Mr. Darcy's Daughter (43 page)

There
was no effort to hide any of her own silly mistakes; she broke down and sobbed
as she told us that she had confided in one of the kitchen maids who had warned
her to beware of London toffs, who deceive you and leave you with more trouble
than they're worth. "I should have listened to her, ma'am," she said
and, Emma, I really believe she was quite genuine and I am sure, so would you.

...Cassy
wrote, unable to find it in her heart to condemn the girl.

In
spite of her warnings and protestations, Margaret claimed, Jones only laughed
and told her to ignore Archer and any other man who tried to approach her. He
is supposed to have said, "Archer is only a servant, so are the rest.
They're just jealous that you are walking out with me and not with them."

It
is exactly the type of arrogance that one expected from Jones and his ilk.

Both
Lizzie and her mother had heard the girl's story, with increasing feelings of
depression. It was the kind of dishonesty for which dissolute young men were
notorious and the consequences of their duplicitous behaviour were to be seen
in the suffering of innumerable young women and girls, as well as their
unfortunate, illegitimate offspring, who filled the poorhouses across the
country.

Oh
God, thought Cassandra, if she had only come to Lizzie or me. But, she had not,
nor had she confided in her friend, the kitchen maid, who may have alerted the
housekeeper earlier, when she went missing.

But,
Margaret Baines did claim to have made a firm decision.

On
the following day, she said, she had left work earlier than usual and met Jones
in the woods, not by chance this time, but, she admitted, having arranged the
meeting with him. She had made up her mind, she claimed, to tell him she could
see him no more. She had concocted a story of being seen by one of the servants
at the house and reported to her mistress, who had given her one last chance;
she had to stop meeting him or she would lose her job.

They
had been walking along the path that ran along the edge of the quarry, towards
a small grove of trees, when she stopped and told him she would not come this
way again, but would take the main road through the village, where she could
not meet him, for fear of being seen. Jones had only laughed and accused her of
wanting to tease him to increase his desire for her and, though she swore this
was not true, he, as she tried to remove the chain from her neck to return it
to him, had caught her unaware and pulled her towards him, kissing and fondling
her roughly, frightening her so that she'd screamed as she struggled to get
away.

Cassandra
and Lizzie listened in astonishment as Margaret shuddered, recounting how
afraid she had been. Clearly, she had enjoyed what had seemed a lighthearted
flirtation with a handsome town toff, but his sudden change of mood had
terrified her. She claimed that as she struggled and scratched at his hands,
trying to break away, she heard what she could only describe as a roar,

"like
an animal when it is angry," behind them and, as she broke from him and
ran, the roar continued and she'd heard the thump of bodies hitting the ground
and thrashing around on the forest floor.

"I
was so afraid, ma'am, I did not stop to look back; I knew it were probably
Archer, he must have followed me and, when he saw what Mr. Jones tried to do to
me, I think he must have attacked him. I cannot say, because I did not see him,
but it was a big man, from the noise he made running at him and shouting. I
know it was not Josh!"

Margaret
claimed she had run for her life and had not stopped until she was sure she was
out of their reach. That night, she said, she hid in the woods, sheltering in
one of the small caves until morning, when she had crept down to the village,
hidden in the barn, with the cows and, when her mother left the house, she had
gone in and gathered together a few clothes and some food, before returning to
the woods.

There
she had remained in hiding until nightfall, when she had gone down to Mrs.
Thomas's cottage.

"I
took the travelling dress you gave me, Miss. I hoped you would not mind my
wearing it to get away to town, maybe Birmingham or Manchester, to find work
and a place to stay. It's a fine gown and I thought it would make me look a bit
more ladylike, ma'am," she said and Cassandra shook her head, in dismay.

"Oh
Margaret, why did you not come to us, to me or Miss Lizzie?" she asked,
"Why did you not tell us when you felt this man Jones was pestering you
and you wanted to be rid of his attentions? We would have helped you."

Margaret
bit her lip; quite clearly she knew the extent of the trouble she was in as
well as the quite grievous pain and anxiety she had caused to so many people.
It did seem to Cassandra that she was genuinely sorry, but she was, as yet,
determined to leave the district.

When
Cassy told her that this would not now be possible, she looked alarmed and
confused. At first, she'd had no idea that Jones was dead but, as Mrs. Thomas
and Lucy had discovered more of what had happened, she'd begun to panic. She
knew enough about the ways of the police to realise that she would be under
suspicion, as soon as the truth of her association with Jones was known. She
had heard, too, of what it was like in the dreaded prison ships that took
convicts to the Colonies and had no desire to wait around to be arrested and
charged.

But,
Cassandra made it quite clear that there was but one way and she would have to
tell the truth or else, they could do nothing to help her.

Despite
her own grief at having to put to the girl such an ultimatum, Cassy knew there
was no other way.

"If
you leave here alone, we are forced to tell the police that we have seen you;
if we do not then all of us--myself, Miss Lizzie, and poor Mrs. Thomas--will
all be guilty of concealing evidence relating to a crime. That, Margaret, is a
criminal offence, we cannot do it. When the police discover that you are on
your way to Birmingham or Manchester, they will alert every branch of the
constabulary on your route and you will soon be picked up and we shall not be
able to do anything to save you."

Poor
Margaret's cheeks were ashen and her hands as she gripped Lizzie's were icy as
Cassy continued, "If, on the other hand, you stay and return with us and
tell your story, truthfully to the magistrate, I doubt you will even be
arrested. Or if you are, Dr Gardiner and I can vouch for you and have you bailed.
After all, by your story, you have committed no crime; it is certainly foolish
to walk out with a man you do not know very much about, but it is not an
offence. There is no one who has come forward to accuse you of anything, you
may have to give evidence if there is a trial, but that is all. So far, you are
missing, but not a suspect. If you run away, you will immediately become a
suspect and be hunted down.

"So,
my dear Margaret, I strongly advise you to return home with us. We will send
word to your mother that you are safe and she can come and see you, but it will
be best if you stay with us."

The
girl looked reluctant to do as they asked, but finally, after much argument
from Cassandra, a stern warning from Mrs. Thomas, and some tearful pleading by
Lucy, she was persuaded to accept her mistress's advice and return with them to
Matlock.

So
long had they been that Richard, becoming concerned, had decided to set out in
search of them. No one except the housekeeper knew even in which direction they
had gone and, as the returning party reached the crossroads, Lizzie caught
sight of her father, in his curricle, looking somewhat unsure as to which road
he should take.

He
looked rather bemused as she waved and called out to attract his attention and,
when at last, she succeeded, the sheer relief upon his face was so obvious,
Lizzie and her mother had to laugh.

"Poor
Papa, he must have wondered what had become of us, we have been away for over
two hours," said Lizzie and Cassy, though she said nothing, knew she would
have a good deal of explaining to do, before her husband would understand the
seriousness of the situation.

Many
hours passed before the entire story had been told and Richard, still amazed at
what his wife had undertaken, was proud, indeed, of her success.

As
Cassy wrote to Emma:

I
think the first thing I felt was a great sense of relief, because Margaret was not
going to be tried for murder. However, there was the fact that she had been
present and would have to give evidence at the inquest and probably at the
trial, that is, of course, if there was going to be a trial. After all, no one,
certainly not Margaret, had seen who killed Jones, if indeed he was killed.

If
Darcy and Mr. Carr return with Frank Wickham and his evidence helps clear Josh
Higgins, there may not be a trial at all. Dear Emma, this may sound wicked, but
if that were to be the outcome, I for one, will not be sorry.

I
cannot help feeling some satisfaction that Jones, who caused so many people so
much grief, has had his punishment at last. It must be remembered that it was
his duplicitous promise, and that of his friend Mr. Barrett, to publish Josie's
poems that led to all that trouble between her and Julian.

Poor
Margaret, even if she comes out of all this, she will not be unscathed. Her
life here will never be the same. She may not have lost her virtue, but she has
surely placed her reputation in jeopardy. In the village, she will be
remembered as the foolish young woman who went walking in the woods with a
London toff, who trifled with her and got killed for his trouble.

She
is unlikely to get a responsible position in any household, despite the fact
she is not guilty of anything more heinous than a foolish error of judgment and
some very unwise behaviour. She is quite contrite now, but there may not be
many people, other than ourselves, who will trust her anymore...

*

For
Mr. Carr and Darcy Gardiner, there was good news when they arrived at
Netherfield House in Hertfordshire, after almost a day and a half on the road.
Jonathan Bingley welcomed the weary travellers and handed them a message that
had arrived by electric telegraph that morning. The first sentence, which told
them Margaret Baines was alive and willing to testify, brought welcome relief.
However, the rest of the message, in which they were urged to hasten in their
quest of Frank Wickham and persuade him to return with them to Derbyshire, in
order to tell his story to the police, was to prove rather more daunting.

After
they had been shown to their rooms, they bathed, dressed for dinner, and came
downstairs to partake of drinks and refreshments in the saloon, where they were
joined by Jonathan Bingley and his wife Anna, keen to discover the purpose of
their hurried visit. Between them, Darcy and Mr. Carr managed to explain the
somewhat tangled web of circumstance, report, and rumour that had brought them
to Hertfordshire.

As
Mr. and Mrs. Bingley listened, with increasing astonishment and not a little
alarm, Darcy explained that Frank Wickham might yet save poor Josh Higgins from
the charge of murder if he could be persuaded to come forward.

Yet,
he had to confess, they had not a clue as to where he may be found, unless it
were at his mother's house in Meryton.

"My
dear uncle, we are totally in your hands; Mama hoped you might advise us on how
best to locate Mr. Wickham and persuade him that an innocent man's freedom, nay
even his life, may depend on his willingness to testify.

It
is a somewhat unusual role for a Wickham, I grant you, but unless he agrees,
Josh Higgins will surely pay the price of his silence."

Jonathan
Bingley could not resist smiling at the suggestion; he enjoyed the irony of the
situation his nephew had described. "You are quite right about one thing,
Darcy, there is not one family I know, less likely than the Wickhams, to
produce a white knight; but, like you, I too have heard reports of young Frank
Wickham that suggest he may be somewhat different to his idle, feckless
brothers.

"I
have had no contact with the family in many years, but I am aware through a
mutual acquaintance that Frank Wickham lives apart from his mother in a cottage
on the far side of the Longbourn Estate. Mr. Bowles, who used to be my steward
and recently moved to Longbourn, will be able to take you to him,"
Jonathan explained and added some cautionary advice.

"I
must warn you, though, should his mother, Mrs. Lydia Wickham, get wind of your
presence in the area and the purpose of your visit, you may not find it easy to
avoid her attentions," he said, and Darcy acknowledged his uncle's advice.
"Indeed, sir, Mama has informed me that Mrs. Wickham is not an easy person
to deal with. I would greatly appreciate any advice on how she is to be
approached."

Jonathan
laughed. "With much caution, I would say, Darcy. Your mother is being very
charitable in her description. Aunt Lydia has lost nothing of her guile and,
since she is always full of complaints, an encounter with her can become quite
wearisome. I suggest you take Mr. Bowles with you; he occasionally takes her
produce from Longbourn and Mrs. Wickham is well disposed towards him."

Mr.
Carr intervened to say that time was of the essence and they would need to see Mr.
Wickham at the earliest opportunity.