Darcy's Trial (21 page)

Agnes bit her lip, considering this. ‘But begging your pardon, madam, why should he come so far into the room? Wouldn’t it be better to lay the trap nearer the door?’

‘The trouble is that if he fell there, he would block the doorway. Even if we managed to jump over him, we would be unable to pull the door shut and bolt him in. Our chances of escape would then be slight. But your point is valid. He is unlikely to move into the danger area unless we find some way of enticing him there.’

Agnes shook her head. ‘I don’t see how.’

‘We would need to attract his attention by some sort of distraction in the far corner, under the window. With luck he would stride across the room to deal with it, so stepping into the area where I have laid my ambush.’ Elizabeth twisted round and pointed to the small pane that was the room’s only source of light. ‘Agnes, if I stood in the corner, do you think you could climb on to my hands and reach the window?’

Slowly another hour passed, perhaps two. Would the men ever come, or did they plan to leave their prisoners all day without fresh food and water? At last she heard voices outside, and they took their positions, Agnes beside the mattress, Elizabeth under the window.

On hearing the bolt, Agnes cried out, as planned: ‘Be quick madam! They’re coming!’ Violently the door was thrust inwards, and McGill stepped through, to see Elizabeth apparently climbing a blanket that hung down from the window. Elizabeth stared at him for a moment, then stood on tip-toe and pretended to climb higher; in fact the blanket was looped insecurely through the window latch, and would fall down if required to take her weight.

Elizabeth knew that if McGill stopped to think, he would see there was no danger of her escaping. She hoped that in the heat of the moment, instinct would pre-empt reason—and to her relief it did. With a cry of anger McGill ran straight across the room towards her, and with miraculous neatness his feet flew into the air, and his head landed with a fearful crack on the hard oak floor. In a flash Elizabeth picked up the chamber pot, ran carefully around the edge of the room to avoid falling victim to her own trap, and gave McGill the benefit of Agnes’s diarrhea, full in the face. Almost too stunned to retaliate, and now blinded by the foul mess in his eyes, McGill’s hands reached for her in vain as she danced to one side; she then closed as he tried to sit up, and brought the chamber pot with all her force down on the crown of his head. He fell back again, and Elizabeth released the pot and followed Agnes out of the door, only to discover that the maid had run straight into the arms of McGill’s assistant Billy, who had been waiting outside near the cottage door.

‘Oh Billy, you must come quickly!’ Elizabeth cried, pointing into the cell. ‘Mr McGill has fallen and hurt himself, and asks for your help straight away!’

She had planned this communication carefully, to make it clear that these were
McGill’s instructions
, and as she had hoped, Billy’s response was automatically to obey. Pushing Agnes to one side, he ran clumsily into the room, only to slip on a displaced bead and fall on top of McGill, who was making another effort to get up. Quickly Elizabeth grabbed the door handle and tried to pull it shut, but one of Billy’s legs trailed with the ankle still blocking the doorway. Now desperate, Elizabeth stamped ruthlessly on the offending ankle, causing Billy to grunt and move it a little way into the room, whereupon with a fierce kick she managed to remove it altogether from her path and slam the door shut. By now McGill was on his feet, yelling at Billy to get out of his way, but to no avail, for with a howl of triumph Elizabeth drew the bolt and the tables were turned.

For a moment the two women regarded each other, frozen in disbelief, as within the cell there was a furious shouting and banging on the door. Impulsively Elizabeth embraced Agnes, and they did a little jig around the room before collapsing in giggles on the divan. The language from the cell became quite colourful, causing them to giggle some more in a mixture of exhilaration and fear. Were the men strong enough to break down the door? Having experienced its rock-like sturdiness, Elizabeth doubted that they were. The danger was that they might be discovered by someone else—Pritchett, perhaps, or the footman Baines, who seemed to enjoy the steward’s trust.

She noticed her reticule still hanging over a chair, and a quick search confirmed that her notebook and the ill-fated letter to Darcy were both missing—presumably retained by Arthur Kaye. Her bonnet turned up on the seat of the same chair, and was undamaged. In a corner she also found the carpet bag, which had been searched, and the clothes crumpled, although nothing had been taken. Peeping through the cottage door she was relieved to see nobody in view, only a small cart of the kind used to move wood or farm produce, with two horses in harness.

She called Agnes. ‘Time to go!’

The maid came from the kitchen, carrying two bread rolls which she had filled with cheese. She handed one to Elizabeth. ‘Are you not hungry, ma’am?’

‘You’re a treasure,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Are you also good with horses?’

In reply Agnes mounted the rough seat at the front of the cart, and after throwing the carpet bag into the back, Elizabeth joined her. A minute later they were well away from the cottage, following the road back to the village, and for a while Elizabeth was silent as she planned their next move.

‘Agnes, I want to leave Wistham as soon as possible and return to London,’ she said eventually. ‘Would you like to come with me? I’m not sure what the future holds, but I’ll do my best to make sure you come to no harm.’

‘Thank you madam. I’d be glad to, for I can’t stay here now.’

‘There’s a complication. I need to see your mistress Miss Kaye, if at all possible, and persuade her to come with us to London.’ She held up a hand to forestall Agnes’s objection. ‘I know she is being held at the Court. But Pritchett should still be away, correct?’

Agnes considered. ‘He was carrying the master half-way to London yesterday, so he will have passed the night at Aylesbury, if they follow their usual road, and won’t be back until late afternoon.’

‘So who will be guarding Miss Kaye? Mr Baines, perhaps one or two servants under his command. Anyone else?’

‘The groom Harry Perkins is close to Mr Pritchett, ma’am. He will have been promoted, now that Abel, I mean Mr Harte, has been dismissed.’

Elizabeth noticed her face fall, and asked: ‘Are you friendly with Mr Harte?’

Agnes reddened and nodded. ‘We’ve been courting, like, a few weeks.’

They came to a turning, and Elizabeth pointed right. ‘This is the way Pritchett brought me. It leads through a wood to a crossroads where we can turn left into the village. We can’t go to the Court yet. First we need reinforcements.’

Frowning, Agnes pulled the horses round to the right. ‘Pardon, ma’am?’

‘More people. I think it’s best if we go to the Dobbs’s cottage. Do you know the family?’

Agnes brightened. ‘Oh yes, ma’am. I knew Bertha before she left, and her brother Joe often goes fishing with Abel. They’ve been good mates for years.’

‘Ah.’ Elizabeth too smiled, as a plan began to take shape.

An hour or so later, Elizabeth sat on the same cart but with different companions, ready for her assault on Wistham Court. Holding the reins beside her was Abel Harte, who had been helping Joe Dobbs with a thatching repair. Joe himself was sitting on a sack in the back, next to Abel’s brother Robbie, who had fortuitously been part of the repair team.

They had found Bertha helping her mother in the vegetable garden. Agnes and Bertha went into a huddle like old friends, while Mrs Dobbs, upset by Elizabeth’s bruised face, persuaded her to apply a remedy of raw meat coated with black pepper and baking soda. A small mirror in the cottage allowed Elizabeth to view the damage for the first time, and she could scarcely believe her eyes at the dark purple and grey-green swellings that now disfigured her complexion.

While Elizabeth submitted to these ministrations, the girls had been sent to find Joe, who was working on a cottage just a few hundred yards away. They returned accompanied by three young men eager for the mission. Abel had accepted his dismissal in his usual phlegmatic way, but after hearing Agnes’s report he was furious with the master, and agreed immediately to help. Robbie, built on a larger scale than his younger brother, insisted on coming too, as did Joe.

After a brief council of war it was decided that the girls should remain behind at the Dobbs’s cottage. Since the main aim was to persuade Helena to come to London, it would have been useful to have Agnes’s and Bertha’s support, but Abel and Joe would not hear of it, and Elizabeth agreed it was too risky.

As they pulled up in the forecourt, they met a stable-lad leading a horse. The boy greeted Abel, and after a quick interrogation Abel and Robbie left immediately for the stables, leaving Joe to protect Elizabeth. The operation, she realised, was slipping out of her control; but she trusted Abel Harte and was relieved that at least some decisions were now in his hands. In a couple of minutes the men were back, having located Pritchett’s confidant Harry Perkins, tied his wrists, and roped them to a crossbeam. Threatened with similar treatment, two stable-boys agreed to leave him there until lunchtime, and Abel decided to leave them free, judging that their word was good.

By now their party was attracting attention in the house. Flanked by her guards, Elizabeth walked directly up the steps to the main entrance, where the reception committee included Mrs Partridge, with Mr Baines and another footman.

‘Miss Bennet!’ Mrs Partridge stepped forward. ‘We thought you’d left with Mr Pritchett. Your poor face, have you met with an accident?’

Elizabeth wondered how much the housekeeper knew. ‘Good day, Mrs Partridge. I would like to speak with Miss Kaye.’

Baines moved to Mrs Partridge’s side, his expression betraying his astonishment that Elizabeth was at liberty. ‘I’m afraid Miss Kaye is unavailable, Miss Bennet. Another day, perhaps.’

‘How strange, I was informed that Miss Kaye was detained at the Court and not allowed to leave. Is she not at home?’

‘She is—sick,’ Baines replied feebly, looking to Mrs Partridge for support.

‘In that case I
insist
on seeing her straight away. It would comfort her to have the company of a friend, don’t you agree?’

Baines reddened as he searched for a reply, and his gaze flickered to her protectors. ‘Why are these men here?’

‘It seems the roads of Wistham abound with dangers for the traveller,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Did not Mr Pritchett himself warn me of the ne’er-do-wells who have been spotted in the area?’

She stood aside as Abel and his imposing brother stepped forward and confronted Baines, who retreated stiffly into the foyer.

Turning to Mrs Partridge, Elizabeth asked softly: ‘Where is Miss Kaye?’

The housekeeper looked nervously from Elizabeth to Joe. ‘I really cannot say …’

‘You will tell me immediately, or I’ll search the house.’

Mrs Partridge whispered, as if afraid that Baines would hear. ‘She might be in her chamber.’

‘Please follow, Joe.’ Elizabeth swept past Baines with Joe in her wake, and made for the main stairs. In the foyer the men eyed each other in an uneasy standoff, but without any fisticuffs. Were there other servants loyal to Sir Arthur? If so Joe would have to deal with them. She found the family wing where she had slept just two nights before. There, outside Helena’s room, sat a matronly-looking woman with her grey hair tied in a bun, darning a stocking. She raised her eyes in alarm as Elizabeth approached, then stood up as they recognised one another.

‘Madam, what are you doing here?’

‘Good day, Mrs …’

‘Baines, madam.’

Elizabeth had seen the servant before, but without realising she was married to the footman. ‘I’m visiting Miss Kaye.’

‘I’m sorry ma’am, but we have orders …’

Elizabeth tried the door, which was locked. ‘Give me the key.’

The woman glanced at the pocket of her black skirt, looking up sheepishly when she realised what she had betrayed. She sighed, and with a wary glance at Joe delivered a bunch of keys to Elizabeth’s outstretched hand.

Helena was standing facing the doorway, and when Elizabeth entered alone, she advanced quickly with outstretched arms before exclaiming suddenly: ‘Elizabeth! Your face!’

Elizabeth put a finger to her lips, then took Helena’s hands and drew her to the other end of the room, where an armchair and footrest had been set up beside the window. ‘Have you been reading?’

‘
Troilus and Cressida
.’ Helena turned Elizabeth towards the sunlight and examined her bruises tenderly. ‘How did this happen?’

‘A man struck me.’

‘Why are you here? How did you get in?’ Helena’s eyes blinked repeatedly with confusion. ‘My brother left instructions …’

Elizabeth guided her to the bed, where they sat side by side. ‘Helena, I must relate some things that may distress you. But first let me assure you that we are safe here. I brought Harte and some other men who are watching Mr and Mrs Baines. Agnes is safe in the village at the Dobbs’s cottage. She has told me what happened when Arthur returned.’

Helena’s voice trembled so much that she could scarcely speak. ‘He said you were working for Mr Darcy and that I’d stupidly fallen into your trap. That’s why I’ve been detained. To stop me doing more harm.’

Elizabeth sighed. The truth had to be spoken, and she had no idea how Helena would react. ‘Helena, I confess I do know Mr Darcy. We are not intimate, but I have known him for some months and respect him as an honourable man. I’m afraid I cannot say the same for your father and brother. We have already seen how your father treated Lucy, Bertha, and the others. As for your brother …’ She pointed to her cheek. ‘It was he who assaulted me.’

Helena gasped. ‘No!’

‘I’m afraid so. When I left yesterday, Mr Pritchett took me prisoner in a remote cottage on the estate, where I was guarded by Mr McGill and another man. Your brother visited yesterday and tried to …’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘
Tumble me in a sty
, as Shakespeare might have it. Fortunately I managed to dissuade him by scratching his face, upon which he lost his temper and struck me here’—she pointed to her cheek, then her lip—‘and here.’