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 penny from Darcy. In return, neither Lord Jesmond nor myself will speak of your contemptible behavior. It will remain as secret as it is now."
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."
"I didn't take them," Darcy said earnestly. "I have never stolen a thing in my life."
"No?" Albury's eyes widened in exaggerated disbelief.
"No," Darcy said firmly.
"Then why did you not say so at the time, and tell me to go to hell?" There was a smirk on Albury's face and his eyes were bright and hard.
"Because to do so I should have to admit that I was alone in the company of a young lady other than my betrothed, and for a longer time than she might understand. Also, it would provoke speculation that-" Darcy stopped suddenly, perhaps realizing he had said far more than he needed to, and raised the very questions he wanted to avoid.
Albury smiled, showing very fine teeth, transforming his face.
"You mean that it might suggest that Miss Carlton took them herself? Of course it might! In fact it would! And there would be a certain justice in that."
"It would be monstrous!" Darcy said furiously. He took a step forward, his fists clenched by his sides. "Don't you dare say such a thing ever again. Do you hear me? Or I shall take great pleasure in thrashing you till you are obliged to eat your meals from the mantelpiece, sir."
"It would also be true," Albury returned without moving a step.
"You go too far, sir," Jesmond stepped forward at last. "To blacken a lady's name when she is not here to defend herself is inexcusable. You will retract your calumny immediately, and then leave while you still have a whole skin and can walk away with nothing but your honor injured."
Henry was staring at the two younger men and the emotions written so deeply in them. A strange thought was stirring in his mind.
"It makes no sense," Darcy protested. "Lizzie would never do such a thing. Anyone who knows her knows that! She has all the means she could wish, and she is as honest as the day."
"But a woman," Albury said, ignoring Lord Jesmond and looking only at Darcy. "And as capable of feeling jealousy as the next."
Darcy swallowed. "Jealousy?" he said hoarsely.
"Of course! Did you imagine she did not know you were in the conservatory with Belle Bartlett, or picture in her mind only too clearly what you may have been doing in between the orchids and the potted palms? Then you are a fool!"
Darcy gulped. He seemed to be shaking very slightly, as if in spite of the heat in the room he were cold within.
"She took them," Albury went on. "In order to compromise you. She knows of a surety, better than anyone else, that you did not take them. But either she will see you, or Miss Bartlett, accused of the theft, in thought if not in word, or failing that, she will hold it over your head for the rest of your life together."
"Never say that again!" Darcy said between dry lips, his voice strangled in his throat. "Never, do you hear me?"
Albury held out his hand. "Fifty pounds, once only."
Darcy turned and went to a small bureau at the far side of the room. He opened the top, and from a pigeonhole took out several Bank of England notes. Without a word, he held them out to Albury.
"Just a moment!" Henry reached across and closed his hand over Darcy's, preventing Albury from taking the money. "You do not need to pay him."
"Yes, I do!" Darcy said desperately. "God knows, I cannot marry Lizzie now. It would be a torment every day, every night. I should see this jealousy in her eyes each time I looked at her. Our life would be intolerable. Every time I spoke civilly to another woman I should fear what she might do. But one cannot kill the habit of love so easily, not in one blow, however hard. I shall protect her honor in the eyes of others. No one need know but herself and her father." He bit his lip. "I shall have to speak to him. Our understanding cannot remain. But I shall do this for her at least. Free my hand, sir."
Henry kept hold of it.
"What you wish to give Mr. Albury, or why, is your own affair, Mr. Darcy, but you do not need to pay him in order to protect Miss Carlton. She is guilty of nothing more than perhaps a misjudgment of character."
"I don't know what you mean," Darcy protested. "She has behaved despicably. She has attempted out of jealousy to brand Miss Bartlett a thief!"
"Because she knew that you and she were in the conservatory together?" Henry asked.