by Hahn, Jan
Much of the day, I remained in seclusion. I had lost my appetite and refused to join my aunt’s table for tea. Jane looked in on me several times, and I implored her to make my excuses to my mother and aunt. She must have been successful, for they did not intrude upon my solitude. I was left to wallow in misery for several hours.
That evening I washed my face and put on a fresh gown. I wished to be waiting below stairs when my father and uncle returned from Morgan’s trial. I had not the slightest hope that the outcome would prove any different from the previous days, but still I wished to hear the particulars. Sometimes I wondered whether I was developing an unnatural desire to be punished, so great was my curiosity about these trials.
My sisters, Mamá, and I joined my aunt in the drawing room to await the men’s return. Mamá had grown weary of the week’s distressful events, and she determined that we were to celebrate the end of the trials that night. No unhappy thoughts would be allowed. We would concentrate on Jane’s fortunate alliance with Mr. Bingley instead.
“Leave it to Mamá to stick her head in the sand,” I whispered to Jane.
“Lizzy, I am speaking to you in particular,” Mamá declared. “You have moped about this house far too long.” She walked over and pinched my cheeks. “Collect yourself! How do you ever expect to secure a husband when you appear on the verge of tears? Men do not like an unhopeful countenance, you know. Just look at Jane. Do you think she would have caught Mr. Bingley if she had gone about the house down in the mouth like you?”
“Yes, Mamá,” I answered, but as soon as she turned her back, I closed my eyes in dismay.
A few moments later, Mr. Gardiner and Papá walked in. How surprised we all were to see Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy follow them!
My aunt and mother both exclaimed over their presence and welcomed them warmly. By that time, my mother had overcome her earlier disapproval of Mr. Darcy, especially since he had offered to marry me. She was still somewhat in awe of him, but she did her best to make him comfortable. Sometimes I wondered if she thought she might match him with Mary or Kitty.
“Jane, Lizzy, Kitty, Mary,” she rattled off our names as though we were children, “greet the gentlemen.”
We curtseyed and spoke to them. Mr. Bingley joined Jane, of course, while Mr. Darcy stood off to the side somewhat stiffly. One glance at his face showed me the strain he had endured that week. His eyes appeared tired, his usual, striking stare somewhat glazed, as though he had not slept adequately.
“Well, my dear,” my uncle said, addressing me. “It is over. Morgan was found guilty of everything except attempted murder of Sneyd and, thanks to Mr. Darcy, he was also exonerated of the previous murder charge against him.”
I sat down, unable to respond. Before looking up, I could feel Mr. Darcy’s eyes upon me. When I raised my head, I was proven correct. His gaze did not waver.
“I am sure the newspapers will have a to-do over today’s events, sir,” my father said, looking in Mr. Darcy’s direction. “The judge himself found it unusual for the prosecutor to produce witnesses in defence of the defendant.”
“I do not understand,” my aunt said.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam took the stand. He presented the court written, witnessed statements from servants at an estate near Jonah’s Village, testifying that Morgan killed the owner, some Frenchman, in self-defence and to protect his sister from the man’s attack. The sister herself testified to the same thing. She also witnessed the altercation between Sneyd and Morgan and swore that Sneyd fired the first shot. In addition, she told how Morgan had given her the keys to the room in which Mr. Darcy and Lizzy were held prisoners and instructed her to release them once the highwaymen had gone.”
“Does that mean he may receive a more lenient sentence?” I asked.
My father and uncle shrugged, and Mr. Bingley looked in the direction of Mr. Darcy. “There is no guarantee,” Mr. Darcy said. “The sentencing is set for Monday.”
“Very well,” my mother announced, rising and causing the gentlemen who were sitting to do so. “Let us have no more talk of trials or sentences or criminals this evening. Let us rejoice that it is over and turn our minds to happier times. Mr. Bingley, I found the loveliest piece of lace for Jane’s wedding veil yesterday. I declare she shall be the most beautiful bride in the county.”
“No doubt, ma’am,” Mr. Bingley responded, and shortly thereafter, Firkin announced that dinner was served.
My aunt had placed Mr. Darcy beside me at the table. That night he was even quieter than usual, and I could think of little to speak of other than the trial, the topic forbidden by my mother. He did not encourage my attempts at dinner conversation, and at last I resigned myself to eating in silence.
As the final course was served, I was surprised when he spoke to me in a low voice, as though he did not wish others to hear.
“I hope you have not read the newspaper accounts of the trial. Reporters seek lurid details that provide sensational appeal. They care little whom they harm, nor whether accounts are truthful, as long as their readership is entertained.”
“I confess I have seen them,” I said, blushing at the remembrance of the terrible things that had been said about me.
He frowned and appeared quite distressed. Placing his knife and fork across his plate, he sat back in his chair and sighed.
“Then take relief on one account of which we have previously spoken. Sneyd testified that it was his idea to take hostages for ransom. Whether his statement is true or false, I care not. What is of importance is that I did not plant the idea in the minds of the highwaymen, and my need to protect you did not in any way cause an escalation of their crimes. They had planned a kidnapping before they chose us as their victims. You never should have felt responsibility for their misdeeds, and I am now absolved from any misguided guilt I took upon myself.”
I had read that statement in the paper, but I was so caught up in Sneyd’s evil statements about me I had overlooked its significance. I confessed that to Mr. Darcy, and he said much the same, that in the heat of the moment, during the horror of all that transpired when we were first held up, he had subsequently forgotten that Sneyd had raised the idea of ransom before he offered himself.
Our guests did not stay long after dinner. They both acknowledged that all of us needed to rest after such a troublesome week. Jane and I walked to the door with the gentlemen, and while Mr. Bingley bade Jane a somewhat prolonged farewell, I took the opportunity to speak to Mr. Darcy again.
“Thank you for your efforts this week, sir,” I said. “I confess I was surprised to see you attend upon my family tonight, for I know you must be exhausted.”
“I came for you,” he said softly. “I wanted you to know that I did all I could for Morgan.”
“That is considerate of you, but I fail to understand what you mean. I never doubted that you would do everything you could to see that justice was served.”
“You do fail to understand. I did it for you.”
“For me? I think your actions reflect that of an honourable man, and they have nothing to do with me. You would have worked to ensure the highwayman received a fair trial regardless of whether I was involved or not.”
His eyes held mine so steadily it was almost as though he wished for me to look into his soul. “I hope I am that kind of man, that what you say is true, but I cannot be certain. I know only that Morgan’s fate matters to you.”
I blinked, unsure of how to respond. “I fail to comprehend why you think his outcome is of such importance to me.”
“Have you not defended him time and again? Was it not your earnest desire that he be found innocent against the charge of murder?”
“Of course,” I said. “I do not want him to hang. But your statement makes it appear that you still believe I have an undue interest in the highwayman.”
He continued to stare into my eyes, pressed his lips together, and said nothing more.
“Mr. Darcy?”
“Good night, Miss Elizab
eth,” he said, his voice weary and defeated. He bowed and walked out the door, followed by Mr. Bingley shortly thereafter.
Chapter Fourteen
Throughout the weekend, I fretted and worried about Mr. Darcy’s comments. Surely, he did not still believe I cared for Morgan!
Had I not assured him when questioned in the cave that I felt nothing more than sympathy for his injury and pity for his unfortunate upbringing? I recalled having said something akin to the fact that my heart would not suffer if he did not survive the gunshot wound. I could never care for a highwayman. What would make Mr. Darcy yet think I might harbour stronger feelings for Morgan?
It was most perplexing and occupied many of my waking thoughts. I even questioned Mr. Bingley during one of his daily calls as to whether he thought his friend might be suffering from fatigue after the exceedingly strenuous week he had undergone.
“Darcy did seem tired Friday evening when we left here, but I saw him at our club this morning, and he appeared himself — perhaps a bit quieter than usual, but my friend is never verbose.”
“Shall we have the pleasure of his company today?” Jane asked, knowing I wished to have the answer.
“He mentioned something about an invitation to Lady Jersey’s house tonight, although I do not know whether he has decided to attend. I believe Miss Templeton is leaving tomorrow, and there is to be a farewell dinner for her. I know Caroline and Louisa were thrilled to receive their invitations.”
I rose from where I had been sitting on the divan beside Kitty. I could feel pinpricks of jealousy jab at my heart. Walking to the pianoforte, I ran my fingers down the keys.
“Shall you play for us, Miss Elizabeth?” Mr. Bingley asked.
“Oh, yes, do,” my aunt responded.
“I am far too uneasy to apply myself,” I answered. “I feel as though I am the pet in the proverb — Care killed the cat.”
Mary promptly offered to take my place at the instrument, and I moved aside.
“Lizzy, you have been forced to keep indoors far too long,” my aunt responded. “I shall speak to Mr. Gardiner and see if there is not some way he can think of to grant you some relief.”
I smiled slightly, assured her that it was not necessary, and then returned to Jane’s side. “Mr. Bingley, shall you attend Miss Templeton’s dinner tonight?”
“No, I have not the slightest desire to do so. I would much rather remain here — that is, if you do not object, Mrs. Gardiner.”
My aunt shook her head, and Jane blushed. Kitty giggled and I nudged her with my elbow. Thank goodness Mamá was not in attendance, for she surely would have replied in a manner that would have embarrassed Jane even more. Mamá had gone with my father to call on a friend of Sir William Lucas, having promised him they would not forget to pay their respects while in Town.
I cleared my throat and addressed myself to Mr. Bingley once more. “I assume Miss Templeton’s absence will be greatly missed in London society and especially by Mr. Darcy, if one can believe the newspapers.”
He looked slightly confused. “I — I am afraid I do not understand your meaning. Yes, London will miss the lady, but Darcy has never mentioned any particular attachment to her.”
“Ah, well, I should know by now how often the newspapers print false information.”
I attempted to speak casually, as though it were mere gossip we discussed. In truth, I could have kissed Mr. Bingley for saying what he did!
* * *
On Monday afternoon, my uncle returned home early. The first words from his mouth were that the sentences for the highwaymen had been delivered. A special crier from the newspaper office had run through the streets announcing, “Public hanging! Public hanging! All four highwaymen will hang!”
I was shocked! It seemed beyond belief that someone would die for something they had done to me. True, I had been kidnapped, threatened, held against my will, and one of the men attempted to assault me, but still I could not fathom taking their lives in payment. I was now safe, in good health, perfectly well. Why should someone have to die?
My uncle attempted to explain that society could not tolerate criminals attacking citizens on the public roadways. People must be allowed to travel with peace of mind, unafraid of roving bands of lawless men. I understood and appreciated that truth. Still, I could not find Morgan’s band of men guilty of crimes deserving death. I saw the need for them to be made examples to deter similar thieves from perpetrating like crimes, and yet, I wished with all my heart that none of them would die, not even Sneyd.
“Lizzy, you are too tender-hearted,” my uncle said as he rose and patted my shoulder. “I leave her in your hands, Thomas. I do not know how else I may reassure her.” He left his study, and my father took his place, seating himself beside me near the window.
“My dear,” he said, “you must not take this to heart. You had nothing to do with the outcome. It is the law.”
“But I did, Father,” I cried. “How can I separate myself from what has happened? If not for me, they might not die.”
“You forget you are not the only victim, Lizzy. Mr. Darcy was robbed and kidnapped, assaulted and threatened. Although they were not kidnapped, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley received similar treatment and were held against their will, as well as Mr. Bingley’s servants. Whether you were involved or not, Morgan and his cohorts would most likely receive the same harsh sentences.”
He put his arm around me and patted my shoulder. “I pray you, dearest, do not suffer any more. What is done is done. Those men must pay for their crimes.”
I nodded as though I agreed, but I quickly left the room and ran to the sanctuary of my chamber where I spent the remainder of the evening. I could not even join my family for dinner, such was my regret.
How I wished I might speak to Mr. Darcy! Surely, he could do something to change the outcome. But how could I ask him? I knew he had done more than called for to save Morgan from the gallows, and now it appeared even he had failed.
I recall little else of what happened between Monday and Thursday of that week. My thoughts were so cast down that I still cannot think of that time without distress. I am certain my family did what they could to attempt to lift my spirits, but all I can remember was a dark, dark place in which I dwelt and from which I longed to be freed.
If only there were not the dinner in Jane’s honour at Mr. and Mrs. Hurst’s on Thursday, we could have left London for home. I had begged my father until he agreed that we would depart first thing Saturday morning. Until that time, I kept to my uncle’s house and mainly to my room.
On Thursday, my mother insisted that Jane, Mary, and Kitty accompany her on a shopping excursion. She had a great desire to visit one last warehouse to narrow her search for the perfect lace for Jane’s bridal veil. Fifteen different swatches now resided in her collection, but she was adamant that one more — the perfect one — still awaited her, and nothing would do but that my sisters assist in its discovery.
My aunt had a number of calls she needed to make. My father had taken himself off to his favourite booksellers, and so that left me alone with nothing to do and no one to visit.
“Lizzy,” my uncle called to me, as he picked up his hat and cane. “Shall you stay here all alone today?”
I sat at the window in the front parlour, watching the carriages pass without. “Yes, Uncle,” I replied. “Just the children and me.”
“The older ones are at their studies with the governess. And are not the little ones down for their morning naps? Then what shall you do by yourself all day?”
“I have nothing in particular planned,” I answered, rising to see what he proposed.
“Why not come with me?”
“With you, Uncle? To your office?”
“I am not going to the office this morning, but to the warehouses at the docks. Would you not like an excursion down to the water’s edge?”
“Yes, I would, but I thought it better for me to stay indoors.”
“You have been inside far t
oo long. Why, you have lost the very bloom from your cheeks. There is no one who will recognize you where I am going. Come along with me, and view a different prospect for a change. It will do you good, Lizzy.”
I readily agreed and quickly put on my coat and bonnet. It was a rare beautiful day in January. The fog had lifted, and the sun now shone brightly, warming the chill blown in by a light wind. I could not believe how just leaving the house caused my spirits to rise. I watched the sights we passed as eagerly as a starving person gobbled up his only meal.
My uncle’s carriage travelled a great distance from the house down through a part of Town I had never seen before. Soon we arrived within sight of the water, and I marvelled at the great number of ships waiting for the limited number of docks. An array of warehouses lined the street, and my uncle pointed out the particular one where his business awaited him.
He assisted me from the carriage and told me I might wander along the edge of the water and watch the workers load and unload the great ships. He warned me how far I might go and alerted his manservant to keep an eye on me. I agreed to his limitations and was perfectly content to remain on the walkway, pleased to watch the busy workers below.
I opened my parasol, as the sun was now directly overhead, and eventually I grew tired of standing in one place. I made my way down the incline a little closer to the water and watched with interest as one or two passengers carrying valises began to board a large ship out in the harbour. It seemed strange to me that people would attempt a sea journey at that time of year. I stood there but a short while when I was shocked to hear someone call my name.
“Miss Elizabeth?”
I turned to look straight into the sun’s glare and had to shade my eyes. I could not make out who it was that had spoken to me. “Sir?” I asked.
“Do you not know me?”
The man took a few steps and walked into the shade where I could see his face. I could not believe my eyes, for it was Morgan!