“I did not steal to make myself look like I have enough money to marry on!” he cried. “And I certainly did not kill over it.” He shook his head in disgust. “You and Darcy must trust in the law and those who carry it out. The magistrate did not call for a coroner so?—”
“Only because he feared there was no suspect, but then we saw Carew’s ring was stolen from her body and you were gone from Pemberley that day. Someone took a candlestick from the house and struck her!”
He narrowed his eyes. “You truly think I killed someone? For aring? I assure you, I am not so sadly involved as that! A few debts of honour over cards and a bill to my tailor are what I have outstanding. I shall be called to the bar and enter my profession, and will make my fortune by it.”
The doubt that Mr Utterson was the killer gained more ground against the certainty that he had committed the crime. “When Darcy convinces the magistrate to investigate, when they ask Miss Newcomen if you were there...”
“Of course I was there! Lord Poole did not see me, but Margaret did and so did her lady and a servant in the stable.”
“And you went back on Saturday for the chance to see Miss Newcomen again?”
A fond smile spread over Mr Utterson’s face, displacing his anger. “I would take every opportunity to see her.” His expression darkened again. “And to show her father I can afford to marry a baron’s daughter—when I become a barrister. Of course I would like a greater fortune, but I would not steal or kill to get it.”
She edged the pistol back up into her sleeve. He was angry and offended, but he was not a murderer.
Mr Utterson approached her again, but she did not feel the same fear this time. “Is that why Darcy has been abjectly miserable? He thinks I killed a maid for spending money and was waiting for a way to prove it?”
“You and Mr Balfour were the ones with the opportunity?—”
“Stupid!” he cried, showing all that impatience he was capable of. “It is even more laughable if he suspects Balfour. Balfour will inherit Hyde House! Darcy will return from Lambton with a desperate villager, or a servant, or with no one because the idea is ridiculous!”
Darcy would be shocked when he saw who entered the deadhouse. “I fear Darcy shall need your help with Mr Balfour, to go for the magistrate and a constable?—”
“No, I am going to Balfour’s room. He is there, and he will laugh heartily at this foolishness. I need his good humour to improve my temper after all I have suffered to hear you say.”
She was still near to the door, and although she was no longer afraid of him, she flinched to see the hard look in his eye.
“I will make a fortune by my profession,” he repeated, “not by stealing trinkets for gaming money or to make it easier to impress anyone with my spending. Now step out of my way, or so help me, I will move you myself.”
Elizabeth sidled away, not able to look him in the eye, and Mr Utterson went through, slamming the door behind him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Darcy had never been so outraged in his whole life as he felt when he watched Balfour enter and pry open one of the coffin lids with a crowbar. Balfour wrested off both shoes from the body and put them in a sack, and then came to the head to pick up a hand that was mostly bone to slide off a ring. He replaced the lid and proceeded to do the same with a woman in the next coffin.
His surprise to witness Balfour, not Utterson, mingled with a disgust that made it hard to speak or act. He watched Balfour move to the next victim to open the lid and remove the shoes, and then he tugged to try to remove a diamond ring. Balfour pulled harder before huffing in frustration. Darcy saw him pull a knife from his pocket, and his stomach roiled horribly as he realised what Balfour was about to do.
“Stop.”
Balfour cried out, and his knife clattered onto the table.
“Darcy! You nearly stopped my heart!” Balfour brought a hand to his chest and exhaled loudly. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“What am I—” He gave a hollow laugh at the absurdity of Balfour’s question. “I am keeping watch against the desecration of the dead.”
“Aye, well, I am sorry.” Balfour rubbed the back of his neck. “You see, it was tempting to take a few trinkets no one would miss.”
“How dare you?” he whispered angrily. Thank heaven he did not bring any tenants with him, because their fury would outweigh his. He had to get Balfour to Pemberley and send for the magistrate before his people learnt they were here. “How can you steal from the bodies of wives and daughters of men who have already been robbed of what they hold most dear?”
“There was no harm done.” He gave a placating smile. “I can put it all back.”
“No harm? Balfour, the knowledge of what you have done would be a torture to those who survived the storm.”
Balfour threw him a look. “Come now, most of these bodies are not drowning victims. Most are long-dead people whose coffins were pushed out of waterlogged graves.”
“As though that makes it better!” Darcy cried. He took a breath and lowered his voice. “We need to return to Pemberley before anyone in Lambton knows we are here.” The memory of the near riot in the aftermath of the storm came surging back to him. The villagers might mete out swift punishment to someone who dared to desecrate the corpses of their loved ones.
“Very well, I shall put everything back, and it can all be forgot.” He returned the shoes and replaced the ring whilst Darcy watched in sickening disbelief.
