There would be an evening at Purvis Lodge, where the items could be displayed briefly under guard. No one would be allowed to touch. No one would approach without permission. There would be watchmen posted. The exhibits would be covered until the appointed moment. And when the viewing ended, the hoard would be secured again at once, taken to London under guard.
Elizabeth was not certain whether it was generosity, or strategy. Perhaps it was both. If the neighborhood saw the truth with their own eyes, perhaps the fever would die. Perhaps people would stop digging up the common and trampling the edges of fields. Mayhap they would accept that whatever treasure existed had been found—and that it was not theirs to claim.
Mrs. Bennet, however, did not seize upon that sober logic. She seized upon the words “an evening” and “principal families” and “viewing under guard” like they were lines from an invitation to court.
“We shall be the envy of Hertfordshire,” she declared, pacing the drawing room with the energy of a general preparing for battle. “An emissary of the Crown in our neighborhood! Roman treasure displayed beneath our roof—or near enough as makes no matter, for Mr. Darcy is courting my daughter. And a supper! We must have a supper worthy of the occasion.”
Jane’s cheeks turned a soft pink at that, and she bent lower over her stitching to hide a smile.
Mrs. Bennet, pleased by her own statement, continued with increasing fervor. She spoke of menus and candles and tablecloths as if the proper arrangement of cutlery might keep the Crown’s eyes benevolent and the neighborhood’s tongues favorable.
“We shall have a hot supper,” she announced. “Not merely cold ham and pickles like some stingy hostesses. Lizzy, you must tell Mr. Darcy he need not worry about a thing. I shall manage it all. A soup course, certainly. And fowl. And a good joint. And perhaps those little custards Cook makes so well. Mrs. Hill, we shall need more sugar, and lemons, and—oh!—do we have enough coffee?”
Mrs. Hill, who had lived through Mrs. Bennet’s enthusiasms for decades, replied with the peace of one weathered by storms. “We may acquire what is needed, ma’am.”
“And wine,” Mrs. Bennet continued, already counting bottles in her mind. “The gentlemen will expect wine. Theyalwaysexpect wine. Mr. Goulding drinks like a fish. And Mrs. Long will sniff if it is not claret.”
Mr. Bennet, who had begun the day unusually quiet, cleared his throat.
Mrs. Bennet paused mid-stride.
He did not look at her; he looked at his paper, the words upon it demanding his full concentration.
“My dear,” he said mildly, “pray remember that the purpose of the evening is not to prove the superiority of our refreshment table to that of our neighbors.”
“It is not merely refreshment,” Mrs. Bennet said, affronted. “It is society and consequence. It is—”
“It is an exhibition,” Mr. Bennet interrupted, still mild, though a warning lay beneath it. “Under guard. Arranged by those whohave not asked your opinion. And need I remind you that Mr. Darcy has a hostess? He assured me that Mrs. Hurst could manage the evening quite well.”
Mrs. Bennet opened her mouth, then shut it again, visibly restraining herself through sheer will.
Elizabeth’s gaze flicked to her father.
His face held a strange mixture—relief, yes, and lingering shame, and a brittle sort of humor; he did not yet seem to know how to stand easily in this new light.
She felt, in that moment, a complicated affection for him.
Anger still lingered.
Betrayal still stung.
Even so, she saw how the secret had hollowed him. How it had made him sharper with her, more defensive, more stubborn.
It had not been merely greed; it had been fear—fear of leaving them all vulnerable.
Now the fear had been dragged into the open, judged, and by some miracle answered with a sum so large Elizabeth could scarcely comprehend it.
A weight had lifted from the house.
She felt it in the air, in the way even the servants moved more lightly, the walls no longer pressing inward.
She felt it in herself, too—like a tight ribbon cut loose from her ribs.
In a show of stubbornness, Mrs. Bennet had insisted the Roman treasure be shown at Longbourn.
After conferring with Mr. Darcy and Lord Seeley, Mr. Bennet had agreed.
His wife, thrilled by the distinction of hosting such an evening, threw herself into the preparations and set every arrangement in motion with a speed that left the rest of the household struggling to keep pace.
