Chapter 14 #4
Darcy sat back in his chair as Mr Cole’s secretary scribbled away. His account was accurate, but would Elizabeth be sensible enough to give a sworn statement or appear in court? If only he could put his arms around Elizabeth and know for himself how she was.
“We have all we need from you at the present,” said the magistrate, looking over his notes.
“How strong is your case against Lady Metcalfe if Miss Bennet cannot recall what happened?”
Mr Cole’s face fell in sympathy. “I hope her concussion is not severe, but it will not matter. The witness accounts and their characters are unassailable. Regardless, Lady Metcalfe has admitted to me and in others’ hearing to wanting to poison Miss Bennet and see her dead on the turf.
She admitted to having Miss Bennet’s trunks hidden in her carriage to make everyone think she left Woodcote alone and was missing.
” The magistrate gave him a reassuring smile.
“This is all just a formality, I promise you.”
“When will the case be heard?”
“I am determined to be ready for the summer assizes in Guildford.”
That was not a long time to wait for this affair to be over. “Where is Lady Metcalfe whilst she awaits trial?”
“In deference to her rank, Lady Metcalfe is staying in the gaoler’s home. But tomorrow she will be moved to Horsemonger Lane Gaol to await her trial.” Mr Cole gave a little smile. “I doubt the accommodations will be as good as she has here.”
“Will anyone ask the King’s Bench for a writ to let her out on bail?” He hated the edge of fear that crept into his voice. If she was free, he would hire an army of men to guard Woodcote until Elizabeth could be safely moved to Pemberley.
“No. Her husband is dead, and her remaining family fears the scandal by association.”
“Did Mr Travers not speak for her?” He might not marry her, but he could wish for her to await her trial outside of the county gaol.
“The lover?” Mr Cole asked, surprised. “No. I am sending someone to Sanford Court to intercept him to see what he knew about her schemes.”
Darcy suspected he knew nothing. He was an ignorant, uncurious man without loyalty or love.
Mr Cole’s secretary gathered his papers, and Mr Cole offered Darcy his carriage to return him to Woodcote. Darcy thanked him, but could not help but ask, “But you are certain she will be found guilty?” How could he sleep at night if Lady Metcalfe somehow walked free?
“Mr Darcy, she boasted of her wish to see Miss Bennet trampled at Epsom. I questioned her thoroughly, and she did not deny what she had done. The Crown will take it all from here. You will be called to testify in court. Miss Bennet too, but it will be a mere formality. You will be in and out in half an hour. This deposition took longer, I promise you.”
Darcy followed him toward the door, then asked in a rush, “May I speak to Lady Metcalfe?”
It felt like a peculiar request, but the magistrate quickly agreed. “Hundreds will turn out for her execution, or if she is deemed insane, then hundreds will gawk at her in Bedlam. I will have my carriage take you to the gaol before returning you to Woodcote.”
In a quarter of an hour he was in the gaoler’s home, awaiting Lady Metcalfe to be brought down.
Why was he doing this? Resolution? To satisfy a vengeful part of himself to see her confined and defeated?
Elizabeth would not have come here, that was for certain.
As liberal as he was, she had a more generous heart than he did.
The gaoler escorted her in with a firm grip on her arm, and after making sure the other parlour door was locked, said he would await them in the lobby.
Darcy would have preferred to see Lady Metcalfe in rags in a gaol cell rather than in a plain day gown with her hair done in a sunny parlour.
He did not trouble himself to bow, and she did not trouble herself to sit.
They stared at one another for a long moment before she asked, “How is your future bride?”
“Perfectly well,” Darcy lied. “A picture of health.”
“Pity.” She sighed. “Still, perhaps she will decide you are not worth the trouble and throw you over. Be sure to remember Julia if she does.”
“The hell I will.”
She ignored his outburst. “Have you seen Julia?”
“No, and if I never lay eyes on either of you again, I will consider myself a fortunate man.”
She crossed the room to sit as calmly as though she were the lady of the manor. “If you came demanding an apology for Miss Bennet, I have nothing to say about it.”
He had to know if the woman was mad, or was she truly evil. Was she a mother desperate to protect her daughter from scandal or was she only desperate to marry her first love? “Why did you do this?” he whispered.
Lady Metcalfe only stared as though the answer was obvious.
“You would murder a woman and then expect me to forget every affectionate feeling I had for her—every wish of a future together—and then instantly turn into the waiting arms of your daughter? Like Miss Bennet was nothing to me?”
“You were what my daughter wanted. She is a wilful, stubborn girl. She needed a husband quickly, and she wanted you: handsome, wealthy, connected. Being married was the only way to protect her from scandal. Why would she not want you, and why would I not encourage it?”
He was incredulous. “Because Miss Metcalfe trespassed on a heart already bestowed on a favoured object.”
Lady Metcalfe shrugged. “I saw you kissing the Bennet girl in the dark. I thought you were enjoying her favours just as Sir John Whitney would if he ever had the chance. She was only a distraction that kept you from properly admiring Julia. Who would assume you would marry so far beneath you?”
“And after you knew we were engaged? You tried to poison her and nearly killed me.”
“I am sorry. You were not meant to be hurt.”
Did she expect him to bow and accept her apology? Did she think he cared who was poisoned more than the fact that she put arsenic in a teapot with no remorse?
He shook his head to himself and walked up and down the room. “All of this because you wanted Mr Travers, and Miss Metcalfe could not conceal her condition much longer and still pass off her child as another man’s?”
“My daughter’s reputation preserved, and my happiness achieved at last? Any woman would have done the same.”
Did she genuinely believe that? Mr Travers was indifferent to her, notwithstanding what he observed in the library. “Did Mr Travers promise to marry you?”
She had a faraway look in her eyes. “When he was eighteen, he did. We loved each other our entire lives. It was only his father that kept us apart, and then I was married to another man, forced to have and love his children, keep his home, only seeing William at race meetings.”
“But now? You are a widow and he is a bachelor, and he has not offered his hand. You offer him money to waste on the turf and even your body, and that is all he will ever want from you.” Lady Metcalfe had to see now that she had imagined Mr Travers felt for her anything close to what she felt for him.
“He would have!” she insisted. “He knows what my affections and wishes are, and his father needs him to marry. Even Lord Patten could not disapprove of me forever, not if William was determined to have me. I know this year he would have defied him and offered his hand.”
Darcy shook his head. Mr Travers was a senseless gamester who could never live without the little money his father allowed him. “Then what happened? Why did Mr Travers not propose? Why is he not here to support you, as he ought to have done years ago when you had his child?”
“I know he loves me, and he would have proposed.” She said this as though she thought him stupid.
“But when I asked for his help with Julia in finding her a husband, he admitted he could have nothing to do with any of us if the truth came out. I do not blame him for fearing a scandal. As soon as Julia fixed on you and Miss Bennet bewitched you, I knew what I had to do.”
Darcy opened his mouth to say Mr Travers would never offer, regardless whether Julia married respectably or was shrouded in disgrace.
That he had used her and already got all he wanted.
That his love of money and gambling overcame his passing enjoyment of a willing woman’s body. But it was hopeless.
He was trying to make sense out of the senseless. There was no reason to be found here.
He did not take the trouble to bow or say another word. Darcy opened the parlour door, told the gaoler he was finished, and took his exhausted body back to the carriage with as much dignity as he could muster.