Chapter 16 #2
“Say a fond farewell?” Elizabeth heard Mr Balfour whisper to his friend before he took leave from his lordship. Mr Utterson gave him a scathing look and then threw himself into Darcy’s barouche.
“How d’ye do?” he muttered with a careless wave towards the box. He nodded to her and Hester, and then angled his body away from them. He really is an unpleasant sort of man.
They would have to look at a surly and silent Mr Utterson for the ride home. From the chatter that she heard from Mr Balfour’s carriage, Mrs Annesley and Miss Darcy were sure to be better entertained.
She watched Darcy as he cued the horses. The set of his shoulders, the tight grip on the reins, the silence. They would have to prove soon which man killed Carew because Darcy was not going to manage a complaisant attitude towards them for long.
I have to tell him that I know he suspects one of his friends.
Darcy should know that he need not hide anything from her.
She wanted to enjoy her newfound happiness with him, to move towards the ease and familiarity that was growing between them, to enjoy a season of courtship before they married.
But she knew Carew’s death would weigh on him until he found her killer.
Soon she would leave Pemberley to marry from Longbourn. It was not that she would be long parted from him, but Derbyshire already felt more like home, and right now Darcy’s sanctuary was under siege. She was certain he felt absolutely wretched.
I cannot leave until we prove who killed Carew.
“I thought I would find you here.”
Darcy looked up and saw that Fitzwilliam stood in the doorway to his father’s favourite room.
Everyone else was abed, but Darcy had been sitting at his father’s desk to view the stairs, and to think.
He was in his shirtsleeves, his cravat loosened, but he was no more relaxed now than he was when he first sat down.
“No one left the house tonight,” Darcy said whilst his cousin entered to sit near the empty grate. “After the party broke up, I sat here to catch anyone who tried to sneak away, but . . .”
“I know, I checked that the doors were still locked myself,” Fitzwilliam said. “Both of their servants said their masters were abed. Perhaps they might try tomorrow, but I think there is nothing unattended left in Lambton to take. Did you search Balfour’s and Utterson’s rooms this morning?”
He said this as though invading someone’s privacy was such an easy thing to do. Darcy might have the right to enter any room in Pemberley whenever he pleased, but it still felt wrong. He nodded, and there was nothing else to say. He had seen nothing that did not belong.
“Well, my dear Darcy, then I shall check the pawnshops in the largest neighbouring towns and hope to turn up a stolen item and a name or a description, something that you can take to the magistrate.”
Darcy clenched his fists. “I want to haul them into a room, lock the door, and refuse to let them leave until one of them confesses to killing Carew.”
Fitzwilliam scoffed. “Balfour and Utterson are from influential and well-connected families. You do not accuse the son of a rich Scottish member of parliament or the son of a baronet of stealing and killing without proof.”
Darcy exhaled loudly. The pain of the betrayal and the anxiety of who had done it was almost too much to bear.
I had been happy today. He ought to have come home delighted after having proposed and been accepted.
But the reality of Carew’s death came roaring back with the return of Balfour and Utterson.
He could scarcely make it through the evening with a pleasant face.
“Go to bed. No one is leaving tonight.”
Darcy started. He had forgotten his cousin was there. “Soon.”
“You know, now that you have met their immediate needs,” Fitzwilliam said, rising, “your villagers and tenants might be glad to know the master is going to marry. That might be reassuring to anyone concerned about Pemberley’s future.”
“You ought to go to bed too.”
“You ought to ask Miss Bennet again. It is plain that she admires you.”
He did not want to discuss Elizabeth now or have to explain why he was not showing the happiness he ought to feel now that he was finally engaged to the woman he loved. “Since we are dispensing advice, why do you not ask Mrs Lanyon to marry you?”
“You know why.” Darcy regretted the question, but before he could apologise, Fitzwilliam said, teasingly, “I shall overlook your rudeness since you said that out of jealousy when you still have not performed to the hilt. You could solve that problem too, you know.”
Darcy did not so much as raise his eyes. “Go away.” Under his breath, he muttered, “And I am not untouched.”
“Not entirely, but there are pleasures you are yet ignorant of. It is about time; you are nearly thirty.”
“My not being married had more to do with it than my age.”
“How romantic. I feel for Miss Bennet, though. If you ever end up—”
“Good night, Fitzwilliam!”
Darcy leant on the desk, resting his head in his hands as he listened to the footsteps move away. This manner of sporting with him was common, but he had no patience for it now.
Balfour or Utterson killed someone.
Pemberley was silent and he was alone, but he felt the oppressive agony of despair as though it was a presence in the room screaming at him.
Both men had been his friend, and the deception, the dishonesty, the falseness of that friendship burned him.
I brought a man into my home who is capable of killing someone and dumping her body in a stream. The guilt was excruciating.
He heard footsteps re-enter the doorway. “Damn it, I told you to go to bed.”
“You did not.”
Darcy snapped his head up and saw Elizabeth come near and set a chamberstick on the desk. “After the way you acted in the drawing room, I thought you might need company. I have waited a long time for everyone else to go to bed so I could talk with you.”
She came around the desk and reached out a hand. Darcy said a quiet apology as he pressed a kiss to it, then held a loose grip on it. “I am perfectly well, dearest Elizabeth.”
“This is you well?” She raised her eyebrows. “It is a good thing we did not announce our engagement, otherwise all of your friends would think you a reluctant groom. They would think that you were being forced to the altar with a knife at your back.”
He smiled. “On the contrary. I know I am the last man in the world you could be prevailed on to marry. If anyone knew our history, they would think it was you who had to be coerced down the aisle.”
She perched at the edge of the desk. “Now that you think Jane is worthy of Charles, I am willing to accept you to have your house, your purse, and your protection at my command.”
“So you are not one bit in love with me?”
“I fell madly in love with you, but for now it is a great secret.”
He laughed softly, enjoying having Elizabeth here with him.
“Fitzwilliam, why are you up so late, and all alone, in the dark?”
I was considering the heartless behaviour of someone I trusted, someone capable of murder. “I was distracted by unpleasant thoughts, and I thought an interval of serious meditation was the best corrective.”
“You had your cousin set up a watch in the village.” He looked at her in surprise at her wanting to talk about that.
“It is astonishing that a tenant would raid the debris and damaged houses of their own neighbours for valuables, especially since you have done so well in assuaging their fears and in meeting their immediate needs.”
“Yes,” he said shortly, not wanting to worry her with it, “the conduct of the looter astonishes me beyond measure.”
She waited as though she expected him to say more before saying, “The same person might have broken into Pemberley to steal the candlestick that matches this one,” she said, pointing to the one still on the desk.
He let go of her hand, leant back in his chair, and nodded, wondering what her point was.
“It was likely the same person who stole it, who looted the village, and who killed Carew.” She took a breath.
“But we both know that the person who took the taperstick from this desk did not have to break anything to gain entry to this house”—she gave him such a sad look—“because it was one of your guests. One of your friends probably killed her.”
He did not so much as blink, shift his weight, or look away. Despite shielding her from it, Elizabeth had observed, assessed, and came to the same conclusion Fitzwilliam had. He had to throw off all reserve and speak to her with the confidence of a husband who loves and trusts his wife.
“I did not want to worry you,” he whispered.
“Thank you for wanting to spare me the pain of knowing, but what about you?”
“Me?”
“You must feel pain at this, this breach of trust—”
“I am only angry,” he said quickly, “and determined to prove who is guilty and haul him before Mr Birch.” The truth of the murder was one thing, but he did not want to confess his feelings about it, even if he had little hope of concealing them.
“If we found Carew’s ring amongst their things, would that be enough for the magistrate?”
He noticed her use of “we” and found it a relief.
“I searched their rooms this morning before we left for Dovedale.” He had the right to search any room in his house, so long as he did not break open anything that was locked.
“Balfour has a lockbox, Utterson a trunk, but there was nothing I saw that was out of place to my eye.”
“And nothing was stolen from the village since Colonel Fitzwilliam set up a night watch?”
He shook his head, running a hand across his eyes.
“No one stole anything last night whilst they were at Lord Poole’s, and no one left the house tonight.
I think we need not continue the watch. Fitzwilliam intends to check the pawnshops in Matlock and Buxton tomorrow for anything recognisable and ask if new pawners have been in. ”