responsibility since it was our disagreement that had driven him into the woodland. I had been drinking heavily but, among much that I cannot recall, I remember clearly the abhorrence when I found him and saw his blood-smeared face. His eyes confirmed what I already knew, that he was dead. The shock, horror and pity of this unmanned me, but not so much that I neglected to take what action I could to apprehend his murderer. I took his pistol and fired several shots at what I thought was a fleeing figure and I pursued him deeper into the woodland. By then the drink I had imbibed had taken effect and I remember nothing more until I was kneeling by my friend and cradling his head. It was then that the rescue party arrived.
“Gentlemen of the jury, the case made out against me will not stand. If I struck my friend on the forehead and, more viciously, on the back of the neck, where are the weapons? After a most thorough search, neither weapon has been produced in court. If it is alleged that I followed my friend with murderous intent, how could I hope to prevail over a man taller and stronger than myself and armed with a weapon? And why should I do so? No motive has been alleged. The fact that there was no trace of a stranger lurking in the woodland cannot be taken to mean that no such man existed; he would hardly have waited at the scene of his crime. I can only swear, remembering that I am on oath, that I had no part in the murder of Captain Martin Denny and I put myself upon my country with confidence.”
There was a silence, then Alveston whispered to Darcy, “It was not good.”
In a low voice Darcy said, “How not good? I thought he had done enough. The main arguments were clearly made, no evidence produced of a serious quarrel, the absence of weapons, the irrationality of pursuing his friend with murderous intent, the lack of a motive. What was wrong?”
“It is difficult to explain but I have listened to so many speeches by the defendant and I fear this one may not succeed. For all the care in its construction it lacked that vital spark that comes from the assurance of innocence. The delivery, the lack of passion, the carefulness of it; he may have pleaded not guilty but he does not feel innocent. That is something that juries detect, don’t ask me how. He may not be guilty to this murder but he is burdened by guilt.”
“So are we all sometimes; is not to feel guilt part of being human? Surely the jury must have been left with a reasonable doubt. That speech would have been enough for me.”
Alveston said, “I pray it will be enough for the jury but I am not sanguine.”
“But if he was drunk?”
“He certainly claimed to be drunk at the time of the murder, but he was not too drunk to get into the chaise unaided at the inn. This question has not been pursued during the evidence, but in my view it is open to question how drunk he was at the time.”
During the speech Darcy had tried to focus on Wickham but now he couldn’t resist glancing at Mrs Younge. There was no risk that their eyes would meet. Hers were fixed on Wickham, and sometimes he saw her lips moving as if she were listening to a recital of something she herself had written, or perhaps was silently praying. When he looked again at the dock Wickham was staring ahead; he turned towards the judge as Mr Justice Moberley began his charge to the jury.
9
Mr Justice Moberley had made no notes and now he leaned a little towards the jury as if the matter could have no concern to the rest of the court, and the beautiful voice which at first attracted Darcy was clear enough to be heard by everyone present. He went through the evidence succinctly but carefully, as if time had no importance. The speech ended with words that Darcy felt gave credence to the defence, and his spirits rose.
“Gentlemen of the jury, you have listened with patience and obviously close attention to the evidence given in this long trial, and it is now for you to consider the evidence and give your verdict. The accused was previously a professional soldier and has a record of conspicuous gallantry for which he has been awarded a medal, but this should not affect your decision, which should be based on the evidence which has been presented to you. Your responsibility is a heavy one but I know you will discharge your duty without fear or favour and in accordance with the law.
“The central mystery, if I can call it that, surrounding this case is why Captain Denny ran into the woodland when he could have safely and comfortably remained in the chaise; it is inconceivable that an attack would have been made on him in the presence of Mrs Wickham. The accused has given his explanation of why Captain Denny so unexpectedly stopped the chaise, and you will wonder whether you find this explanation satisfactory. Captain Denny is not alive to explain his action, and no evidence other than Mr Wickham’s is available to elucidate the matter. Like much of this case, it has been supposition, and it is on sworn evidence, not on unsubstantiated opinions, that your verdict can safely be given: the circumstances under which members of the rescue party found Captain Denny’s body and heard the words attributed to the accused. You have heard his explanation of their meaning and it is for you to decide whether or not you believe him. If you are certain beyond reasonable doubt that George Wickham is guilty of killing Captain Denny then your verdict will be one of guilty; if you have not that certainty the accused is entitled to be acquitted. I now leave you to your deliberations. If it is your wish to retire to consider your verdict, a room has been made available.”
10
By the end of the trial Darcy felt as drained as if he himself had stood in the dock. He longed to ask Alveston for reassurance but pride and the knowledge that to badger him would be as irritating as it was futile kept him silent. There was nothing anyone could do now but hope and wait. The jury had chosen to retire to consider their verdict and in their absence the courtroom had again become as noisy as an immense parrots’ cage as the audience discussed the evidence and made bets on the verdict. They had not long to wait After less than ten minutes the jury returned. He heard the loud authoritative voice of the clerk asking the jury, “Who is your foreman?”
“I am, sir.” The tall dark man who had gazed at him so frequently during the trial and who was their obvious leader stood up.
“Have you arrived at a verdict?”
“We have.”
“Do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty?”
The answer came without hesitation. “Guilty.”
“And is that the verdict of you all?”
“It is.”
Darcy knew that he must have gasped. He felt Alveston’s hand on his arm, steadying him. And now the court was full of voices – a mixture of groans, cries and protests which grew until, as if by some group compulsion, the noise died and all eyes were turned on Wickham. Darcy, caught up in the outcry, closed his eyes, then forced himself to open them and fixed them on the dock. Wickham’s face had the stiffness and sickly pallor of a mask of death. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came. He was clutching the edge of the dock and seemed for a moment to stagger, and Darcy felt his own muscles tightening as he watched while Wickham recovered himself and with obvious effort found the strength to stand stiffly upright. Staring at the judge he found a voice, at first cracked, but then loud and clear. “I am innocent of this charge, my lord. I swear before God I am not guilty.” Wide-eyed, he gazed desperately round the courtroom as if seeking some friendly face, some voice which would affirm his innocence. Then he said again with more force, “I am not guilty, my lord, not guilty.”
Darcy turned his eyes to where Mrs Younge had been sitting, soberly dressed and silent among the silks and muslins and the fluttering fans. She had gone. She must have moved as soon as the verdict was delivered. He knew that he had to find her, needed to know what part she had played in the tragedy of Denny’s death, to find out why she had been there, her eyes locked on Wickham’s as if some power, some courage were passing between them.
He broke free of Alveston and pushed his way to the door. It was being firmly held fast against a crowd outside who, from the increasing clamour, were apparently determined on admission. And now the bawling in the
