Murder For Love

They were welcomed at the door by Darcy, who was quite understandably in a state of considerable anxiety. His eyes were bright and his color feverish. He moved jerkily, all but drawing them inside, with a hand on Henry's arm which he released with a stammered apology as soon as he realized his unwarranted familiarity. Henry introduced him to Lord Jesmond.

"I am most heartily grateful, my lord," Darcy said earnestly. "It is an inestimable kindness for you to have taken up my cause in this way. I can never repay you."

"No need, my dear fellow," Jesmond assured him, taking the offered hand and shaking it warmly. "Dastardly thing, blackmail. Fellow deserves to be horsewhipped, but I daresay a damned good fright will serve the purpose, and without jeopardizing your good name or your future happiness. Now, where may we wait so as to observe this wretch without ourselves being seen?"

"This way, my lord." Darcy turned on his heel and led them into a most agreeable room furnished with armchairs and a small carved table of Oriental style. The fireplace was after the fashion of Adam, and above the mantel was a highly individual collection of paintings of the scenery of the Cape of Good Hope. There were brass candlesticks of some elegance at either end, and a brisk fire which made the room most comfortable.

Darcy led them to a door at the farther side, and the chilly, apparently unused, bedroom beyond, in which there was no furniture except a large Chinese silk screen.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I know it is miserably cold in here, but were I to set a fire, Albury might wonder why, and I am desperate to get this matter over with. I fear if I do not succeed this time, I shall not have another opportunity. He is a blackguard, but he is not a fool."

"Quite, my dear fellow," Lord Jesmond said immediately. "Might choose to meet you somewhere in the open next time, what? Damn the cold and the rain! This will do very well, I assure you. Handy having the screen there, in case he should look in. Daresay you thought of that, what?" He smiled, perhaps attempting to put Darcy in good heart.

Darcy smiled back. It was a pained expression, the specter of fear too sharp in it for Henry at least to miss.

"Don't worry," he said gently. "He won't raise the issue again, once we've caught him fairly at his game. But anxiety in your ma

"Thank you again, gentlemen," Darcy said with feeling, then did as he was bid. The next moment the door was all but closed, and Henry and Jesmond were alone, seeing nothing but the delicately embroidered silk of the screen. The silence was so complete it all but crackled. There were no footsteps or voices of domestic service. Possibly whoever cared for Darcy's needs had been sent out of the house on errands of one sort or another. There was not even the hiss of flames or the settling of coals beyond the door. The whole house seemed to have held its breath.

Then at last it came, a voice which was not Darcy's, a soft, insinuating, well-bred voice of a man used to charm and ease of good ma

"Right, Darcy, let us not waste time with pleasantries neither of us means. I hope you are well. You wish I would meet with lethal mischance which would free you from all risk from me. Let us assume it has been said. But I am alive and in excellent health, and look set to remain so-unless you are rash enough to try to murder me! But I have taken some precautions against that." He laughed abruptly. "And it would seem an excessive reaction to what is, after all, a fairly modest request to a man of the means you will have when you have married Miss Elizabeth Carlton." There was a moment's silence.

"Damn you!" Darcy said chokingly.

"And I know of nothing which will prevent that," Albury went on, "except your failure to oblige me."

Darcy's voice came sharply. "In what ma

"Oh, come!" Albury said in disgust. "Don't be coy with me. You understand me very well. We have already made our positions quite plain." There was no impatience in his voice. To Henry, standing in the chill behind the Chinese screen, there was a note of pleasure in it, as if he savored his power and was in no haste to have the moment over.

The same thought must have come to Darcy, because the next instant his voice came quite clearly, raised a little.

"You are enjoying this, you wretch! I used to consider you, if not a friend, at least a person worthy of respect. My God, how wrong I was! You are not fit to cross the threshold of any decent house!"

"You are in no position to criticize, my dear Darcy, let alone to fling insults," Albury replied with amusement. "How many thresholds do you suppose you would be permitted to cross were it generally known that you pocketed two of your host's most delicate and valuable Persian miniature paintings?"

"I did not!" Darcy said desperately. "I-"

"Indeed," Albury said with disbelief. "Then no doubt you will prove it and have me for false accusation when I tell everyone what I know."

"I…" Darcy was all but sobbing. Henry glanced at Jesmond. Darcy was playing his part extremely well. Perhaps he had less confidence in his plan than he had seemed to have earlier. Albury had apparently robbed him of his faith. Henry's anger against him almost boiled over. Blackmail was among the most despicable of crimes, a slow and quite deliberate torture.

"You could always pay me, as agreed," Albury said distinctly. "Twenty pounds a month, I think, will keep me in the luxuries to which I would like to accustom myself, quite without beggaring you. You will have to forgo a few of the pleasantries of life you now enjoy. Your good claret may have to go, your visits to the opera, your rather regular new shirts. You will have to wear your boots a trifle longer than you do now. And I daresay, at least until your marriage, you will not be able to be quite so generous to Miss Carlton."

"Damn you!" Darcy said fiercely. "That is blackmail!" "Of course it is!" Albury replied, his tone filled with amusement. "Do you mean to say you have only just appreciated that?"

"No." Now the confidence was back, Darcy sounded like a different man. "No, I have always known it was; I simply wanted to hear you say so. Because blackmail is a crime, quite a severe one, and I have witnesses to our conversation. And that, I think, gives me an equal advantage with you."

"What?" Albury was aghast. "Where?"

Henry moved from behind the screen just as the door was flung wide and a dark, lean young man faced them, his mouth open, his eyes filled with horror.

"Mr. Darcy is quite correct," Henry said, moving forward to allow Lord Jesmond also to be seen. "We have overheard your entire exchange, Mr. Albury, and you would be well advised to leave here and never mention the matter to anyone as long as you live. Count yourself fortunate to have escaped ruin and prosecution. You will not get a pe

Albury backed away, turning to stare at Darcy with loathing.

"Nothing," Darcy reaffirmed, pointing to the farther door and the way out. "Leave my house and do not set foot here again. Should I chance to meet you socially, I shall treat you with civility, as if nothing had happened between us, for the sake of our bargain."

Henry and Jesmond came into the sitting room, glad of the warmth. The fire crackled in the grate. Darcy had set more coals in it. There was an ease in the air, a sense of victory.

"Bargain?" Albury looked from one to the other of them in rage and frustration. "I get nothing, and you get away with theft! What are those miniatures worth? A hundred, two hundred? More? You'll sell them and do very nicely."