to me.’

  He met her gaze coldly. ‘It is not a step I take lightly.’

  ‘Then you will have to explain who you are talking about.’ She looked at her uncle. ‘I can assure you that as promised, I have had no communication with Mr Darcy or his family—until now.’

  ‘I know.’ Her uncle sighed. ‘Lizzy, you were seen yesterday visiting Lord Harbury’s box at the theatre.’

  Elizabeth hesitated, then with a quivering voice asked: ‘And who is the source of this report?’

  Mr Gardiner shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’

  Darcy raised a palm. ‘I have no objection to answering. Miss Bingley was also at the performance, and having seen you in conversation with the Kaye family, felt it her duty to inform me without delay.’

  ‘It seems Miss Bingley takes her duties seriously,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I’m gratified that she should put herself to so much trouble on my behalf. Still, I have no reason to deny it. Yes, Miss Helena Kaye was at the theatre, quite close to my party; and yes, I happened by chance to make her acquaintance during the interval, and was invited back to Lord Harbury’s box.’

  Darcy looked back at her intently. ‘Where you were introduced to Sir Arthur Kaye.’

  Elizabeth realised for the first time how her behaviour might be interpreted from Darcy’s viewpoint. She had been seen socialising with the very people that were now seeking to revenge themselves on Darcy by prosecuting him for murder. Colouring with the deepest blush, she said falteringly:

  ‘It is not …as you might imagine.’

  He continued to observe her intently, without speaking, until she could bear it no longer, and turned to Mr Gardiner.

  ‘Uncle, with your permission, I would like to speak with Mr Darcy alone.’

  A look passed between the two men, and Mr Gardiner with a nod rose to his feet. ‘I will leave you for half an hour.’

  Chapter 14

  Darcy studied her, as if unsure how to begin, and Elizabeth was reminded of the dreadful scene at Hunsford where he had paced endlessly around the room before delivering his ill-fated proposal of marriage.

  Now that she knew him better she was touched by his insecurity, and with a smile began: ‘I am a poor hostess, Mr Darcy, and have offered you no refreshment. May I make amends?’

  ‘A glass of wine perhaps?’

  ‘Then I will join you.’ She found a decanter on the sideboard next to two crystal glasses, and filled them both almost to the brim.

  He thanked her politely, and after taking a longish draught said: ‘I beg you, Miss Bennet, tell me what is happening.’

  ‘You believe I am befriending your enemies?’

  ‘I believe nothing, as yet. I am waiting for your explanation.’

  ‘Your concern must be pressing to bring you to Gracechurch Street, given the importance that you attach to my reputation.’

  He shook his head slowly. ‘That is not the issue.’

  She leaned forward. ‘Last year, sir, you did me the honour of asking for my hand. You declared I had aroused in you such feelings of affection and respect as to overcome the gravest objections to my family and my situation in life. If that is genuinely how you regard me, I am at a loss to understand how you could write to my uncle in order to secure his cooperation in managing and directing my behaviour. I
s that how you see me? Is that how you would have treated me, had I been so foolish as to accept you as my husband?’

  He stared at her. ‘Why should I not write to Mr Gardiner and express my concern?’

  ‘If you believe that I am foolishly putting my reputation at risk, the obvious and appropriate course of action is to raise the matter with me. Not with my uncle, or my father, or anyone else. If you truly regarded me as a worthy partner in life—and I mean partner, not dependent—then that is what you would do. Instead you seek my uncle’s cooperation in an attempt to protect me from my own folly.’

  ‘That is hardly fair. I specifically advised you, during your last visit, to break off contact with my family, and was met only with mockery. What other recourse did I have?’

  ‘You could have accepted the situation for what it was: a difference of opinion between two adults.’

  He sighed. ‘I’m sorry that you are offended, but on this matter I have no apology to give. If offending you is the price for securing your welfare, it is a price I am willing to pay. Miss Bennet, I am not going to be deflected from my purpose in coming here. You have admitted the truth of Miss Bingley’s report. I would like to hear your explanation.’

  ‘You are insufferable,’ Elizabeth snapped. ‘My explanation! What do you imagine? That I am assisting the Kayes in order to guarantee the success of their prosecution? Is it perhaps my dearest wish that someone I care for should dangle at the end of a rope?’ Shocked at the sudden intensity of her feeling, she turned away, clumsily covering her face with a handkerchief.

  A hand touched her arm, and she looked back to find Darcy kneeling at her side.

  ‘Elizabeth …Miss Bennet, I beg you to believe me, I never entertained any such thought.’ He frowned, although still speaking gently. ‘Perhaps in your distress you mis-spoke when you referred to someone you cared for?’