It would be so much less painful to tell his friend it could all be forgotten. But then he could never look at Mr Carew again, and he would see Molly Carew’s corpse every time he closed his eyes.I am responsible for what I do, and also for what I could have done but chose not to.
“This can never be forgot, you know. We have much to deal with, and we are returning to the house.”
Darcy had been ready to draw the pistol if he had to, but Balfour pocketed his knife and took up the bag with the crowbar. He was remarkably at ease. Perhaps he was chagrined at having been caught, but he showed no fear of the consequences. For his part, Darcy felt horror-struck, and thoroughly ashamed that he had not known what his supposed friend was capable of.
His anger and disappointment built during the long, quiet walk back to Pemberley. When they passed near to where they had found Carew’s body, Darcy asked coldly, “Were you going to wrench the gold teeth from their jaws as well?”
He laughed, and said, “Nae! Good heavens, Darcy, the things you say.”
Balfour showed no consciousness of guilt that gave one look of embarrassment, and that burned a righteous fury deeper into Darcy’s chest. With one hand in his frock coat pocket, around the pistol handle, Darcy gestured with the other for Balfour to enter through the stable yard and go into the gunroom. It seemed the servants were asleep since this part of the house was quiet. The lamp was still lit, and Balfour set down the sack with the crowbar next to it before leaning against the table with his arms crossed over his chest.
Darcy stared at him for a long moment, waiting for Balfour to confess, to show regret, to plead for forgiveness, but he only waited silently. When he felt the chains of patience about to snap, Darcy asked, “For how long have you been so hard-pressed for money that you have taken to stealing and pawning?”
Balfour gave his usual carefree smile. “I had a small legacy from my mother. She was from a noble family in India, you know.”
“But you spent it all.”
“Aye, I cast up my accounts a year or so ago and saw that I had spent near three times my income.”
Income was earned from work or from investments. Darcy thought of every single family who worked Pemberley’s land, and of the pain of their recent losses, and how much work they would all need to do together to restore the value of their properties. “You mean you spent three times the allowance your father gives you.”
Balfour’s expression darkened. “A man needs money to show to the world he is a proper gentleman. And because of all I still owe, it is near impossible for anyone in town to extend me credit. You know the fortune my father earned in India, and what does he give to me? A few hundred pounds a year. I am the son of a wealthy and influential member of parliament, agentleman. Appearances matter.” In a calmer voice, he added, “As I said, mymother’s inheritance was gone, and I could hardly say where it all went.”
“I suspect that whatever was not spent on amusements or baubles, you lost at play and the turf.”
Balfour shrugged. “You know how a gentleman must appear to be above the concerns of debts and expenses. If I cannot wager and spend freely, I am likely to lose friends.”
Darcy felt a vise squeezing his heart. “Myfriendship, far from being diminished, could only increase in the ratio to your misfortunes.”
“I am not a beggar, my dear Darcy.”
“No, you became a thief instead!” He pursed his lips and tried to stay calm. “Do you do this often? Do you steal items from where you think they shall not be missed to sell for ready cash? So you can look to be a man of means before your friends and acquaintances, be able to wager what you like or spend on an impulse?”
“Yes, items here and there from homes and clubs and what have you. I do not expect you to understand. You are fortunate that your father is dead and you already have all of this.”
Darcy shook his head, staggered. “I would trade it all to still have my father with me.”
Balfour gave him a pained look. “I am sorry, that was unkind of me. I know what your father meant to you, and I remember how hard his death was on you.” He sighed. “Let me try again. You inherited when you were two-and-twenty, and have ten thousand a year. I need to accumulate sufficient income?—”
“What you steal and pawn,” Darcy cried, disgusted, “is not income.”
“Capital, then, sufficient capital to maintain the gentlemanly style of life in which I had been brought up. You do not know how humiliating it is to have a father exert financial pressure on you. I pawn baubles that no one would miss to make it easier to sit at the same table with my friends. Once I inherit Hyde House, I shall have no need of that.”
“You are lost to all sense of shame,” Darcy said sadly, “and to every feeling that ought to govern an honest man.”
“Enough with the lecture!” Balfour cried. “I usually take from those who are not so dear to me as you are. I shall not steal from your house, or your villagers. It was badly done, and I am sorry.” He bowed his head. “I have lost your respect, and am justly chastised, and can only hope to earn back your good opinion. Now, may I go to bed?”
Darcy was certain his mouth hung open. Balfour thought he was here for a morality lesson, like a recalcitrant child. He was incredulous that Balfour thought his crimes would go unpunished. “I am sending for a constable and the magistrate.”
Balfour uncrossed his arms to set them on the table behind him, bracing himself. “You cannot mean it. Over a few pairs of shoes and jewellery? I put them back! Once the nails are hammered back into the lids, no one will ever know.”
“I might have overlooked that, I truly think I”—his voice broke—“I could have, but you know why I must see this through.” Balfour stared like he had no idea what could be the matter. “You killed someone!”
Balfour paled, and his shoulders tensed as he gripped the table’s edge. “That would be impossible to prove.”
“Do you deny it? Were you truly in Buxton playing cards on Thursday?” When Balfour said nothing, Darcy said, “You struck Molly Carew with a candlestick that you stole from my house, and then you pried a ring from her finger. That appears to be a habit of yours,” he added when Balfour was still silent. “Did you pawn the ring, along with whatever else you pilfered in Lambton?”
“You cannot prove any of that.”
