Longbourn lay quiet beneath a pale autumn sky when he arrived. The house wore its usual air of domestic comfort, but Darcy perceived the subtle tension beneath it—the sense of watchfulness that had settled over the household since the invasion of their home.
The door was closed. The curtains were drawn.
Even before a word was spoken, the room carried the unmistakable weight of anticipation. It was not panic—but a readiness, as though each occupant understood that whatever was to be said next would determine far more than the course of a single conversation.
Elizabeth rose at once when he entered. Her relief was evident, though she mastered it quickly. Mr. Bennet remained seated, his expression wry but alert.
“I have news,” Darcy said.
Darcy had every reason to expect a positive outcome. They were no longer isolated. The matter had been placed into hands powerful enough to control its consequences. Lord Matlock’s influence, the Treasury’s involvement, and the Prince Regent’s interest formed a shield that no provincial malcontent could pierce.
What had begun as curiosity had, in a matter of days, taken on a different character. Conversations lingered longer than they ought, speculation sharpened into certainty, and even those who had once dismissed the matter now spoke of it with a degree of interest that bordered on investment. It was no longer merely a story—it was something to be claimed.
There had been a time when Darcy would have dismissed such concerns as improbable—when reason and propriety had seemed sufficient safeguards against excess. Experience had since taught him otherwise. Men did not always act in accordance with reason when pressed by circumstance.
And here, in Hertfordshire, pressure was mounting.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The meeting with Alexander Seeley, one of the Lord Commissioners of His Majesty’s Treasury, filled Elizabeth with anticipation and anxiety. Mr. Darcy had kept her and her father abreast of developments as letters made their way to and from London. Each missive had carried reassurance, yet the weight of what was to come pressed upon her all the same. The hoard, once secreted in silence, was now moving inexorably toward the light.
Mr. Darcy arrived at Longbourn just after ten, his carriage rolling neatly up the drive as though nothing out of the ordinary were about to take place. Elizabeth watched from the window as he descended, composed as ever, though she thought she detected a quickness to his step as he came to the door.
Mr. Bennet met him in the hall, already wearing his greatcoat. “You are prompt, sir,” he said lightly. “I take that as a good omen.”
“I hope it proves to be one,” Darcy replied. “Shall we? The Hursts and Miss Bingley have gone to the shops in Stevenage for the day.”
Elizabeth followed them into the library, her heart quickening as her father lifted the rug and opened the concealed safe. The familiar gleam of gold caught the light only briefly before Mr. Bennet began transferring the carefully wrapped bundles into a stout wooden crate. Several innocuous-looking volumes—law reports, sermons, and a battered copy of Livy—were placed atop them.
“An unremarkable selection,” Darcy observed dryly.
Mr. Bennet smiled thinly. “That is precisely the point.”
Together, the two men carried the crate down the stairs. They had nearly reached the door when Mrs. Bennet appeared, drawn by instinct to anything involving trunks, crates, or unexplained activity.
“What is all this?” she demanded. “Mr. Darcy, are you removing my husband’s furniture now as well as my daughters?”
Mr. Bennet did not break stride. “I am lending Mr. Darcy a few books, my dear. Purvis Lodge’s library is lamentably deficient.”
“Books?” Mrs. Bennet eyed the crate suspiciously. “Well, do not let him forget to return them. Good books are expensive.”
Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from smiling as Darcy murmured his thanks and the crate was loaded into the carriage. Once it was secured, Mr. Bennet offered his hand to his daughter, and the three of them took their places inside.
For a moment, the carriage rolled in silence. Then Elizabeth spoke, unable to restrain herself. “What do you truly expect will come of this meeting, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy considered. “My uncle assures me that the Crown understands the magnitude of the find. A hoard of this size, reported willingly, amid such local unrest, reflects well upon the finders.”
“And the fee?” Mr. Bennet asked, affecting nonchalance that fooled no one.
“Very generous,” Darcy replied without hesitation. “Lord Matlock would not have involved the Treasury so directly were that not the case. The Prince Regent himself has expressed interest in viewing the artifacts. Nothing of this scale has been properly reported in many years.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught. “Prinny?”
Darcy nodded. “He is curious, at the very least. And curiosity in such an elevated sphere often translates into favor.”
They reached Purvis Lodge soon after. The modest house looked almost insignificant against the enormity of what it now sheltered. Colonel Fitzwilliam waited at the door, his expression alight with anticipation.
“You are just in time,” he said, ushering them inside. “I have prepared the table in the small parlor. Everything is ready.”
