Darcy's Trial (14 page)

Elizabeth struggled to hide her disappointment, realising that she would no longer be able to draw on Bridget’s support in the period leading up to Darcy’s trial. ‘Is it a long journey?’

‘Coleorton is ten miles north-west of Leicester, so we will need to stop overnight at an inn along the way.’ Bridget moved next to Elizabeth on the divan, and took her arm. ‘I’m sorry about this, Elizabeth, partly for selfish reasons, for I will keenly miss your company.’

‘Likewise.’ Elizabeth’s reply was more mechanical than heart-felt, since her mind was abuzz with the implications of Coleorton being near
Leicester
, and hence in the same county as the Kaye residence at Wistham Court. With an effort she refocussed on the conversation, and observed: ‘But surely you will not lack for interesting company at Coleorton?’

Bridget’s eyes sparkled. ‘In addition to the family, there are often artists and writers in attendance. The Wordsworths might be invited, and Coleridge if he promises to behave himself.’ She turned to meet Elizabeth’s eye. ‘It is such a pity you cannot come with us, for I’m sure you would enjoy yourself immensely.’

‘It sounds fascinating, and I would have loved to accompany you,’ Elizabeth said, picking up Bridget’s enthusiasm. ‘Still, I will look forward to hearing the particulars on your return—or by letter if you find time to write.’

Bridget hesitated, her expression suddenly thoughtful. ‘Of course I’m assuming that you will remain in town while awaiting Mr D’s trial.’

Elizabeth considered her reply carefully. ‘In truth, I have accomplished little here, mostly because the
gentlemen
—my uncle and Mr Darcy—have decided that my reputation matters more than Mr Darcy’s life, and have accordingly frustrated me at every turn. We haven’t discussed the trial itself, but no doubt they will conspire to prevent me from attending
that
as well. My presence in town is therefore more a distraction than a help, and I have been wondering whether it would not be better to give up altogether and return to Longbourn.’

‘So in fact you would like to come with us?’ Bridget asked in a tone of surprise.

‘I can imagine no greater pleasure.’ Elizabeth raised her palms. ‘But it would surely be wrong to intrude on the privacy of so distinguished man as your cousin, especially when he has never met me.’

‘No matter,’ Bridget returned immediately. ‘You are
my
friend, and on that ground alone should be welcome. The only problem might be one of numbers, for which I should check with Thomas. Would you come alone, or bring a maid?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Elizabeth’s head was spinning at this sudden turn of events. ‘Bridget, please take some time to consider! I fear I have invited myself, something I had no right to do.’

Bridget brushed away this objection with a wave of the hand. ‘I’m so excited you are coming!’ She jumped to her feet. ‘If you’re sure, it’s better that I inform Thomas immediately.’

‘I should ask my uncle’s permission,’ Elizabeth said reflectively. ‘Also I’m concerned at the state of my wardrobe, which will certainly not pass muster at such a grand house.’

‘Details, details,’ Bridget mocked. ‘If you are in such anxiety about your appearance, you can accompany me tomorrow to my modiste.’

Returning to Gracechurch Street in time for dinner, Elizabeth found Bertha already helping Polly in the kitchen, where by all accounts she had made a good start. The plan was for Bertha to work alongside Polly for a few days before taking over her duties. As a temporary measure she had been given a mattress in the attic room that Polly shared with another servant, ready to move into Polly’s bed in due course. After fearing that she was exploiting the girl for her own purposes, Elizabeth was glad to find her getting on cheerfully with the other staff, and delighted with her new position.

On hearing Elizabeth’s news over dinner, the Gardiners were astonished that she had received an invitation to such a prestigious household, for as cultured people they were well aware of Sir George Beaumont’s reputation as a connoisseur of the arts and innovator in the mining industry.

‘This is very sudden,’ Elizabeth admitted, ‘but I would truly love to go, at least for a week or two.’

Her aunt was immediately enthusiastic. ‘You should accept, Lizzy. Such opportunities are not to be missed!’

‘I see no harm in it,’ agreed Mr Gardiner, more warily. ‘I will explain to your father that we have met the Beaumonts, and have confidence that they are a trustworthy family.’

He exchanged a glance of silent communication with his wife, and Elizabeth instantly guessed its import: they were pleased that she was finally to leave London and take up residence in a place far removed from the Darcy scandal.

Later that evening, after her uncle had gone to bed, Elizabeth took a candle to his study and picked out an atlas containing detailed maps of England. As Bridget had indicated, she found Coleorton Hall some ten miles north-east of Leceister; following a diagonal south-east towards Market Harborough she also found Wistham Court, a similar distance from Leicester on the opposite side. Not only were the two estates in the same county, but they were little more than twenty miles apart.

Two days passed in a flurry of preparations. Next morning, at breakfast, Elizabeth sensed a change of mood in her uncle and aunt: although still concerned for Mr Darcy as a valued friend of the family, they were relieved that Elizabeth had found another interest to distract her from the painful imminence of the trial. Realising that Elizabeth would need to invest in more elegant clothes, Mr Gardiner offered to loan her the necessary funds, on the understanding that Mr Bennet could make good the debt at a later date. From experience Elizabeth knew that such debts might be conveniently forgotten, but for now she pushed this thought to the back of her mind and focussed on the immediate advantages of her uncle’s generosity.

So it was that by the afternoon, Elizabeth was able to keep her appointment with Bridget at Madame Duval’s fashionable establishment in Bond Street. Having ordered some gowns beforehand, Bridget needed only a final fitting, after which minor adjustments could be made straight away. While they waited, a girl modelled some ready-made outfits that could be quickly adapted to suit Elizabeth’s measurements. The choice was limited, but fortunately several options were to Elizabeth’s liking, and after animated discussion with Bridget she picked out a muslin day dress in cream and yellow, a brocaded silk and wool dress with a matching spencer jacket, and a simple but elegant silk evening gown in pale pink embroidered with silver crowns. Afterwards they explored some of the neighbouring shops, where Elizabeth bought two sleeveless calico petticoats, dancing slippers, walking boots, and day shoes in fine leather with medium heels and light buckles.

Although content with these purchases, Elizabeth was upset to overhear a whispered discussion in Madame Duval’s between two ladies who were evidently following the Kaye-Darcy gossip in the society pages. From the tone of their conversation as well as the substance, she understood that Darcy had never been popular in the
ton
. His wealth and position had ensured that he commanded respect; they had also proved a reliable magnet to young ladies keen to marry well—not to mention their mothers. However, in London as in Meryton he had not been
liked
, only admired with a certain reluctance. In consequence, the consensus of opinion had quickly turned against him now that he had fallen from grace.
Too proud to apologise
said the whispers.
Inflexible, unworldly, sanctimonious
.
Provoking a life-and-death quarrel over a peccadillo
. As she eavesdropped, Elizabeth felt her hackles rise—even though she had made similar comments herself—and she she longed to join the fray on his side. Fortunately practical sense prevailed, and she managed to maintain a pretence of ignoring the conversation until the ladies tired of this particular scandal and transferred their attention to another.

Meanwhile, the plan to include Elizabeth in Bridget’s party had been approved not only by Thomas Beaumont but by their host, for Sir George was still in town and leaving only one day earlier with a party of his own. Yes, Elizabeth was welcome; and yes, there would be space to accommodate a maid.

‘Aunt, I have yet another favour to ask.’

Mrs Gardiner, relaxing with Elizabeth in the drawing room, reached for the teapot and refilled both their cups. ‘Of what nature, Lizzy?’

‘Bridget has offered to share her maid, but I think they would actually prefer me to bring my own.’ She dropped her voice. ‘I wondered whether you could spare Bertha for the next fortnight. I know her experience is mainly as kitchen or chamber maid, but she occasionally filled in as ladies maid to Miss Kaye. I asked her to help with my hair yesterday when Rose was busy, and she pinned it neatly enough.’

Mrs Gardiner considered. ‘I think I can manage in the kitchen, since Polly will be here until mid-September, and has already had time to teach Bertha her duties. But I wonder how Bertha will cope in such a grand household. Will she not be overawed?’

‘Remember that Bertha is the only servant here to have worked for a rich family with an estate and a house in town. Also she is deft and adaptable.’

‘Certainly it’s hard to suggest an alternative …’ Mrs Gardiner looked away for a few seconds. ‘Very well, if it would be convenient for you to take Bertha, I have no objection.’

Elizabeth noticed that she had been holding her breath in suspense, and felt her whole body relax as she exhaled. At the same time she was guiltily aware that yet again she had concealed her true purpose from her aunt and uncle, while exploiting their generosity for her own ends.

That night, Elizabeth lay awake until the early hours, thinking mostly of Darcy and how he might be preparing his defence at the trial. It upset her that he had become so isolated, and she reflected that he had never been a man to win many friends. Colonel Fitzwilliam no doubt would stand by him to the end, as would Bingley, but she was less certain of Bingley’s sisters, who were probably more interested in maintaining their reputation in the
ton
than in supporting a man who was no longer an attractive target for matrimony. She could imagine too the delight that her new brother-in-law Wickham must be taking in Darcy’s fall, a feeling shared in all probability by Lydia and perhaps also Kitty and Mrs Bennet.

Still, Darcy did have a small nucleus of men he could count on—his lawyer, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and perhaps other influential relations she had not met. What were they doing? Her impression, from her last conversation with Darcy, was that they were relying on persuasion, directed especially at Lord Harbury, and if this failed, on an honest account of what took place, in the hope that the jury might understand and respect Darcy’s motives in proceeding with the duel. He was simply too scrupulous to go on the attack, by uncovering sordid details that would embarrass his enemies; and the reason for this, she recognised, was an honourable one—
the protection of the innocent
. Just as he would not expose Wickham, for fear of upsetting Georgiana, so he was revolted by the very idea of calling on Sir Osborne Kaye’s victims to give evidence, so exposing them to humiliating cross-examination in front of the voyeuristic eyes of the public gallery and the gossip columns.

In a word, Darcy wished for a
bloodless
victory, and this in Elizabeth’s view was a forlorn hope. All her sources of evidence—the society pages, conversations with Bridget, chatter overheard in shops—confirmed a general hostility to Darcy’s cause that would almost certainly be repeated in two weeks time at the trial. The only plausible form of defence was attack; as a military man, Colonel Fitzwilliam must surely see this, and so in his heart of hearts must Darcy. It was as if deep down he preferred deportation or death to the shame of violating the maxim that the innocent should not suffer on his account. His self-sacrificing nobility brought tears to Elizabeth’s eyes, but she did not share it. Her instinct was to fight by any means, to scratch and claw and gouge until her last breath, and if this meant that she must lie to her family, or embarrass witnesses, or risk injury to innocent bystanders, then so be it.

At last Saturday came, bright and crisp, and by midday the two Beaumont carriages had passed St Albans, as they followed the main stagecoach route towards Northhampton. The family travelled four to a coach, Elizabeth and Bertha sharing with Bridget and her French maid Suzette, while in the other coach Georgie and his nanny joined Thomas and his steward.

Excited by the journey, Elizabeth was in good spirits, with troubling thoughts of the morrow temporarily muted. So that they could make an early start, she had been woken by Bertha at dawn, and quickly readied to join Bridget’s footman, who was to convey them to Cavendish Square. After taking only a cup of tea, she was soon hungry, and glad to stop at a coaching inn outside Watford for coffee and breakfast while the horses were changed. To complete the journey in two days, the Beaumonts planned to stay on fast turnpike roads, which meant that there was no possibility of breaking the journey at Netherfield—an outcome which Elizabeth greeted with mixed feelings: on the one hand she was longing to see Jane; on the other, she was afraid that her father would guess what she was planning, and cancel the visit to Coleorton forthwith.

Inside her carriage two separate conversations soon developed, with Bertha shyly getting to know Suzette, leaving Elizabeth and Bridget free to resume their lively badinage. Needing a holiday from anxieties about Darcy, Elizabeth was grateful that by mutual consent this topic was strictly out of bounds, given the possibility that Bertha in particular might overhear. Thus constrained, the two women talked mostly of their earlier lives, and Elizabeth learned how Bridget had grown up in Devon, where her father William Davie had been rector of Exminster, rising to become prebendary of the cathedral before his early death. Losing her father before the age of ten, Bridget had been brought up by her mother, also named Bridget, in a comparatively humble household, including two brothers who died young, as well as the sister Frances whom Elizabeth had seen at Ambleside. Fortunately, however, the family had enjoyed the patronage of Bridget’s uncle, the baronet Sir John Davie, who had taken pains to ensure that his nieces were introduced to superior society; so it was that in her early twenties Bridget had come to London for the season, where she had caught the eye of Thomas Beaumont.