Chapter 29 #2
Richard made a sound of disgust. “Impossible. Your father gave him ten thousand pounds and that little Scottish estate. More than most younger sons receive from their own families, let alone a steward’s son fortunate enough to be made a gentleman’s godson.”
“The estate did not earn much,” Darcy said. “And it was the only property not tied to Pemberley. My father could not give him Pemberley land, and he knew it. So he gave him what he could.”
“And Wickham has very likely sold it, gambled it, or ruined it,” Richard said.
“Sold it and spent the proceeds,” Darcy said. “Or lost it in a wager. Either is possible.”
“Both, knowing Wickham.”
Darcy did not disagree.
Richard turned away from the desk and paced two hard steps before stopping near the hearth.
“The ungrateful wretch was given more than many honorable men could hope to earn in a lifetime. Money, land, education, consequence, access to Pemberley, and a name treated better than he deserved. And he has squandered all of it while everyone else sacrifices, serves, bleeds, and bends beneath duty.”
His voice roughened at the end, and Darcy knew he was thinking not only of Darcy, but of himself, of Georgiana, perhaps even of the soldiers and younger sons who made their own way with far less than Wickham had been handed.
“Wickham has always believed that generosity was only the beginning of what he was owed in life.”
“And now he thinks Georgiana is the rest,” Richard said bitterly. “Which leads us back to your initial question when you entered the room, Miss Elizabeth. What do we do now? Hand him a fortune to save Georgiana’s life?”
Elizabeth crossed the room and took Darcy’s hand in hers. “A fortune?” she asked quietly.
“Her dowry,” Darcy said. “If no other means—”
“No.” Her voice was gentle, but firm enough that the word cut across his like a blade. “That must be a last resort so distant we cannot see it from here.”
Richard pointed toward her. “There. I knew I liked you for more than your pretty face.”
Mr. Philips leaned back slightly in his chair, watching his niece. “You have thought of something, Lizzy?”
She drew one breath and gripped Darcy’s hands so tightly, her knuckles turned white. “I might have an idea.”
∞∞∞
Elizabeth looked at the three gentlemen staring expectantly at her. The room seemed too warm, though her hands were cold.
She had not meant to tell Darcy this way, but the circumstances were too dire.
“I have a fortune,” she said.
Darcy looked at her blankly.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Mr. Philips said, in a low warning tone, “Lizzy.”
Elizabeth looked at him, steadying herself against the fear that rose at his voice. “The purpose of it was to protect my family. Georgiana will soon be my sister.”
Darcy went very still. The image of Lizzie holding a gold coin in the darkness of a basement flashed in his mind.
For a moment, he wondered if Lizzie could have sold some of them, and his love of history was affronted.
Then, he remembered her generosity with the tenants at Longbourn, her ceaseless effort in the face of financial difficulty, and rejected the unworthy emotion.
He thought of his uncle, and the sudden flurry of involvement in the Gardiner’s affairs, the unusual meetings with the Prince, the display of artifacts, and put it all together.
“You were rewarded by the Crown,” he said quietly. “How?”
Elizabeth turned her gloves over in her hands, then forced herself to set them aside. She would not fidget through this like a frightened child. “Ten thousand pounds, and Netherfield.”
Both Darcy and his cousin were stunned into silence. She pushed on. “Outside of Lord Matlock and Uncle Philips, no one knows about it. Not my parents. Not even Jane.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked from one to the other. “Will someone be so good as to explain what on earth everyone is speaking of?”
Elizabeth sat down and folded her hands in her lap. “Two years ago, when London flooded, my aunt and uncle Gardiner died.”
The colonel’s expression sobered at once. “I am very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Her throat tightened, as it always did when she thought too long of her aunt’s laugh, her uncle’s steady kindness, the children clinging to her skirts. “When we received word, Uncle Philips and I went to London to settle arrangements for their three children.”
Mr. Philips nodded silently.
“The flooding had damaged the house,” Elizabeth continued. “By chance, it disturbed the ground in a hidden chamber beneath the cellar. There was a Roman treasure buried there. Gold, jewels, silver. A great deal more than any of us could comprehend at the time.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam snapped his fingers. “I remember this. Father wrote of it. Darcy took me to see the exhibit when I returned from the Continent and he was visiting Georgiana in town.” His eyes widened as he stared at her. “It was you that found it?”
“Not in any dignified fashion, I assure you.”
Darcy’s gaze moved briefly to hers, and even in the midst of such fear, she saw the memory pass between them: mud, darkness, a coin in her hand, his face when she rose from the cellar. The warmth of it flickered and was gone.
Colonel Fitzwilliam leaned back, astonished. “Then you have met my father.”
“I have. He was very generous in arranging matters and helping secure a reward from the Crown for the discovery.”
Silence.
Even the fire seemed to quiet.
Darcy stared at her. “Why did you not tell me?”
There was no accusation in his voice, only bewilderment.
“I meant for Uncle Philips to explain it when the marriage articles were drawn up. It seemed better that way. More proper. Less…” She looked briefly toward Colonel Fitzwilliam, then back to Darcy. “Less like a young lady announcing her own worth.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam stared harder, then threw back his head and laughed, one sharp burst of incredulous amusement, and slapped his knee. “Would you look at that, Darcy? It seems you are marrying an heiress after all.”
Darcy did not laugh. His eyes remained fixed upon Elizabeth, dark with shock, concern, and something else she had no time to decipher.
Elizabeth rose from her chair, too nervous to sit. “I would like to sell Netherfield,” she said quickly. “Between that and the ten thousand pounds, surely it would be enough to satisfy Wickham and leave Georgiana’s dowry intact.”
“No,” Darcy said, putting his confusion aside for practicality.
“Darcy—”
“No.” His answer was not harsh, but it was absolute. “I will not allow you to sacrifice your security, your family’s security, to that man.”