“Early Christian iconography,” he said. “In Britain. This will cause quite a stir.”
The jewelry drew another exclamation, quieter but no less sincere. “These snake bracelets—superb craftsmanship. And the torcs—extraordinary survivals.” He straightened briefly, shaking his head in disbelief, before returning to the table.
“I confess,” he said at last, stepping back, “that I was prepared for disappointment. Too often, such reports yield little more than corroded fragments and fanciful hopes.” He met Darcy’s gaze, then Mr. Bennet’s. “This exceeds every expectation.”
Elizabeth’s breath came shallow and fast.
Seeley folded his hands behind his back. “I am authorized,” he said deliberately, “to be exceedingly generous in awarding a finder’s fee, commensurate with the value and integrity of the find, and with the manner in which it was reported.”
Mr. Bennet swallowed.
“I have here,” Seeley continued, reaching into his satchel, “documentation authorizing the immediate release of ten thousand pounds.”
Elizabeth’s knees nearly buckled.
“There will, of course, be further assessments,” Seeley went on, as though discussing the weather, “and additionalconsiderations given the Prince Regent’s personal interest. But this sum is approved without delay. I require only instruction as to where the funds should be deposited.”
Silence fell.
Then Elizabeth found her voice. “Sir,” she said, stepping forward, “may I speak?”
Seeley turned to her with evident curiosity. “By all means, Miss Bennet.”
“I am grateful—beyond words—for the Crown’s generosity,” she said carefully. “But I would ask that the funds be added to my mother’s jointure, to be held in trust and allowed to accrue interest for her benefit.”
Mr. Bennet stared at her.
Darcy’s expression softened with unmistakable pride.
Seeley regarded her for a long moment, then nodded. “A prudent request. And an unusual one. It shall be done.”
Relief washed through Elizabeth so swiftly that she had to grip the back of a chair to steady herself. Elizabeth drew a breath. “Oh,” she said quietly, “and if I may, I have one more request.”
News traveled through a neighborhood the way fire ran through dry brush—quickly, eagerly, and with a crackle of embellishment that grew louder the farther it spread. By the following afternoon, Meryton did not speak of anything else.
There had been an emissary of the Crown at Purvis Lodge. There were guards. News of velvet cloths and gold coins laid out like the jewels of a legend circulated. There had been a man with authority enough to make magistrates bow and innkeepers stammer. And, most importantly, there had been Romantreasure.Realtreasure. Not a handful of dull bronze tossed onto a palm by an excited tenant lad, but a hoard fit to make even the most sensible amongst them pause and swallow.
Elizabeth heard it first from the servants.
Mrs. Hill appeared at the breakfast table with a tray of rolls and a face that telegraphed the entire village’s hunger for gossip.
“They are saying it in Meryton already,” she murmured when she leaned close to set down a dish beside Mrs. Bennet. “They are saying there was a gentleman from London, and that soldiers are to be posted, and that there is a finder’s fee to be paid—more money than anyone in the neighborhood has ever seen.”
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes widened until Elizabeth feared they might not return to their usual size. “Soldiers?” she whispered, scandalized and delighted all at once. “Inourhouse?”
“Not in the house, ma’am—at Purvis Lodge, I believe,” Hill corrected, though she looked very pleased to be the bearer of the tale. “They say the Crown means to take the treasure away.”
Mary lifted her head from her book as if she had been summoned by a sermon. “As is proper,” she pronounced.
Lydia, had she been present, would have burst into lamentations about the injustice of it all. But Lydia and Kitty had already been shooed away into the garden, their mother suddenly seized with the urgent conviction that fresh air was necessary for young ladies who might otherwise “run their mouths in town and ruin everything.”
Elizabeth sat very still, her fingers curled around her teacup.
Yes, all the news Mrs. Hill brought was true. The Crown had come. The hoard had been seen by the proper eyes and the decision made to offer reward. The finder’s fee had been paid, and though her nerves still thrummed—though she still half expected her father to wake from this peace into renewed obstinacy—there was, at last, a direction to the chaos. It was over. Or nearly. Because once Meryton knew, Meryton wouldalso wish to see. For Elizabeth had made one final request of Lord Seeley.
His Lordship, measured, practical, and in possession of an authority that seemed to sharpen the air around him, had listened to Elizabeth’s request with the same patience he had applied to the coins. A viewing for the neighborhood, she insisted. It only need be a short one. And they might only host for the principal families. Surely, after such a discovery, it was right for the community to witness history with their own eyes.
Elizabeth had expected a firm refusal. Instead, Lord Seeley agreed—on conditions.
