Papa,she thought anxiously,say something—anything.
It was Hurst who did.
“Well,” he drawled, swirling the wine in his glass, “it is said the Prince Regent takes a particular interest in such discoveries. Coins, relics, old curiosities—fills galleries with them, I hear. Likes to be informed personally when anything Roman turns up.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught.
Darcy inclined his head slightly.
“I have heard the same. His Royal Highness styles himself a patron of the arts and antiquities.”
Bingley laughed, breaking the tension.
“Then heaven help the poor farmer if Prinny sets his sights upon his plough!”
Laughter resumed—polite and measured—but Elizabeth felt as though she were sitting at the center of a storm no one else could see.
The conversation drifted to safer subjects, yet the words lingered in her mind like the tolling of a bell.
The law is the law,Mr. Darcy had said.
And for the first time since she had unearthed the glittering secret beneath the frost, Elizabeth Bennet wondered not whether the discovery would change their lives but how long it could possibly remain hidden at all.
When the final course had concluded, Miss Bingley rose and signaled the ladies to depart. “We will await the gentlemen in the drawing room. I believe music is in order, and some tea.”
Almost reluctantly, Elizabeth followed the others out of the room. As she went, she exchanged a heavy glance with her father, who, to her eyes, had aged twenty years in an instant.
When the door closed behind the ladies and the familiar hush of a gentlemen’s table settled over the room, Darcy accepted his glass of port with a distracted nod. The fire burned low and steady; the air was warm with wine, roast, and polished wood. It should have been a pleasurable moment.
It was not.
Mr. Hurst, leaning back in his chair with the ease of a man who enjoyed provoking thought without bearing its weight, gave a small chuckle. “That Roman hoard in Norfolk—one hears such things more often than the papers admit. Farmers turn up a handful of coins while ploughing, or a jar when digging a new ditch. Most never trouble the Crown with it.”
Bingley laughed softly. “And who could blame them? A few gold coins quietly melted down and sold—no harm done, I should think.”
Darcy stiffened but said nothing at once, instead watching his friend over the rim of his glass. There was a brightness in Bingley’s eyes he did not like—not greed, precisely, but a boyish excitement, sharpened by possibility.
“Imagine it,” Bingley continued, warming to the subject. “A proper pot of Roman gold. One could do a great deal with it—pay off debts, invest discreetly, improve an estate without evertroubling a banker. A man with sense might sell it piecemeal, through the right channels. Antiquaries, goldsmiths—there are ways.”
Darcy set his glass down. “Bingley—”
His friend lifted a hand, smiling easily. “Yes, yes, I know.The law is the law.You need not remind us. We are all quite familiar with your position.”
Darcy closed his mouth, irritation giving way to resignation.
Bingley turned then to Mr. Bennet. “What of you, sir? Hypothetically, of course. What wouldyoudo, were such a thing to fall into your hands?”
Mr. Bennet had been quiet for some time, staring into his wine as though it held answers rather than reflections. The question seemed to rouse him slowly. He did not smile.
“I hardly know,” he said at last. His voice was measured, but there was an undercurrent Darcy had not heard before. “How does one make such a decision? Especially when one’s family’s future hangs so precariously in the balance.”
Darcy’s attention sharpened.
“The law is one thing,” Mr. Bennet continued, his gaze lifting now, steady and intent. “But does a man not also bear a moral obligation to those dependent upon him? To his wife? His children? To secure them against want, if the means—however unexpected—present themselves?”
Silence followed. Even Bingley seemed taken aback.
Darcy studied Mr. Bennet with new eyes. The man’s habitual irony was absent, replaced by something earnest, almost fierce. It unsettled him—and, unexpectedly, stirred his sympathy.
