Darcy's Trial (17 page)

While Elizabeth was taking this in, Mrs Dobbs asked leave to fetch Bertha, who had been chatting with her brother. Marching her daughter into the kitchen, she sat her down firmly on a stool, then addressed her in a low hiss, as if afraid someone would overhear.

‘Have you told Joe of what happened?’

Bertha coloured. ‘What do you mean, ma?’

Mrs Dobbs threw a glance at Elizabeth. ‘Miss Bennet has told me why you had to leave the master’s service. Have you told Joe?’

Bertha shook her head emphatically.

‘Or anyone else in the village?’

‘Are you mad?’

‘Let it stay that way.’ Mrs Dobbs rested a hand on her daughter’s arm. ‘I’m not saying it’s your fault, see? I’m saying it’s best if folks don’t know. Not a whisper. Understand?’

Bertha looked at Elizabeth, who nodded assent.

‘Another thing.’ Mrs Dobbs leaned forward. ‘You’re not with child?’

After a hesitation, Bertha shook her head.

‘My aunt arranged for a doctor to see Bertha,’ Elizabeth said. ‘She has recovered well, and there is no difficulty of, ah, that sort.’

‘Thank you.’ Mrs Dobbs thought for a few seconds and then asked Bertha, ‘Will you be returning to London?’

‘Mrs Gardiner has been kind to me. I can send money if you need it.’

Mrs Dobbs sat up straighter. ‘We can manage.’

There was an awkward silence, after which Elizabeth rose, thanked Mrs Dobbs for her hospitality, and explained that she would like to explore the rest of the village—if Bertha would be so kind as to serve as her guide.

By early afternoon, Elizabeth was fast losing any hope of success. She had begun with the first name on her list, Bertha’s friend Maggie, who seemed the most likely source of information despite the two-mile trek to Midhurst. They found Maggie at home, where she helped her mother while looking after her baby, but like Mrs Dobbs she was wary of saying anything that might provoke the Kayes or their henchmen. She was even reluctant to admit that Sir Osborne was the father of her baby, although according to Bertha this was common knowledge. Yet again, Elizabeth was forced to acknowledge her own naivety. She had assumed that with a little reassurance, Sir Osborne’s victims would be willing, even eager, to give evidence against their oppressors, overlooking that from their viewpoint she, Elizabeth, was a stranger who would be here today and gone tomorrow, while the Kayes would endure and must be appeased.

Two fruitless interviews later, Elizabeth was wondering whether to abandon her quest altogether and return by stagecoach to London, when an alternative approach occurred to her. After taking careful directions from Bertha, she left the maid with her mother, reserved a room at the local inn for one night, then set off alone towards Wistham Court.

On entering the grounds she was overtaken by a man driving a cart laden with wood, who regarded her curiously. Feeling conspicuous she pressed on until, rounding a corner, she saw the house about a quarter of a mile away, a long rectangular building with triangular gables that were also used as a motif above the windows. She reached a stile leading to a sheep pasture, and sat down to rest on the diagonal step. She had left the carpet bag behind at the inn, but in her reticule was an apple that she had bought in Coleorton, and she munched it slowly as she reflected further on the best way to approach Helena Kaye—assuming she could find her at all.

After throwing the core into a hedge, Elizabeth set off again, and almost immediately heard horse hooves from a bridlepath opposite the stile. Retreating to the verge, she saw two riders, a man and a woman, and with a prickle of alarm wondered whether the man might be Sir Arthur Kaye, perhaps returned for a final inspection of his domain before the onset of the trial. Whether or not this was so, there was nowhere to hide, and she stood her ground as they clattered into the path. With a surge of relief she recognised Helena Kaye accompanied by a young man she had never seen before—probably a groom by the dress, and certainly not Helena’s brother.

Helena reined in her mount expertly and stared at Elizabeth open-mouthed for several seconds.

‘Miss Bennet? Can it be you?’

Elizabeth stepped forward a fraction, keeping her distance from the horses, who were stamping and breathing heavily. ‘Helena, I beg you to excuse my unexpected arrival. I have been travelling in the area and had a sudden impulse to pay you a visit. I hope this is not an inconvenient moment.’

‘Not at all!’ Radiant with excitement, Helena dismounted, and handed the reins to the groom before running up to Elizabeth and taking both her hands. She looked well, with cheeks flushed through exercise, and far more confidence than she had shown in London. ‘Where is your carriage?’

‘I am staying at the Swan Inn, but since it’s a fine day I decided to come here on foot.’

‘But you should stay here, not at the inn! There are no guests at present so we can accommodate you easily.’ She turned to the groom. ‘Harte, can you take my horse? I’m going to return with Miss Bennet. And tell Mrs Partridge to have some refreshment ready.’

On the edge of the formal garden stood a trellis, where Helena was in the habit of taking afternoon tea when the weather was fine. By the time they arrived a table had been set with sandwiches, cakes and tea, reminding Elizabeth of how hungry she had become. In all sincerity she took the opportunity of complimenting Helena on her hospitality, while enthusiastically loading her plate. Two cucumber sandwiches and a long draught of tea later, she felt strong enough to steer the conversation from polite trivialities to the delicate matters that were the real reason for her visit.

‘I fear I have kept you from changing out of your riding habit,’ she began, pointing to the plain linen dress that Helena was still wearing, having discarded her riding jacket and boots.

Helena looked concerned, as if she might have committed a
faux pas
. ‘Perhaps you would like to change too, Miss Bennet, having walked so far. Since we are of similar height I believe you will find something suitable in my wardrobe, and Agnes can attend us both.’

‘I’m glad to hear Agnes is still with you. I recall that in London you were worried in case she had to leave.’

Helena was suddenly alert. ‘No, there has been no further problem of—that kind.’

The unspoken words
since my father’s death
hung in the air, and after an uncomfortable silence Elizabeth took the plunge. ‘Helena, there is something I need to discuss with you. It concerns a maid who left your family’s employ a few months ago. By chance I have become acquainted with her since she is now working for my aunt. Her name is Bertha. Bertha Dobbs.’

‘Oh!’ Helena blinked with shock, her previous confidence now revealed as a veneer, and Elizabeth was careful to conceal her alarm as the girl fought to regain her composure. ‘But how …’

‘Don’t worry, Bertha is quite well,’ Elizabeth replied quickly, trying to sidestep the issue of how this coincidence had come about. ‘She has fitted well into my aunt’s household, and is now accompanying me on my travels as my maid. At this moment she is with her mother, whom she has not seen since the spring.’ She paused a moment to gauge Helena’s reaction, before continuing: ‘Bertha told me that she filled in sometimes as your ladies maid, and liked working for you.’

Curiously, this approving report from a servant seemed to calm Helena. ‘I’m pleased to hear she is safe and well.’ She looked away, and in a small voice said: ‘I do—worry.’

‘About the welfare of girls who have had to leave?’

‘Yes. The trouble is …’ Helena leaned forward and dropped her voice. ‘Usually they would simply disappear. With no warning, I would be told that they had left suddenly, and a chambermaid like Bertha had to fill in until a replacement was found. Did that happen to you too?’

Taken aback for a moment, Elizabeth recalled just in time that while visiting Helena in London, she had laid claim to a similar experience. ‘Yes, it’s most upsetting, especially when it happens with no warning and no explanation.’

‘There was one maid in particular.’ Helena looked dreamily into the distance. ‘Her name was Lucy Clover. She joined me last summer, promoted from chambermaid, and we got on very well. From the beginning I loved the way she styled my hair, and her taste in selecting the right clothes for each occasion. Then one evening after we moved to London in December, Mrs Partridge told me that she too had left.’

‘Were you able to discover why?’

‘Mrs Partridge hinted that Lucy had done something wrong, but could give no details. This upset me so much that I asked my father.’ She reddened. ‘He was angry and said I should not concern myself with the servants, and that the house was being run with my best interests in mind.’

‘But you were not being critical,’ Elizabeth said gently. ‘You were only sorry to lose Lucy, and concerned for her future welfare.’

Helena frowned, as if this favourable interpretation of her behaviour had never struck her, then nodded. ‘That is still how I feel.’

‘Have you tried asking Lucy’s family?’

Helena thought for a few seconds. ‘They live some way outside Wistham but I suppose I could visit easily enough. To tell the truth, the idea never occurred to me. You must think me very foolish.’

‘Shall we go tomorrow morning? Apart from anything else, it might make a pleasant outing if the weather is fine.’

Helena was suddenly enthusiastic. ‘I would like that very much.’

Next morning, still favoured by fine weather, they set off after breakfast in a curricle, driven by the groom Abel Harte who obviously had Helena’s full trust. After an evening spent talking of pleasanter matters, and a good night’s sleep, Elizabeth’s spirits were restored to their normal optimism. Yes, the chances of success in her enterprise might be small, but at least there was
some
hope, and for the time being she had a clear plan and a base from which to operate. She also had her luggage, which a servant had retrieved from the inn; however, with her dresses creased and in need of washing she had taken advantage of Helena’s offer, and was now robed in a light muslin dress that was a little long but otherwise a good fit.

As they left the estate, a tall thickset man approached riding a large bay horse. He halted to await their arrival, and Harte, also slowing down, called out: ‘Good morning, Mr McGill!’

Acknowledging this with a grunt, McGill lined up his horse with the back of the carriage and greeted Helena with a bow of the head.

‘Miss Kaye.’ He switched his gaze to Elizabeth. ‘I see you have company this morning.’

Helena blinked uneasily, as if this was some kind of accusation, but managed to reply in a steady enough voice:

‘My friend Miss Bennet visited yesterday, and will be staying a few days. Elizabeth, this is Mr McGill, who is my father’s—I mean, my brother’s gamekeeper.’

Sensing that McGill was a man of few words, Elizabeth merely smiled and nodded, making no attempt to engage him in conversation. He paused a few seconds, then shifted his gaze back to Helena. ‘It must be a pleasant change to have a friend here, Miss Kaye. Was Sir Arthur aware that Miss Bennet was planning to visit?’

Elizabeth shivered, partly from the reference to Helena’s brother, but also because she found McGill’s even monotone unnerving. She decided to reply on Helena’s behalf. ‘He cannot know yet, Mr McGill, since I passed by on impulse, without prior arrangement. However, Sir Arthur and I have been introduced in London, so we are already acquainted.’

‘And where are you bound on this fine day?’

Helena glanced anxiously at Elizabeth. ‘Mowsley Lake …’

‘For a picnic!’ Elizabeth said brightly, pointing back to the hamper.

‘Then I’ll not be delaying you any longer.’ With a tug on the reins, McGill pulled the bay round, and set off at a gallop in the direction of the house.

Temporarily upset by this encounter, Elizabeth remained silent until they passed through Wistham village, where she leaned across so that the groom would not hear, and asked: ‘How long has Mr McGill worked for your family?’

‘He came about ten years ago, just before mother died …’ Helena’s voice faded away as she completed this sentence, and Elizabeth waited a few seconds for her to rally.

‘He must be well-regarded if he has stayed so long.’

‘My father spoke highly of his loyalty.’ Helena dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘It used to scare me to see him with his rifle, and such a stern expression. I hate to think of him trapping and killing animals, although I’m told it is necessary. But fortunately our paths cross infrequently. I meet him occasionally on the road, that is all.’

At Mowsley Lake they left Harte alone with the curricle, and proceeded on foot to a hamlet half a mile further on, where Helena became suddenly indecisive. At a crossroads Elizabeth spotted a carter approaching, and ran to ask directions.

‘Lucy.’ The man scratched his bald pate. ‘You won’t find her here, ma’am. She’s left these parts a year or more. Doesn’t live here no more.’

‘We’re looking for her family,’ Helena said. ‘Mrs Clover.’

He pointed to a row of small stone cottages. ‘On the end, like. Nearest to us. You see, right there. Mrs Clover. She’s Lucy’s ma, like. But the girl, Lucy, she left these parts long ago. Doesn’t live here …’

‘Thank you, I understand you perfectly.’ Struggling not to laugh, Elizabeth took Helena’s hand and they made their escape from the carter. The end cottage had the benefit of a larger garden, where a small thin woman with greying blonde hair was kneeling at a vegetable patch collecting lettuce thinnings. The woman stood as they approached, gathering the thinnings in her apron, and bobbed awkwardly.

Helena stepped forward. ‘Mrs Clover? I’m Miss Kaye from Wistham Court.’

‘I know, madam. Lucy pointed you out at the village fair.’

‘I’m sorry I’ve never visited before.’

‘I wouldn’t expect that, madam, us being so far out.’

‘By the way, this is my friend Miss Bennet.’ Helena moved a step closer. ‘Can we have a moment? I wanted to ask about Lucy, who as you know used to be my maid.’

The woman reddened. ‘I’d ask you in, madam, but since I wasn’t expecting a visit …’