had thought they were departing his home withthe family jewels, he would have stopped them. Or at least signed his name to the letter.
“Mr. Melbourne, does not a crime require a victim? If Mrs. Tilney once owned these diamonds, they now belong to her son. Let us go to Northanger Abbey and talk to the captain. Doubtless, he will assure you that this is all an enormous error.”
The magistrate pondered the proposal. “All right,” he said finally. “The jewels must be returned anyway. I might as well deliver them myself and allow you to accompany me.”
“Thank you, sir—”
“Do not thank me yet. The day is now too far gone for us to journey all the way to Northanger and back before dark. We shall pursue this errand tomorrow morning. Until then, I must commit you both to gaol.”
Darcy was filled with mortification and outrage. A member of the Darcy family passing a single night in gaol was inconceivable. His name would be tarnished, his reputation damaged. Physical discomfort he could bear with fortitude, but the injury to his honor would be a heavy blow to suffer. That Elizabeth, in her condition, could not possibly be subjected to the environment of gaol was beyond question.
“Might you consider permitting us to stay here at the inn? You have my word that we will not attempt escape, nor even leave our room.”
“You have just been caught with stolen diamonds in your possession. Why should I trust your word?”
“I am a gentleman.”
“As I just explained, Mr. Darcy, your status as a gentleman means little. Perhaps the magistrates in Derbyshire treat persons of means more leniently, but in my jurisdiction the law applies equally to all individuals. In fact, as a gentleman myself, I hold those of our status to a higher standard, and condemn the actions of any gentleman who would taint our collective honor through conduct unbecoming. Ask those gathered here about the fate of Mr. Oliver Smyth, known in these parts as the ‘gentleman bandit.’ ”
“Swung from a tree!” someone cried.
“I am no bandit,” Darcy declared. “Do not treat me as one.”
“You stand accused of theft—a hanging offense for an item as valuable as these diamonds. Until this matter is resolved, you and your wife shall be treated like any other criminals.”
Another murmur swept through the crowd.
Darcy looked at Elizabeth. Her face was filled with anxiety. The thought of her sharing this shame was insupportable. He could not—would not—allow that to happen.
“I will go with you willingly, but for mercy’s sake, please do not subject my wife to incarceration.”
“If gentlemen do not enjoy exemption from the law, neither do ladies.”
“Yes, but . . . a private word, please, Mr. Melbourne?”
“What is it?”
Darcy approached the table and leaned forward. “Mrs. Darcy is in a delicate state of health,” he said in a voice audible only to the magistrate.
“You ought to have considered that before breaking the law.”
“If anything happened to her or the child while in gaol, would you want that on your conscience?”
Mr. Melbourne folded his arms across his chest and studied Elizabeth for several long moments. Finally, he said, “Mrs. Darcy, was there ever a time when your husband was in Mrs. Tilney’s chamber alone—without you?”
Darcy heard the question with relief and gratitude. The magistrate was offering Elizabeth a way out. But to accept it, she would have to cast even more suspicion on him.
She looked not at Mr. Melbourne, but at Darcy. He could read the reluctance in her eyes. She would not pronounce a word that might betray him.
“Speak the truth, Elizabeth.”
She hesitated. He willed her compliance with his steady gaze. I shall be all right. Speak the truth .
She swallowed. “Just before we left Northanger Abbey, my husband went to the apartment alone to ascertain whether the servants had finished packing our trunks. He was gone but a few minutes—”
“Did he have this walking
“Mr. Melbourne, does not a crime require a victim? If Mrs. Tilney once owned these diamonds, they now belong to her son. Let us go to Northanger Abbey and talk to the captain. Doubtless, he will assure you that this is all an enormous error.”
The magistrate pondered the proposal. “All right,” he said finally. “The jewels must be returned anyway. I might as well deliver them myself and allow you to accompany me.”
“Thank you, sir—”
“Do not thank me yet. The day is now too far gone for us to journey all the way to Northanger and back before dark. We shall pursue this errand tomorrow morning. Until then, I must commit you both to gaol.”
Darcy was filled with mortification and outrage. A member of the Darcy family passing a single night in gaol was inconceivable. His name would be tarnished, his reputation damaged. Physical discomfort he could bear with fortitude, but the injury to his honor would be a heavy blow to suffer. That Elizabeth, in her condition, could not possibly be subjected to the environment of gaol was beyond question.
“Might you consider permitting us to stay here at the inn? You have my word that we will not attempt escape, nor even leave our room.”
“You have just been caught with stolen diamonds in your possession. Why should I trust your word?”
“I am a gentleman.”
“As I just explained, Mr. Darcy, your status as a gentleman means little. Perhaps the magistrates in Derbyshire treat persons of means more leniently, but in my jurisdiction the law applies equally to all individuals. In fact, as a gentleman myself, I hold those of our status to a higher standard, and condemn the actions of any gentleman who would taint our collective honor through conduct unbecoming. Ask those gathered here about the fate of Mr. Oliver Smyth, known in these parts as the ‘gentleman bandit.’ ”
“Swung from a tree!” someone cried.
“I am no bandit,” Darcy declared. “Do not treat me as one.”
“You stand accused of theft—a hanging offense for an item as valuable as these diamonds. Until this matter is resolved, you and your wife shall be treated like any other criminals.”
Another murmur swept through the crowd.
Darcy looked at Elizabeth. Her face was filled with anxiety. The thought of her sharing this shame was insupportable. He could not—would not—allow that to happen.
“I will go with you willingly, but for mercy’s sake, please do not subject my wife to incarceration.”
“If gentlemen do not enjoy exemption from the law, neither do ladies.”
“Yes, but . . . a private word, please, Mr. Melbourne?”
“What is it?”
Darcy approached the table and leaned forward. “Mrs. Darcy is in a delicate state of health,” he said in a voice audible only to the magistrate.
“You ought to have considered that before breaking the law.”
“If anything happened to her or the child while in gaol, would you want that on your conscience?”
Mr. Melbourne folded his arms across his chest and studied Elizabeth for several long moments. Finally, he said, “Mrs. Darcy, was there ever a time when your husband was in Mrs. Tilney’s chamber alone—without you?”
Darcy heard the question with relief and gratitude. The magistrate was offering Elizabeth a way out. But to accept it, she would have to cast even more suspicion on him.
She looked not at Mr. Melbourne, but at Darcy. He could read the reluctance in her eyes. She would not pronounce a word that might betray him.
“Speak the truth, Elizabeth.”
She hesitated. He willed her compliance with his steady gaze. I shall be all right. Speak the truth .
She swallowed. “Just before we left Northanger Abbey, my husband went to the apartment alone to ascertain whether the servants had finished packing our trunks. He was gone but a few minutes—”
“Did he have this walking
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