Chapter 11 #2
She was not permitted below again, which she considered unreasonable but had been overruled by every person of sense in the house, including Susie, Mr. Philips, two antiquarians, and Mr. Darcy before he departed for Derbyshire.
Thus, she was forced to content herself with watching from the cellar, where the objects were brought up, cleaned only enough to be identified, entered into ledgers, and set into trays according to where they had been found.
She learned more in a week than she had in years of reading whatever books her father happened to leave unattended.
There were words she had never heard before, Roman names pronounced with differing degrees of confidence, and long discussions over whether a particular shard had belonged to a roof tile, a vessel, or some architectural piece of tremendous interest to exactly three people in England.
Mr. Philips, meanwhile, was scarcely ever still.
He attended meetings with museum men, government officials, solicitors, and persons of rank whose names made Susie’s eyes widen.
Among these was Lord Matlock, Mr. Darcy’s uncle, who had taken charge of the matter with the quiet authority of a man accustomed to entering rooms and finding them already inclined to listen.
Elizabeth had not met him, though she had heard a great deal of him from her uncle, who returned from each interview looking half-exhausted and half-amused.
“The higher one goes in society,” Mr. Philips told her one evening, “the more people seem to speak in suggestions while meaning commands.”
“That sounds like my mother with better manners.”
Mr. Philips had laughed for the first time in days.
On the afternoon that everything changed again, Elizabeth was seated in a chair in the cellar with a shawl around her shoulders and a notebook in her lap, pretending to be of use while actually watching Dr. Llewellyn argue with a younger assistant over whether a particular coin ought to be entered as found in the third or fourth layer of silt.
She had discovered that scholarly men could disagree over the placement of a coin with all the heat her mother reserved for lace, and she was beginning to enjoy the spectacle when footsteps sounded upon the stairs.
She looked up, expecting John or Susie.
Instead, Mr. Philips entered, and behind him, a man and woman dressed in fashionable clothing.
Elizabeth sprang to her feet so quickly that the notebook slid from her lap and struck the floor. “Uncle?”
Mr. Philips gave her a reassuring look, though there was something in his face she could not immediately read. “Lizzy, Lord and Lady Matlock wished to meet you.”
Lady Matlock came forward first. She was a handsome woman perhaps a little past middle age, with a kind face, intelligent eyes, and the sort of composure that made Elizabeth immediately conscious of her own ink-stained fingers.
The countess took in the cellar, the trays, the mud, the scholars, and Elizabeth herself with interest rather than condescension, which put Elizabeth more at ease than any grand graciousness could have done.
“So this is the young lady who began all the commotion,” Lady Matlock said warmly.
Elizabeth curtsied. “I cannot claim to have done so intentionally, my lady.”
“Very few truly interesting things are done intentionally,” Lord Matlock replied. “At least, not in my experience.”
He was tall, though not so tall as his nephew, with the same dark hair now threaded with gray and the same grave eyes softened by humor. Elizabeth could see the family resemblance at once, though Lord Matlock’s expression was more open.
“My niece did a foolish thing,” Mr. Philips said, though there was affection in his tone. “But I am increasingly grateful she did.”
Elizabeth blushed. “I prefer courageous.”
“I prefer alive,” he returned.
Lord Matlock smiled, then grew more serious.
“Miss Bennet, I shall not keep you in suspense. The Crown has been informed of your discovery, as has the Prince. There is considerable gratitude, both for the discovery itself and for the fact that you and your uncle did not conceal it or attempt to profit from it secretly.”
Elizabeth glanced at her uncle. “That would have been rather difficult, given the number of men now traipsing through the house.”
“Difficult, yes. Impossible, no,” Lord Matlock said. “Honesty remains notable even when dishonesty would have been inconvenient.”
Elizabeth did not know how to answer that, so she remained silent.
“The Crown wishes to bestow a gift upon you in recognition of your bravery and discretion,” the earl continued. “Before any recommendation was made final, I wished to meet you myself.”
“A gift?” Elizabeth repeated.
“Yes.”
“What sort of gift?”
Lord Matlock glanced briefly at his wife, and Elizabeth had the distinct impression that this question had been expected. “Money, property, an annuity, possibly some form of official recognition—though I am told you have no particular desire to be made a public curiosity.”
“No,” Elizabeth said at once, then flushed at her own speed. “No, my lord. I would not like that at all.”
Lady Matlock’s eyes warmed.
Lord Matlock nodded. “Then we shall avoid it if we can. But as to the gift itself, I should like to know what you would ask for, were the choice yours.”
Elizabeth looked to Mr. Philips. He gave her a small encouraging nod.
Her first thought came before caution could restrain it. “My lord, is it possible to remove an entail?”
Both Lord and Lady Matlock looked surprised.
Elizabeth clasped her hands before her to keep them from twisting together.
“Longbourn—my father’s estate in Hertfordshire—is entailed away from the female line.
It has been in the Bennet family for several generations, and when my father dies, it will pass to a cousin we scarcely know.
My mother and sisters will have no home there. If the Crown could somehow alter that—”
She stopped when Lord Matlock’s expression shifted gently.
“I am afraid the Crown cannot simply dissolve such a settlement at will,” he said. “Not without legal cause, agreement from interested parties, and a great deal more complication than even royalty would wish to invite.”
Elizabeth felt foolishly disappointed. She had not truly expected it to be possible, but for one bright moment she had imagined Longbourn safe, her mother settled, Jane protected, Mary comfortable, Kitty and Lydia secure. “I understand.”
“What else?” Lady Matlock asked softly.
Elizabeth hesitated. “Perhaps… a little money, then. Something that might help my mother and sisters when Papa dies.”
Lord Matlock’s manner remained kind. “Have you a sum in mind?”
Elizabeth swallowed. “A few hundred pounds?” she ventured. When Lady Matlock’s brows rose, Elizabeth immediately felt her cheeks burn. “Forgive me. I did not mean to ask for too much.”
For a moment, there was silence.
Then Lord Matlock smiled. “Miss Bennet, you misunderstand our surprise. Most persons invited to ask something of royalty begin considerably higher than a few hundred pounds.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth looked down at her hands. “I only thought… I should not be given a fortune merely because I found one.”
Lady Matlock gave a soft laugh, and even Mr. Philips’s mouth twitched.
Lord Matlock’s expression changed then into something more deliberate.
“Mr. Philips has told me a little of your family circumstances, and I took the liberty of making inquiries regarding Hertfordshire. With his assistance, I have put forward a proposal. You may refuse it, of course, or ask for alterations if you wish.”
Elizabeth nodded, suddenly wary.
“While Longbourn’s entail cannot be altered, there is another property nearby. Netherfield Park.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught. “Netherfield?”
“It has stood empty for some time, I believe. Due to a rather tedious history of unpaid taxes, lapsed obligations, and legal negligence, the property has recently reverted to Crown ownership. It can therefore be granted without purchase. The recommendation is that Netherfield be settled upon you in your name alone, free and clear, protected so that it cannot be taken by a future husband, father, creditor, or anyone else.”
Elizabeth stared.
She could not have heard him correctly.
Netherfield Park.
An estate.
In her own name.
Lord Matlock continued as though he had not just upended the entire world. “In addition, a sum of ten-thousand pounds to be settled upon you as a dowry, likewise protected.”
Elizabeth felt the cellar tilt beneath her. “Ten thousand?”
“Yes.”
She turned helplessly to Mr. Philips. “How… how do I choose?”
Lady Matlock laughed then, not unkindly. “No, my dear, you misunderstand. You are not meant to choose. You are to receive both.”
Elizabeth sat down abruptly upon the nearest crate.
Mr. Philips made a sound that might have been alarm, but Elizabeth waved him off faintly. “I am quite well. I think.”
Lady Matlock came nearer. “It is a great deal to take in.”
“A great deal?” Elizabeth echoed. “My lady, that is rather like saying the Thames is a little bit of water.”
Lord Matlock chuckled.
Then another thought struck her, and she straightened.
“But what of the Gardiner children? And my uncle? This was their house. I did not discover anything through merit; I fell through a floor. Mr. Philips has spent hours and days managing all of this, and I daresay he has not been paid nearly enough for it. Can some of the money go to them instead?”
The approving glance Lord Matlock exchanged with his wife was so clear that Elizabeth looked down again, embarrassed by it.
“It has already been arranged,” the earl said.
“The Gardiner children’s interests have been protected.
A substantial portion of the reward connected to the treasure itself will be settled upon them, including a provision for a nursemaid.
Mrs. Thompson has agreed to occupy the position for as long as may need be.
Mr. Philips’s legal work has likewise been accounted for. ”