Darcy's Trial (18 page)

‘We can talk here,’ Elizabeth said, pointing to a bench in the yard.

Mrs Clover hastened to the kitchen with her load, and returned with a three-legged stool which she placed beside the bench. ‘Have you news of Lucy?’

Helena shook her head. ‘Mrs Clover, Lucy was an excellent maid and we got on very well. I was upset when she left suddenly last year, and tried without success to find out where she had gone. Do you have any idea of her whereabouts?’

Mrs Clover reddened again, and in whisper replied: ‘None.’

‘Were you informed that she was no longer working for Miss Kaye’s family?’ Elizabeth asked gently.

‘Mr Pritchett called.’ Mrs Clover’s face creased up with pain. ‘He said my daughter had misbehaved in London and been dismissed.’

‘My father’s steward,’ Helena explained to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth nodded. ‘And did Mr Pritchett say where Lucy went after her dismissal?’

‘He said they offered to bring her back to Wistham, but since she ran away there was nothing further they could do.’

‘Was the nature of this alleged, ah,
misbehaviour
explained?’

Mrs Clover’s eyes moistened. ‘She was never a bad girl, not when I raised her.’

Helena leaned forward and touched her arm. ‘That was also my experience, Mrs Clover. She performed her duties conscientiously and never said or did anything improper.’

With this, Mrs Clover burst into tears and ran into the cottage, returning seconds later with a cloth to dab her eyes. ‘Sorry, madam. It’s just so—heart-rending to hear you speak well of her.’

They stayed a few minutes more, allowing Helena the opportunity to elaborate on Lucy’s accomplishments, before taking their leave with the promise that they would pursue the matter further—and a warning that in the meantime it would be best not to mention it to anyone else.

Back at Mowsley Lake, Harte had already laid out the hamper on a blanket, and was seated on a short nearby jetty next to his net and fly box, trying his luck at fishing for carp. With excitement Elizabeth opened the hamper and pulled out a series of intriguing parcels which Helena unwrapped: bread, drumsticks, pears, cakes, even a bottle of white wine with a corkscrew and two glasses. Suspecting that the wine might calm Helena’s nerves—not to mention her own—Elizabeth poured two generous portions, clinked glasses, and they tucked in.

After refilling Helena’s glass, Elizabeth decided the time was ripe for a further foray into delicate territory, and asked:

‘Helena, what do you think happened to Lucy? Do you think she ran away as Mrs Clover was told?’

Helena frowned. ‘She had no
reason
to run away, except …’

‘Yes?’ Elizabeth was tempted to propose a reason herself, but was afraid that Helena would comply with anything she suggested—in which case she would learn nothing.

Helena dropped her voice, although the groom was too far away to hear. ‘My father had begun to notice her and pay her compliments.’

‘How old was she?’

‘Sixteen. She had silky fair hair, and I remember once my father ran his fingers through it and told her how pretty she was.’

‘Did she like these attentions?’

Helena shook her head. ‘She tried to hide it, but I saw she was terrified.’

Elizabeth looked into the distance, observing a flock of geese that had just landed on the far bank. ‘Helena, I have an idea about what might have happened to Lucy. Would it upset you to talk about it? I realise this must be painful for you, especially so soon after your father’s death.’

Helena looked uneasy, but whispered: ‘Go ahead.’

‘It seems that your father, like many gentlemen, was in the habit of, ah,
having his way
with girls that took his fancy. We know this because of what happened to Bertha, which led as you know to the duel. Bertha has told me how this came about. Sir Osborne found a pretext for taking her to a house owned by a woman who rented rooms. In a remote bedroom on the upper floor he undressed her by force, and—well, you can imagine. This had not happened before, so Bertha was shocked and frightened. She believed she had been taken there to do a cleaning job. The rest you presumably know. Another man heard her cries and broke into the room. After your father left, he looked after Bertha and took her to her aunt’s house.’

‘Mr Darcy,’ Helena said, still in a whisper.

‘Yes. However, Mr Darcy’s intervention was mere happenstance, so we have to consider what would have happened to Bertha if your father had been left undisturbed. I think there are two possibilities. First, he might have brought her back to resume her duties, with a warning that she would be punished and dismissed if she spoke of her ordeal. Or, if he thought she could not be bullied into compliance, he might have dismissed her straight away. In that case, I think it would have served his interests to place her in someone else’s keeping, so that she could not make herself a nuisance. For instance, he could have given or sold her to a bawd …’ She glanced at Helena with a slight grin. ‘Are you familiar with that term?’

Helena also grinned, to Elizabeth’s surprise, and quoted: ‘
Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds, the better to beguile.
’

‘Was that in Hamlet?’

‘Act one scene three,’ Helena said. ‘Polonius to Ophelia.’

‘My word, you
are
an enthusiast.’ Elizabeth noticed again how Helena’s expression softened whenever she was praised. ‘Anyway, we cannot say for sure whether Bertha was taken to a bawdy house, or simply to the house of a somewhat unscrupulous landlady who might have numbered bawds among her acquaintances. However, I think it likely that this is where she would have ended up, but for Mr Darcy’s intrusion. And to come back to Lucy, I think she might have been taken to the same house—or somewhere similar— and left in the
care
, if that is the right word, of a woman who would either preserve her for your father’s subsequent use, or offer her services to other gentlemen.’ Sensing Helena’s distress, she touched her arm and continued gently: ‘I’m sorry to be so explicit.’

‘She was so kind to me,’ Helena said through tears. She looked up. ‘Elizabeth, do you think there is any chance …’

‘Of locating Lucy and helping her? Yes I do.’ Elizabeth swallowed as this implausible reply slipped out; in reality, she feared there was little hope of tracing Lucy. ‘However, what I have been saying is partly guesswork. We need to find out as much as we can from the other girls who were dismissed.’

‘Do you know who they are?’

‘Bertha gave me some names. Maggie, for instance, in Midhurst, or Ellen who might still be living in Wistham. Would you like to visit them this afternoon?’

That night Elizabeth remained awake until the early hours reviewing the events of the afternoon. As hoped, the interview with Maggie had proceeded quite differently in Helena’s presence, and a sordid tale emerged of repeated journeys to a cottage just outside Wistham, ostensibly equipped for ‘guests’, with a double-bed and a well-stocked drinks cabinet, but actually a refuge where Sir Osborne could accost his victims in privacy. Unfortunately Maggie knew nothing of Lucy Clover’s whereabouts, but she had heard rumours of a similar establishment in London from which girls never returned.

The other maid, Ellen, was no longer living in Wistham, having found work on a neighbouring estate. With a little persuasion her mother confided a story similar to Maggie’s, except that Ellen had left without being dismissed and then suffered an early miscarriage, so that the pregnancy never became common knowledge.

After returning from Midhurst they sent Harte back with the curricle, and made their way around Wistham village on foot. First they visited the infamous cottage, which although empty looked neat and well-maintained. They also paused for refreshment at the inn, where Elizabeth noted the times of passing stagecoaches towards Leicester and thence London.

Back at Wistham Court, Elizabeth went directly to her room and wrote a letter to be sent by express to Darcy House.

Dear Mr Darcy

With a certain event just a few days away I think it urgent that you prepare evidence on Sir O’s character, which might be revealed in all its splendour if you interrogated Mrs Y in regard to
all
her interactions with this gentleman, in particular concerning one Lucy Clover who disappeared last summer after serving as HK’s maid.

I am returning tomorrow with evidence of two more deeds of a similar nature for which I have statements from the victims or their parents. I can also identify the cottage where these ignominies took place.

Sincerely, EB

Joining Helena before breakfast, Elizabeth explained her plan to collect Bertha later that morning and depart for London.

Helena looked crestfallen. ‘But Elizabeth, why must you leave so soon? Are you uncomfortable here?’

Elizabeth returned her most reassuring smile. ‘On the contrary, dear Helena, you have displayed exceptional hospitality, and helped me more than you could possibly know. But I have pressing business in London of a—personal nature, and regrettably can stay no longer.’

Helena frowned, and Elizabeth wondered whether she was plucking up the courage to enquire into this
business of a personal nature
. In the event Helena remained silent, accepting Elizabeth’s vague explanation along with her decision. Guiltily Elizabeth observed how easily the girl could be led; indeed, for two days now she had facilitated Elizabeth’s investigation into her father’s activities without once questioning her friend’s motives. From Helena’s perspective, it was if Elizabeth had been helping
her
, Helena, to understand what had befallen Lucy Clover and the other maids. Darcy’s impending trial had never been mentioned.

Ever obliging, Helena offered to accompany Elizabeth in the curricle as far as Wistham village. By now Elizabeth’s clothes had been washed, and assisted by Helena’s maid Agnes she quickly changed her dress, packed the carpet bag, and descended to the forecourt. Here she expected to find the groom Abel Harte driving the curricle, but instead she was faced by a man she had never met.

‘Mr Pritchett!’ Helena cried, joining them. ‘There was no need to trouble yourself, for Harte can take us.’

Pritchett was of medium height, but wiry and strong-looking, with stubbly red-grey hair and sharp features that reminded Elizabeth of a fox. He bowed to Elizabeth and held out his hand for her bag. ‘Harte is busy, Miss Kaye, but since I have business in the village I can take Miss Bennet and kill two birds with one stone.’

Helena blinked in confusion. ‘Oh, I see.’ She moved towards the carriage, but Pritchett held out a hand to bar her way. ‘I think you’d better stay here, Miss Kaye, since I have other business in the village and no time to take you back.’

Helena’s face fell, and Elizabeth said brightly: ‘She can walk back, Mr Pritchett. It’s no great distance.’

‘Begging your pardon, madam, we’ve been having trouble on the estate with poachers and other bad folk, and the master has asked particularly that Miss Kaye should not go out unaccompanied.’

‘Surely not,’ Elizabeth replied, struggling to conceal her irritation at his officious manner. ‘Why, just two days ago I walked here from Wistham with no problem whatever.’

‘Be that as it may, I follow the master’s bidding, not yours.’

Glancing at Helena, Elizabeth noticed how much this exchange was upsetting her, and decided it would be best to give in. She thanked Helena again for her hospitality, then approached her for a hug, whispering: ‘We can meet up again in London next time you come. I’ll write to you if I find out anything about Lucy.’

Pritchett coughed, looking at his watch, and with a sigh Elizabeth accepted his hand into the curricle.

As if to make up for lost time, Pritchett rattled the carriage along the drive at such a pace that Elizabeth had to grip the armrest to avoid bouncing in her seat. She leaned across and shouted so that her voice could be heard above the clatter:

‘Mr Pritchett, must we go so fast?’

He eased a fraction. ‘You’ll excuse me, Miss Bennet, but I’ve a busy day ahead.’

They reached the road to the village, but for some reason he drove straight across along an unfamiliar track. Shouting again, she asked, ‘Should we not have turned right?’

‘With respect, madam, I know these paths better than you.’

She looked round and saw the spire of the church, now gradually receding into the distance. ‘Mr Pritchett, this cannot be correct. The village is on our right and we are leaving it behind.’

‘The track loops round. Just sit back and relax.’

They were in a wood, with trees closing in from both sides and the village no longer in view. As Pritchett had promised there was a slow bend to the right, and for a while she was reassured, but on reaching another junction he slowed suddenly and pulled to the left so sharply that she was thrown against the side of the carriage and banged her shoulder.

In pain she cried: ‘That’s enough! I insist that you stop immediately. This is not the right route, and you are driving far too fast.’

He glanced at her with a sneering smile, then turned his eyes back to the narrow path without making any reply and without slowing down. Now shivering with a mixture of anger and fear, Elizabeth made no further attempt to reason with him. Clearly some kind of abduction was in progress, and she would need to stay alert for opportunities to escape or seek help. Unfortunately at present she could do neither, since in this remote corner of the woods they met no-one, and by maintaining such a hectic speed he was allowing her no chance to jump.

Accordingly she waited, in pretended resignation, until she saw ahead a junction where the path ahead was too narrow for the curricle to pass, and he would have slow almost to a standstill before turning. She tensed, like a cat preparing to pounce, and rehearsed in her mind a movement through which she might vault over the side of the carriage, so gaining vital seconds to run off into the cover of the trees. But he seemed to guess her intention, and with a sudden dart wrapped his powerful fingers round her left arm and pulled her into the centre of the seat.