He gave her a heated look before they entered the post office. When they left, he felt Elizabeth shiver as the wind picked up, and he asked if she was cold.
“A little. I have not had another pelisse made”—her voice caught—“and this spencer is not warm enough for a windy day.”
They shared a sad look, and he was no longer in the mood for playful hints about their happy future. He felt Elizabeth give his arm a squeeze, and knew she felt the same.
“Who do you think it was?” The question seemed to burst out from her lips.
“I could guess. Utterson does not know me as well as Balfour does, and it might be easier for him to steal from me than it would be for Balfour.”
“But who is capable of killing Carew?” she whispered.
“Utterson is more short-tempered . . .”
“Yes. I remember Carew saying that she had heard from his man that he did not always have patience, and we have all seen how abrupt he can be.”
“But always being impatient will not be enough for a magistrate. As far as who is capable of using a pawnbroker, it could be either of them. Utterson bought cufflinks at a pawnshop in Buxton simply because he saw them in the window.”
“And Mr Balfour bought a new watch here in Bakewell because he wanted to spend.” After a little farther, she added, “Did you notice at Lord Poole’s that Mr Utterson was not ready to join us when it was time to go?” He nodded. “His lordship said he had forgottensomething, but when he came out, Mr Utterson carried nothing with him.”
“Or he had hidden in his pockets something small, something he took from the house to pawn? That is quite a conjecture, but if he stole from me, he would not scruple to steal from anyone else.” Utterson was appearing to be the likely culprit, but suspicions would not be enough for Mr Birch. “It might be him, but what you observed means nothing unless we find proof that connects Utterson to Carew.”
Elizabeth nodded sadly, and they crossed the street. “How many people borrow money on the security of pledges? What kind of rate is charged?”
“I could not say to the former, but an act was passed that set it at one and two-thirds percent a month.”
“That is still twenty percent a year,” she cried. “Who would accept such a rate?”
Darcy shrugged. “If one has no credit and is so far from a bank, where else are they to get cash, and quickly?”
Elizabeth’s lips turned down. “But are the brokers predators or providing an essential service?”
“Pawnshops are a place shunned by the pious and the wealthy, but I know they support those of limited means, those out of work, and widows.”
“Why would people not appeal to you or another landowner if they need help?”
“Because the labouring poor want dignity, and whilst I give food or clothes or medicine or a deduction from rent due, that is not the same as needing cash after an illness has prevented you from working or your husband has gambled away his earnings again. I think them necessary in some cases.”
“Then why do many cast judgment on those who use them?”
Darcy felt her confusion and looked at her. “Think of it this way: the Duke of Devonshire would mortgage every property he owns and spend to excess, and no one would think ill of him, but I am sure he and his friends would assume one who used a pawnshop to pay their rent when money was tight was as shameful as a gin drinker.”
Elizabeth nodded. “And who is the one truly guilty of vice?”
He gave no answer as he saw the shop on the corner, and the pawnbrokers’ symbol of three gold balls hung by one of the doors. A sign read “Money advanced on plate, jewels, and every description of property.” When they entered, he could tell it was not so much plate and jewels but china cups, chessmen, carpenters’ tools, and bed linen that was pledged in return for cash.
“What is that for?” Elizabeth asked quietly, pointing to the walls erected at the end of the counter to form a tiny room with a door at the back and open only to the counter.
“It is for those who wish to pawn without being recognised by their neighbours.”
There was an older woman behind the counter who wore a fine bracelet and necklace, neatly attired, looking respectable but not high above the station of her typical patron. She was about to greet him when awareness crossed her eyes.
“I did not think the storm caused so much damage that you needed my services, Mr Darcy.”
“No, madam. I am here to learn if you took a pledge for a coral ring last week.”
The proprietor’s eyes narrowed. “I am not in the habit of receiving stolen goods.” She pointed to the door. “You may?—”
“We would never suspect you of that,” Elizabeth said, stepping up to the counter. “That is not at all what Mr Darcy meant. In fact, I know he has respect for the service you provide.”
