“Hair is pulled, faces are scratched, shins are kicked. Carew’sclothes do not appear dishevelled. Look at her hands,” she said, pointing. “They are not scratched, and her nails are not broken.”
Darcy nodded slowly. “She would not stand there and let someone hit her.” He sighed heavily. “I had wondered if someone mistook her for you... Well, perhaps she was not attacked after all and I am worried for nothing.” It was as though he wanted to convince himself the magistrate was right, and she did not want to take that hope from him.
“It is possible it was an accident,” she said, looking back at poor Carew. She heard Darcy moving away as she looked at the folded hands. “Darcy, wait!”
Elizabeth realised her mistake after the name passed her lips. That he was surprised was evident, and she waited for the expected, the deserved polite correction to come. He came to her side, still not asking her to not address him so informally. She was about to apologise when he asked, “What is it?”
This brought her attention back to where it belonged. “Her ring is missing.”
“Perhaps she took it off that day.”
“No, absolutely not,” she cried. “Carew dressed finely to visit her father; he was proud of her. She would often borrow a flower from your sister to put in her hat when she went to see him. I loaned her my pelisse to make the call.” Her voice rose and she spoke faster. “She wore that coral ring every day—it was her mother’s—and it scraped my skin whenever she fastened a tie or pulled down a sleeve. Miss Darcy would have noticed the same. It is missing!”
He looked pensive and began to pace. “If it was stolen after she was dead...” He shook his head in disgust at the thought. “She was not wearing gloves when we pulled her out, but would normally. Did someone take them off? How would anyone have seen the ring beneath her gloves?”
“If the gloves got wet whilst walking to Lambton and had not dried before it was time to return to Pemberley, she would have put them in her reticule. She was only walking home. Someone might have seen the ring on her finger and...” It was too horrible to think on.
“What did it look like? Was it expensive?”
“No, its value was more sentimental than monetary. It had five pieces of coral that sat very high in a thin gold band.”
“That makes no sense,” he said, frowning. “Who would steal a silver candlestick, kill someone with it, then throw away all of that silver just to steal a few ounces of gold and coral?”
“It is worse than that,” Elizabeth whispered.
He gave her a concerned look. “I agree that it is sickeningly awful, but what do you mean?”
She felt her heart beating faster. “I walked that path from the village, and there is no place near the stream to hide to take someone unaware. She would have seen this person, possibly walked past him. If they were that near to one another, out in the open, he would have known it was Carew and not me. She has no wounds from defending herself. Darcy, Carew might have known her murderer, and she had no reason to be afraid of him.”
There was a peculiar,dreamlike quality to having to meet Darcy’s guests across the breakfast table. Elizabeth struggled to smile as she buttered her toast and pretended to listen to Miss Darcy and Mrs Annesley. Not an hour ago she had been standing over a woman’s body and thinking about who killed her, and now she had to make polite conversation and choke down toast and chocolate. Darcy, she saw, was not even attempting to be engaged as his coffee cup sat untouched and he read his letters and looked at no one.
“Darcy,” Mr Balfour called, “you left us early again this morning. Utterson and I went back to your village and sorted through debris.” He heaved a great sigh, pretending as though he had been terribly imposed upon. “Utterson had to get his hands dirty, and you were not even there to see us being benevolent. Although I think Utterson only went to send his post.”
Darcy gave them a small smile that did not reach his eyes. “Forgive me for neglecting you, and thank you for helping. I was surveying land that was flooded on Monday, and then had to ride to Bakewell.” Rather than wait for a reply, Darcy looked back at his post. Elizabeth watched his jaw tighten as he set one down and opened another.
Mr Balfour seemed to realise his friend did not want to speak, but Mr Utterson did not. “I suppose you spoke with a magistrate about... that matter.”
All conversation stopped, and Elizabeth watched Darcy slowly set down his letter. In the silence that followed, Mr Balfour looked round the table and then said, “Not in front of the ladies, Utterson. Think of Miss Darcy. Sometimes I wonder at your good sense.”
Mr Utterson glared at Mr Balfour and then, with a little bow to Miss Darcy, noisily picked up his newspaper and hid behind it.
“You may as well know, seeing as my sister already does,” Darcy began. “The magistrate sees no cause for an inquest into what he is certain was an accidental drowning. The circumstances surrounding the missing candlestick are unrelated, or at least not certainly related, according to Mr Birch.”
“That is reassuring,” cried Mr Balfour. “You seemed to be of another mind last night.”
Darcy hesitated before answering. “My opinion does not matter. As far as the Justice of the Peace is concerned, the matter of her death is closed.”
“Quite right,” Mr Utterson said, lowering his newspaper. “It is not for every gentleman to go round deciding for himself what ought to be investigated.”
“You would have more to occupy you as a prosecutor if that were true,” Mr Balfour said, laughing. “Think of the money you would earn if everyone decided for themselves what was brought to trial.”
Mr Utterson did not notice his friend’s humour. “One must trust the process, trust in law and order. The magistrate sees no evidence of such an atrocity. Therefore”—he gave Mr Balfour a heavy look—“there is no cause for an inquest.”
“Oh well, then, be rational when I wanted to amuse Darcy by being playful.” Mr Balfour shrugged and took a long drink of his coffee.
“That must be a consolation, Miss Darcy, certainly, to have that fear put to rest,” Mrs Lanyon said after everyone had shifted in their seat, taken a sip from a cup, or pushed their food around. “Small consolation though it may be, your dear maid was not the victim of a crime, only a tragic accident.” Miss Darcy nodded her agreement.
“It still does not explain how that candlestick got outside,” Mrs Annesley said quietly.
