by P. D. James
Cartwright said, ‘Thank you, Mr Pratt. That has been very clear.’
Mr Mickledore got to his feet immediately. He said, ‘I have one or two questions to put to you, Mr Pratt. When you were called by Mr Piggott to drive the party to Pemberley, was that the first time you had seen the two gentlemen together?’
‘It was, sir.’
‘And how did their relationship appear to you?’
‘Captain Denny was very quiet and Mr Wickham had obviously taken drink, but there was no quarrel or argumenting.’
‘Was there reluctance on the part of Captain Denny to enter the chaise?’
‘There was none, sir. He got in happy enough.’
‘Did you hear any talk between them on the journey before the chaise was stopped?’
‘No sir. It would not have been easy with the wind and the rough ground unless they had been shouting really loud.’
‘And there was no shouting?’
‘No sir, not that I could hear.’
‘So the party, as far as you know, set off on good terms with each other and you had no reason to expect any problems?’
‘No sir, I had not.’
‘I understand that at the inquest you told the jury of the trouble you had in controlling the horses when they were in the woodland. It must have been a difficult journey for them.’
‘Oh it were, sir. As soon as they entered the woodland they were right nervy, neighing and stamping.’
‘They must have been difficult for you to control.’
‘They was, sir, proper difficult. There’s no horse likes going into the woodland in a full moon – no human neither.’
‘Can you then be absolutely certain of the words Captain Denny spoke when he left the chaise?’
‘Well sir, I did hear him say that he wouldn’t go along with Mr Wickham any more and that Mr Wickham was now on his own, or something like that.’
‘Something like that. Thank you Mr Pratt, that is all I have to ask.’
Pratt was released, considerably happier than when he had entered the dock. Alveston whispered to Darcy, ‘No problem there. Mickledore has been able to cast doubt on Pratt’s evidence. And now, Mr Darcy, it will be either you or the colonel.’
7
When his name was called, Darcy responded with a physical shock of surprise although he had known that his turn could not be long in coming. He made his way across the courtroom between what seemed rows of hostile eyes and tried to govern his mind. It was important that he keep both his composure and his temper. He was resolute that he would not meet the gaze of Wickham, Mrs Younge or the jury member who, every time his own eyes scoured the jury box, gazed at him with an unfriendly intensity. He would keep his own eyes on the prosecuting counsel when answering questions, with occasional glances either at the jury or the judge who sat immobile as a Buddha, his plump little hands folded on the desk, his eyes half-closed.
The first part of the interrogation was straightforward. In answer to questions he described the evening of the dinner party, who was present, the departure of Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Darcy, the arrival of the chaise with a distraught Mrs Wickham, and finally the decision to take the chaise back to the woodland path to discover what had happened and whether Mr Wickham and Captain Denny were in need of any assistance.
Simon Cartwright said, ‘You were anticipating danger, perhaps tragedy?’
‘By no means, sir. I had hoped, even expected, that the worst that had befallen the gentlemen would be that one had met with some minor but disabling accident in the woodland and that we should meet both Mr Wickham and Captain Denny making their slow way to Pemberley or back to the inn, one helping the other. It was the report by Mrs Wickham and subsequently confirmed by Pratt that there had been shooting which convinced me that it would be prudent to mount a rescue expedition. Colonel Fitzwilliam had returned in time to be part of the expedition and was armed.’
‘The Viscount Hartlep will, of course, be giving his evidence later. Shall we continue? Will you please describe now the course of the journey into the woodland and the events leading to the discovery of Captain Denny’s body.’
Darcy had had no need to rehearse this but had nevertheless spent some time selecting the actual words which he should use and the tone in which he would speak. He had told himself that he would be in a court of law, not recounting a story to a circle of friends. To dwell on the silence, unbroken except for their trudging feet and the creaking of the wheels, would be a dangerous indulgence; all that would be needed were facts, baldly and convincingly stated. He recounted now that the colonel had briefly left the party in order to warn Mrs Bidwell, her dying son and her daughter that there might be trouble and to instruct them to keep the door locked.
‘Did Viscount Hartlep, in going to the cottage, inform you that that was his intention?’
‘He did.’
‘And for how long was he absent?’
‘No more, I think, than fifteen or twenty minutes, but it seemed somewhat longer at the time.’
‘And you then proceeded?’
‘We did. Pratt was able with some certainty to indicate where Captain Denny had entered the woodland and my companions and I then did the same and attempted to discover the path that either one or both might have taken. After some minutes, perhaps as many as ten, we came upon the glade and found the body of Captain Denny with Mr Wickham bending over him and weeping. It was immediately apparent to me that Captain Denny was dead.’
‘In what condition was Mr Wickham?’
‘He was greatly distressed and I think from his speech and the smell on his breath that he had been drinking and probably heavily. Captain Denny’s face was smeared with blood and there was blood on Mr Wickham’s hands and face – probably, I thought, from touching his friend.’
‘Did Mr Wickham speak?’
‘He did.’
‘And what did he say?’
So here at last was the dreaded question and for a few appalling seconds his mind was a blank. Then he looked at Cartwright and said, ‘I think, sir, that I can recall the words with accuracy if not the precise order. As I remember, he said, “I have killed him. It is my fault. He was my friend, my only friend, and I have killed him.” Then he repeated, “It is my fault.’
‘And what at the time did you think his words meant?’
Darcy was aware that the whole court was waiting for his answer. He shifted his gaze to the judge who now slowly opened his eyes and looked at him. ‘Answer the question, Mr Darcy.’
It was only then that he realised with horror that he must have remained silent for seconds. He said, speaking to the judge, ‘I was looking at a man in the greatest distress, kneeling over the body of his friend. I took Mr Wickham to mean that, had there not been some disagreement between them which caused Captain Denny to leave the chaise and run into the woods, his friend would not have been murdered. That was my immediate impression. I saw no weapons. I knew that Captain Denny was the heavier man and had been armed. It would have been the height of folly for Mr Wickham to follow his friend into the woodland without a light or a weapon with the intention of doing him to death. He could not even be sure that he would find Captain Denny in the dense bushes and trees with only moonlight to guide him. It seemed to me that this could not have been murder on Mr Wickham’s part, either on impulse or premeditated.’
‘Did you see or hear any person other than Lord Hartlep or Mr Alveston either when you were entering the woodland or at the scene of the murder?’
‘No sir.’
‘So you are saying on oath that you found the body of Captain Denny with a bloodstained Mr Wickham leaning over him and saying, not once but twice, that he was responsible for his friend’s murder.’
And now the silence was longer. Darcy felt himself for the first time like a baited animal. At last he said, ‘Those are the facts, sir. You asked me what I thought at the time those facts meant. I told you what I believed then and I believe now, that Mr Wickham was not confess
ing to murder but speaking what was in fact the truth, that had Captain Denny not left the chaise and entered the woodland he would not have met his murderer.’
But Cartwright had not finished. Changing his tack, he said, ‘Had Mrs Wickham arrived at Pemberley House unexpectedly and without notice, would she have been admitted?’
‘She would.’
‘She, of course, is the sister of Mrs Darcy. Would Mr Wickham also be welcomed if he arrived in the same circumstances? Were he and Mrs Wickham invited to the ball?’
‘That, sir, is a hypothetical question. There was no reason why they should be. We had not been in touch for some time and I did not know their address.’
‘I suggest, Mr Darcy, that your answer is somewhat disingenuous. Would you have invited them had you known their address?’
It was then that Jeremiah Mickledore got up and addressed the judge. ‘My lord, what relevance can Mrs Darcy’s invitation list have to the murder of Captain Denny? We are surely all entitled to invite whom we wish into our homes, whether or not they are relations, without the necessity of explaining our reasons to a court of law in circumstances in which the invitation can have no possible relevance.’
The judge stirred himself, his voice unexpectedly firm. ‘You have a reason for this line of questioning, Mr Cartwright?’
‘I have, my lord: to throw some light on the possible relationship of Mr Darcy to his brother and therefore indirectly to give the jury some insight into Mr Wickham’s character.’
The judge said, ‘I doubt whether the absence of an invitation to a ball can give much insight into the man’s essential nature.’
And now Jeremiah Mickledore rose. He turned to Darcy. ‘You know something of Mr Wickham’s conduct in the campaign in Ireland in August 1798?’
‘I do, sir. I know he was decorated as a brave soldier and was wounded.’
‘As far as you know, has he ever been imprisoned for a felony or, indeed, been in trouble with the police?’
‘As far as I know he has not, sir.’
‘And as he is married to Mrs Darcy’s sister you would presumably know these things?’
‘If they were serious or frequent I think I would.’
‘Wickham has been described as being under the influence of drink. What steps were taken to control him when you arrived at Pemberley?’
‘He was put to bed and Dr McFee was sent for, to help both Mrs Wickham and her husband.’
‘But he was not locked up or guarded?’
‘His door was not locked but there were two watchers.’
‘Was that necessary since you believed him innocent?’
‘He was drunk, sir, and could not be left to roam round the house, particularly as I have children. I was also uneasy about his physical condition. I am a magistrate, sir, and I knew that everyone who was concerned in this matter should be available for questioning when Sir Selwyn Hardcastle arrived.’
Mr Mickledore sat and Simon Cartwright resumed his examination. ‘One last question, Mr Darcy. The search party consisted of three men, one of whom was armed. You also had Captain Denny’s gun, which might have been usable. You had no reason to suspect that Captain Denny had been killed some time before you found him. The murderer might well have been close and hiding. Why did you not mount a search?’
‘It seemed to me that the first action necessary was to return as quickly as possible to Pemberley with the body of Captain Denny. It would have been almost impossible to detect someone hiding in the dense woodland and I assumed that the killer had made his escape.’
‘Some people might think that your explanation is a little unconvincing. Surely the first reaction to finding a murdered man is to attempt to arrest his killer.’
‘In the circumstances, sir, it did not occur to me.’
‘No indeed, Mr Darcy. I can understand that it did not occur to you. You were already in the presence of the man who, despite your protestations, you believed to have been the murderer. Why indeed should it occur to you to go searching for anyone else?’
Before Darcy could respond, Simon Cartwright consolidated his triumph by speaking his final words. ‘I must congratulate you, Mr Darcy, on the acuity of your mind, which appears to have a remarkable facility for coherent thought even at moments when most of us would be shocked into a less cerebral response. It was, after all, a scene of unprecedented horror. I asked what was your reaction to the words of the defendant when you and your companions discovered him kneeling with bloodstained hands over the body of his murdered friend. You were able to deduce without a second’s delay that there must have been some disagreement which occasioned Captain Denny to leave the vehicle and escape into the woodland, recall to mind the difference in height and weight of the two men and its significance, and note that there were no weapons at the scene which could have been used to inflict either wound. It is certain that the murderer had not been so helpful as to leave them conveniently at hand. Thank you. You may now step down.’
Somewhat to Darcy’s surprise, Mr Mickledore did not again rise to cross-examine and he wondered whether this was because there was nothing the defence counsel could do to mitigate the damage he had done. He had no memory of returning to his seat. Once there he was filled with a despairing anger against himself. He cursed himself for an incompetent fool. Had not Alveston instructed him carefully how he should respond to examination? ‘Pause to think before you reply, but not so long that you appear calculating, answer the questions simply and accurately, say no more than has been asked, never embroider; if Cartwright wants more he can ask for it. Disaster in the witness box is usually the result of saying too much not too little.’ He had said too much, and disastrously. No doubt the colonel would be wiser, but the damage had been done.
He felt Alveston’s hand on his shoulder. Darcy said miserably, ‘I have done the defence harm, have I not?’
‘By no means. You, a prosecution witness, have made a very effective speech for the defence which Mickledore cannot do. The jury have heard it, which is the important thing, and Cartwright cannot wipe it from their minds.’
Witness after witness for the prosecution gave their evidence. Dr Belcher testified to the cause of death and the constables described in some detail their fruitless attempts to identify the actual weapons, although slabs of stone were discovered under the leaves in the woodland; despite exhaustive searches and inquiries, no evidence had been discovered of a deserter or other person in the woodland at the relevant time.
And now the call for Colonel the Viscount Hartlep to take the witness stand was followed by an immediate silence, and Darcy wondered why Simon Cartwright had decided that this important witness should be the last to give evidence for the prosecution. Was it perhaps that he hoped the impression made would be more lasting and effective if it were the final evidence the jury heard? The colonel was in uniform and Darcy remembered that he had an appointment later that day at the War Office. He walked to the witness stand as normally as if taking a morning stroll, gave a short bow to the judge, took the oath and stood waiting for Cartwright to begin the examination with, Darcy thought, the slightly impatient air of a professional soldier with a war to be won, who was prepared to show proper respect for the court while distancing himself from its presumptions. He stood in the dignity of his uniform, an officer who had been described as among the most handsome and gallant in the British Army. There was a whispering, quickly hushed, and Darcy saw that the rows of fashionable women were leaning intently forward – rather, Darcy thought, like beribboned lapdogs quivering at the smell of a tasty morsel.
The colonel was questioned minutely about every detail of events, from the time he returned from his evening ride to join the expedition until the arrival of Sir Selwyn Hardcastle to take over the investigation. He had ridden earlier to the King’s Arms inn at Lambton where he had been engaged in a private conversation with a visitor during the time Captain Denny was murdered. Cartwright then asked about the thirty pounds found in Wickham’s possession and
the colonel said calmly that the money was given by him to enable the defendant to settle a debt of honour and that it was only the necessity to speak in court that had persuaded him to break a solemn promise between them that the transaction would be private. He did not intend to divulge the name of the intended benefactor, but it was not Captain Denny, nor had the money anything to do with Captain Denny’s death.
Here Mr Mickledore briefly rose. ‘Can you give the court an assurance, Colonel, that this loan or gift was not intended for Captain Denny or is in any way connected with the murder?’
‘I can.’
And then Cartwright returned again to the meaning of Wickham’s words spoken over his friend’s body. What was the witness’s impression of their meaning?
