The Trials: A Pride and Prejudice Story

by Timothy Underwood

  “She didn’t do it. She was with me.” The young man pointed at the deer. “We were carving up the deer — it wasn’t poaching, just a theft. The deer had died on its own. It tripped and broke its neck.”

  Darcy recalled that Elizabeth had once accidentally revealed to him that someone close to Pamela had been involved in poaching. He thought this was her brother. He said in a hard tone, “Did the deer die in one of your traps?”

  “You see that there is nothing you can have against Mary. She was here. And she did nothing wrong by helping us carve it up.”

  Mrs. Shore shouted at the young man. “Be silent, Henry.”

  “She has a alli, alli thing.”

  “Alibi?”

  Darcy felt sick. The large recently carved deer, the way that the young man showed up, the expert carving done to the deer. He’d seen Mrs. Shore make similar cuts before.

  What if Mrs. Shore was innocent? What if she had been hiding in the room all night carving the illicitly acquired deer? But if Mrs. Shore had not been the one to kill Lady Catherine, who was? And how would he save Elizabeth without being able to reveal the real killer?

  The young man chattered about how Mary was there, and about how the way he’d found the deer was not really poaching. Darcy did not hear any of it. He looked at how angry Mrs. Shore was at her nephew. From her expression she clearly expected him to be dragged away for poaching.

  Darcy knew his failure. “Find a better hiding space for your meat.” He looked at Mrs. Shore, who slumped in relief when she realized Darcy had no intention of seeing her nephew hanged. “I apologize for interfering with your day. I must ask, have you any notion who did kill my aunt?”

  “I was here all night. How could I know what happened there?”

  Darcy walked back the half mile to Rosings Park in a dejected silence, followed by his men.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Elizabeth had not expected to be able to sleep at all, but when she laid down on the comfortable bed in her new room she drifted off immediately.

  The hangman leered at her. He was the man who’d punched her and pulled shrieking Emma away. He laughed. A gentlewoman hanged, except not a real gentlewoman.

  Lydia was there: You fool, her sister cried, she was not even your child!

  Darcy touched her cheek. “Forgive me, Elizabeth. I failed you.”

  She tried to shout at him, “I love you.”

  The hangman pulled her away from Darcy.

  Crack.

  Her neck broke as she fell through the trapdoor and with a scream Elizabeth awoke.

  She sat up in the deceptively comfortable prison bed and breathed hard.

  It was only a dream. She would trust Darcy. He wouldn’t let her hang. He would prove Mrs. Shore committed the crime.

  A faint light leaked around the heavy curtains.

  The bailiff’s maid knocked on the door and called through. “Madam, you cried out. Is everything aright?”

  “I am well.”

  The way her voice shook as she called back scared Elizabeth.

  There was a long pause and then the woman moved away from the door, her footsteps receding. She probably believed that Elizabeth had murdered Lady Catherine. But she’d know the truth when Darcy came back with Mrs. Shore.

  Elizabeth had expected him to return last night. But it might take him time to find enough evidence and call Mr. Hawdry to Rosings. Or perhaps Mrs. Shore had fled and Darcy was chasing her like she had been chased.

  She had been trying to hide, but only to protect Emma. It came before her eyes again: the man from the parish who recognized her grabbing Emma away and then the punch to her face as she’d tried to stop him.

  What time was it?

  Elizabeth opened the curtains and looked out over the road. The first rays of sunlight glinted off the leaves. The start of another day. It was a fine chance for a walk in the morning cool before it became hot later on.

  Had she taken her last morning walk?

  A yawn broke Elizabeth from her morbidness, but with a quick glance at the bed she shivered at the thought of trying to return to it. She sat in a chair by the window and pretended to read while she actually waited for Darcy to return.

  After two hours the maid knocked to bring her drinks and breakfast. A young man stood at the door with his hand on a pistol in his belt to prevent any attempt she might make to escape while the maid served her.

  Elizabeth asked, “Is there any news from Rosings Park? Is there any message for me?”

  “No, Ma’am. Nothing.”

  With a stiff incline of her head, Elizabeth acknowledged the response. Breakfast looked well made but Elizabeth’s stomach made it impossible to eat. She cautiously sipped the tea. It was decently brewed, but she found it hard to swallow because of a sudden and unexpected upwelling of tears.

  She knew she was not abandoned by Darcy. She still felt terribly alone, as though he would never return.

  Elizabeth ate her breakfast. Then it was removed. She returned to the window to wait. This time she didn’t pretend to read.

  An hour or two before noon he arrived.

  He had a light in his eyes and said rapidly, “You need not worry. You do not. The case against you is thin. The jury will never be convinced by it. Hawdry will not listen to me but that does not matter. I’ll have a barrister from London who will argue it. I have sent a letter to your sister Jane, and she and I will testify as to your character. They will not believe it.”

  “Trial, but… Mrs. Shore…”

  “Innocent.” Darcy shook his head and began to pace the room energetically as his words sent a spike of terror through Elizabeth. “She has an alibi which entirely convinced me. I was depressed for many hours and spent the entire night pacing in thought. It is not a hopeless situation. I have reviewed everything in my head many times, and I spoke at length with Hawdry after my cousin’s wedding. He thinks that as I cannot point to another criminal, he must pursue you, but that is not the law.”

  Her stomach squeezed tighter. Elizabeth could not remain standing, and she collapsed into her chair. She could not breathe.

  “Slow breaths. Breathe deliberately. Elizabeth, look at me.” Darcy held her shoulders. He kissed her forehead and splashed her face with water from the basin. “You need not worry. This is England. We do not punish those who are not guilty.”

  “You know that is not always true.”

  Darcy pulled a chair close to Elizabeth and took her hand, slowly caressing her fingers. “It is all foolishness. Let me explain the evidence. The main issue is that you fled. But you had ample reason to flee. I have had Colonel Fitzwilliam, the footmen, and the butler testify about what they heard during the quarrel with Lady Catherine. This testimony was recorded in front of an attorney and clerk who wrote down what they said. That you fled with Emma is natural and not evidence you were the one to kill Lady Catherine. The jury will not believe you killed her.”

  Darcy’s firmness let some of the anxiety drain away. So did the soft way he continued to caress her hand. It sounded clear when he said it that way. It was all a terrible mistake, and the jury would see that.

  Tears began to swim in Elizabeth’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Entirely. I found an opportunity to speak to the surgeon, and he thinks it is very unlikely a gentlewoman could make the strike that killed Lady Catherine. When he is called to testify at your trial, he will say as much.”

  “But...” Elizabeth gripped Darcy’s hand tighter. “Must there be a trial. If the evidence against me is so weak—” She turned away from him and tried to pull her hand away from Darcy, but he did not let it go. “I am so terrified. I had a terrible dream. I thought I was abandoned, and you begged me to forgive you for failing me. If the magistrate, if Mr. Hawdry, was convinced I am not the murderess, could he not have me released?”

  “Oh, Elizabeth. You are the bravest woman in the world.”

  “I am not! I am not brave. If Hawdry believes I killed Lady Catherine, the jury sha
ll as well.”

  Darcy shook his head. “That man is a miserable excuse for a magistrate. He spent years as the puppet of my aunt, and now he wishes to see you punished to spite me — you need not worry. The jurors will be drawn from the body of the local Englishmen. They will know their duty. Even Hawdry shall. He wishes a trial to discover the truth, not the punishment of an innocent person.”

  “This speech was not near so comforting as your first.” Elizabeth managed a weak smile at Darcy. Her fear was numbed by exhaustion.

  “The other matter of evidence against you is the bloody cloth—”

  “What?” Elizabeth suddenly felt confused.

  “You wiped off your arm and left behind a linen cloth stained with blood. Hawdry thinks you wiped off Lady Catherine’s blood with it after the murder. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Emma remember seeing it tied around your arm to stop the bleeding. The footmen will testify that they saw Lady Catherine strike you. And you have the injury here on your arm. We will have it observed by several men as witnesses before it can heal further. Obviously, if you had murdered Lady Catherine you would not have left such a piece of evidence atop your dresser.”

  “I left behind a bloody rag?” Elizabeth giggled. She felt hysteria, but it was amusing.

  “Yes, you did.” Darcy smiled cautiously; he did not let go of her hand.

  “Did you speak to all of these people before coming here?”

  “I had hoped to marshall all of the evidence quickly, so I could convince Hawdry to release you.”

  The whole time she’d been waiting for him, he’d been working to help her. Elizabeth saw how Darcy’s eyes were red and sagging. His hair was disordered, and his clothes were wrinkled. She pulled his hand closer and kissed it and cradled it against her cheek.

  Darcy closed his eyes and breathed slowly with a soft smile on his face.

  He was so sure. She trusted him. Elizabeth filled with a soft love for him, and she kissed his hand again.

  He opened his eyes and then brushed his fingers over her cheek with his other hand, and then he laced his fingers softly through her hair and slowly pulled her forward. Their lips met in a soft sweet kiss. “Elizabeth, will you marry me? I have said my feelings have not changed, the passage of four years did not change the allure you hold for me in any manner. My feelings are true and strong, and they cannot be changed, no matter the situation we find ourselves in.”

  “I will. You know I love you. I love you desperately and completely.”

  “We must not wait — you shall be found innocent, but there is no reason to wait for the trial. I have a special license. We can be married in two days, in this room. I will bring your sister here. Then once you are free I shall take you on a wedding tour.”

  “I will.” The terrified part of her whispered that if they were married immediately she would know that happiness with him before they hanged her.

  Something in Darcy’s face suggested a similar thought was in his mind.

  She kissed him.

  It was a long and slow kiss that made her knees grow weak and caused her stomach to swoop and a wetness to grow in her center. They moved apart, their noses rubbing against each other.

  Darcy wrapped his arms tightly around Elizabeth. “You are my heart. I adore you, ardently and passionately and rationally.”

  Elizabeth felt tears in her eyes. She loved him. She desperately loved him, and wanted to live with him and for them to grow old together.

  They kissed again, and he kept his arms around her so tightly that her ribs felt squeezed delightfully together. Elizabeth whimpered happily.

  They looked deeply into each other’s eyes.

  Darcy yawned.

  Elizabeth giggled at his blush. “You have been awake, working to protect me all night — I love you.”

  He smiled a rakish smile that set off the hair falling in a wild bunch around his forehead. “You are my heart.”

  “You should go and sleep.”

  “I do not wish to leave you.”

  They kissed again, and they sat next to each other on the bed. Elizabeth wondered what might happen now. They had agreed to marry; they were an engaged couple. Darcy kissed her and held her tightly in his arms.

  Slowly the kisses became more languid and less impassioned. Darcy’s arms around her became more relaxed and he placed his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. Almost immediately the tone of his breathing changed into a rhythmic sound that had a slight nasal snore in it.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes and she drifted to sleep in Darcy’s arms.

  —

  That afternoon, Darcy returned to Rosings to make preparations for the wedding. He sent off a messenger and money. Then he sat and revolved the problem around again and again in his mind.

  He was not so certain as he sounded that Elizabeth would be declared innocent by the jury. There was no other criminal he could point to. If he accused Mrs. Shore, it would be easy, but he could not.

  Who had killed Lady Catherine?

  It was a man according to the surgeon, but that was hardly enough to answer the question. There were many men who lived at Rosings. They included the butler, the two grooms, the footmen, one of whom harbored an affection for Pamela, and his cousin Richard. That simply accounted for those who lived within the house. It was summer and Lady Catherine had been confident in the safety of her location.

  While the doors were all locked, windows were kept open along the bottom floors and there had been no one awake to patrol and watch. A man from outside the house could have sneaked in.

  Lady Catherine had few serious enemies outside of her family, so far as Darcy knew, but there were many people she might have harmed.

  Darcy talked to every male servant that night, under the pretense of seeking witnesses who might help Elizabeth. None of them gave him reason to suspect them.

  The next morning Darcy walked to each of the nearby lodges and cottages, and he talked to the men there. Several farmers swore they had heard Elizabeth fleeing the house. But half of them lived in the opposite direction from that which she’d gone in. No one acted in a suspicious or scared manner. No one gave Darcy any hint that they might have been the killer.

  Dejected and tired again Darcy returned that afternoon to Rosings. He would ride over to speak with her this evening. Tomorrow they would marry.

  The jury could make a mistake. He liked to believe it was not possible, but it was. That dream Elizabeth told him about, when she was hanged after he asked her to forgive him for failing her.

  He would never be able to forgive himself.

  This could not be allowed. If she was convicted at the trial and sentenced to hang, he would rescue her and flee to the continent. Darcy went to the sunny drawing room of Rosings and pulled the shade of the window down just enough to keep the glare of sunlight from entering his eyes.

  Which letter first? The boat was most important.

  Mr. Farrier

  I need you to have your yacht kept in readiness so that it can depart on a moment’s notice from Ramsgate. We shall be in a hurry, and I wish you to keep the full crew aboard so that we shall be able to instantly depart for France. You may charge the full price for a day’s voyage each day you remain in readiness.

  Yours,

  F Darcy

  Darcy addressed the letter and set it to the side. He then wrote several letters to the owners of post stations that would keep teams of four in position so that at any time of the day or night he would have replacements for his horses available. This way he could run a carriage down the road to the nearest port at full gallop the entire way.

  What else?

  Darcy carefully wrote out a letter to Pemberley. He wanted more men around who he could trust and who would trust him. Mrs. Reynolds and his butler would pick those from among his tenants and servants who could be trusted to break the law for him and his wife.

  Elizabeth was not guilty. The jury would find her innocent and that would be the end of it. But he would be ready if th
at did not actually happen.

  Now that the letters were written, Darcy sent one of his men out to deliver the ones along the road to Ramsgate in person. He left with sufficient money to buy the horses and maintenance that was needed. He sent the letter to Pemberley out with an express messenger.

  Darcy returned to the drawing room and stared out the window at the meadow. He leaned on his hands, pressing the wood into them. Should he ask Richard for help? At any other time it would have been obvious. His cousin was the man he would rely upon most in a dangerous scrape. But recently…

  Loyalty and family. Despite the unsteadiness he had shown of late, Richard was a skilled military officer whose aid could be vital. It would rupture their friendship if he acted in this situation without calling upon Richard’s aid. It would tell Richard that Darcy had not trusted him.

  Darcy found him in the billiard room, and his cousin was sober. He had a deep frown upon his face, and as he ran through a series of excellent shots it was clear that Richard’s mind was not upon the game. Richard had always been like that. Each time he lined up and shot there was the sharp click of the cue ball hitting its target, and then the other clicks as the balls knocked against each other.

  Richard looked up and started. “I did not hear you enter. What is the issue?”

  “I may need your help. I have asked you for help once already in this past week. This is the last matter in which I shall ask you for aid if you refuse me.”

  Richard stood straight, almost at military attention. “I was not myself that afternoon. The shock of Lady Catherine’s… I shall be your man, if you require it.”

  “Elizabeth is innocent — do you believe me?”

  “I know she is. You have some plan afoot to break Miss Bennet from the gaol if she is condemned. It is clear from the expresses you sent off over the past hours.”

  “The bailiff is the key. He is dedicated to the law, but I will try to bribe him, I will try to threaten him, but if I must, even though he is only doing his job, I’ll shoot the bailiff through the heart. I will not leave Elizabeth there. I will not. But if that happens, standing beside me shall make you an accomplice.”