The proprietor’s shoulders settled back down, although she still looked at him warily. “So long as you know I am also not an informer, and you had best not bring any false accusations of my receiving stolen goods before the magistrate.”
“That is not Mr Darcy’s intention at all, I assure you.”
Thank goodness Elizabeth was here, otherwise he would have been dismissed for accusing the broker of compromising her integrity and he would learn nothing.Let us hope that Fitzwilliam’s easier manner serves him better in Buxton and Matlock.
“Do you ever have suspicions about what items are brought before you?” Elizabeth asked.
“I know enough to question a servant from Pemberley or the othergreat houses, but I do not know everyone. Still, if one of my regulars came with a watch chain without the watch, or a housemaid came with an ornate clock, I would be on my guard.”
“Was there anyone in your shop recently who was not one of your usual weekly pawners?” Darcy asked politely. “May I see your pledge book, madam?”
She shook her head. “These people trust me, and not just with their goods, but with their privacy and their good name.”
“I am not here to judge. I fear that stolen goods were pawned here.”
The broker was unwilling to agree. “You cannot compel me to break that trust based on your fear that a trinket is missing from Pemberley.”
“The pawner is guilty of another crime,” Elizabeth said earnestly, “a far worse crime, but if Mr Darcy can prove that pawner stole goods, it could connect him to that greater evil.”
“I promise, madam,” Darcy pressed, “that your business and your pledgers’ business are not my concern. I am interested only in convincing the magistrate that the thief committed a worse crime.” She looked ready to refuse him, so he said in a rush, “You can keep your investment if I discover anything that was stolen. Whatever sum you laid out on the pledge, I shall match once the matter is resolved by the court.”
The proprietor pursed her lips, and then reached under the counter to pull out a ledger. “You may look at only the last week’s entries.” She turned the book around and opened it.
Down the page were dates, names, addresses, the items pledged, and the amounts loaned.
“Neither of their names are here,” Elizabeth muttered, running her finger down the page.
“But Balfour was here last Sunday. He wandered the village whilst we attended the well dressing, and he bought a gold watch.”
“If your friend only bought and did not pledge an item, I would have no reason to issue him a ticket and take his name,” the pawnbroker said. “But I remember that man, more for what he bought than for himself. That gold watch had been here fifteen months, but the pledger will still be sorry when he sobers up and cannot get it back. Ihave to keep every item for a year, you know, but I always stretch the time for my regulars.”
Darcy tapped his fingers against the book, thinking. “Has that man been back again?” She shook her head. “Did anyone this week pledge or sell a gold ring with five oval pieces of coral, the centre one slightly larger than the others?”
“No. I am not like a city pawnshop or goldsmith, you know. Aside from the gold watch your friend bought, I do not have much finery here, mostly tools and clothes. They pledge their tools on Saturday to redeem their Sunday best, and come back on Monday to do the reverse.”
Darcy turned to Elizabeth, feeling frustration building in his chest. “Neither of them fenced goods here. We know nothing more than we did before.”
She reached to lay a consoling hand on his arm, before closing her fingers and remembering where she was. “He might still have gone to another broker farther away. Your cousin could return with the proof you need.”
He kept his irritation from his face as he thanked and parted from the pawnbroker. When they were near the door, Elizabeth turned back. “Would you tell me what one might get upon a coral ring like that?”
The proprietor thought a moment. “Five shillings, up to one guinea perhaps.”
One pound and one shilling at the most. How could he remain composed? Carew was killed for something worth no more than a single coin. He felt Elizabeth’s hand on his arm, and he went through the motions of opening the door and guiding her outside, and then walking towards the curricle.
After they were back on the street, he turned quickly to Elizabeth, who said sadly, “I know, it is horrible.”
“He killed her and wrenched a ring from her hand whilst it was still warm for a guinea!”
“Not now,” she whispered, looking round the street. “It is terrible to think about it in such stark terms, but we cannot talk here.” She put her arm through his and held tightly. He kept his silence, but all the frustration and anger that had been steadily growing since he realisedCarew had been murdered came rushing back to twist his stomach and squeeze the air from his chest.
Having Elizabeth’s warmth against him as they walked was a small comfort, the only one he had.I had been happy yesterday, last night, this morning.More than happy, delighted, but until this dreadful matter was resolved, until the murderer was out of his house, until he could tell Mr Carew that his daughter’s killer was apprehended, how could he rest easy?
When they were in the curricle, Elizabeth said to him gently, “Your cousin will find the ring in another shop, or maybe you will catch them stealing again in Lambton.” She gave a weak smile. “You shall have to put on a pleasant face for just a little while longer.”
“Carew deserves justice, Elizabeth,” he said. “But I... I do not know how to live with never knowing what happened to her, and why.”
“I think,” she said slowly, “that even if we learn the why, the answer will only disappoint you.”
