Utterson turned red but said nothing. Mrs Lanyon gave her brother a scathing look and then asked him what he had done today that had him leave so early. “I went to Buxton where I played cards in the Assembly Room of the Great Hotel with any gentleman who wandered in. I am up, Utterson, so you need not tease me about needing to pawn my clothes.”
“I am sorry for so often leaving you alone,” Darcy said quickly before Utterson could respond.
“You have done nothing wrong by your guests,” Balfour said firmly. “In fact, it is us who have not done enough by you, to try to bear you up and distract you. You cannot spend your evenings dwelling over what passed during the afternoon. Now, what shall we do in Derbyshire? I intend to force you into some amusement.”
Darcy said his participation would be impossible, and his guests talked on of finding their own amusements, with Darcy offering his opinions here and there. It seemed as though none of his guests had been to Dovedale, and the hope of seeing it was talked of.
Utterson had put on a more pleasant face, and he now turned to Elizabeth. “Would you be willing to give us some music?”
Darcy was at that moment reminded of Rosings and watching Elizabeth sit with Fitzwilliam at the instrument. It was not that he had been jealous of his cousin—he knew Fitzwilliam had no romantic interest in Elizabeth—but rather that he too wanted that ease with her. As Darcy watched Utterson stand beside the instrument to turn the pages, he felt an unaccountable rush of envy.
Utterson was not tall, but he was a well-made man with sandy-coloured hair and freckles that caught a lady’s attention so long as Utterson was not scowling. For all of his complaining about not having much of an allowance, he would soon be called to the bar, and Darcy suspected the Honourable James Utterson, barrister, might then receive more money from his father than as a young man spending freely in town when he ought to be studying.
There was no reason for him to turn a jealous eye on the irascible Utterson.Simply because Darcy feared his heart would be torn asunder if she refused him a second time, it did not mean she would. He could not forget how Elizabeth spoke to him in the library, how every look and word spoke to her affection for him. It was easier to think on matters of the heart rather than think about Mr Carew’s devastation when he had to break to him the terrible news. The pain and grief in Mr Carew’s voice and sobs surpassed anything he had ever had to witness.
“No, that is hardly enough,” he heard Utterson call to Balfour and Mrs Lanyon. Utterson left the instrument to join Balfour’s conversation with his sister. Darcy noticed the wry smile on Elizabeth’s lips as their eyes met and she turned the page herself.
“You disagree with me?” Mrs Lanyon asked.
“Aye, he does,” Balfour answered for Utterson. “He sides with me. A man in London with only five thousand a year cannot be distinguished above a tradesman!”
“And you do not even have five thousand a year yet,” Utterson said in his acerbic way.
Balfour looked indignant before saying, “Aye. And you, like me, subsist on whatever money your father allows you.”
Elizabeth finished her song and joined them. “What were you saying about living in London?”
“That a certain income is necessary to live there,” Mrs Lanyon said.
“And Utterson and I can scarcely afford it,” Balfour added, giving a rueful smile. “Thank goodness I manage to scart together enough funds for a season. Utterson’s father at least pays for him to live in town, if not enough for him to enjoy it. But,” he said, turning to Darcy, “that is not a concern ofyours.”
“I will not be in town this winter,” Darcy said, knowing what exclamations would follow.
“What? Not at all? But you have a house, leased for generations,” Balfour cried.
“Under my present scarcity of cash, I shall find it difficult to collect the rent to answer this emergency, let alone to fund a season.”
“You cannot tell me that you have no funds in reserve,” said Utterson, his expression one of disbelief.
“Of course not. But complying with my engagements in town when I have a single tenant without a roof or without enough to eat is impossible. Any extra money must be spent on their well-being. I will spend my last shilling to preserve their welfare.”
Utterson only shrugged but Balfour shook his head and said, “My friend, you will be missed. You have had a disaster here, but a lively winter in town will be a reward for all you will deal with this autumn. You deserve some diversions, and I daresay you will need them.”
Darcy shook his head.
“You must spendsomemoney on society, on travelling with your friends, on your own enjoyment.”
“I will sublet the house in town.” He was all out of patience, and rose to leave, pleading that he had to check on his sister. The door opened suddenly, and a footman let a harried-looking Mr Stevenson enter.
His steward gave an apologetic look to his assembled company before hurrying to his side. “I did not think it could wait, sir,” he said quietly.
“No matter,” Darcy said quickly. “What is it?”
He lifted a heavy object wrapped in cloth. “I sent men along thepath between the house and Lambton, along the stream, to find where Molly Carew hit her head and fell in. One brought a dog, and he ran into the grass on the other side of the walk, about twenty feet from the path, near to where we found her.” He spoke faster. “He kept barking, and they found this.”
Mr Stevenson folded back the cloth to reveal a small silver candlestick. Darcy narrowed his eyes, tilting his head as he took it. “It is from my father’s desk.” He turned it, looking at it from all sides before seeing what had so discomposed Mr Stevenson. On the bottom was a large reddish-brown smear of what could only be blood.
CHAPTER TWELVE
