Page 186 of Faceless

He spoke of Darcy as he had known him since school. He spoke of Darcy’s conduct at Pemberley, in town, at Netherfield. He spoke of Darcy’s care for Georgiana after their father’s death. He spoke of Darcy’s character in terms that were neither flattering nor defensive but even and a little stunned, telling the court the truth about the closest friend he had in the world.

When the Crown’s counsel rose to cross-examine, the questioning began civilly. “You are, sir, an old friend of Mr Darcy’s. You have been received in his house at Pemberley on a number of occasions. You consider yourself, perhaps, in a position to judge his character better than most.”

Bingley answered each in the affirmative.

“And you are also previously acquainted, sir, with Mrs Darcy and with her family from Hertfordshire.”

Bingley reddened, but said that he was. That he had leased an estate near the Bennet home, and knew the family well.

“Your acquaintance, sir, with the eldest Miss Bennet — Miss Jane Bennet, presently in the gallery — was understood, by your own circle and by hers, to have been of such a character as to give rise to a general expectation that an offer would be made.”

Bingley’s face altered.

Darcy saw it from the dock and understood, before Bingley had said a word, where counsel was going. He had not expected this line. He should have. He had not. Heat came up into his face, and he looked at the floor of the dock and did not look up.

Bingley said, after a moment, “I am — I am not certain that I can —”

“It is a question of fact, sir. The expectation existed. Yes or no?”

“It — yes. It existed. I had — I had formed an attachment. I do not believe my attentions were imprudent. I had reason to suppose them — that is —”

“And yet, sir, you did not make the lady an offer. You left Netherfield in the November of that year. You did not return.”

Bingley stared at his hands. “I did not return.”

“Will you tell the court, sir, the reason you did not return?”

Bingley did not answer.

The room had gone the small, hushed quiet Darcy had come to recognise as the prelude to evidence the bench would mark.

“Mr Bingley. The court is waiting for your answer.”

Bingley looked at the floor of the witness box. Then he looked at Pemberton. Pemberton did not move, did not give him a signal, did not relieve him. Pemberton had decided, Darcy understood, that this question would have to be answered honestly and that any attempt to shield Bingley from it would only confirm in the jury’s mind that what they were now being told to suspect was some devastating truth.

Bingley spoke at last, very quietly.

“I had been — I had been given to understand that the lady’s affections were not engaged. That my attentions were unwelcome. That a continued pursuit on my part would distress her and do me no credit, and that I should be doing better by all parties to withdraw.”

“Given to understand by whom, sir?”

“By — by my friend.”

“By Mr Darcy?”

“Yes.”

A small movement went through the jury box. Darcy did not look at it. He did not look at the gallery. He could not, in that moment, have looked anywhere but the floor of the dock without losing what was left of his composure. He had tried to make peace with that error, and what it had cost all concerned. Elizabeth said once that the matter was forgiven, but she had not heard it spoken in a court of treason in the presence of two hundred strangers, with Jane Bennet sitting in the gallery beside the wife he had taken with such fierce difficulty after — partly because of — what he had done to Jane Bennet.

The prosecution’s counsel did not, mercifully, ask Bingley to elaborate on what Darcy had said. He had got what he needed. He moved instead to the inference.

“So, Mr Bingley. We have on your evidence that Mr Darcy, the defendant in this case, was a man who intervened in his closest friend’s romantic attachment to the sister of his own future wife, persuaded that friend that the lady’s affections were not engaged when in fact, as we may presume from the lady’s continued unmarried state and her present attendance at this court in support of her sister, they may well have been, and thereby prevented an honourable engagement between two persons who were, by your own admission and by the general expectation of two counties, on the verge of one. Would you say, sir, that this is the conduct of a man who is uniformly honourable in his dealings with the persons closest to him?”

Bingley raised his head.

Darcy looked up at last.

He had to. He could not have remained looking at the floor while Bingley answered that. He looked at his friend in the witness box, and Bingley looked at him for the briefest interval — not in apology, not in accusation, but in plain recognition — and then Bingley turned back to counsel.