Darcy's Trial (12 page)

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.’

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. Is 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
?’

Elizabeth, realising what she had let slip, inched back in her seat in embarrassment. ‘I admit that my feelings are somewhat altered since our encounter at Hunsford. However …’

He seemed to sense her unease, and released her hand gently before self-consciously checking the door and, with a wince of pain, returning to his chair.

‘I had hoped you thought less ill of me, after reading my letter.’ He sighed. ‘Yet you pronounce me insufferable.’

Elizabeth snorted. ‘I do, and you are.’

‘Does this mean …’ Darcy leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘If my present circumstances were different …’

‘I am not hoping or expecting to marry you, if that is what you are asking. After treating you so abominably in the past, I hardly deserve a second chance. In any case, I am unsure I want be
anyone’s
wife, let alone yours. At present I am merely trying to save your miserable carcass from the hangman.’

Darcy thought awhile. ‘So you approached Miss Kaye deliberately, in the hope of obtaining intelligence that might benefit my cause.’

‘And with some success. In fact I would have communicated with you already, had I not been obligated by my promise to Mr Gardiner.’

‘I am humbled by your concern.’ He raised his palms in a gesture of helplessness. ‘But this cannot continue, Miss Bennet. Leaving aside my own reservations, your family will never permit it, and rightly so. I have dug my own pit, and must extract myself as best I can without dragging others down as well.’ He paused. ‘Do you wish to call your uncle now?’

‘Not yet.’ She faced him very seriously. ‘I would like to tell you what I know of the Kayes. After which, if you feel I can be trusted, you might be willing to add your half of the story.’

Leaving his carriage in Cavendish Square, Darcy hurried on foot to Edward Street and rapped with his cane on the door. After a few seconds he was rewarded by the sound of a bolt sliding and the fleeting appearance of a face he knew all too well.

‘Mrs Younge?’

She gasped and tried to slam the door, but having anticipated such a reception Darcy held it steady. ‘You have no grounds for fear, Mrs Younge. I wish only to talk.’

Eventually the pressure eased and she faced him haughtily. ‘I’m sure you can have no business that concerns
me
.’

‘I am trying to locate a certain, ah, friend of yours. No doubt you can guess to whom I am referring.’

‘He’s not here!’

Unconvinced, Darcy gently but firmly widened the gap and stepped inside. ‘Then perhaps you have an address?’

‘I could make
enquries
, although I am at present somewhat busy with other demands on my time …’

Darcy reached for his purse, but paused on noticing a suspicious relaxation in her manner. ‘In that case you will have no objection if I make a quick tour of the upstairs rooms, to confirm that the gentleman in question is not on the premises.’

‘No!’ With unmistakeable alarm, Mrs Younge skittered across the hall carpet and placed herself between Darcy and the stairs. Seeing no value in further discussion, Darcy took a firm grip on her shoulders, turned her aside, and ascended two steps at a time to the first floor landing, which gave access to two rooms and a further staircase. The near door was unlocked, and after a light tap he took a step inside, finding a non-descript single bedroom with a table and one or two chairs; a pair of boots and smell of cigar smoke suggested a male tenant, but given the general orderliness, not Wickham.

‘This is highly improper, sir!’ hissed Mrs Younge, who had caught up with him on the landing. ‘I tell you, he is not here.’

‘With respect, madam, I must insist …’ There was a sudden cry, quickly muffled, from the floor above. Darcy froze, noting immediately Mrs Younge’s expression of horror, then ran up to the second floor landing, where it was now evident that some kind of altercation was taking place in the far room.

He tried the door, which was locked, then rapped the panel sharply with his knuckles.

‘Be off with you!’ a man cried from within.

The voice, although faintly familiar, was not Wickham’s.

Mrs Younge, who had again caught up, grabbed Darcy’s sleeve and tried to drag him away, shaking her head frantically. He retreated a few steps, and was about to leave when he heard again a cry, this time in the voice of a young woman or perhaps a child, immediately stifled with a growled warning.

There was no time to deliberate on the wisest course of action. Responding instinctively, Darcy broke away from Mrs Younge and applied his shoulder to the door. With a splintering sound the lock gave, revealing a shocking scene. Beyond the bed, red-faced with fury, stood a gentleman of some 50 years, awkwardly trying to pull up his breeches. To his disquiet, Darcy recognised the man as Sir Osborne Kaye, a baronet with a reputation in the
ton
for indulging in prolonged quarrels, often connected with gambling. On the bed, whimpering, lay a girl of perhaps 14 years, or even younger, with her wrists bound to the bars of the bedstead, and her body naked except for a shift pulled up nearly to her armpits.

Having fastened his belt, Kaye faced up to Darcy with his fists balled and his chest thrust out. ‘Sir, this is an outrage!’

‘Indeed it is,’ Darcy returned, with forced composure. ‘But before discussing the matter, we should attend to this child.’ Taking pains to avert his gaze, he covered the girl’s body with a blanket and struggled to unpick her bonds, while at the doorway Kaye turned his anger on Mrs Younge. Initially agitated, the girl became stiller as she began to trust Darcy, and he frowned as he noticed fresh scratches on her thin upper arms.

With a reassuring whisper to the girl, Darcy turned to face Kaye, who accosted him anew. ‘Darcy, is it not? What account, pray, can you give of your behaviour?’

‘I had no idea you were here,’ Darcy replied coldly. ‘I heard a cry of distress, apparently from a child or young girl, and saw no alternative to interceding, as I would expect you or any other gentleman to do in like circumstances.’

Kaye sniffed in contempt. ‘Well, having
interceded
in this affair that is none of your business, I assume you will wish to apologize for your invasion of my privacy, and proceed on your way.’

Darcy sighed, and shook his head. ‘I would suggest, rather, that you withdraw now, and terminate whatever association you have had with this, ah, young lady. In return, I give you my word that I will treat in confidence the events that I have, unfortunately, witnessed.’

Kaye fixed him in a look of cold hatred. ‘Just the kind of sanctimonious response that I should expect from a Darcy. Like father, like son.’ He gathered his coat and made ready to leave, brushing off with disdain Mrs Younge’s repeated exculpations and apologies. ‘You will hear from me in due course, sir.’

Left uncomfortably alone with the girl, Darcy observed her from the safe distance of the doorway. ‘What is your name, child?’

‘Bertha, sir.’

‘Have you family or friends who can care for you?’

‘I have an aunt in Spitalfields, sir.’

‘I need to speak with Mrs Younge now. While I am away, get dressed and collect your things. I will then
take you to your aunt.’

With a sigh, Darcy left her and descended in search of Mrs Younge. The episode had left him almost physically sick, not only with disgust but with unease, for Sir Osborne Kaye was hardly a man one wanted to provoke. The only crumb of compensation was that with this extra leverage, he might now obtain Mrs Younge’s cooperation more cheaply in the matter of Wickham’s address.

As Darcy concluded his story, there was a tap on the door and Mrs Gardiner entered.

Elizabeth, seeing Darcy grit his teeth as he prepared to rise, held up her hands to forestall him, but he forced himself up anyway and bowed. ‘I should apologise, madam, for detaining your niece so long.’

Mrs Gardiner advanced a few steps, and with a reassuring smile replied: ‘There is no apology in the case, sir. Provided Lizzy is agreeable, you should take whatever time you need. I am intruding only to enquire whether you would like to stay for dinner, so that I can instruct cook to prepare an extra portion. We usually eat at half past six.’

Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, who nodded enthusiastically, gratified that he had seen fit to consult her.

‘You are most kind,’ he said to Mrs Gardiner. ‘Yes, it would be convenient if we could continue awhile, and then discuss the matter further with Mr Gardiner and yourself.’ He coloured a little before continuing: ‘I am well aware, madam, that through my actions I have placed your family in an unpleasant predicament. I am very much in your debt.’