The Trials: A Pride and Prejudice Story

by Timothy Underwood

  “Tell me that you did not do it.”

  Elizabeth looked up at Darcy. He put his hand on her shoulder. His serious blue eyes pierced through her stomach and soul.

  She looked away from his intent gaze. “It is a terrible coincidence. I think it was Mrs. Shore. You see I heard her talking, and—”

  “No.” Darcy squeezed her shoulder and she looked at him. “Not now. Tell me later. Just tell me the truth while you look into my eyes, and I shall trust you, no matter what evidence the world brings against you.”

  She looked into his deep eyes. She now saw that he trusted her. “I did not kill her. I did not—”

  Darcy pulled her into his arms. He held her so tightly against his body, and she cried and cried. She felt an overwhelming safeness in his arms.

  Her tears soaked through the thin fabric of his summer coat.

  Elizabeth was still scared; even with Darcy’s promise of support she feared a trial for murder. Only a fool would believe that every person convicted of a crime had done the deed for which they were punished. But she could not care about her fear right now in Darcy’s arms.

  She looked up at his face. He looked clearly back down at her. His face was beautiful, though she could barely see him through her tears and in the fading light that came through the barred window. He leaned down towards her, and she leaned up to him and their lips met.

  Elizabeth clung to him tightly. He brought his arms around her, and he squeezed her against his chest so tightly she could not breathe. Elizabeth’s heart felt full.

  Darcy let her go and studied her face. His fingers brushed over the bruise left by the man who had placed her under arrest. “What did they do to you? Elizabeth, tell me everything.”

  She thrilled to hearing her name in his voice. Elizabeth shook her head happily. “It does not hurt so much now. I can barely feel it.”

  He looked at her with a skeptical eye. “You need not be brave.”

  She kissed him again.

  Darcy held her tightly against his chest. “We must talk practicalities. I shall have you moved to a more comfortable room. It is a charge of murder, so I shall not be able to get bail offered. It will be easiest to have you released if I find the one who killed her — you said Mrs. Shore?”

  Elizabeth nodded, still lightheaded from the kiss. She looked at his lips and he swooped his mouth towards hers to kiss her lips once more. It was a short kiss, and he said in a fevered voice, “I swear I shall get you free from this.”

  “I trust you.”

  He held her shoulder; his eyes were steady.

  “Mrs. Shore—” Elizabeth looked down. “I tried to keep her from it. She had been talking. She thought the French did right when they killed their aristocrats. I saw she was angry enough that she might do something dangerous, so I went to her brother, and he went to talk to her, but whatever he said…”

  “I understand.”

  “I never really believed she would do it, especially since — did you find Wickham? Will Pamela be released?”

  “I have proof from Wickham, and Anne told me already that she knows Pamela is innocent of theft. I will have Anne send message to the bailiff that there will be no prosecution, and she should be released tomorrow. She is in this building; I will speak to her soon.”

  “Oh! I am glad. If only I had not run…”

  Elizabeth realized Darcy would need to soon leave. She felt the throb in her face that had been forgotten.

  He kissed her again. “I am glad you came to me.”

  “I would never go to anyone else.”

  “I will get the proof that it was Mrs. Shore. You shall be free soon. But I must go soon, to find her before she realizes that I suspect her.”

  Darcy knocked on the door and called through it to the bailiff. He returned and with the heavy key turned opened the lock.

  “Well.” The gruff grey haired man looked at Darcy with some mingling of pity and interest.

  “There has been an awful mistake, and I am entirely convinced of Miss Bennet’s innocence.”

  “My job is just to make sure she is kept here and can be produced when the time comes for trial. You know I can’t order her released.”

  “Mr. Hawdry had her committed here?”

  “Yes. Yes…”

  “This room is inadequate for the comfort of a gentlewoman.” Darcy sneered at the straw pallet in the corner. “It should have been evident Miss Bennet warranted better conditions than this.”

  “I put her where I was told. She murdered the Lady of that manor four miles down the road and—”

  “Miss Bennet did not murder her. She is innocent. I will not have you speak of her, or allow any man amongst your staff to speak of her as a murderer or a criminal. It is an unfortunate mistake that I hope shall be resolved this evening.”

  “That ain’t my job to consider. You’ll have to talk to Hawdry, and—”

  “Place her in the best quarters. See to it that every wish Miss Bennet has is served.” Elizabeth saw Darcy hand the jailor a bank note, and after he carefully studied it, the man’s surly mood changed. He stuck it in his pocket, and with a smile he said, “Right away. Come up this way, Miss. I am sure it is all a misunderstanding, and the old lady likely had it coming anyways.”

  They walked up three flights of stairs to a large upstairs room with blue wallpaper. It had a window with a view of the road in front of the gaol and the trees along the avenue softly swaying in the light breeze. The view was blocked partially by a row of bars, and there was a thick lock on the outside of the door.

  The bailiff stood in the door. “I’ll have your bags brought here if the men who captured you are willing to return them.”

  “They will return them, or I shall have them prosecuted for theft.” Darcy stood next to Elizabeth, and took her hand despite the presence of the bailiff. Elizabeth felt the protective way he looked at her. “I must go, but remember…remember that I love you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Darcy rode his horse at nearly a gallop back to the manor house. He needed to find Mrs. Shore and find the proof that she had been the killer. It may not be such a simple task. He felt exhilarated by the kisses he and Elizabeth had shared.

  She trusted him.

  There could be no greater prize, not even her love, than how she had trusted him.

  Only the quick fading remnants of twilight lit the yard when Darcy leapt off his horse in front of the stables and stalked off in search of his cousin.

  It was not hard to find Richard.

  As Darcy entered the little square where a footman had told him he would find Richard and Anne, he saw Richard’s unsteady hands spill white wine over his coat. Richard was seated on a wicker lounge chair next to Anne. He lifted his glass high again upon seeing Darcy, letting the light from the torches set in the garden dazzlingly refract off the diamond cut glass. “Darcy! Darcy, Darcy — join us. We are drinking our sainted aunt’s death. We cannot decide whether it is a celebration or a wake.”

  Anne’s face was red, and she looked away from them both. Fitzwilliam exclaimed, “Annie! I embarrassed you, Annie!”

  She quietly shook her head.

  “Annie, you should drink more!” Richard lifted his glass and put his arm around Anne’s shoulder and held it up for her to drink.

  Anne stared at the glass of wine with her tightly pursed lips, and then in a darting motion she took the glass from Richard’s hands and began to drink it.

  She held it to her mouth and without removing the glass swallowed again and again; the firelight glowed on the necklace around her throat as she gulped each swallow down, and she held her head back so that she could let the last drops trickle into her mouth. Anne wiped her lips with her sleeve and put the glass down.

  “That’s a good girl! That’s my girl. Give me a kiss, Annie!” Richard’s praise was punctuated by him using a hand to grab at Anne’s bum, and her protest was entirely perfunctory.

  Richard looked at Darcy and said, “Back from that
gaol. Visiting our governess. How did your visit to the mansion of the criminal progress?”

  “I need your help.”

  “Hahahaha. You need my help!” Richard poured himself another glass of wine, which he drained in a quick easy gulp. “I am, as you see. Yours to command; though whether I obey remains to be seen.”

  Darcy ground his teeth. What was wrong with his cousin? His fist throbbed from how he’d punched him earlier in the day.

  “Can we speak seriously? Apart. This is a matter of some importance. You are a man of honor, and as your cousin I need your help.”

  “Nonsense! You can say everything you wish to tell me in front of my better half! Me and Annie are marrying in the morning.”

  Anne giggled and waved her hands wildly. “Mother can no longer do anything! She’s gone. Gone. Gone!”

  Darcy looked at Anne. There seemed to be no reply to that which would not sound as though he judged her glee.

  He did not.

  “She never let me drink so much. It feels so…happy! — More! Pour me another! I want more!”

  Richard obeyed her command with unexpected agility.

  “Such a great favor that governess did us.” Anne giggled again. “A pity — you were fond of her. I never saw what besides impertinence she had to recommend her. Did you actually visit her? How morbid. I could never visit someone they were going to hang.”

  “Elizabeth is innocent.”

  This sobered Anne a little. “She ran — I heard the whole quarrel. And she had that…that impertinence. That self-contained air. She could do it—”

  “But she did not.”

  “Hahahahaha!” Richard slapped his leg again. “Innocent. And you’ll prove it! Hahahahaha! But truly do you think that? Of course she is not innocent. None of us are. We all wished Lady Catherine to die. I know you did. And now you can marry Miss Bennet — except she will be hanged first. ‘Tis a grand joke. I told you so once.” Richard held his hands up defensively. “No need to strike me a second time. The first left a nasty bruise.”

  “Get a hold of yourself!”

  “I rather think not. I daresay I never shall again. Drink! Are you going to drink? You are being a poor companion.”

  “Of course I shall not. I can see it is useless for me to speak with you.”

  “Useless.” Richard giggled. “Useless. Oh no, you can get great use out of speaking to me. I’ll sometimes do something. Hahahahaha.”

  Anne had a bemused smile as she looked at her…betrothed.

  “Have you any idea what he is talking about?” Darcy demanded.

  Anne laughed. “Not a clue.”

  She began to sob.

  Darcy left the garden.

  He rubbed his face as he walked up to his rooms to find his valet.

  Damn Richard! He needed his cousin to be useful at this time more than any other. And instead, at the point when Darcy faced the deepest problem of his life, he had turned into a drunken sot.

  Darcy collected his valet, his coachman, the groom and the two footmen who had traveled to Rosings with his carriage when it brought his belongings.

  After gathering them, Darcy walked alone to the house of Mrs. Shore’s brother. His men would follow after him in two minutes, to ensure that a lookout would only see a lone man who might be coming to talk about Pamela.

  As a precaution Darcy armed himself with a pistol and a gentleman’s walking stick with a hidden blade.

  He knocked on the door and the man who he assumed was Pamela’s father opened it cautiously. “Who are you?”

  “I am Mr. Darcy.”

  “Oh! Come in. Come in. I visited Pamela. She was full of your goodness. You have been so generous. If there is any way we can pay you back—”

  “I have been glad to help.” Darcy felt an odd guilt at his plan to capture a criminal who had been provoked the way Mrs. Shore had been. “I gained proof that your daughter is innocent, and Miss de Bourgh promised to drop the prosecution. I will get a letter from her and take it to the gaol tomorrow morning. I am here on a different matter. Is your sister present?”

  Darcy half shouldered his way into the room. Pamela’s father did not make any attempt to stop him, as Darcy had almost expected he would.

  Mrs. Shore made no attempt to hide. She stood in the kitchen stirring a large pot of soup. Her face turned into a grim line when she saw Darcy. An incongruously delicious smell filled the room. There was something that did not seem right about the smell of the food.

  Darcy kept his hand on the pistol in his pocket, and he said in a quiet voice, “You must have some suspicion as to my purpose.”

  “Your girl wishes to blame it on me. I expected she would. It just surprises me that she didn’t do it earlier. She should have left some bloody knife in the kitchen and perhaps wrapped her hand up in an apron of mine she stole. She ought to have stayed in the house and told a story about things I’d said to her about how I’d like to see the mistress killed.”

  Darcy was quiet.

  Pamela’s father gasped. “Is that — is that why you are here, Mr. Darcy? My sister was here the entire night past.”

  Darcy’s valet pushed open the door, and he and one of the footmen now stood in it. Darcy knew that his other servants would have circled around and were keeping an eye on the back of the house.

  Darcy looked back at the man. “It is unkind of me, but I do not believe you.”

  Mrs. Shore pulled back her head and laughed. “But you believe Miss Bennet. She’s a gentlewoman born; she could never try to kill a lady. She is too well bred for that. But Mrs. Shore, a poor widowed cook — she has no morals. She’s practically a barbarian. She would murder a lady.”

  “It grieves me deeply. You had been provoked greatly. But that does not make it right to take the law into your own hands.”

  “Instead of leaving it in the hands of rich persons such as you?” She spat at the ground. “That is what I think of your law. So you got Pamela off. But you shan’t get my gratitude for that. Your aunt was the one—”

  “Are you willing to come with me politely, or shall I have to drag you before the magistrate to be placed in lock?”

  “You want to find a substitute for Miss Bennet. I know you was sweet on her — even though you were an engaged man. Should have been ashamed of yourselves, exchanging looks like that. But I’m not the one who you’ll take. I know my rights as an Englishwoman. I have friends. I am a respectable woman. I’ll not be killed for what your woman did. I won’t.”

  “Mary! You need not antagonize him. Mr. Darcy is a great gentleman.” Pamela's father bowed deeply several times. “I apologize for my sister. She knows not what she is saying. But she was here last night. I assure you — it was on the suggestion of Miss Bennet.”

  “Don’t bother. He does not care. He is looking for a scapegoat. Someone to protect his beloved murderess. I shall not go peacefully.”

  “I am a justice of the peace in Derbyshire. It is quite within my prerogative to have you taken and placed within the gaol on suspicion of murder.” Darcy pulled the pistol from his pocket. “I would have preferred for this to be done peacefully.”

  Pamela’s father’s face turned pale. He held his hands up wide. “Mary! Stop insulting him.”

  Mrs. Shore did not move, except to reach forward and stir the soup again. Darcy thought there was something theatrical in the gesture.

  “I do not wish to have you dragged away.”

  Mrs. Shore smiled with irony. “If we did not all know you were gone the night past, I would have suspected you. From what Pamela told me of your visit to her, I suspect she had driven you to rage as well.”

  “I never considered murder.” Darcy realized that was a lie. He had imagined it, at least once.

  “You picked a fine woman for yourself, willing to do what you were too cowardly to even consider.”

  “Admit your crime. I can ensure you are only transported; I will make sure that your family is well cared for. I understand—”

 
; “Hahahahaha, as though anyone could keep the peasant murderer of a lady from being hanged. They’ll hang Miss Bennet for sure, and she is a gentlewoman. Doesn’t matter, all these fine Ladies and Sirs, like you, are scared of us. I’ve been reading. If we all act, we can kill you all. So letting a woman get away with it without such a punishment — nay it shall not happen. I would be executed, and you know it well if you are honest.”

  “If your confession saved the life of another woman.”

  “Ha!”

  “You cannot wish another woman to suffer for your crimes.”

  “Hoho. I did not do it.” Mary choked with her laughter. “But you’ll never believe the word of a cook. Or is it that you are too infatuated to care?”

  “As a JP, I have the right to search this dwelling if there is any suspicion of foul deeds; it is a rented dwelling, and part of the estate of Rosings Park.” Darcy gestured to one of his men. He had Mrs. Shore trapped, and now was time to see if she had left any evidence here that sealed her fate before the jury. “Search through. See what you can find.”

  “This is my brother’s cottage, not mine! Surely you do not think I’d hide the bloody garments here, or whatever clue you hope to find.”

  The woman was suddenly pale with worry.

  The reason was immediately apparent when following instinctively the process for finding where a poacher would hide his ill-gotten goods, Darcy’s man discovered a hidden door beneath the pantry and found half of the fresh carcass of a deer neatly dressed and smoked in the cool air of the cellar. Darcy realized that the soup Mrs. Shore was cooking used venison for the meat. It normally would only be served as a dish in a wealthy household.

  Darcy did not approve of the severity of the laws against poaching. The punishment for killing this deer was, at least in formal words of the law, as severe as that for murder.

  He looked between Mary Shore and the venison Mr. Joseph had brought up to show off.

  A young man with ruddy cheeks and a severe overbite entered the small cottage, pushing past the footman Darcy had set outside the building.