Chapter 17 #2
“She’s here, too! We’re all right!”
Darcy and the others crowded around the entrance to the corridor. Soon, they could make out the shape of the two ladies and
Guy loping alongside them. Guy ran straight to Darcy, and he scooped up the small dog. “Where did you run off to? Don’t do
that to us again!”
“He’s fine,” Lizzie told him, and he didn’t care about their audience—he wrapped his other arm around her, too. “And we are
perfectly all right. No falling through rotting floorboards.”
“Just the one on the stairs,” Sally said.
“What?” Darcy and Jane said in unison.
“It was a small stair board. I didn’t even fall!”
Darcy was so relieved to see Lizzie—a bit dusty and smiling widely, blessedly not hurt—that he hadn’t noticed the leather
satchel she was carrying until now. “What’s that?”
Lizzie let out a satisfied little hmph. “This? Well . . .”
She opened the flap of the satchel and held it out for them all to see.
Darcy nearly dropped Guy, he was so surprised. Inside the satchel was a pile of coins. Not just any coins—silver coins. Silver
Spanish coins. They were nestled heavily in the bottom of the stiff leather satchel, which appeared to have been battered
by use and age.
“Is that the Netherfield treasure?” Lydia demanded. “Jane, you’re rich!”
“Where did you find this?” Darcy asked.
“On the second floor of the east wing, in a room that appeared to be a nursery. They were hidden in a window seat. And coincidentally,
Guy just happened to be trapped in the same room.”
“Trapped?” Darcy echoed. “How did he get up there?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Lizzie asked, scratching the dog’s ears. Guy was squirming in Darcy’s arms but seemed all
too happy to be at eye level with them for once.
“Oh my,” Jane whispered. “Lizzie, I think we ought to find Charles.”
“I agree,” Darcy said, closing the door to the service corridor behind them. He looked at Sally, who had hung back, silent. “Will you come as well?”
She nodded but said nothing else. He gave Lizzie a questioning look, but she shook her head slightly in a way that he knew
meant Later.
The whole party made their way downstairs, where they found Bingley and Mr. Bennet coming back inside. They were in conversation,
and both looked worried. Their expressions cleared somewhat when they spotted Guy trotting down the stairs, tongue lolling.
“Oh, thank goodness you found him!” Bingley exclaimed. “Is everyone all right?”
“We’re fine,” Lizzie said.
“That’s not all they found!” Lydia added.
Jane placed a hand on her youngest sister’s shoulder. “Let’s all retire to the study,” she said firmly, and Bingley and Mr.
Bennet exchanged looks before following.
Once the door was shut behind them, Lizzie upended the contents of the satchel on Bingley’s desk. Silver coins tumbled out
in a heavy, clinking rain.
Bingley’s eyes went wide. “Is that—what on earth?”
“The rumors are true,” Lizzie said. “The Netherfield treasure.”
Bingley and Darcy each picked up a silver coin.
They had genuine heft and Spanish markings.
Unlike the one that had been recovered from the body in the flue, these weren’t tarnished beyond recognition, although a small layer of dark discoloration covered them all.
Darcy flipped his over and looked for a date, which he was able to make out easily: 1731.
Charlotte also reached for a coin. “They’re the same mint.”
“And they were hidden in the house this entire time?” Jane asked.
“I haven’t seen such a pristine specimen in years,” Mr. Bennet mused. “If the Crown had known your great-aunt was sitting
on a stash like this, they might have solved the silver shortage.”
“I had no idea,” Bingley said, baffled. “Nowhere in any of the paperwork did her solicitor even suggest that she had all that
hidden away.”
“What are you going to buy with it?” Lydia demanded. “A new gig and horses to match? A hundred silk dresses for Jane? A new
town house?”
Darcy and Bingley exchanged glances. To Lydia, for whom money was something distant and nebulous, this seemed like a life-changing
fortune. And, for some people, it would be. But a pile of silver coins was only a small sliver of the wealth someone like
Bingley possessed. It would pay for the needed repairs, to be certain, but it would run out. He wondered whether this was
the reason the house was such a trap—perhaps Honoria Bingley had been unwilling to spend the last of her nest egg.
“We aren’t spending it,” Jane said firmly. “We don’t know where it came from, or to whom it really belongs.”
“If it was hidden within the house, and Bingley now owns the house, doesn’t that make it his?” Lydia asked.
“Technically, yes,” Darcy said.
“But if it was ill-gotten, then there are certain liabilities,” Mr. Bennet added.
“How did you find it?” Bingley asked. “I can’t believe Honoria had it stashed away all this time.”
Lizzie glanced behind her, and Darcy turned to see her looking at Sally. Sally, whom he had almost forgotten about. “I didn’t
find it,” Lizzie said. “Sally did.”
Sally held her head up high. “It was just a lucky guess.”
Darcy glanced quickly at Lizzie and saw her tilt her head in surprise. Clearly that was not what Lizzie had expected her to
say.
“A lucky guess?” Bingley echoed. “You knew about the coins? Why didn’t you say?”
“You never asked,” Sally countered. “How was I supposed to know she didn’t leave some kind of directive in her will?”
“Guy was locked in the room where it was hidden,” Lizzie added, her voice sounding strained.
“Guy was locked in a room?” Darcy repeated.
“And in that room was the same window where the masonry fell from the other day, nearly killing us. There were marks around
where it came loose, which suggests to both me and Sally that the masonry was purposefully damaged.”
Darcy gaped at her. Too many of the week’s unfortunate circumstances were lining up in an alarming pattern, one that he couldn’t
voice.
“I had nothing to do with that,” Sally emphasized.
“I know you didn’t,” Darcy said. “You were outside with us. And I saw movement in the window moments after it happened.”
“Do we think that the same person who took Guy and displaced the masonry also killed the man in the flue?” Bingley asked, sounding confused.
Darcy looked at Lizzie and knew what she was thinking: Lady Catherine had made threats. And yet . . . could it really be she?
And if she could snatch Guy, why not Lizzie?
“Why not steal the coins, then?” Sally asked, surprising them all. “It seems like a rather large coincidence. Presumably this
trespasser knew the room was important—why not take the silver and be gone?”
“Perhaps they didn’t know?” Lizzie suggested. “I’d have never thought to check the window seat if I hadn’t seen you open it.”
“Wait a moment,” Mr. Bennet said suddenly. “You mean to tell me that you went into the east wing?”
Darcy saw Lizzie wince. “Yes, Papa.”
“The very same east wing that is expressly forbidden, and that you nearly died exploring? What were you thinking?”
Mr. Bennet was not a man prone to outbursts or bouts of anger. But now he was positively glowering . . . at Darcy. “How could
you let her go there again?” he demanded. “After watching her nearly fall to her death! Have you no sense?”
“I—” Darcy started to say but was cut off.
“Papa, it’s not his fault!” Lizzie stepped between them. “It was my choice, and Sally guided me.”
This seemed to make Mr. Bennet even angrier at Darcy. “Why didn’t you go?”
“Sally advised that—”
“Sally is a housemaid! You could have overruled her!”
“Sir, I don’t like it any more than you do, but Sally was the best person to guide Lizzie, and Lizzie is slighter than I.”
“You shouldn’t have let it happen! Are you this careless with your own sister, Darcy?”
“Papa!” Lizzie admonished.
Darcy went still. It was a low blow, bringing his sister into this. Especially since Mr. Bennet knew exactly what foolish
lengths Darcy would go to—and had—to protect his little sister’s honor.
“Darcy doesn’t have any say over my behavior any more than you do,” Lizzie said. “So if you’re going to be angry with someone,
be angry with me.”
“Oh, I am,” Mr. Bennet said. “How could you be so reckless? What would I say to your mother if you had fallen and broken your
neck?”
“Tell her I was stubborn and incorrigible and I wouldn’t listen to reason—she’d believe it. But if you’re more concerned with
appearances and propriety than about what I want or how I conduct my investigations, then I don’t care to take your counsel
on this matter!”
Mr. Bennet stood still, looking absolutely stricken. “That’s not fair,” he said, swallowing hard. He seemed to regain some
of his strength after a moment, then said, “I care about you. And I don’t want you to be hurt or killed because you insist
upon poking at every single mystery you run across. There are dangerous people in this world, and they won’t care that you’re
a lady!”
Darcy knew that Mr. Bennet was no longer talking about Lizzie’s trips to the east wing.
“Do you think that being a lady isn’t dangerous?” she demanded. “Safety is an illusion, Papa. If I am going to risk my life
and reputation, I’d rather it be in the pursuit of what I’m passionate about!”
Mr. Bennet seemed to wilt. “I just want you to be safe.”
“You can’t protect me forever, Papa.”
“But that’s my job,” he said, and his voice broke. No one else in the room moved, and Lizzie bit her lip. Then, Mr. Bennet
seemed to collect himself. “If something were to happen to you, your mother would not be able to bear it,” he said finally.
Then he added, much softer, “And neither would I.”
And with that, he swept from the room. Darcy could plainly read the anguish on Lizzie’s face. She didn’t want to hurt her
family or friends, he knew. But chasing after mysteries was as much a part of her as her green eyes and her love of debate,
and Darcy knew she’d never back away from what she truly believed was right.
Lydia was the one to break the silence that followed. She turned to Jane and said, “You’ll still invite the officers to the
ball, won’t you?”