Free Darcy's Trial by M. A. Sandiford

met anyone of that name.’
    ‘You would certainly remember if you had. Lady Catherine is Mr D’s aunt.’
    ‘Oh.’ Suddenly serious, Bridget pointed to the newspaper. ‘D for disaster, I’m sorry to hear.’
    Elizabeth nodded. ‘And therein lies the explanation for my tardiness. I have just visited Mr Darcy, and stayed far longer than I expected.’ She touched her friend’s arm. ‘Bridget, I’m sorry about this, but it’s now so late that my aunt and uncle will be worrying about me.’ She dropped her voice. ‘I didn’t tell them about the Darcys. I said I was visiting you and would be back in time for dinner.’
    ‘Do you have a carriage outside?’
    ‘I was hoping your servant could find me a hackney.’
    Bridget thought for a few seconds. ‘Why not stay to eat with us? We can dispatch a messenger immediately to reassure your relatives, then after dinner you can return in my husband’s carriage. He is at home this evening and will have no need of it.’
    ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘There is no inconvenience at all.’ Bridget lowered her voice again. ‘I think it’s important that we talk as soon as possible about Mr Darcy’s predicament, provided you feel able to do so. I have made one or two enquiries that might be of interest—though without mentioning your name, of course.’
    Elizabeth agreed, intensely relieved by this turn of events. ‘Yes, I would love to stay and discuss this with you, and know not how to repay your kindness. Just name your forfeit, and I will oblige. I am willing to clean your silver, or to listen politely to lectures on punctuality—whatever you require.’
    ‘Hardly the latter,’ Bridget laughed. ‘We both know what Mary W. thinks of the recommended homilies on etiquette for young ladies.’ She jumped up and went to the door to call for a servant.

    These arrangements made, they repaired to Bridget’s sanctuary on the second floor, where Elizabeth recounted most of her visit to the Darcys, omitting only the half-confirmed guesses she had made about the circumstances leading to the duel.
    ‘And do you intend to call again?’ Bridget asked.
    ‘I am undecided. The doctor is now confident that the crisis has passed, and that Mr Darcy will recover his health. However, he is still frail, and stressed by the disgrace to his family, and of course the possibility that he will be found guilty of murder and sentenced to death—with horrible consequences for his sister. It seems my visits have been good for his morale, except that now he is worried about my reputation, and insists that for the time being I should keep strictly away.’ She looked up to face Bridget. ‘Do you think he is right?’
    ‘You mean, do I think your reputation might be harmed through consorting with a man accused of murder?’ Bridget smiled wrily. ‘I’m sorry, Elizabeth, but that is what anyone would think, as you must know already. Why else would you conceal your visit from your family?’ She paused, before asking: ‘Why do you feel under such an obligation to this man?’
    ‘You know why.’
    ‘Yes, he helped your sister, to the wider benefit of your family. But nobody asked him to provide this help, for which you have now fully expressed your gratitude. If a man makes a proposal of marriage and is rejected, he has no right to renew his addresses to the woman by rendering services that she never asked for in the first place. Surely you see this.’
    ‘But that was not Mr Darcy’s intention, Bridget. On the contrary, he took pains to conceal his actions from me, so that any future alteration in my feelings would arise from affection alone, and not from a sense of obligation.’
    ‘Very well, then everyone, Mr Darcy included, agrees that you owe him nothing, except perhaps the gratitude already expressed. For your part, you have rejected his proposal, you claim not to like him, let alone love him, and yet,’ Bridget spread her arms, ‘and yet you go out of your way to seek his company,