Beginning, Section II
Jump to new as of August 13, 1999
Part 11
It was determined that the Bingley sisters and Mr. Hurst would leave the next day. Bingley would send word to have Netherfield opened up for his owner, and would be leaving for there in four days. Mrs. Bennet would go back to Longbourn and Mr. Gardiner to London, leaving Miss Jane, Miss Elizabeth, and Mrs. Gardiner to return directly to Hertfordshire with Bingley. Georgianna, to Darcy's great delight, would stay with the Bennets until her brother arrived.
Darcy was, of course, invited to join the party, but he refused to commit to going; there were still several things that he needed to work out. First, there was the matter of Mr. Benjamin, Elizabeth's attacker. Darcy was resolved to bring the business to its conclusion, and see the villain properly punished. Then there was the matter of Elizabeth's feelings. He was not at all convinced that she loved him; their visits continued to be infrequent, but very friendly on both sides. Perhaps she was coming to consider him a friend, but he would not pressure her, and following her so directly to Hertfordshire seemed too importunate for Darcy's wishes.
Mr. Darcy received a letter from Antony the following day.
Mr. Darcy,
I am afraid, sir, that I have only the most grievous news to impart. Mr. Benjamin is found, and is being held in a local jail. His trial will be in two days time in ----, and I recommend that you, or someone representing Miss Bennet, be present at the time. He stands accused of much more than just attempting to hurt the lady.
Two days after his attack on Miss Bennet, Mr. Benjamin had a long, angry fight with his wife. The subject of the argument is not relevant; however, as they talked, he hit his wife and threw her down a flight of stairs. She broke her neck in the fall, and died soon after.
Several servants saw this happen, and all testified that Mr. Benjamin was quite drunk at the time. Still, this is no excuse, and it is not thought that it will lessen the severity of his punishment. He is charged with murder and attempted rape, and will probably be hanged.
I await word from you.
Your humble servant,
Linus A. Antony
The letter sent Darcy into a whirlwind of emotions. After thinking some time, he sent for Jane and Mrs. Gardiner, and explained the situation to them. Jane, who had known Mrs. Benjamin a little, was shocked and grieved, and Mrs. Gardiner was solemn and clearly upset.
"I shall leave to go to --- tomorrow. Miss Bennet's male relatives are all too far away to do much good, and I am well enough acquainted with Miss Bennet's struggles to act as a witness." Jane and Mrs. Gardiner saw the logic in this, and thanked him again for his help. He then ventured, "I do ask one favor of you two ladies; please inform Miss Bennet of what has happened. She has the right to know, and I feel that you would be a great comfort to her."
"I agree," Mrs. Gardiner said. "She will not take it well at all. She has a spirit that doesn't bear injustice easily, and it will pain her greatly to hear of her friend's death. We should go to her immediately. Jane?"
Miss Bennet stood up and again thanked their host for all he had done. As they were leaving, she turned to him and said, "Mr. Darcy, I know you are a just man, but please, be kind to Mr. Benjamin. He will suffer for what he has done, but for Lizzy's sake and your own, show mercy."
After they left, Darcy took Miranda out for a long ride. He could sense Elizabeth's grief and anger and shock well enough; he couldn't stand to be near it.
Part 12
It was windy and slightly chilly, and Darcy was glad that he'd brought his coat. He followed the perimeter of the building, noticing as never before how the shadows of the great estate fell over the land. The darkness was unworldly, he thought; objects blurred into each other, colors shifted to become unnatural. As he looked to the horizon, he caught sight of a ghostly white figure on top of Lindon Hill, and started to head towards it.
For months after Darcy's mother had died, he had seen her like this, in dreams. He would follow the ghostly apparition up the hill, only to find his mother's nightgown or a white cat. Time after time he had this dream, each time the snow on the ground got thicker and the air colder, and each time he reached the top of the hill.
One day, through a particularly terrible snow storm, he had found his mother. She was sitting under a tree, and though the storm raged about them, she was surrounded in pink and white flowers. She was playing the harp, and as hard as Darcy tried, he could not get her attention. After that night, Darcy never had that dream again. That dream had signaled the end of Darcy's mourning, but it never healed the hole that her death had left in him.
Although Darcy knew he wasn't dreaming, he couldn't help believing that the figure would disappear as soon as he reached it. But still it remained, and the white contrast of the gown began to sharpen against the night sky. When he was close enough to see the figure clearly, he stopped in his tracks and gasped.
It was Elizabeth.
She was cold; she must be, for she was wearing only her nightgown and a sliver of a robe. She should not be out by herself. He approached her and put his hand on her shoulder, but, to his surprise, she did not turn around.
"Miss Bennet," he whispered quietly. She did not respond, so he tried again. "Miss Bennet, you must come inside."
"I beg you, sir, leave me alone. I am in no mood to be trifled with." Her answer was stiff and not a little angry.
"No, Miss Bennet, that will not do. You are still weak, and it's too cold to be out here with so little on." He came to face her profile, and was startled to see a shimmer on her cheek. "Are you crying, Miss Bennet?"
"Yes, sir, I am," she turned to face him, her eyes bright with anger. "I'm crying, because my friend is dead, because someone took her life most unjustly, and because I cannot but sleep at night without seeing that... that vile man's face in front of me, with those beady black eyes and that sneer, and... oh!" she shuddered into the wind. Darcy removed his jacked and wrapped it around her. Her head fell to her chest, and he instinctively moved to comfort her. Before he knew what was happening, her head was pressed against his chest, and his arms were around her waist, his hands through her hair. He could feel her sobbing into him.
"You cannot know," she mumbled between sobs, "what it feels like to be so out of control, to know that there is a man beside you who will destroy your life in one careless action. As he almost destroyed mine. As he destroyed poor Emily's."
He did his best to comfort her, brushing her hair back and whispering comforting things. He was acutely aware of her presence inside his arms, the curve of her back, the tininess of her form, and yet it felt like he was being swallowed by her. She was there, he was holding her, closer to anybody than he'd ever been. He'd held Georgianna before, but never had he felt so close to another's soul.
It was an agonizing, terrifying, wonderful, dreadful, exhilarating few moments that Darcy held Elizabeth like this. When she eventually pulled away and began to head back to the house, it was all he could do to stare after her.
The next day, he left to meet Mr. Benjamin.
Part 13
The hearing of Mr. Benjamin was short and to the point. There was enough evidence to convince the judge that the accused was universally guilty, and he was sentenced to be hanged with very little ceremony.
Throughout the entire affair, Darcy could only stare with hatred at the man who had injured his Elizabeth. Mr. Benjamin was not an unusual or particularly nasty looking man; he was slightly shorter than Darcy with a heavy build, although not fat. His eyes, which might once have held a careless look, were haggard and angry. Darcy's face became hot as he watched him and his eyes turned dark and menacing. From the other side of the room, Mr. Benjamin caught Darcy's eye and gave him a curious, detached look.
After the hearing was over, Darcy took his horse to an inn, resolved to leave first thing in the morning. But he could not bring himself to do it. As much as he tried to deny the fact, he knew that he could not leave without talking to Mr. Benjamin. The pain that he had inflicted on Darcy through Elizabeth cried out for acknowledgement, and no simple solution could quell Darcy's agony.
He ate a dinner at the inn, then headed towards the local jail. It was a dark, crumbling building not far from town, guarded only by an old man. A little money was all it took to convince the guard to let him talk to Mr. Benjamin in private.
The jail held only two cells; the farther one from the door held the man that Darcy was looking for. There was one window in the cell, and Darcy could tell that the prisoner had no candle. He could barely make out the scrap of hair and cloth on the straw mattress.
"Mr. Benjamin," Darcy called out stonily.
"What the hell do you want?" came back a gruff voice. "Who are you? I saw you watching me in the court today." The prisoner stood up and moved closer to Darcy, peering at him with those beady, careless eyes. "You look like you got some money. Wanna buy me a drink?"
Darcy scoffed. "Why would I want to do that?"
"Because it's cruel, damned cruel, to deprive a man of whisky. The more I'm forced to be sober, the less I like life."
"Cruel?" Darcy asked incredulously. "You call that cruelty when you can attempt to rape one woman, and kill your own wife in cold blood?"
"I guess so. I dunno. I didn't mean to kill her, just hurt her. You don't understand, Mister--there are very few things in life you can have control over. When your wife starts to get control over you, then you'd best do what you can to get that power back. Nothing's so important as power."
"I don't believe you," said Darcy angrily. "I've had power; it's nothing without love and friendship and respect."
Mr. Benjamin threw his head back and roared in laughter. "So, that's it! You're an angry lover! Did you seduce my wife?" Darcy started. "No, Emmie was too devoted a creature to cheat. Maybe that other one, the Miss Bennet?"
Darcy turned red with anger. "I can't say I blame you, though," Benjamin continued. "She was a pretty thing. Such bright eyes and a smile that would knock a grown man over! But, I see that you're right. You have power; I can tell by your clothes. You've never been powerless for a day in your life."
Darcy thought back on the months after Elizabeth's rejection; how hopeless he felt, knowing that he would never be able to see her again, knowing that all happiness was lost to him forever. In a moment of weakness, and partly to himself, Darcy confessed "That's not so."
Mr. Benjamin shook his head. "Yes it is."
Darcy was caught off guard, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "I know very well what it's like to have lost control over the most precious thing in your life. The hopelessness, the despair, the dreams... dreaming of happiness every night and waking up to know that your life is empty and painful and that there's nothing you can do about it..." Darcy realized who he was talking to, and was shocked at what he'd let himself reveal. He felt his hatred for the man crack, leaving behind a profound soreness that Darcy could not understand.
"That's not desperation. That's nothing. Take my word for it, it's scarier when you stop having the dreams."+
Darcy could only stare at the man. He abruptly moved away from the cell, leaving Mr. Benjamin leaning against the wall.
Darcy left the jail and headed back to his rooms. He was more confused than he'd ever been in his life. He could not forgive the man who had hurt Elizabeth so, who had murdered his own wife and showed no remorse over it. No, forgiveness was beyond his power to grant. Anger and pain defeated even his most charitable thoughts of Mr. Benjamin. But still...
Darcy had entered that jail expecting to find one of the most cruel, ruthless men ever born. Nothing could excuse him. There was no goodness to be found in his character. There was only... powerlessness. What had he lost his power to? Darcy wondered. Alcohol? The man was clearly a drunkard, but that was no excuse... none at all. He had chosen to be consumed by his lack of "power." He had turned his situation against the person he had sworn to cherish and protect. And, in full sobriety, he had attacked Elizabeth Bennet, the purest creature that God ever chose to put on the earth.
He was too low to deserve pity. Still, Darcy had a hard time falling asleep that night.
The execution was scheduled to take place at eleven the next morning. Darcy rose with the sun, ate a light breakfast, and set off on a walk. It was a long walk, and Darcy didn't pay attention to where he was going, but when the town bell tolled nine, he found himself standing outside the judge's office.
In an instant, Darcy understood what he was about to do, and why. With a bitter taste in his mouth, he walked in.
Forty-five minutes later, Darcy emerged. A bargain had been struck; Mr. Benjamin would not die, but would be sent to a prison camp in Africa, to spend the rest of his life in hard labor. The judge had looked at him in wonder as Darcy offered to pay whatever was necessary to accomplish this. The work would be hard, and the conditions worse, but it was still a more generous punishment than the judge thought Mr. Benjamin deserved.
Darcy believed that in Africa, Mr. Benjamin would be able to turn his life around. He had never been a romantic man, but the face of Mr. Benjamin the night before convinced him that it was more than just evil that motivated his heinous acts. There was loss, there was confusion, there was weakness in his countenance. Perhaps Mr. Benjamin would die as evil as he was when he pushed a knife to Miss Bennet's throat, but perhaps, free from temptation, forced to confront his own failings, more could come from him.
As a boy, Darcy had been taught that some people were naturally bad. But he realized, after Miss Bennet's refusal in Kent, that if some people were naturally bad, he must be included in the group. After all, he had been arrogant, insensitive, and prejudicial, condemning the locals in Hertfordshire and many other people throughout his life. For a while, Darcy had lost faith that he could ever be anything more. And he had been wrong... he could not honestly refuse Mr. Benjamin a chance to see beyond his own failings.
All was agreed on. Mr. Benjamin was brought up to hear his fate, and his eyes grew wide with astonishment at the sentence. "You're saving my life?" he gasped.
"I'm not doing it for you," Darcy replied coldly. "You deserve to suffer, and you will. What you do not deserve is to be whisked gently out of this world; you have made many mistakes, and you will live to make amends." With that, he turned to the door.
"You wish me to suffer, then?" snarled Mr. Benjamin.
"I wish..." Darcy turned back to him. "I wish for your wife's death to have not been in vain."
+This line is (almost) a quote that belongs to Chris Carter. I haven't used it nearly as elegantly or poignantly as he did, but I hope I put it to good use.