A World of Expectations_Book 2_The Confrontation

by Gayle Lynn Messick

  The judge banged his gavel on the bench. The room hushed as a bailiff stood in front of the bench and bellowed, “Hear ye, Hear ye. Order in the Court. The Trial of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy is about to begin.”

  Feeling himself slumping, Darcy grabbed onto the handrail in front of him. He now knew he was in the Assizes Court, the highest trial court in the nation, and was standing in the box assigned to the accused. He had been stripped of any sign of his wealth and prestige. The room was full of every known acquaintance, and unfortunately, he could not detect a single smile on any of their faces. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped when the man read the charges.

  “The Grand Jury has formally indicted said person for crimes against his fellow man. Five citizens have charged him with arrogance, willful misunderstanding, conceit, slander, knife attack, vanity, and pride. How do you plead?”

  Darcy opened his mouth to speak, when Rawlings appeared from nowhere, leaned in, and whispered, “Say not guilty. Do not admit your guilt; otherwise, they will lead you outside, shackle you to your offenses, and leave you all alone for the rest of your life. Defendants must prove their innocence against the prosecutors’ evidence as required by law.”

  “Who are the prosecutors?”

  Rawlings sighed. “Those hurt by your actions and deeds. Victims are always the prosecutors.”

  “Am I entitled to a lawyer?”

  “You may hire one if your wish. Shall I notify… Mr. Phillips from Meryton? He knows you well!”

  Darcy violently shook his head. “No, Rawlings. I interrupted him when he attempted to warn me, and I fear he would relish a guilty verdict. Could you do it?”

  “No, I cannot.” Rawlings prodded Darcy with his finger. “Enough. Say not guilty and let the trial commence. You must offer a defense and accept the consequences if you wish to be free. The judge is waiting; everyone is waiting.”

  With a slight crack in his voice, Darcy looked up to the judge and said, “Not Guilty.”

  The crowd murmured, and he could hear sniggering among the twelve members of the petty jury sitting to his left. Darcy felt a stabbing-like pain in his chest when he made out their faces—men he had met at Meryton, with Sir William Lucas as the foreman.

  “Colonel Richmond Fitzwilliam, please rise and give witness to your charge,” the bailiff announced.

  Darcy rose to his full height and watched his cousin move toward the witness stand. Richmond had not glanced his way until situated behind the wooden podium.

  “My cousin is an arrogant bastard and—”

  “I am not!” Darcy yelled.

  The judge banged the gavel down. “Do not interrupt, or I shall end this trial with a guilty verdict. You will be given an opportunity to question the witness, but at the appropriate time. Continue, Colonel, but do not use vulgar words.”

  The colonel nodded, and sent a charming smile, causing the judge’s blue eyes to sparkled brighter. “My cousin gave not a single moment’s thought to delaying my return to London. I had made plans that were important to me. He assumed, arrogantly, he did not need to consult with me before changing the departure date. I was not worth the trouble.”

  When the judge motioned for Darcy to begin his questioning, he again struggled to make out the face with the vaguely familiar blue eyes, but could not. The gray wig that the judge wore covered too much. He turned his attention to his cousin, and caught sight of the smirk upon his face. He recalled his cousin’s words from the carriage ride home. You do as you wish and leave it up to me to follow.

  “Richmond, you did not have to stay with me! I did not force you to do so! You could have left at any time.”

  “By post?”

  “I would have provided you with my carriage if you had asked. You did not ask.”

  “True. But then you never were interested in my life and not knowing about my plans proves my suspicions.”

  “Humph.” Darcy caught the word in his throat and drew the back of his hand across his mouth. I will rid myself of this word from my very being!

  “Mr. Darcy?” The judge banged the gavel. “Do you have any more questions?”

  “No further questions.” Darcy glowered at his cousin while he stepped down, walking away with a decided limp. Was he injured on the continent? Ah, Richmond you are worthy of my attention. Why did I not know about your orders? Why did I not ask him questions about his life? He felt an ache when he realized his cousin no longer wore his uniform. What will he do now? He cannot survive on a half-pay pension.

  The bailiff rose. “Mr. Stephen Kent, please rise and offer your testimony.”

  Kent entered the witness stand. “I charge him with willful misunderstanding and arrogance. Mr. Darcy did deliberately, and without cause, falsely accused me of courting his sister. He also treated the Kent family rudely by not acknowledging their worthiness. He ignored my sister and imposed upon my aunt by not notifying her of a delay in his visit. With conceit in his heart, he looked upon me and all the Kents and Boultons as underlings.”

  The room grew quiet.

  “Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy, you may cross-examine him now.” The judge banged the gavel again. “Mr. Darcy!”

  Darcy hung his head and sighed loudly before he answered. “Kent. I cannot believe how fairly I treated you, and yet you believe this of me. Did I not let you partner with me?”

  “To use your word, humph.”

  Darcy leaned over the railing. “You do not get off so easily. Why did you even bother to collaborate with me? Oh yes, you were using me to get to Victoria. You pretended to be a man wooing my sister.”

  “Perhaps, but would you have offered assistance? Speaking of sisters, when you attended the Lunar Society Meeting at Bingley’s did you show any kindness to my sister?”

  Darcy glared at Kent. “I did not know she was there. Did you introduce me? No. You did not. But…” Darcy ran his fingers through his hair, his thoughts flying. .But, why did I not suggest introductions to all the guests? Why? Did I ignore everyone but the men of science? I cannot believe I treated the ladies in such a manner.

  “But what?”

  “No further questions.” Darcy hung his head and stared at the floor as his partner stepped down. Lost in his thoughts, he missed the announcement of the next man that had now found his way into the witness stand.

  “My friend suffers from an overabundance of conceit.” Rawlings settled back into the witness chair, turned his head away from the judge and towards Darcy. “All you ever worry about is you. How does everyone treat you? Everyone wants something from you. Well, you owe us an apology, my friend.”

  Darcy lifted head to address the friend who was gazing directly at him but without any anger. “Rawlings, you are mistaken. I worry about everyone, not the other way around. The truth is that no one ever thinks of me, nor do they care about any of my burdens. They just see me as a bag of coins. They do…” When Rawlings sent him a questioning look, Darcy thought, Or do they? Am I really only worried about me? My God, it is true. I answered him with a defense of myself. Me!

  After a moment of silence while Darcy contemplated his actions with other people, the faceless judge banged the gavel. “Mr. Darcy?”

  Darcy shook his head and then let his chin drop down. “No further questions.”

  The bailiff spoke. “The Most Honorable Robert Henry Schofield, Marquess of Blake. State your case, Lord Blake.”

  When he replaced Rawlings in the witness stand, Darcy let his shoulders drop and his hands dangle by his side. He could not imagine mounting any defense against this man. He knew the accusations would be truthful. He knew he was guilty.

  Blake cleared his throat and in a calm voice said, “He lied. He lied to me, and then stabbed me in—”

  “When did I lie?” Darcy yelled. He recalled every instance where he had spoken to Blake since they met up at Netherfield and could not find a single spoken lie.

  The judge’s gavel hit the bench so hard not a single soul misheard the sound. “Do not interrupt, Mr. Darcy. This
is your last warning!”

  Darcy nodded.

  Blake glared at Darcy. “He told us Miss Elizabeth Bennet had hardly a good feature in her face, more than one failure in her form, and her manners were not those of the fashionable world. And when asked if he thought she was a beauty, his exact words were ‘She a beauty! I should as soon call her mother a wit!’ You see, he lied from the beginning. And then he stabbed me in the back.”

  “Explain the circumstances, Lord Blake,” The judge said. “I heard of no physical injury.”

  “Perhaps not physically, but he pushed that hard, cold blade between by shoulder blades by his actions. He attempted on several occasions to dissuade me from pursing Miss Elizabeth Bennet. He interrupted—”

  The entire room chuckled.

  “He interrupted my proposal. He did so deliberately and used that moment to separate her from me. And I recently discovered,” Lord Blake leaned forward and pointed his finger at the man in the accuser box, “you then sought her out and proposed. The woman you said was barely tolerable. You lied.”

  “Mr. Darcy? You may cross examine Lord Blake now.”

  The spectators and jury stilled. Darcy hung his head low, his shoulders slumped. His breathing filled the silence, but when he attempted to speak, no words came out. He could not deny the truth. He had lied to him. He lied to all of his friends. He lied to himself. He loved her from the instant he saw her, and he manipulated things to keep Blake from winning her. Finally, he shook his head and the Marquess left the stand. Just when he thought nothing more hurtful was left to charge against him, he heard her name announced. He slumped in the accused box, falling against the rail. His legs were limp; he could not force himself to stand.

  “Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

  Darcy’s heart beat furiously, his palms felt damp. The sweat rolled down his back. He pulled at his cravat, coughing repeatedly. A solid gray fog enveloped the room, shielding him from her accusatory gaze.

  “He was ungentleman-like in the words he used.”

  The judge sputtered, “Did he use vulgar words?”

  “No.” Elizabeth sent the judge a sweet smile. “He could have behaved in a more gentleman-like manner, but he chose to describe the Bennets in the most unflattering terms. I cannot forget what he said, although some of it was truthful. No true gentleman would ever say such things. He thinks his beliefs were natural and just.”

  Darcy felt the insides of his throat tighten. What poppycock! What I said was not natural and just. The stabbing pain returned striking harder with each recollection of the words he had used: degradation, inferiority, scruples, rejoice in my success, contempt and ridicule, so evident a design of offending and insulting me.”

  “Mr. Darcy?”

  “Yes, your honor, I have defense for her accusation, but I am fully aware she has more to say; let her continue.”

  “I have no other charge.”

  The grey fog lifted as Darcy stared at her holding a cameo of him. She read my letter! She read my letter. He felt a sense of relief that she had accepted what he had written.

  “Mr. Darcy?” The judge spoke louder this time. “Mr. Darcy!”

  “I am guilty, your honor, of all charges. Guilty. Do with me as you wish. Give me the sentence I deserve. I cannot bear any more truth.” Darcy hung his head and covered his face until the judge called for his attention. When he looked up at the judge he choked on his own breath as he now could clearly see the judge’s face. It was not the face of a man, but the face of an angel. Jane Bennet? Oh my God. After what I did to separate Bingley from her, I shall surely be strapped to my offenses for the rest of my lonely life. The stabbing pain changed into a dull dead feeling encompassing his entire body.

  She smiled at him with the most comforting smile he had ever received. “The verdict is guilty by your own admission. You sentence is hereby, to make amends to each person, Mr. Darcy. And change your ways. I believe you have the strength of character to do so.”

  When she banged the gavel down Darcy woke up and found himself safely back in his study. Accepting that he owned every accusation, he thought about each person and the steps he would need to take. This week had been his worse, yet at the end of it, he felt peace, almost a return to the days before his father had died.

  “Richmond, please return to England unharmed, so I may apologize properly.” Darcy whispered, and then he thought about Georgiana’s letter from his cousin. Only one had arrived, but enough to indicate the danger he faced daily. I must make amends. I must find a way. I will begin with a letter. Damn. It seems I am always writing letters to explain myself! I have no other method with him so far away. He pulled out his stationary, pen and ink. He was quick, since he did not use any four or five syllable words other than the two that he needed to say: apologize was one. He admitted he was as Richmond had said, supercilious. But that was not the only apology he rendered in the message. He wrote a heartfelt letter, the words flowed about how he planned to treat their relationship in the future, and ended by thanking him for his honesty.

  Darcy stretched his body and then thought about his treatment of another man. “Kent, I cannot believe I would treat such a great man as you are as unimportant. How could I tell you that? How could I have said that you were not important? But, I did believe that. Without you, there could not be an alliance. You, it seems, are more important than I am.” He considered ways to show his friendship to this man. “I will host a dinner party and invite all of Kent’s family. I will show even greater respect than I did on the trip to Birmingham. I will speak at great length to his sister. And I will play a prank on her and it will not be spiders in the bed! Kent, you are not clever in that way, but I can invent devious pranks. Did not Richmond discover that side of me? Ah, Kent, we can have such fun, and I will ensure you get your revenge on her.” Darcy laughed aloud for the first time in many days. He dashed off a message for delivery early the next morning to Kent and. He would not delay or postpone this dinner for any reason.

  He realized Bingley and Blake presented the toughest obstacles to righting his wrongs. He would speak to Rawlings, and seek his advice and show him he has addressed the issues he raised. He would call upon his friend at his home that next day. With his plans made, he retired for the night, and slept peaceably for the first time in a long time.

  ***

  Darcy sighed when he approached Rawlings’ townhouse, realizing it was the first time he had entered it. Whenever he had wished to speak with his friend, he had always summoned him. Why Rawlings came, he could not fathom. With a heavy heart, Darcy presented his card to the butler.

  “Come in.” Rawlings said after hurrying to door. “Welcome. I am pleased you have called upon me. Let us go into the study. It is quiet and private there. I have missed our talks.”

  Darcy sensed the calm surround him the moment he stepped into the study, although nothing was in its proper place in the room. Rawlings’ desk was larger than his own, although he could at least see the top of his desk. Here, piles of papers were stacked in a haphazard fashion with a coffee cup and a teacup resting on different ones. Several newspapers were strewn about, and Darcy made out that they were several days old. Still, warm colors filled the room: greens and blues with a smattering of gold. He caressed the dark leather on the sofa, which matched the two chairs. Gold studs outlined the furniture, and he found the material warm to the touch. He sent Rawlings a questioning look.

  “Spain. My mother’s grandfather was Spanish. I loved his leather furniture. Perhaps we both are of Spanish descent.”

  Darcy spied the cabinet along the far wall, where many bottles of Oban whiskey were displayed. “You have not touched your prize?”