“And if someone checked the pawnbrokers across the Peak, would he find a gold ring with five pieces of coral, and a name and description of the man who pledged it?”
Balfour’s pale face turned red. “You are myfriend. You won’t send for a constable to arrest your friend. I shall leave in the morning, and I can only hope that someday you forgive me for this little transgression in the village.”
As Balfour pushed himself from the table, Darcy said, “You are not leaving. You will be arrested, and you will stand trial.”
“Trial!” he cried. “You would see your own friend in a gaol? What about loyalty above all else?”
“Except above honour,” he said quietly.
“I am a gentleman?—”
“By blood rather than behaviour! You ought to relinquish that title to a man more deserving.”
Balfour pointed a finger. “I am walking out that door, and we will never talk about this again.”
Darcy pulled the pistol from his pocket and levelled it at Balfour. “No. I am sending for Mr Birch.”
His eyes turned to saucers at the sight of the pistol. “How could you present evidence againstme?”
“Because you murdered a woman.”
Balfour shifted his weight and looked at the pistol. “IfI could explain, would you look the other way?”
He could not threaten him, or promise him any favour if Balfour confessed; it would only harm the case in court. Darcy wanted desperately to know why Carew died, but not at the expense of her justice. “Say nothing.”
“No, no, you must hear. You think it was done on purpose.” He exhaled loudly. “Yes, I can see how that would affect your judgment if you thought I had planned to kill her.”
Balfour fidgeted nervously before bringing his hands back to the table behind him as he leant against it. “I took the taperstick from your father’s desk on Saturday after Miss Darcy and Miss Bennet left me there. They said the room was not used, so I took one candlestick and intended to go back for the other if no one noticed it missing.” Darcy heard Balfour tapping his fingers against the table behind him. “Everyone was at liberty that morning, you were gone from the house, the weather was poor, and I decided to sell it, along with my own gold watch.
“I was riding the path towards Lambton to go on to Matlock, riding along the stream, and she was coming from the village. I had the sack with the candlestick, my old watch, and a few small items I took from Lambton, if you must know. I could hear the stick clanging against the watch, so I dismounted to put the watch back into my pocket and wrap the other items in a handkerchief, and there was the candlestick sticking up out of the sack plain as day as she came near.
“‘Is that from the house?’ cries she as she runs closer. I said it was not, that she had best not concern herself. ‘No, ’tis of a pair, from old Mr Darcy’s desk. Reynolds said it was taken.’ I told her again she was mistaken, and she said in this stern little voice, ‘I shall check for myself, and then tell the master.’”
Balfour now looked as though he had explained it all satisfactorily. The pistol felt heavy in Darcy’s hand, and it took him a moment to find his voice. “You insist on my knowing, so you may as well finish.”
Balfour’s shoulders fell. “She was going to tell you!” He blew out a breath and said more calmly, “I realise now I ought to have let her. You would have understood, and I would have returned the items. But she just primly walked away, and I dinna want the truth to come out.” Balfour held out his hand, looked at it, and closed his palm. “She was walking away, I grabbed the candlestick, came up behind her and—” Balfour swung his closed fist across his body at about shoulder height. “She fell right over, and rolled down the bank, and then I tossed the candlestick away.”
“Why not take it?” he asked softly. “After you hit her, why did you throw it into the grass?”
“It had blood on it, and there was no way to then clean it without blood getting on me. I decided it too riskful to fence it that day. And I could not be seen with the candlestick before she was found. I planned to go back for it,” he said plainly. “I could not recover it from the stream, but if I tossed the candlestick into the tall grass, I could still sell it later after the maid was found, and after I cleaned it.”
Darcy acutely felt the effects of this shocking narrative. He felt physically sick, his heart was racing, and he was thoroughly exhausted. “And instead of running for help when you realised what you had done, after assuring yourself you had murdered her, you plundered her jewellery.” He waited for Balfour to speak, but he only shrugged. Darcy’s disgust twisted his stomach. “How convenient for you to find something extra to pawn for your trouble.”
“Yes, I took the ring because it was there, but her death was an accident! I did not plan to kill her.”
Balfour seemed to think that a miscellaneous killing or manslaughter was more forgivable than wilful murder. That Darcywould now put down the pistol and invite him to his private study for a friendly drink.
“You will be tried at the assizes in Derby. Utterson and I will ensure you have?—”
“No! I might be transported, or imprisoned, or executed,” Balfour pleaded.
This was the man who kindly included his shy sister, who sought to put everyone at ease, who insisted on everyone participating in an evening’s entertainment. His friend of six years, who had been with him after his father died, who teased him until he smiled. Darcy felt near to breaking down. “And I will be there to see it happen.”
“Damn you, Darcy.” Balfour turned from him, facing the table with his head bent.
He had to send for the magistrate. He edged around Balfour, to back towards the door to call for someone whilst still keeping the pistol aimed on him. Darcy had taken three steps when Balfour turned suddenly—holding the sack with the crowbar—and swung it. It struck the barrel, and the pistol was dashed from his hand.
Darcy cried out in surprise and was knocked off his balance. Rather than run for the door, Balfour dropped the sack with the crowbar and surged past him to gain the pistol. Darcy grabbed him by the shoulder, but Balfour threw back his elbow with a sharp blow that split open his lip. The impact sent him staggering, but not before he gained a grip on Balfour’s sleeve to slow his progress towards the pistol. Darcy drew back and struck him in the eye with a closed fist. This sent Balfour to the floor, and they scrambled for the pistol, but Balfour, already being on the floor, reached it first.
