Chapter Eight #2
Elizabeth wrapped the amphora in a large linen cloth and tucked it into her basket.
Then, with her father’s help, they hid the evidence of their search.
Together, she and her father meandered slowly back to Longbourn, pretending for all to see that they had been on a morning stroll.
Her pulse raced at every distant figure.
Any passerby could misinterpret the slightest thing—her dirty hem, the basket’s weight, her father’s stiff posture. She prayed no one questioned them.
Once inside, they locked themselves in the library once more.
Mr. Bennet carefully emptied the amphora and discovered several gold bracelets at the bottom. One was encrusted with precious gems. “There must be over thirty thousand pounds' worth of treasure here,” he murmured more to himself than to Elizabeth. “This is…life-changing.”
Elizabeth furrowed her brow. “But Papa, does it not belong to the Crown?”
“Well, yes, Elizabeth, but rarely are such treasures turned over. It is more common to sell them privately or melt down the gold to be sold.”
She scoffed. “I can understand that with a few coins here and there, but this? I have never heard of such a…a hoard of Roman treasure! Surely, we should contact someone in London and—”
“No. No, you will say nothing of this to anyone. It is Providence. I have been handed the means to support my family, and I shall not squander it.”
Elizabeth gaped. “You would not. Father, it is wrong!” Even as she said it, she could see the temptation.
Though they were happy, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had done nothing to prepare for the future.
Longbourn would go to a distant cousin upon Mr. Bennet’s demise, leaving Mrs. Bennet and any unmarried daughters vulnerable and subject to genteel poverty.
“Promise me, Lizzy. You will say nothing until I have decided what to do.”
She tried once more. “There are finder’s fees—rewards for turning such treasure in.”
He laughed hollowly. “A meager finder’s fee over a fortune? I think not. No, Elizabeth, this requires thought. I shall not be pressed to decide now. Now, give me your word—”
“Yes, yes, I shall say nothing,” Elizabeth snapped. It was her find. Should she not have a say?
“It would not do to spark gold madness.” He gazed at her over his spectacles. “Come now, my dear. Can you not see the gift we have been given?”
It did not feel like a gift. She gave her father another long look before turning away. He shuffled across the room and retrieved the crate. Carefully, the new additions were added, and the box was returned to its spot. Then, father and daughter left the room, locking it behind them.
Elizabeth stood in the hallway, her breath unsteady, her palms damp despite the cold. The corridor looked unchanged—worn rugs, family portraits, sunlight filtering through lace curtains—but she had changed. The world had changed.
And she feared it was only the beginning.
They agreed to go in to breakfast together after they had changed.
She donned a clean gown quickly, hoping the maid would forgive her for the state of her walking gown.
In a trice, she was finished and left her room.
Mr. Bennet was waiting. Elizabeth followed her father down the corridor toward the breakfast room.
The scent of toast and frying bacon drifted through the air, ordinarily a cheerful summons.
Today, however, her stomach twisted in knots.
She sat at her usual place just as Hill carried in a fresh pot of tea.
Kitty and Lydia were already at the table—Kitty ladylike and half-asleep, Lydia kicking her slippered feet with restless energy. Jane arrived next, serene as ever, her hair perfectly smoothed and coiffed. Mary came last, clutching a small book she insisted on reading during meals.
Everything looked normal. Everything felt normal. Yet a crate of ancient gold lay hidden beneath stacks of books in her father’s library, and Elizabeth felt as though she had swallowed a stone.
She could hardly consume her tea.
Mrs. Bennet entered with a flourish, fan in hand despite the early hour. “Oh, what a pleasant walk you must have had, my dear Lizzy! You and your father looked so companionable when you came in.”
Elizabeth nearly choked. “Indeed, Mama. It was…brisk.”
“Brisk!” Lydia laughed. “You should have taken us! Imagine walking at dawn—how romantic.”
Romantic. Elizabeth pressed her napkin to her lips to hide her expression.
If Lydia knew I had discovered gold, she would fly to Meryton before breakfast cooled, telling every living soul from here to Lucas Lodge.
Within an hour, half the village would be digging at the base of Oakham Mount with spades and anything else they could find.
No. Lydia must never know.
Kitty buttered her toast, humming. She was quieter than Lydia, but just as prone to gossip. The moment she felt excluded from a secret, she would run to Maria Lucas, who would tell Charlotte, who would tell Sir William, who would tell everyone. Not out of malice, but from delight in the novelty.
Kitty must never know.
Mary cleared her throat. “Father, you appear contemplative this morning. Did your walk yield philosophical insights?”
Elizabeth nearly dropped her fork. Mary was not as silly as her younger sisters, but having been prone to moralistic thinking in the past, would protest loudly at the crime of keeping the gold.
Jane looked up at Elizabeth, her blue eyes full of gentle concern. “Lizzy, you seem unsettled. Are you well?”
Elizabeth forced a reassuring smile. “Perfectly, Jane.”
But her conscience nagged. Jane would want to do what was right.
She would insist they notify the Crown at once and happily accept whatever small finder’s fee was granted.
She would never understand why Mr. Bennet hesitated.
In her mind, money was not a consideration when it came to right and wrong.
Her goodness would force their hand—and Mr. Bennet would resist all the harder.
And Jane… sweet Jane… could not lie to save a feather. She absolutely must not know.
Mrs. Bennet prattled on between bites of ham. “Well, Lizzy dear, if your walk took you anywhere near Netherfield, perhaps you saw Mr. Bingley or Mr. Darcy riding out early? Would that not be a charming thing to witness? Imagine—two such fine gentlemen out for their health!”
Elizabeth stiffened. If Mama knew of the gold, she would have the entire household digging by midday. She would claim it was for the girls’ dowries and speak so loudly of their fortune that it would reach Meryton before luncheon.
It would seem her father’s insistence on silence was prudent.
Elizabeth swallowed hard, staring at her plate. How strange that something so wondrous could also be so dangerous. If the discovery became known…
The Meryton farmers would abandon their chores, and the shopkeepers would shutter their doors.
The militia would descend like locusts. Collectors and antiquarians might arrive.
Strangers would tramp across Longbourn and Netherfield alike.
Every greedy soul within fifty miles would come sniffing after gold.
And the Bennets—already teetering on the edge of financial uncertainty—would be at the heart of a frenzy they could not hope to control.
Elizabeth forced another sip of tea.
Across the table, her father caught her eye. His expression was calm, inscrutable—but beneath it she sensed a storm of equal measure brewing in him.
The weight of the secret pressed down harder.
And Elizabeth wondered—for the very first time—What have I done?