by J Dawn King
Stilton worried about the eventual confrontation between the Darcy ladies and Lord Matlock. He hoped against hope that the earl was reasonable. Heaven help him if he was not.
Glancing out of the window, he sighted the outskirts of London proper. Unwilling to stop long enough to refresh himself, he began gathering papers into the leather pouch he carried. It would not do to have a mess when he reviewed the details of the past eight days with Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth had arrived every day for the past week at exactly noon. Each day, the staff of Darcy House packed a well-prepared repast. After Parker assisted Darcy with his grooming, the couple were left alone until the keeper came to insist on her removal.
By the end of the week, the Darcys had discussed his case in full. Papers had been reviewed and sorted. Hidden in the depths of the pile was the letter from Richard. It would not do for his uncle to bribe a keeper to find it. As it was, Darcy refused to step outside his cell. He would do anything within his limited power to protect this greatest piece of evidence of his innocence.
The Monday after Elizabeth’s arrival, she was late. When a light tap came on his door, his relief was shattered when it was his man of business who stepped inside the cell.
“Mr. Darcy, I have much to discuss and little time to share the information. Your keeper informed me that the Lord Chancellor will see you tomorrow. Has Mr. Shaw prepared you for the hearing?”
“He has,” Darcy was more abrupt than usual since he was missing his wife. As respectful as he found Mr. Stilton, he was not Elizabeth.
“Then allow me to tell you what I learned while in Dover.” Mr. Stilton paced the small space. “Three days ago, a British man-of-war captured Vice-Admiral Jacques Beauchȇne and his crew. The Vice-Admiral is rumored to be a vital part of Napoleon’s military force. He is currently being held by the British government. It is no small stretch of the imagination to believe Napoleon would do anything for his return. As you are likely aware, Napoleon invites British citizens to live in France, which is how Mrs. Milford and the baby were able to be with her husband. What he does not do is allow the British to return, especially if the man is capable of battle. This means the future for Colonel Fitzwilliam and Major and Mrs. Milford is rather dim. Unless Lord Matlock could be convinced to use his rank in the House of Lords to convince the Prince Regent to offer a trade. A Vice-Admiral of the fleet for a lowly colonel and major.”
Darcy could not keep from shaking his head. His uncle had already claimed that he would leave Richard in France to make him pay for leaving the baby to Darcy. With the continuing bitterness from the house of Fitzwilliam, Darcy did not dare hope his uncle would extend himself on the colonel’s behalf. Perhaps knowing his grandson was in enemy territory might move him. Although Darcy did not truly believe it would help, he wrote a note to his uncle begging for Richard and Jem’s relief.
The two men had little time before the guard came to hurry Mr. Stilton on his way. They had only covered a page or two from the businessman’s notebook. Promising to return the next day before the hearing, Mr. Stilton left.
Eagerly anticipating Elizabeth’s arrival, Darcy’s heart leapt at the knock on the cell door. Disappointment surged through him when Mr. Shaw walked through the door.
“Pray accept my sincere apology, Mr. Darcy. I left the office in search of Mr. Huggins. Thus I have not been available to you.”
“Was he found?” Darcy asked.
“I am sorry to say that he was not.” Mr. Shaw’s chin dropped. “I had hoped he could provide an explanation of why this was happening to you, sir.” In a quick change of subject, he asked, “Has Mrs. Darcy arrived in London?”
“She has. In fact, I was expecting you to be Elizabeth. She has arrived every day at this time.” Darcy grumbled. “You should know, Mrs. Darcy informed me that the baby is currently with Richard in France.”
“France!” the man was stunned. “How is this possible?”
Darcy explained the circumstances and the reasoning behind the escape.
Mr. Shaw sighed. “We have no baby. Unfortunately, there also is no proof that the baby is indeed with his father. It will be your word, Mr. Darcy, unless a letter arrives in time from the colonel testifying to the child being in his possession. I am afraid this is not the best news, sir. Did Mrs. Darcy give you the letter from your cousin assigning guardianship?”
Darcy searched through the pile on his left until he found the crumpled parchment.
“Might I review it please?” Mr. Shaw asked, his tone clipped.
Darcy handed it to him, then chewed his bottom lip until the solicitor was done. He respected Mr. Shaw’s opinion. The man had seen the Darcy family through difficult times, always offering the best legal advice to their benefit. He had been a good friend to Darcy’s father.
“I see,” the solicitor murmured as he read through the pages. When he finished reading the missive, he folded it carefully in half. Then Mr. Shaw, the man he had entrusted with his future, quickly ripped the paper to shreds.
Stunned, Darcy did not act quickly enough to protect his only piece of evidence.
“Why?” Darcy pleaded as most of the pieces of parchment floated to the floor. The rest were pocketed by Mr. Shaw.
The solicitor shrugged. “Only yesterday, Lord Matlock made promises to me that I simply could not refuse. He is a wealthy and powerful man. I am close to retiring to the country with my wife.”
“Get out!” Darcy yelled. “I will never forget your treachery. You will pay for your greed if it is the last thing I do.”
“It probably will be the last thing, Mr. Darcy, as your trial is tomorrow. You have no baby in your possession. You have no letter appointing guardianship. Mr. Huggins is being watched carefully by Lord Matlock’s men. You will have no help from him.” The solicitor smirked. “I would kiss your wife thoroughly if I were you when she arrives today as you will likely be swinging from a rope upon the morrow. Good day, sir.”
Crushed, Darcy longed to pound his fist into the fiend. Never had he felt the injustice of someone who intentionally meant him harm. Not even George Wickham with all of his vile crimes was as evil as the man who vacated the cell.
He needed Elizabeth. Desperately he awaited her arrival.
She never came.
Chapter 29
Elizabeth Darcy frantically paced back and forth in the narrow area between a shelf containing romantic novels and one holding a large selection of illustrated books on botany. Her purpose was not to purchase additions to the library at Darcy House or Pemberley.
A vague message had been received by an unknown person begging her to be at John Hatchard of Piccadilly booksellers as soon as she was able—alone. Under normal circumstances, Elizabeth would not have given the note merit. It was the final line that caught her attention and had her calling for the carriage. I am being kept from Mr. Darcy by Lord Matlock. I have information that will save your husband’s life.
There was no signature or initial to provide a clue as to who had penned the note. A young boy had delivered it to the kitchen entrance.
Immediately, hope had risen in Elizabeth’s chest. Was it Mr. Huggins who had sent for her?
It was.
“Mrs. Darcy?” A man’s voice whispered from the next aisle over.
“I am. Who might you be?” She was unsurprised when he said he was the investigator.
“Ma’am, I am being followed right closely by four men hired by the earl. Therefore, it is dangerous for both of us should I remain here.” He paused, perhaps to glance around. “Do you see the volume on the second shelf from the top entitled, “A Practical Treatise on Planting and the Management of Woods and Coppices” by Mr. Samuel Hayes?”
Quickly searching the row of books, she found the particular volume he had requested.
“I will leave you now, Mrs. Darcy. I highly suggest you select two books from the shelf behind you. Purchase all three of them. Do not have them delivered to Darcy House, I pray you. Have your footman carry them, protecti
ng them with his life.” Mr. Huggins directed. “Do not go to Newgate today. Go directly to your home. The danger to all in the Darcy family is real.”
Elizabeth inhaled, then seemed unable to exhale; such was her fear.
“Ma’am, I will find a way to be in the courtroom as an observer. You shall not be permitted to attend. Should your husband need my assistance, I will be available.”
When nothing else was said, Elizabeth whispered, “Sir?”
Quiet was her only response. He was gone.
With her heart pounding, she did as she was directed. Pretending to browse the shelves full of novels, she selected two without even reading the titles. Taking the three books to the clerk, she waited impatiently while they were wrapped. Calling over her footman, she instructed him exactly as Mr. Huggins had requested.
What she found when she was alone at Darcy House was a revelation. Mr. Huggins had torn out a large section of pages in the botanical guide so the papers which were tucked within appeared as if they were part of the book. A packet that large would have drawn the curiosity of the clerk. Elizabeth’s respect for the inspector grew.
Before she started reading Mr. Huggins’ report, she sent a message to her husband indicating her stomach was upset. He would worry if he did not hear from her. Nonetheless, anyone who intercepted the note would not know the true reason she remained at home.
Unfolding the papers carefully, Elizabeth counted six pages complete with writing on both sides. As her eyes scanned the parchment, her chin almost dropped to her chest. Page after page outlined the deviousness of Hugh Fitzwilliam, Earl of Matlock. At one point, Elizabeth had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep from startling the staff with her concerns.
What a vile, self-serving man!
She had been back at Darcy House for fewer than two hours when a message was delivered from her husband. When Elizabeth read of Mr. Shaw’s treachery in destroying the colonel’s letter, she wept.
The next morning, Elizabeth rose early to prepare carefully. After ordering a bath, she was groomed and dressed in her finest before it was time to break her fast. Secreting the report from Mr. Huggins in the bodice pocket of her dress, Elizabeth descended the stairs to gather her outer garments as she planned to attend her husband at Newgate.
Mr. Stilton met her in the entrance hall.
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Darcy.” The man bowed respectfully. “You will not be allowed behind the gates this morning. Mr. Darcy will be alone when he is escorted to the Old Bailey.”
“What?” She was horrified. “How can this be? I have important information he needs to know before his trial. I want to see him. I need to see him.” In her desperation, she grabbed Mr. Stilton’s arm, trying to pull him towards the door.
“I am truly sorry.” Moving into the drawing room, he asked Parker to attend them. When the valet was in the room, the door was closed.
“Mrs. Darcy, would you share the information with me? Both Parker and I will be expected at the cell to take care of Mr. Darcy’s final business and to make him presentable enough to stand in front of the Lord Chancellor.”
Elizabeth whimpered, her heart sobbing at his comment. Turning, she removed the parchment from her hidden pocket. Handing it to the man of business, she dropped to the sofa, her knees no longer able to hold her upright.
This was everything horrible!
“I must be quick about this,” Mr. Stilton moved to the writing desk in the far corner. Pulling out paper and ink, he began writing.
“What are you doing, sir?” Elizabeth wondered. Should they not be discussing the facts contained in the inspector’s report?
“I am making a copy, as I do with all of Mr. Darcy’s important documents. Parker and I will each have one which will increase the odds of your husband actually seeing the report.” Mr. Stilton pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket that had been folded into a small square. “For example, the letter you showed me from Colonel Fitzwilliam was copied when we were at the first coaching inn after leaving Pemberley. I have it here.”
Could it be possible? “You have a copy?”
“No, Madam. I have the original.” Mr. Stilton stood and handed it to her. “Due to my oversight, it was the copy which I gave you to deliver to Mr. Darcy.”
“Bless you,” Elizabeth exclaimed, barely stopping herself from embracing the man. “Last evening, my husband informed me that Mr. Shaw had proved to be as treacherous as Lord Matlock. The solicitor gleefully tore what he must have assumed was the original into pieces, going as far as to tuck some of the destroyed letter in his pocket so the missive could not be patched together.”
“The turncoat!” Mr. Stilton shook his fist into the air. “I know for a fact that the Darcy family has treated him fairly. How could he?” Giving his attention once again to the document from Mr. Huggins, he said, “This makes it more imperative that we give Mr. Darcy everything we have here. He will be on his own.” As he read the pages, his only comment was, “Good, Lord!”
Both of the men were livid—no less so than Elizabeth. A thought occurred to her. Was it possible? Could she be bold enough to follow through on her idea?
“Pardon me, gentlemen.” Elizabeth swept from the room. She rejoined them less than fifteen minutes later. By then, the copies were completed. Mr. Stilton and Parker glanced at her briefly then ignored her.
She chuckled. So far, so good. Her plan was working.
Darcy paced back and forth in his cell. The lack of preparation by his solicitor unnerved him. Not hearing from the inspector jarred his self-confidence. If only he had been able to see Elizabeth. Her very presence would have given him courage.
Reminding himself of all that he had to live for, he welcomed his valet and man of business into his cell.
“We do not have a moment to lose, sir.” Mr. Stilton thrust a thick packet of papers into his hands. “Parker will do the minimum to see you presentable. It is imperative that you read and memorize as much of these documents as possible.”
“How are Elizabeth and my sister? Are they enduring this tribulation with at least a measure of equanimity?” Darcy’s mind conjured all sorts of suffering. He could think of nothing else until he was reassured.
“They are well, I believe.” Mr. Stilton shrugged. “Mrs. Darcy was with us while I copied the documents. She left the room and did not return before we left. Sir, we could not take the time to wait for her. I beg her pardon and yours.”
Darcy nodded. Pleased that he had even a minimum of relief, he flipped to the first page of the papers Mr. Stilton had handed him. The first few words left him stunned.
Darcy,
As I write these words, my heart is leaden. Anne is upstairs struggling to bring our child into the world. Her expectations for this babe have lightened her heart. She would laugh at my worry in light of all she hopes to gain by the possibility of holding a baby of her own in her arms. But I cannot share her joy. I fear for the lives of both—my Annie for not having a strong enough constitution, and the child for being too early and a Fitzwilliam...
“How did you...how is this...” Darcy stammered.
“I mistakenly gave Mrs. Darcy the copy of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s letter instead of the original. What you have in your hand is the one the colonel penned. I beg your pardon, sir.”
Darcy wanted to hug him. “I cannot believe I have this to use as evidence.”
“Guard it carefully, sir.” Mr. Stilton encouraged him to read the report from Mr. Huggins.
If he had been stunned to discover Richard’s letter, what he read in the report left him speechless. Never had he imagined the extent his uncle would go to keep the title in the Fitzwilliam family line. Darcy was disgusted. No, he was outraged. Everything bad that had happened to Elizabeth, Georgiana, Mrs. Milford, Richard, and Jem was in the pursuit of self-indulgence.
Determination surged through Darcy until his teeth hurt from gritting them tightly. “Gentlemen, we will prevail if it is the last thing I do.”
Allowing Parker to do as little as possible, Darcy banged on the cell door until the guard threw it open. “I am to see the Lord Chancellor. I am ready to see him now!”
Chains and fetters were fastened to his hands and ankles. The walk to the Old Bailey would be humiliating if he allowed it. Dangerous as well.
Fortunately for Darcy, Dead Man’s Walk was short in distance. The courtroom at the Old Bailey was adjacent to Newgate. Riotous crowds gathered on each side of the path armed with fruit, vegetables, and stones.
On that day, Darcy ignored it all. The stones and rotted food bounced off his shoulders and back. A cabbage hit him in the temple, knocking his beaver from his head. Parker picked it up and held it until they were inside the building.
Instead of focusing on the shame, Darcy suspected that today would be his greatest victory.
The courtroom was full as Darcy suspected it would be. The Lord Mayor sat in the center chair of the judge’s bench as Chief Magistrate of London. The Lord Chancellor was to his right. His uncle, Lord Matlock, was seated next to him. A multitude of clerks and barristers jockeyed for position, each claiming to hold the best piece of evidence to be used against Darcy. Two Registrars, two Examiners, the Master of the Rolls and his six clerks each appeared to have an important task to perform.
When the hearing was called to order, Darcy looked around the courtroom. Mr. Stilton and Parker sat in a gallery off to the right. Mr. Huggins was seated next to them. A poorly dressed youth hovered behind where the men were sitting. Additional clerks were at tables, waiting to take depositions and act as secretaries for the court and their law firms.
Standing when commanded, Darcy barely listened to the charges against him. Instead, he watched his uncle. Lord Matlock looked gratified. He expected the wheels of justice to turn his way.