Mr. Bennet looked intrigued but did as she said without questions or argument. As the lock clicked into place, Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. She had made it without being seen. Quickly, she turned back to her father and picked up the bundle.
Mr. Bennet had cleared every paper, quill, and book from his desk, leaving only the flickering glow of two hastily lit candles. Elizabeth draped the cloak over the desk, revealing the contents. Her father gasped and collapsed into his chair. The candles illuminated the astonishing array that was now spread before him. Gold aurei—three, perhaps four hundred of them—lay in a heap, having fallen out of the amphora that had previously held them. The imperial profiles of Trajan, Hadrian, Marcus Aurelius, and Constantine caught the candlelight like captured suns. Beside them, a far larger mound of silver denarii shimmered in varying tones of age, some so crisp and sharp in strike that they looked newly minted, others worn smooth by hands long turned to dust. The jewelry, brilliant and exotic, was mixed among the other things. A pair of intricate snake bracelets coiled as though alive; two heavy golden torcs whose workmanship spoke of Celtic kings subdued under Rome; a signet ring bearing an intaglio of a god Elizabeth could not name; a garnet pendant glowing like wine in the firelight; and a delicate filigree hairpiece that seemed fragile enough to dissolve under breath. Further back lay the silver tableware: a shallow bowl engraved with a mysterious symbol, a twisted-handled ladle, two serving plates chased with elegant borders, and a small mirror’s silvered backing dulled by centuries. Scattered around them were more humble but no less evocative pieces—aset of hairpins that looked to be made of ivory, a fragment of a writing tablet, a tiny bronze key, and a child’s toy horse.
The library was locked, the curtains drawn, the house silent around them; yet the air hummed with the weight of history, of secrets buried for nearly two millennia—and now, impossibly, resting atop Mr. Bennet’s desk in the heart of Longbourn.
Elizabeth’s pulse thundered in her ears. The enormity of what she had dragged home wrapped itself around her and tightened. The objects looked like museum pieces—like treasures she had only ever read about in books. And they were hers. Or rather—Longbourn’s. Or perhaps the Crown’s. Even now her mind twisted in confusion and awe.
“Where did you find this?” Mr. Bennet’s words were reverent as he stroked one of the bracelets.
“It was near the border to Netherfield, but on Longbourn land. You know the place: the field at the base of Oakham Mount.”
Her father sucked in a breath. “This is astonishing. Are you certain there is nothing more?”
“I am certain. I spent thirty minutes digging in the dirt.” She held up her filthy gloves as a testament to her efforts. “If there was anything else, it was not readily located.”
“And you managed to carry it all?”
Elizabeth grimaced. “It was not without effort. I rested when I could.”
Her father nodded. “We must go back. I want to be absolutely sure.”
“The chances of being seen rise with every passing minute,” she reminded him. “If we are to go, we must do so at once.”
He nodded. “Let us hide this.” He pulled a wooden crate out from behind his desk, the remnants of a recent book delivery. With great care, he added each object to the box. He secured the lid and then carried it across the room. Placing it on the floor, heput two other crates full of books on top of it. “Let me don my great coat, and we shall leave.”
Elizabeth lifted her cloak, soiled as it was, and put it on. As she tied her bonnet, she resolved to take a basket with her—just in case.
Her hands still trembled. Not entirely from the cold.
Mr. Bennet walked quickly, but Elizabeth kept pace without issue. They took the shorter path again, a track untrod by regular foot traffic. In a short time, they reached the field. She led her father to the boulder, and together they combed through the area. Each scraping sound, each rustle of clothing, felt dangerously loud in the morning stillness.
To Elizabeth’s surprise, they found more gold coins in another jar. It was partially buried under the boulder. With the help of a tree branch, they shifted it just enough to release the amphora from the compacted dirt. After searching for another stretch of time, Mr. Bennet agreed they had likely found everything.
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?”
